Workman: Chapter Two - Part One

A Man in Need of a Woman

1

When I woke up the next morning I got an awful sense of being trapped under the pressure of this house and the work that needed doing to make it decently saleable.

How could I ever hope to get it done within a reasonable time frame? It was impossible!

Exactly to type, I’d wasted yet another day doing almost nothing and the evening to boot! Why was I such a total loser? I’d accomplished hardly anything in my life. My dressmaking business was something I enjoyed but it hadn’t gone anywhere – I was such a ditherer – and now this was going to all go wrong as well.

I sighed, forcing myself to get up and climb in the shower.

I was tempted to go shopping again today. Maybe I could pick up some nice decorations for the house and have a bit of fun looking at new clothes at the same time… But I recognised a rationalisation when it poked me in the eye.

I sighed again, coming out of the shower and wrapping myself in a towel, twirling a second towel around my hair. I sat at my mother’s old dressing table and stared sullenly at my reflection, thinking of all the jobs that needed doing.

Then I thought again about the ring.

What was the worst that could happen? It had only been temporary as long as I wore it. I could take it off at any time. It was just exactly the same as hiring in a workman for the day. And it might be really fun!

I smiled mischievously, pulling the towel off my head and sweeping my hair back off my face with my arm. I popped the bigger towel on the bed and quickly put on some panties and a sports bra. I was really quite excited as I padded down the stairs and went to the hall drawer.

The ring was in there, exactly as I’d left it.

I wondered if this wasn’t a really bad idea. But I had changed right back when I took it off. There was absolutely no danger. And it would be wild to do it again – without the fear this time.

I took up the ring and looked at myself in the big hall mirror. I looked a tad bedraggled because of the shower but still very feminine and quite sexy. Did I really want to go through with this?

I told myself it was just to get some work done on the house, but it had gone past that now. I think I actually just wanted to try it on again for the thrill of it – the experience.

I put it over the very end of my finger. The sigils on the curved side glistened. I took one more quick glance into my eyes in the mirror.

Then I pushed it all the way on.

 

2

 

The second transformation was a whole lot smoother.

The sensation spreading from my finger to my heart was no longer what I would have classified as pain. It was an intense ribboning, spreading up the vein of my arm but I knew it wasn’t doing any damage. Pain was a warning. This was something else.

The ring itself went ice cold again but I wasn’t snatching at it in fear this time, I held my hand out in front of me then slowly closed it into a fist. The cold radiated out into my whole hand, throbbing its way into my forearm.

The first light flash came, then the second. The house creaked around me as the pressure in the room changed. The shuddering tightness started in my stomach, almost like it was trying to suck me in, then real pain did flash up for a second., I grimaced, screwing my eyes shut, then through my eyelids I saw the final flash and it was over.

I was breathing heavily, the sound of it deep and masculine.

My hands were covering my face. I could feel the difference already, but when I lowered them, I saw it.

I was the man again.

I looked exactly the same – same hair and eyes (that I now noticed were brown instead of my usual blue); same chequered shirt and blue jeans; same brown boots.

I checked myself over again, feeling the physical changes, checking that it was real.

It was. I really was a man.

The shock element wasn’t there this time. Instead I felt relaxed and comfortable. I took the time to really investigate. I scrutinized my hands and square-cut nails. I touched and prodded my face, stroking the stubble, tracing the contour of my heavy brow and cheekbones. I fingered my short hair, marveling at it. I hadn’t had short hair ever – except for a brief and disappointing experiment when I was twenty two. I was always so feminine, but not anymore – not at all. There was absolutely nothing feminine about my appearance now.

I frowned. Who was I now? Had I turned into a specific someone else. Did this man really exist somewhere? Had he… Had he turned into me?

I shrugged. I had no idea. I wondered if this was just who I would have been if I’d been born a man. There was a very vague similarity to my own looks – to my dad’s in my new face. Maybe that was it. I didn’t have a clue.

I considered unbuttoning the shirt and taking a peak. Did I dare?

I glanced round to see if there was a sight line into the hall from outside. There wasn’t but I felt weird doing it there. I walked through to the lounge instead, starting work on the buttons.

There was curly fair hair on my broad muscular chest, the skin tanned a golden brown. I slipped one rough hand in and stroked my chest, feeling very strange. Obviously my breasts weren’t there anymore, which was odd enough, but it was an entirely different sensation from inside and out.

This man I’d become wasn’t the usual type of man I ended up with – that tended to be skinny arty types – but it was still a very well built muscular and attractive man. I was groping that man’s chest, even though it was mine. It was just… weird. I stopped doing it.

But I was still curious.

I unbuttoned the shirt the rest of the way and opened it wide, dropping it off my shoulders and laying it on the sofa.

It really was incredible.

My torso was like the trunk of a tree. I was carrying a lot of weight but it was hard and taut. I felt so powerful. I’d been a slight woman my whole life, not even particularly athletic. Now, I was suddenly this masculine powerhouse. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced.

My jeans and boots were all I had left on and the mystery of what lay tucked away in there was suddenly the only thing I could think of.

I’d been with men in my time; more than a couple and less than a lot. I’d seen a good share of penises in that time. I’d always found them kind of absurd-looking; such an unwieldy and vulnerable extension on an otherwise tough frame. But men seemed to prize them highly – be almost obsessed with them occasionally.

Did I really have one of my own now? Surely I must have. And as I thought about it I got just the slightest sensation from down there that I wasn’t used to.

There was the bulge. All I had to do was unbutton the front of my jeans and reach inside.

I reached for the top button, hesitating, then I chuckled, screwing up my nose.  

I wasn’t quite ready for that yet. No way. Not yet. Later. Or not at all.

I reminded myself I had work to do now. That was the condition of doing this. Change into the man and then get some work done – push forward with the jobs that needed doing.

This seemed so easy. What was stopping me doing this every day until all the work was done in record time?

I put the shirt back on.

I felt totally different but very comfortable. I would have imagined it feeling utterly weird and uncomfortable. Instead I quite liked it.

“Hmmm.”

I shrugged. What could be the harm?