Scott has been unexpectedly turned into a woman following an accident at the biolab where he works.

At their lakeside home, his wife Lauren tries to keep him calm and comfortable.

As they settle into normal routines, Scott soon finds that he needs to make some changes.

A TURN OF THE MOON
Day Two
by
Jessica Drew

The morning light began to filter in through the skylight above, bathing the bedroom in an amber glow. My eyes fluttered open for a moment and I heard a soft whimper, high pitched enough that for a moment I thought it had come from Lauren. Then I remembered. My eyes widened and I took a sharp intake of breath, a wave of panic surging through me.

“Hey, hey… look at me,” Lauren spoke softly at my side. Her hand cupped my cheek, gently turning me to face her. She held my gaze and gradually my breathing began to slow. This close, I could see her eyes moving across my face. A faint crease formed between her brows, followed by a flicker of something like wonder, before her face softened again.

I blinked, drawing in a slow breath. “What are you thinking?” I whispered.

“Just how… in some moments I can still see my husband. The way you still play with your hands when you’re nervous…. The way the corners of your mouth turn down while you’re sleeping,” Lauren paused in reflection, stroking my blonde hair back affectionately. “And in other moments, I see… a stranger.” She gave a hesitant smile, her eyes dropping briefly before looking back at me.

I felt myself lean into her stroking hand as I replied, “It’s still me, Lauren.”

She blinked and nodded, though her smile tightened just a little.

“So, what do we do now?” I asked quietly.

“Well, we’ll email Axis first thing. See where they stand on the cure. And I want to look into a few other things… but let’s get you up first,” Lauren said, rising from the bed. It was then that I saw she was already fully dressed, in a light-blue blouse, and a black knee-length skirt that trailed as she rose.

“Oh, I didn’t even hear you get up this morning,” I said as I sat up in the bed, feeling the still unfamiliar shifting of my breasts beneath my peach cotton pyjamas.

“That’s okay, you were out like a light and I didn’t want to wake you,” Lauren said, looking down at me.

I pulled back the bed covers and slid my bare legs round. I noticed how much smoother they looked, and shaped differently — thicker at the thigh, but tapering to my narrower ankles and smaller feet. I wiggled my toes as I looked down.

“At least you get some time off work, right?” Lauren said, half-smiling as she smoothed out her blouse. “You know, most people would have just faked a cough.”

“Yeah… “ I said flatly, taking a deep breath.

“Sorry, bad joke…” Lauren’s smile faltered.

“I don’t even know what day it is,” I said, cupping my face in my hands and rubbing at my eyes. My blonde hair fell forwards.

“It’s Friday,” Lauren said, pausing for a moment. “Damn it, I’m supposed to submit that bid today!”

“The Riverside bid?” I spoke softly, looking back up at her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lauren said, checking her hair in the mirror. “We’ve got more important things to think about now.”

I watched her for a moment, seeing the furrow in her brow returning. “How long do you need?” I asked quietly.

Lauren turned to look at me, seeming surprised. “It’s not… I mean—“

“How long?”

“An hour. Maybe two,” she said. “But it’s really not important, Scott.”

I rose to my feet, a wave of dizziness overtaking me as I struggled to readjust to my new height. Lauren stepped forward, reaching out to steady me. I waved her hand away. “I’ll be alright,” I said, though I still had to prop myself up against the bedside table. “Uh… for an hour anyway.”

Lauren’s eyes searched my face. “I’ll be as quick as I can,” she said at last. She hovered at the door for a moment, before turning and leaving.

I immediately flopped back down onto the bed.

* * * * *

I descended the stairs, all too aware of the bounce and sway of breast and hip from beneath my borrowed pyjamas. The cotton fabric felt loose and insubstantial, as if it wasn’t quite enough to protect me from the outside world. I took one step at a time, my feet feeling like they were ready to tangle beneath me at any moment.

