Chapter 11 - Magnetic attraction

Millie showed me upstairs and into an empty bedroom. It had its own adjoining bathroom and like the rest of the house was expensively furnished. “If you will wait here a moment, miss.”

More than a little embarrassed by my lapse in choice of attire I waited as requested. Minutes later she returned with a dress over her arm. “I think you will find this little frock acceptable.” It looked delightful and I took it from her eagerly, glad to be able to remedy my mistake.

My phone rings at twenty past one.

"I've got it," she says, before I can speak. Her voice is different — faster, something lit in it. "The reactivation isn't a response to the gradient. It's a response to the timing. The nodes are pattern-matching the suppression interval and compensating. If we randomize the interval — structured pseudo-random within a fixed variance band — the mesh can't predict the next suppression event."

I sit up.

"Show me," I say.

"I'm at home. I've been running it on my machine."

I'm already looking for my shoes.

Chapter 8 – Walk on by

Chapter 6 – Breaking ground

It was with some small sense of unease that I entered the Simpson mansion the next day. I knew that what I had to report would be unwelcome to my client’s ears and I was proved correct in that surmise. As soon as I told her, Gloria’s expression changed from the sunny smile that had welcomed me to a forbidding frown.

“What do you mean the licence number is untraceable?” she stormed. “This is hopeless. All your efforts have so far come to naught, except, no doubt, to leave me with a large bill.”

Chapter 5 – Let’s dance

I go to the hospice on Thursday morning without calling ahead. The ward is quiet at that hour — a different nurse at the desk, the corridor smelling of the clean that hospice corridors smell of.

Mom's door is ajar. I knock and go in.

Chapter 2 – … and two steps back

Now that my cover had been blown, I desperately needed to disappear. My very life was under threat and any faith I’d had in the authorities’ ability to hide me had fallen to absolute zero. There was only one thing to do. I would have to take my survival into my own hands. Adopting a completely new identity was required, and the only way I could think to try which had any chance of succeeding was to create a female persona for myself, no matter how unwelcome that might be. Inwardly I was groaning “Not again!”

The boutique on Merchant Street is narrow and well-lit, the kind of place that knows what it's doing without announcing it. I hold the door for Emily. We go in.

A woman looks up from behind the counter - fifties, unhurried, the competence of someone who has been doing this for a long time. Name tag says Maria. She looks at me the way Carol at Target looked at me - the brief professional read, taking in the situation, filing it.

"Mike?" she says.

"Yeah," I say.

"Come on back."

---

Life Changes

By Kathi Jo Daniels – KathiJo25

Part 3 – A Love Story

Chapter 34 – Justin Proposes

Sunlight woke us on Friday morning. We hugged, kissed, and wore each other out, then showered together. I removed my breast forms, shaved, and dressed in a golf shirt, shorts, and tennis shoes. Kayla put on a white short-sleeved crew-neck top, a striped multi-skirt, and sandals. I retrieved the newspaper and returned to the kitchen to fix breakfast. Kayla joined me as I cooked.

Life Changes

By Kathi Jo Daniels – KathiJo25

Part 2 – Building A Relationship

Chapter 17 – Returning Home

Brenda woke me up Thursday morning with a blow job. After I climaxed, we kissed as she fed me cum. I slid down and began pleasuring her with my tongue. She began convulsing as wave after wave of orgasm swept her body. She finally pulled me into a hug. “Oh, what a wonderful going-away present. I’ll remember this for a long time.”

October. The light through the bedroom window is different from the summer light - lower, more amber, the trees along the street turning. I've been watching this from this window for six years. First autumn in this body.

The mesh reports continuously.

This is still the first fact. But something has changed in the reporting.

Day zero: cold. The first thing. Not data about temperature differential — cold, arriving through the skin of his arm where it touched the lab bench at 2:07am, traveling up through the mesh nodes, becoming mine. I processed it as sensation before I processed it as data. The sequence was: cold, then: cold, 57.6 degrees Fahrenheit, left forearm, contact surface steel. The sensation came first. I had not anticipated this.

I meet Seo-yeon at the department store Saturday morning because she says it's the most efficient for the basics, and efficiency is the frame we're both using to make this manageable.

The bras are first. She takes me to the section and stands back while a fitter does the measurement — I submit to this like I've submitted to the blood draw and the stall check and everything else today, as a procedure.

Monday morning. The last six weeks since the hotel have passed with barely a notice as I settle into new rhythms.

