When I opened my eyes I felt shaky all over and quite heavy, but most of all weak. I moved my limbs as I woke and the effort was greater than I was used to. And I could hardly see. My vision was completely unfocused. I could make out the ceiling fan which hummed above me though the outlines were opaque, layer upon layer of overlapping images giving an overall effect of a deep blur. I moved my head to the side and could just make out the figures of two men standing over by the counter. They were talking in subdued tones, but the taller one seemed to turn toward me, or at least a white blob appeared in place of the brown blob that sat on top of what seemed to be his shoulders. He spoke in a rather crisp public school accent I didn't recognise that seemed to be full of concern over my well being.
"Look!"
"She's awake!" That sounded like the old man. The smaller figure came toward me and stooped down next to my face coming a little more into focus. Yes, the old man, the shopkeeper.
"Goodness," exclaimed the other man almost effeminately, "it's so strange hearing you say that and meaning that young man, that young man in my body."
I remembered where I was suddenly and exactly what had been going on. Had he done it already? Was I a woman right now!?
"I can't see properly!" I said, the words coming from my throat high pitched but in a monotone, like a woman talking when really bored.
"Here, drink some of this." The old man pushed a paper cup to my lips and I sipped at it, my throat sore and burning as the water struck it. Finally, more from annoyance than satisfaction I pushed it away."Enough," I said. The words were like a woman's again. My heart was racing. It had really happened!
"Put these on," said the other man. It had to be me. My body. She was in my body and talking in my voice, but shaping the words with her own accent. That was why I didn't recognise it immediately. Now though, there was a trace of familiarity there. A pair of glasses were being pressed into my hand by a grip stronger than my own.
This was a powerful moment. I lifted them in my hands and held them poised in front of my face. I knew that if I put them on and I could see, everything my friends and the old man told me was true. I had traded my body and life for the life of a probably very rich middle aged woman. Oh, whenever I thought of what I had become, of what I had given away for it, I was almost overwhelmed by mixed feelings. I'd escaped from my life, a life I hated deeply. But I was a woman now. Not only that I was a good twenty years older. If I never went back, that was a good two decades I'd never see. When before I'd have been entering middle age, I'd now be booking my place at the old folks home. I suddenly felt a crushing despair. Then I though of what I was now, and my heart was filled with joy.
I slipped the spectacles onto my nose and blinked to clear the tears from my eyes. And I could see.
The old man croutched above me where I lay on the floor squinting down into my face. Above and beyond him, almost indistinguisable from that shadows (my vision was no longer what it had once been, even with the glasses), was the woman, now of course clothed in my flesh, looking back at me with concern spread across her face, alluring still, though a man, and standing in the most ludicrous stance, the backs of her hands resting loosly on her hips, on my hips.
"Are you alright?" she said.
My gaze dropped finally to myself, and though I knew the reality of it already, the sheer intensity of seeing it for real almost killed me with shock. Spreading out and away from me across the floor were the same shapely legs I'd seen on her before the change, still slinky in their stockings, the high heels discarded now and resting just beyond on the dusty planked wooden floor. And there were my breasts, great curving hills beneath the loose fabric of the blouse, and down the neck I could see right down the crack to the bra, which cut a little into my skin. The sight of the fleshy skin concealed beneath the silk before, and now visible only to me sent a little chill of pleasure through me. Then finally there were my hands and arms, still poised in front of my face since I put on my glasses. The skin was tight but soft, the nails glazed and shining in the half light, and the arms were still just as perfect as they had been before.
"Sarah?" said the old man, looking right at me. I was confused for a moment though it was obvious he was beginning the charade. It made me realise that I'd never see my friends again probably until we changed back, that to everyone I met from now on I would be Sarah. Hell, there had to be a few hundred people out there right now who knew me on sight as just that. I was going to have to do some pretty sharp acting from here on in.
"Sarah?"
I looked up again, and now both my double and the shopkeeper were standing close. The woman in my body had her hand out toward me.
"Are you okay?" she said, her 1st rate accent still shaping her words. I put my hand into her and winced as she gripped too hard, her massive fingers scrunching mine up in her palm. "I'm sorry," she said, "I'm simply not used to all this strength." I looked into her eyes as she started to pull me up, the shopkeeper supporting my back, both of them acting as though I were an invalid, and I could still see her old fire. She was still the woman I had fallen in love with, just wearing the equivalent of a Halloween outfit that covered her face.
They were lifting me up, and as my weight finally came to rest on my feet solidly enough though they still supported my shoulders, it was clear that even this would be different now than it had ever been before. All the stresses on my legs and muscles were different. My legs, used to walking in heels presumably, felt strange just standing still like this, and the extra weight of her body, the drop in body strength I was experiencing, all these things added up to make being her a totally fresh experience. With sensations as peculiar as this, I would never sink into a state of forgetfulness, never forget who I had been before. Or so I thought.