I paused halfway down to steady myself. The morning sun rose over the lake and shone through the tall windows at the rear of the house. I always liked this time of day, but today I felt numb to it. I continued, the main staircase arching down into the centre of the open-plan living space. On one side was the plush comfort of the lounge, and on the other, the metallic surfaces of the kitchen sparkling in the sunlight. Beyond the kitchen was the dining area with a glass-topped table and chairs.

I could see that Lauren was already sat at the breakfast bar with her laptop open. She was perched on a stool with her legs crossed under her black skirt, as her fingers tapped over the keyboard. As I approached, I noticed her peer over the rim of the black rimmed glasses that she now wore. “Hi, honey.”

“Hey.” I waved a hand as I stifled a yawn.

“I’ll try not to be too long,” Lauren said, glancing up from her screen to take a sip of orange juice.

I nodded and carried on past her into the kitchen, sliding a hand along the smooth worktop. It sat higher than I was used to, as if the whole house had grown six inches while I’d been away. The safe familiarity of our home, distorted just enough to unnerve me. I looked down at my small hand, flexing my slender fingers, tapping each in turn against my thumb. My gaze drifted to the peach cotton of my t-shirt, tented by the swell of my breasts. They rose and fell with my breathing, slowly at first, but gradually more laboured as my heart began to pound in my chest. Behind me, I could hear Lauren’s fingernails against the keyboard of the laptop.

Tap, tap, tap.

I began to wonder how long I was going to be stuck with this body.

Days… weeks… months?

What if there was no cure? What if this was… permanent?

The cool air of the kitchen made my bare arms and legs goosebump, a chill running through me. I took a faltering step. What was I supposed to be doing? Making coffee… or finding a way to exist? My eyes caught a shadowed reflection in the glass of the wall-oven. It was the stranger that Lauren had mentioned…

I rubbed at the back of my head, feeling a fresh wave of dizziness, my fingers tangling in a mess of long hair.

“Scott?” Lauren’s voice broke through from behind me. I turned, seeing her looking over at me. “Would you mind fixing us breakfast this morning?” she asked, almost casually.

For a moment I was taken aback. She wanted me to… make breakfast? Usually, we would sort ourselves out. Mostly this came down to practicality. We ate different things, at different times. Lauren would often opt for some fruit and yoghurt, whereas I would eat toast. “Oh, er, yes… I guess I could,” I said, my mind scrabbling to catch up. I tried to think of something that we’d both like. “Err… how about pancakes?”

“That sounds perfect.” Lauren smiled and looked back to her laptop screen, her fingers tapping across the keys once more.

I pivoted on my heel. “Okay… pancakes coming up.” I made a conscious effort to get out of my own head and concentrate on the task at hand. I began to fuss about the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, looking for what I needed. I didn’t often cook for us – either Lauren would cook, or we’d order takeout, so my own efforts were very much a last resort. But I had a feeling I knew what she was doing. She was keeping me busy.

I opened the fridge, loading up with eggs, milk, butter and the last of the strawberries. It was surprising how much even this simple act was hampered by the presence of a pair of breasts. I struggled to hold the teetering tower of ingredients to my soft body. Without a free hand, I resorted to closing the fridge with a swipe of my hip.

I carefully turned and all but pushed the ingredients onto the island counter with a clatter. “Sorry!” I said, looking over at Lauren.

“It’s okay, honey,” she said, glancing up from her laptop with a small smile. She watched me for a second, seeming about to say something, then stopped herself.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Lauren said. “Well, it’s just that… you usually make a mess.”

“Well, I guess I can’t really argue with that,” I said, letting out a small laugh. “But I always clean up after myself.”

“Yes but… I’d rather you didn’t get any oil stains on my PJs,” Lauren said.

I looked down at the peach pyjama top and shorts that I wore. “That’s fair enough, I suppose!” I’d never really worried about what I did or didn’t get over my clothes. After all I could always just grab a fresh t-shirt. But now I was wearing clothing that belonged to Lauren, and she clearly expected them to be looked after.

