[bane22]

(Note: Shorter chapter this time, but next chapter is shaping up to make up for it.)

Friday, 9:15 PM

We return to the apartment building without incident. As I approach my apartment door, Sarah runs off to her own place, calling back, “Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

I unlock my apartment and hang my hoody on the hook again. Even though I’ve lived in this apartment for about 2 years now, I feel like a new person stepping into a new home for the first time. I look around my apartment, taking in all the little details. The kitchen cabinets I used to be able to reach now require me to stand on my toes to open. I have to hop a short bit to touch the top of the door frame. Hopping makes my boobs jiggle a tiny bit within my bra. I give a few more experimental hops, smiling in amusement at the sensation. I return to the bathroom, and admire myself in the full-body mirror some more. Now that I’m wearing clothing tailored to my body type, the reflection looks far less alien to me. I don’t look like John with the wrong face, I look like Madison.

A courtesy knock at my open front door brings me back to the here-and-now. “Over here,” I call, realizing I’m even getting accustomed to my voice now.

Sarah walks in carrying a plastic basket. “Just can’t get away from reflective surfaces, can you?” she mockingly chides me. “I’d accuse you of vanity, but I can’t take my eyes off you either.”

I laugh. “Just out of curiosity, did you put some extra magic in your spell to make me look this good?”

She shakes her head. “I followed the spell to the letter. Whether this is just the female version of you, or the spell just makes everyone look this good is beyond me.” She hands me the basket. “Here, you’ll need this for tonight.”

Inside the basket is a variety of lotions, moisturizers, conditioners, body lotion, a shaving kit, and an index card. “The card has explanations for everything you’ll need to do before and after bed,” Sarah explains. “Since you only have two days, I don’t think you’ll need the shaving stuff, but if you want to be baby-smooth I sure as hell won’t complain.”

I look over the card. The instructions are arduous. “I need instructions for washing?”

The wry smile returns to Sarah’s face. “Have you ever washed a woman’s body before?”

“No,” I admit.

“These bodies of ours are delicate. They need a lot of maintenance to keep looking this good.” She hands me a black hair tie, then demonstrates how to tie my hair back. It takes a few tries, but eventually I manage to pull my new locks into a pony tail. There’s another slightly awkward pause between us. Finally, Sarah starts backing towards the bathroom entrance. “Alright, I’m gonna head back to my place for the night. Call me if you have any questions about the instructions.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to stick around?” I ask before I even realize what I’m saying.

She looks down at the ground, then looks back up bashfully. “Trust me, I don’t want to overwhelm you on your first night. Besides, it’ll make tomorrow even more special.” There’s another long pause, then Sarah reluctantly says, “Goodnight, see you tomorrow.” She turns and leaves, and I hear the front door to my apartment shut.

Alone for the first time tonight, I find myself overwhelmed by the endless possibilities available to me. I decide to start with the face-washing regimen Sarah provided for me. My first attempt is sloppy, leaving big gobs of moisturizer on my face. I clean it off with a wash cloth, and my second attempt is much improved. The moisturizer feels a bit greasy, but I think I can get used to it.

I strip down to my underwear, and mull over whether to keep the bra on for bedtime. I decide it’s too constrictive, so with a bit of effort it joins the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. After spending some time practicing sexy poses in the mirror, I resolve to figure out what I’m wearing to bed tonight. I reject the idea of sleeping nude, figuring it would be a bit shocking to wake up to. After giving it some thought, I return to my bedroom, and grab one of my old t-shirts from my dresser. It drapes sufficiently on me to work as a nightie, and I decide to keep the panties on for a little extra cover. The hem of my shirt reaches down to about mid-thigh length, leaving my long legs exposed like a rockette’s.

I spend another hour or so, folding up my new outfit, strutting around my apartment, and just enjoying the new sensations this new body affords. I notice it’s much more sensitive; the worn dreylon of my old couch feels comfortably fuzzy to my new backside. On a whim, I put on some music (some old school Guns N’ Roses), and dance around for a bit. I never really danced much when I was a man, and I still don’t have much of a sense of rhythm, but I find the movements feel much more intense now. It’s like my body is just reacting on its own and it feels kinda good.

After sufficiently wearing myself out, I return to the bedroom, and curl up into bed. I decide to catch up on a little bit of reading, just so I can tell myself I did something academic this weekend. As I finish up the last page for the night, I once again am struck by how quickly I’m getting accustomed to my new self. By all rights, I should still be flailing around like a rag doll that suddenly has a skeleton. It takes me a bit to realize the answer to this: Sarah. This whole night she’s been there supporting me, providing guidance, and just being the rock I needed.

Of course, she was also the reason I’m in this situation, so I guess it balances out a bit in the long run. I toss my book onto the nightstand, switch off the light, pull the covers up and go to sleep.