12
Ricky
I should have run for the back wall and I hadn’t and now this fucker was going to catch me and I was going to spend the rest of my sodding life in prison. And he’d fucking well pat himself on the back and think he’d done a good day’s work.
My life; his fucking pat on the back.
I could hear their voices getting closer – Jane in that man’s body and the copper – as I tucked down low in the kitchen behind the central island of work surface with its built-in cooker. It was a shitty hiding place. If he came fully into the room he’d see me for sure but there wasn’t time now to move to a better place. I hadn’t expected Jane to let the bastard inside.
So I had three choices and three choices only and the tension was screwing me up, making the tick come back that twitched the left side of my face uncontrollably. I could run for it, but I’d definitely get seen now. That meant a positive ID for sure and maybe getting caught. Best case scenario I’d be on the run forever.
I could fight my way out of there; maybe even kill the copper if I had to. But I’d never killed nobody – not intentionally. I didn’t want to go there. I really didn’t want to go there.
And that just left me the route Jane had taken – changing again – which I couldn’t face doing. If I had to then it fucked me off that Jane turned into the man. I didn’t like transforming at all, but into a woman was fucked up. There was something creepy and perverse about it. I wasn’t a homo.
But they were in the next room now. The voices rose again as though they were coming my way. I didn’t have a choice. And I had to do it now if I was going to.
I concentrated like Jane had said to, thinking to myself why I wanted to be that chubby four-eyed woman – so I didn’t have to go to fucking prison basically – but nothing was happening. It wasn’t fucking working! Because I didn’t want to be a woman fundamentally. Why would I? And if I had been I’d’ve wanted to be some supermodel babe, not some frumpy middle-aged housewife.
This was the end. This really was the end.
My pulse was racing. I was getting serious bends from the withdrawal. I couldn’t get my thoughts straight.
Then a thought flopped into my mind and the light suddenly dimmed as the magic started working and I saw myself begin to change.
Because I remembered that when I’d been a woman the ever-present scratching of addictive need hadn’t been there. I’d been totally straightened out all the time I’d been her.
And as soon as I realised that I got a fantastic surge of relief to think I was going to feel that way again.
My arms shortened in front of me, growing thicker, my legs doing the same as my buttocks and stomach swelled. Breasts pushed out of my chest into my waiting palms and I felt them, perplexed by the odd sensations. I was crouching down still and my legs drew together, my jeans shifting until they were a skirt, smooth knees catching the light from the back door, bare chubby arms wrapping round them.
And then the long dark hair fell down to either side of my dipped head and in a rapid flurry, my eyesight blurred then the thick glasses appeared.
“Oh God,” I murmured, and it was her voice; the woman’s.
Then the policeman was there and I was up on my high heeled feet wearing a skirt and a sleeveless polo neck with glasses and long hair and tits, and he was looking at me and I was just looking back at him; and then he gave this little smile and fucking apologized for barging in and it was the most fucked up thing that had ever happened to me because he really thought I was this woman. And that made it all the more real.
“Oh, I’m sorry madam,” he said. “I didn’t realize anyone was back here.”
“Er no,” I replied. “That’s… that’s fine,” frazzled that I was sounding just like a normal middle-aged woman, not like myself at all. I looked at Jane in his big man’s body beyond the copper, seeing him wink at me – this freaky businessman from the painting, winking at me like it was the most ordinary thing in the world; like were we just wearing disguises or something.
“I’m just taking a look around,” said the policeman, moving past me. “But I won’t take up any more of your time.” He looked at Jane. “As I mentioned sir, we’ll need to come back later to take prints but I’m just going to check around the area to see if I can spot the culprits or any further evidence of their passing.”
“Fine. Good,” said Jane. “Well thank you very much officer. You’re doing excellent work and I appreciate it.”
The policeman smiled and shook Jane’s hand then turned to me and offered to shake mine. I froze for a second, unsure if women shook hands differently from men; not wanting to screw it up and reveal myself. I went to shake but at the last second he closed his hand more on my fingers than my whole hand, just like I remembered now seeing women do. It was weird, but at least he didn’t expose me.
We followed him through to the hall with me feeling weird and spaced out with every high heeled footfall. Every movement fed back to my brain that I wasn’t myself, from the sway of my boobs, the stockiness of my body, the tightness of the skirt, the cool air on my smooth legs and arms, the glasses on my face, the hair flicking against my cheeks and the complete absence of that omnipresent need for my next fix.
The copper opened the door himself and then I jumped a little and gave out a tiny half yelp when a big man’s hand snaked round my waist. I looked to my right and up and there, a head taller than me, was the man, my ‘husband;’ Jane. He wasn’t looking at me; he was looking straight at the policeman.
“We’re very grateful for you coming round officer,” he said and he sounded exactly like a man; he didn’t even have the same accent twang that Jane had. I didn’t like it.
“My pleasure sir,” said the copper. “What I’ll do is pop back in a while to check that everything’s okay.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Jane.
“It’s not a problem sir. I just want to ensure they haven’t come back and I may take your statement at that point if that’s alright.”
“Er… Fine.”
He nodded again then went out and closed the door after him.
We remained standing, watching him go down the drive then it came to me that ‘the man’ still had his arm round me. It felt nice but really fucking weird at the same time and we both pulled free uncomfortably, facing away from one another, thinking our own thoughts for a little while.
Then we turned back to face each other. Jane gave a quick glance outside to check the copper was gone then he looked back at me. “Well that wasn’t too hard,” he said, still sounding exactly like a man.
“For you maybe,” I snapped. “I don’t see why you got to be the husband. That should have been me!” Then I shut up because I didn’t like how much I sounded like a nagging woman.
We stood in silence for a minute then made eye contact again. I looked up at this man who didn’t even stand like Jane normally did feeling I’d woken up into some kind of freaky parallel dimension and said, “Well what the hell are we going to do now?”
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