Lauren uncrossed her legs and hopped down from the stool, walking around the breakfast bar to join me in the kitchen. I watched as she bent down to open a drawer, pulling out a white apron.

“What’s this?” I asked, in a soft voice.

“It’s just a precaution,” Lauren smiled, holding the apron up in front of her. I saw that it had the words “Star Baker” emblazoned across the front.

“Come on, turn around for me,” Lauren said. I did as she asked, and she slipped the apron over my head, letting it hang down over my front. I felt her gently free my long hair from the strap at the back of my neck. “Now, lift your arms up.” I raised them as she took the two ends of the apron string, pulling them behind me. I sensed her pause for a moment. “This would go twice round your waist,” she said, sounding surprised, “but I think a bow will do the trick.” She tied it and took a step back. I looked down at myself, seeing how the apron now covered my entire front, following the outward curve of my breasts, before pulling in at my navel. I turned back around and Lauren nodded, looking satisfied. “There, that’s better,” she said, and returned to her laptop.

“Okay…” I said to myself. I took a breath and started to look for a mixing bowl, remembering they were kept in one of the top cabinets. I reached up, but even on tip-toe my fingertips only just grazed the cabinet handle. “Uh!” I gave a whimper as I leaned into the counter, one of my legs stretched backwards for balance. Finally, I dropped back onto my heels, defeated. I chewed on my bottom lip and looked over to Lauren.

“Oh, use the stool honey,” Lauren said as she looked up. She pointed a finger to where it sat tucked under the central kitchen island. I felt my cheeks flush. Although the kitchen wasn’t my forte, I wasn’t usually this lost or out of place! I bent at the waist, dragging the low stool into position before stepping up onto it. As I opened the cabinet, I caught Lauren watching me again out of the corner of my eye, which only served to fluster me further. I quickly found the bowl and hopped back down. When I glanced back over at her, she was focused back on her laptop screen.

* * * * *

Lauren took another bite of warm pancake. “Mmm, these are delicious. Did you do something different this time?”

“No… at least I don’t think so,” I said as I sat next to her at the breakfast counter. I picked at my own food with my fork, finding that whenever I looked down to my plate, my blonde hair would fall forwards.

“Here, sweep it over one side of your neck like this,” Lauren said, demonstrating with her own brunette hair. “Then you can keep it in place with one hand.” She prodded a strawberry with her fork and popped it into her mouth.

“Oh… thanks,” I said, copying her. I swept my hair over to one side, though I continued to just push the food around on my plate.

Lauren must have sensed something, as she put her fork down and reached across to squeeze my hand. “How are you feeling, honey?”

I paused, the simple question seeming almost impossible to answer. “Overwhelmed, I guess,” I said, taking a deep breath. “But not all the time. It seems to hit me in waves.”

“Yeah… I noticed that,” Lauren said.

“You did?” I said, a little surprised.

“Of course… you’re my husband,” Lauren said softly, rubbing the top of my hand with her thumb. I felt a warmth in my heart. Through this layer of mismatched flesh, Lauren could still see through to her husband.

“I feel like I’m being swept down a river,” I added, “and it doesn’t matter how fast I swim, I just can’t seem to fight against the current.” I looked down at my plate. “It’s like everything is coming at me at once.”

“I can understand that,” Lauren said. “But you know, even if you do get swept along, there’s still some things you can do to steer yourself.”

“Like a kayak…” I looked up and gave a hint of a wry smile.

“Maybe I overdid the metaphor!” Lauren laughed.

“No… no, it helps,” I said, my voice softening. I pushed my plate aside, gazing off for a moment. “So, how’s the bid writing going?” I tried to fold my arms, but I didn’t know whether to rest them on top of, or under my breasts.

“Fine, fine… It just needs a polish.” Lauren replied, gazing toward her laptop for a moment. She reached for her glass, taking a sip of orange juice. “But how about we take a little break and go get you ready. Then we can kick today’s ass… together.”