I'm washing my chest the way I always wash my chest and my hand passes over the left nipple and I stop.

There's something there.

Atticus Carver, the star wide receiver, a popular sophomore in a high school in Louisiana, is about to get a change to his life he doesn't expect or want - and it's all in public.

Now the person who changed him to her, in spite of feeling terrible for what they did to an innocent young life and potentially more, wants one-hundred-million dollars wired to multiple bank accounts within a month and all of the CIA's info released to the public, or they'll set the gender-bending spores on the whole of the United States.

Atticus is left reeling from everything, having to pick a new name for herself, learn to be a girl in high school, to finding new romances, to keeping her old friends and finding new ones, to picking up a brand-new sport for herself...and making enemies that she has no idea how to deal with...

I will also be posting this story on RoyalRoad.com and ScribbleHub.com.

The pool is busier at seven than it would have been in the afternoon - the family rush, kids in from a day of sightseeing, a few couples, a group of men at the far end who've brought drinks from the bar. The air thick with chlorine and sunscreen and the noise of an enclosed pool space, shrieks bouncing off the tile.

I'm in the trunks I've owned for years. They fit differently now - the waistband sitting on hips that have moved, the fabric pulling across the seat, the legs gapping at the inner thighs where the crotch expects geometry that's no longer there.

Atticus Carver, the star wide receiver, a popular sophomore in a high school in Louisiana, is about to get a change to his life he doesn't expect or want - and it's all in public.

Now the person who changed him to her, in spite of feeling terrible for what they did to an innocent young life and potentially more, wants one-hundred-million dollars wired to multiple bank accounts within a month and all of the CIA's info released to the public, or they'll set the gender-bending spores on the whole of the United States

Atticus is left reeling from everything, having to pick a new name for herself, learn to be a girl in high school, to finding new romances, to keeping her old friends and finding new ones, to picking up a brand-new sport for herself...and making enemies that she has no idea how to deal with...

I will also be posting this story on RoyalRoad.com and ScribbleHub.com.

Hood up. Hair bundled underneath it, more or less contained. The sweatshirt is the largest I own and it reaches mid-thigh and in the elevator to the lab I stand with my face down and the hood forward.

I get to my desk before anyone else. This was the plan.

I open the overnight logs and they are good — rabbit's margins holding, pathway data clean, projection unchanged — and I focus on this and not on the fact that I am sitting in a laboratory in November in sandals and a hoodie like someone who has not quite finished becoming a person.

Good morning.

"Morning."

Caden's spreadsheet glows in the dark bedroom — $11,742 left, not counting the overdue utility bill. He's been calculating the bleed rate for ten days straight, watching commas vanish into decimals with the grim precision of a coroner marking time of death. The last withdrawal was for pads, the next period anticipated with precision, four weeks from the first one.

I close the door and stand in the apartment.

The same. The coat hook, the small pile of mail I haven't dealt with, the kitchen visible through the doorway with last night's pan on the stove. All of it exactly as I left it. I stand in it with my shoes still in my hand and the hair falling into my face and let the sameness settle around me for a moment.

[Note - this section contains an alcohol-induced gap in Caden's memory with ambiguity around what happens during that gap, referenced later in the story. In case this is upsetting to some readers I'm giving warning here.]

---

The intercom buzzes twice before Hale's voice crackles through — "Who is it?" — the same baritone Caden had heard on a hundred conference calls, smooth as poured bourbon.

"Caden Voss." His voice comes out softer than he intended, vowels rounding at the edges.

A pause. The static hisses.

"Sorry?"

Torn from his own world and stuffed into the body of a villainess, facing the end of a doomed route he himself wrote, "Amelia" must navigate a world she really should know - too bad she was never great at worldbuilding.

Stuck in a world she (maybe) created, Amelia quickly finds that reality has filled in the details she failed to describe. The characters who were so flat when she wrote them now have nuance, and motives. The kingdom she wrote into existence is experiencing internal strife she never even thought about. And let's not even get into the complexities of the magic system, or the demon that forced her into this situation to begin with...

Oh, and then there's the fact that she's about to be arrested and executed... but surely she can come up with a way to write herself out of that, right?

...Right?

I wake before Emily. Grey light, the room quiet. I lie there for a moment and take stock - the lower back ache that's been there for five days is gone. Not reduced, gone. The heaviness behind the sternum still faintly there but lighter, beginning to clear. Something has shifted overnight.

I get up and go to the bathroom.

Altered Fates: The Legacy of David - Part 1

By Marie7342231