At last I stood on my own, a cool breeze coming from the open door which rested on a wedge doorstop, left open I supposed, to help me come round from my faint, caressed my bare legs. I looked from the shop keeper to my double. The former seemed worried about my infirmity, he appeared concerned that we didn't accuse his process of failing in some way. Sarah, the woman in my body still seemed concerned for my well being and continued to support my arm a little too tightly.
"I'm fine," I said holding my hand to my forehead and pushing the low fringe clear in the process. Strange hearing my accent come through coloured by a woman's voice. Just like a woman doing a mediocre impression. The old man was satisfied by my testimony and smiling, stated that now he could finish the change-over.
"But it's done isn't it?" said my double, one hand still on my arm, the other limply resting against his thigh, proving by his actions that this was not the case. He caught my and the shopkeeper's gaze and blushed when he realised where we were looking. "Of course," he said, "you've yet to condition our minds to our new bodies!"
"Correct," he replied, wheezing over to the counter and retrieving what looked like a couple of necklaces tangled up together. He came back towards us, and as he placed half over my head and half over my companion's, I saw that it was two lockets made of gold and inlaid with little jewels, big clunky things really, and connected to one another by a gold chain.
"What will this do again?" I asked.
"It will cause you to think and act more as though you were the woman you now are in body." I started to feel a tingling on the back of my neck where the chain touched my skin. My double's sudden perplexed look showed that he too was experiencing this. The tingling increased, like a patter of little electric shocks, and the metal grew warm and then hot.
"It hurts!" I said, but my double's lips moved as mine did, mouthing the words. There was a sudden sharp pain through my head, or at least a sensation that swept right through my brain. I started to feel a little light headed. The old man saw this and pushed a chair up behind me though he took pains not to physically touch me. There was another flash and my vision went dark for a moment, tiny firework flashes going off under my eyelids. Without willing myself to do so, I collapsed in the chair. My double too seemed to be under strain. Before he could collapse as well however, and as rapidly as it had begun, the pain withdrew. My head cleared.
"Oooh," I said, "what happened?" But I asked no more. I stopped when I heard my voice. Gone were the monotone and traces of my accent. The words I'd spoken were enunciated identically to the way my predecessor in this body would have spoken. I spoke in the same crisp accent as she had. I needed to test it out. "The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain," I said. Again, my voice came out like the Queen's. I could hear my double doing similar tests on his voice. It came out in the husky drawl I had always like to speak in, though it sounded different when not heard through my own ears. I realised that this was what other people had always heard when they had been listening to me, and it sounded pretty good.
"What's your name?" demanded the little man of me suddenly, poking his face up to mine. I was a little flustered but refused to let him see that. I took a deep breath before answering. "Sarah Jorden," I said. Then I stopped. What had I said? Why did this sound strange to me somehow though I'd been saying that name since my marriage, almost thirty years ago now?
Wait a minute, I thought, I'm married? Then I realised what was wrong here. That wasn't my name. I calmed myself and thought in words in my head, "What's my name?" The words Sarah Jorden sprang into my head. No. That's wrong.
I knew what had just happened, I knew that the man standing in front of me had used to be me but I just couldn't for the life of me remember what his name was. Hold on, I never used to say things like, "couldn't for the life of me...." What was going on here?
Then I remembered the telephone conversation I'd had with the shopkeeper. He told me the young man's name then. Yes. Robert Jont. And I realised that that had once been my name. Now I had it I remembered countless instances of being called just that throughout my life. I was definitely a guy back then.
This was so confusing. I still seemed to remember most of my old life if I tried to, but whole segments seemed to be overwritten by memories of my life as a woman. I, for example, could never have spoken to the old shopkeeper on the phone though I remembered quite clearly sitting in my husband's study and getting excited about the news that a suitable transfer mate had been found.
My mind wasn't filled by these interloping memories, but they were there, ready to rise when bidden.
The young man now called Robert was, meanwhile, presumably, trying to sort his own head out. The shopkeeper was questioning him, pushing him around, and I found his fear of the old man somehow fascinating. He was a handsome devil too. So young for me though, almost a boy still.
Then I remembered who I was looking at. Having two sets of memories in my head was proving to be harder than I originally thought to get used to.
"Is that it then," I asked in my thick posh accent, and touched my fingers to the soft, fleshy skin at my throat.
The old man was taking the locket from around Robert's throat.
"That's right," he said, then turned toward me and reached out for my locket. I didn't want him groping around my neck so I lifted off myself and handed it to him. "Here you go," I said.
"I'm a man now?" asked Robert, "forever?"
"Yes."