“Yes… yes I suppose so.” I said, my voice sounding flatter than I intended. I looked over to the lake beyond the windows. The skies above were clear and blue, but there was still a hint of a breeze from the night before. The surface of the lake rippled in the wind.

* * * * *

I entered the bedroom and my gaze settled on our shared bed. I was used to seeing an indent on my side, from the weight of a full night’s sleep. Now there seemed to be much less trace of my having been there. Except… I stepped forward, and ran my hand over the pillow, picking off a long strand of blonde hair. I paused, staring at it for a moment, before shaking it into the small waste bin in the corner of the room.

“Here’s a fresh towel, and don’t forget your robe,” Lauren entered behind me, stirring me from my thoughts. She placed the white robe down, along with a matching towel onto the bed beside me. “Oh, and if you’re going to be showering this morning, you’ll want to put your hair up and avoid getting it wet, otherwise we’ll be spending an age drying it out again!”

“Oh… yes, that makes sense,” I said, trying to take everything in. “But, um, could you… show me how to put it up?”

“Of course, honey.” Lauren seemed pleased to have been asked.

I sat myself down onto the vanity stool, facing the mirror. I looked at my feminine reflection, my hair hanging loose over my shoulders. Despite my newly smooth skin giving me a more youthful look, I still looked visibly tired. I ran a finger under each of my eyes and blinked a few times, my lashes fluttering.

I felt Lauren behind me and without a word she scooped up my hair with both hands. I felt its weight lift as she held it. “We don’t have to do anything fancy here,” she said with a muffled voice, and in the reflection of the mirror I saw that she held a hair clip between her teeth. She effortlessly rearranged her hands, taking the clip from her mouth and sliding it into place with a click.

“There.” Lauren patted my shoulders.

I swivelled on the stool and looked up at her. “Thanks,” I said, quietly. I realised that without Lauren, I wouldn’t have had a clue how to navigate all this. I probably wouldn’t have even made it out of bed.

* * * * *

The shower water drummed between my shoulder blades, easing the knot that had formed there. I had angled the shower head down lower than I normally did to avoid getting my hair wet. I turned around, letting the water hit my chest, though I found I had to dial back the water pressure a little to accommodate the new sensitivity of my skin. I reached down for my shower gel, the weight of my breasts shifting with gravity. I rose upright again, and teetered back a step, my backside nudging against the pane of glass behind me. I still wasn’t used to my new proportions and how I fit into any given space. It was like driving a different sized car for the first time.

I poured a generous helping of ‘Deep Blue’ shower gel into my hands and began to slide it over my arms. It seemed to wash away immediately over my smooth skin, where once it would lather up against roughness and body hair. I settled on rubbing the shower gel between my palms before applying. I massaged the soap into breast and waist… hip and leg. My hands just seemed to glide over my smoother skin now. Nothing needed scrubbing, nothing needed extra attention. Or if it did, I generally tried to avoid it. I turned my back, letting the shower water kneed my shoulders once more.

That at least felt familiar.

* * * * *

I returned to the bedroom wearing the same white robe Lauren had lent me yesterday. I found her holding up one of her sweaters, as if appraising it. It was a light beige colour and had “NYC” in white lettering across the front. Lauren turned as I entered and gave a small smile. “Hey… remember when I got this?”

“Our trip to New York,” I said stepping beside her.

Lauren hugged the sweater to her. “Oh, it was so romantic, you surprised me with the tickets on my birthday.”

“The hotel was amazing,” I replied, smiling.

“Yes. At one point I thought we might not leave the room!” Lauren’s face beamed as she lost herself in her memory, but when she turned to look at me, it seemed to stop her in her tracks. “Uh… you did well not getting your hair wet.”

I reached up, lightly touching the back of my head, feeling the plastic of the clip holding my hair up. “Thanks. I tried!”

Lauren looked down at me, her eyes scanning my face as she breathed in. “You smell like a boy...” she said, then gave a small shake of her head. “Your shower gel, I mean.”

“Oh.” I felt my cheeks blush at the comment, but I didn’t really know why.

“Look… I actually got this out for you,” Lauren said, handing the sweatshirt to me. “You need to wear something.” I held the top, running my fingers over the soft fabric with curiosity. I felt Lauren’s reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’ll leave you alone to get changed.” With that she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my cheek.

* * * * *

I stepped in front of the free-standing mirror, tilting it slightly so it caught my reflection from head to toe. The beige sweatshirt seemed to fit me well and was reassuringly baggy, helping to ease my self-consciousness. It was the right width across the shoulders and the arms seemed a good length too. I tugged on each sleeve in turn. The sweatpants were straight and loose in the legs, but flared a little at the ankles. The waistband sat higher on my waist compared with what I was used to, but I was able to cinch the cord until it sat comfortably.

Lauren’s clothing had always looked small, hanging in the wardrobe beside my own male clothing. It didn’t seem possible that any of her things would fit me. Except now… Now there was only an inch in height between us both, and our body shapes weren’t that dissimilar. I blinked at the thought.

I turned sideways, surprised to see that my female silhouette was more pronounced from this angle. Seeing that I was hunched over, I forced my shoulders back, only for them to slowly droop again a moment later.

I sat down onto the vanity stool and reached back to open the jaws of the hair grip. My blonde hair fell down, brushing against my cheeks and over my shoulders. I took the hairbrush from the side, turning it in my small hands. Even though I’d managed not to get my hair wet in the shower, there were still a few rogue tangles.

I’ll just sort those out.

I brought the paddle brush to my hair and began to draw it through in long even strokes. It didn’t take too long for it to look neater and more presentable. Checking one last time in the mirror, I pushed my hair back over my shoulders and rose from the stool.

* * * * *

As I walked back downstairs, I became more aware of the shifting of my loose-fitting clothes. The beige top brushed uncomfortably back and forth across my breasts, while the boxer briefs that I wore under my sweatpants seemed to dig into my sides. I tried to ignore it. It wasn’t like I was planning on going out for a hike or anything! As my bare feet tip-tapped across the wooden floor of the living area, I saw that the rear glass door was open. Lauren was sat out on the back porch. A mug of coffee steamed on the wooden table beside her. “Looks like the wind is dying down,” I said in my soft register as I joined her. I looked out to the lake waters. It was a clear day and I could see the mountains in the distance. Closing my eyes, I breathed in, filling my lungs with the fresh air.

I felt fingers slip into mine, giving a soft squeeze. “Comfortable?” Lauren asked, looking up at me from her seat.

“Hmm?” I opened my eyes to find Lauren taking in my new attire. “Oh…yes, it’s fine.” I brushed a strand of hair back behind my ear as I looked down at myself, seeing the sweatshirt’s NYC logo written in white across my chest.

“It’s lucky we’re about the same size,” Lauren said, and seemed to pause, lost in the thought of it. “Oh, help yourself to some coffee, honey.” Lauren gave another squeeze of my hand before letting go, returning her gaze to the lake.

Back in the kitchen I poured myself a cup from the pot, pausing to absently pick at my boxer briefs through the fabric of my sweatpants. Rejoining Lauren, I pulled out another chair and sat beside her at the outdoor table. I set my mug of coffee down as a faint breeze wafted through my blonde hair. I smoothed a hand through its length. Lauren smiled warmly at me and I wondered if she could tell that I’d brushed it.

As we sat and enjoyed the view, the lake lapped gently against the wooden supports of the porch below us. On the opposite shore of the lake, another house was nearing completion. I could just make out the sight of a figure walking towards the house, carrying what looked like slats of wood.

“Looks like we’ll have our new neighbours soon,” Lauren remarked.

“Yes… they’ve been at it a while,” I said, blowing at my coffee to cool it.

“Well, it’s just two guys doing it all from what I can make out,” Lauren continued. “They seem to be out there most days.”