This struck a chord in me, a disharmonious one. I had imagined the change-over would be a temmporary arrangement, and although I had no desire to re-enter my old life in any hurry, the idea that I would not so muchnot be myself again, but that I would remain this woman forever was one that troubled me slightly. It nagged at me the realization that I would be old before my time, that I would be weak. Then I looked down at myself,at the counters of my body beneath my clothes, the curve of my legs, the gracefulness of my arms. I thought of the riches I owned now. Then I looked at my old self and remembered the passion with which I wanted to escape that life. I still had nagging doubts, but I was happy enough to be a woman that I would walk out that door right now without looking back.
"You should put your shoes back on Mrs. Jorden," said the shopkeeper. He was probably right. I suddenly recalled that my driver was waiting outside and I didn't want him to become more suspscious than my altered behaviour would make him. So I reached down and slipped my shoes on one by one. I had expected it to be difficult to stand and walk on such high heels, but with the transfer complete, it was as though all the instincts a woman learns throughout her life were there within me should I need them.
I turned toward the other two. Now, standing on my heels, I was almost as tall as I had been as a man. Robert was shaking the old man's hand firmly though his expression seemed full of aprehension. I wondered how the strong willed woman who had entered the shop would cope with being a man who was afraid to stand up even for his fear. Then I realised that I was that strong willed woman now, and with a warm glow of happiness in my chest I spoke out and broke the silence.
"I really must be going," I said, smiling. I reached out with my hand and gripped the shopkeeper's in my fingers. "Thankyou so much for all your help." I turned then to face Robert. "And thankyou Robert for giving me the use of your body." Robert smiled, embarassed. "I hope you find more happiness," I continued, "in that body than I did."
"I hope so to," he replied.
I laughed at his remark though he'd not meant it as funny, then I broke away from them and made for the door. I turned on the threshold and looked back into the room. Both men stood expectantly in the semi-darkness waiting for me to speak, and I realised that I was in control. It was I who would decide if the conversation were to continue, and on a whim I concluded that it would not. Without another word I turned on my heel and left the shop, letting the door swing shut behind me.
I stepped out onto the pavement, careful not to stumble in my heels. Although, as I said, I had the memory of walking around in these things, predominantly I was still me, a guy in a woman's body. I wasn't a real woman.... yet.
The sunlight, seemingly magnified through the thick lenses of my glasses was dazzling. I smiled to myself. It was strange seeing everything through glass, but the idea of it, so different from how it had been before and thus symbolic of how I'd escaped my life, was incredibly satisfying.
There were crowds literally milling round me and I suddenly felt embarrassed. I realised everyone could see me for what I really was. I could see that I had merely been hypnotised, that I was standing there in drag and that my friends, the ones who'd set me up had to be around somewhere laughing at me.
Then, as quickly as it had come, this feeling of paranoia vanished. There simply wasn't anybody looking at me out of turn. No packs of cackling hyenas mocked my clothing. No-one even seemed to notice me. I was a little offended that they did not. Of course, if I'd become a pretty young woman, I'd hate all the oggling guys would be giving me. Still, I felt a bit cheated, especially since my own intense attraction to the woman I'd become. But when I thought of that I suddenly felt ashamed for finding beauty in a woman that most normal men wouldn't even see. I didn't really care though what other people thought anymore. I was worrying out of habit, and quite simply told myself not to be so silly.
I suppose my new found indifference was due to my being influenced by the strong personality of the old Sarah Jorden, imprinted upon my own, but there was also a degree of freedom granted to me because I felt that whatever happened didn't really happen to me. I couldn't die or become a laughing stock. If anything bad as that ever happened, I was sure I'd just wake up in my old body, safe and well. You can probably tell by the way I'm phrasing this that it wasn't quite the case.
So anyway; I stood by myself on the pavement and looked round absently for the driver I knew was supposed to be there, trying to wrack my new found memories for the description of the car and the driver. I was soon to realise that the memories implanted were by no means infallible.
Eventually, the driver got out of the car and tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned, rather surprised, and almost tumbled when my heel twisted awkwardly. I didn't recognise him instantly, and thought for a dreadful moment that my first minutes as a comparitively weak woman would include (shock horror!), a mugging and/or a rape.
I made to scream, not sure what else I should do, but a sudden image leapt into my skull of his face. I definitely knew him, or I was supposed to. So I let my mouth relax from its O shape, and smiled as pleasantly as I could.
"Ah, there you are," I said in my most womanly voice, eager to gain control of the situation, "now where's the car?"
"Right here ma'am," he said, and pointed to a monstrous black car I was sure I should have been able to name. Something else I supposed had "slipped my mind" since the transfer. I walked to the back and he opened it for me. Once inside, I slipped one leg over the other quite naturally and made myself comfortable.
The driver climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. then as though we were still stationary, the car moved seamlessly out into the traffic.
And that was as far as I ever got... Though maybe, if encouraged, I could add to it one day. It stands alone as it is but I always intended it to go on further...
And that was as far as I ever got... Though maybe, if encouraged, I could add to it one day. It stands alone as it is but I always intended it to go on further...