“I guess so…” I lost myself in the steam of my coffee.

An hour went by, we chatted a little, but mostly we were able to just enjoy each other’s company. I didn’t feel any pressure to bare my soul, or anything like that, which I was grateful for. In fact, it began to feel like any other morning we’d spent sat out on the porch.

* * * * *

We came back inside and placed our coffee mugs into the dishwasher together. “Hey, let me go finish up the bid writing now,” Lauren said, kissing my forehead. “Do you mind straightening the kitchen out while I do that?”

“No, I don’t mind,” I replied, finding myself relieved to have something else to occupy me. Lauren went to retrieve her laptop as I got started. I took the apron out from its drawer and slipped it back over my head. Reaching behind, I wasn’t quite able to tie the apron string into a bow. I thought about what Lauren had said earlier and wrapped the two ends of the cords right round me so I could tie it at my front. I looked over as Lauren took herself to our open-plan lounge area, curling up comfortably into the corner of a plush sofa with the laptop resting on her thighs. She looked up at me and flashed a smile. It proved infectious, and I smiled back.

I set about loading the dishwasher with the breakfast things before wiping down the kitchen sides. It seemed Lauren was right — I’d made more mess than I’d realised! As I worked, I again felt the fabric of my sweatshirt grazing against my bare chest beneath, and whenever I bent down to put something away, my boxer briefs seemed to find a way to cut into the soft flesh of my hips. By the time I finished, I had to pinch at my boxers through my sweatpants to try and settle them in a different position. Shedding the apron, I made my way over to the lounge and slumped down onto the sofa next to Lauren.

She didn’t look up. The laptop screen reflected in her glasses as she typed at a fast pace, her fingernails clicking against the keys. Her lips moved silently as she typed, her brow slightly furrowed. “And… done,” she said at last, hitting the ‘enter’ key with a flourish.

“You sent it?” I asked eagerly.

“I sent it,” Lauren said, taking a deep breath. She turned to look at me. “Sorry, that was longer than an hour.”

“I lost count,” I said, smiling. I was glad that Lauren hadn’t missed out on this opportunity. She was just starting to build up her own marketing consultancy, and this could turn out to be an important new client for her.

Lauren drew in a breath. “Right... now Axis,” she said, reaching over to give my hand a gentle squeeze.

“Right,” I echoed. I shifted on the sofa to sit closer, so we could both see the laptop screen. My thigh pressed against hers.

We began to draft an email together, asking for an update, clarity on what they believed had happened to me, and when we could expect a cure.

“We need to be stronger here... show we mean business,” Lauren said, beginning to edit some lines.

My eyes scanned across the screen. I could feel my heart begin to beat faster. “It sounds like you’re… threatening them,” I said, feeling a little uneasy.

“It just shows we won’t take this lying down,” Lauren said. “They have a legal obligation to resolve this for you.” I could see the intensity of her gaze in the reflection of the laptop screen.

“Lauren, I uh… I don’t want us to rock the boat too much,” I said, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. “Let’s just see what they come up with, okay?”

“If we’re too soft here, they’ll just write us off.” Lauren stopped typing for a moment, flexing her fingers. “It doesn’t hurt to make them sweat a little… and besides the law protects you.” She glanced sidelong at me.

I paused for a moment. “Okay, okay...” I sighed, feeling too tired to argue. I watched as Lauren replaced a few lines, tightening the language.

We hold Axis fully responsible... We expect immediate action...

“Happy?” Lauren said, waiting for my approval. I looked at her for a moment, feeling my throat tighten.

This was my job, my career... my body.

I nodded, but still felt out of control as the email fired off into the ether. I took a breath and tugged on my sweatshirt, trying to pull it away from my sore chest.

“You okay, honey?” Lauren asked with a tilt of her head.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” I placed my hands on my hips and stretched my back, doing my best to smile through the discomfort.

“Come on, I can see it in your face. What’s up?” Lauren slipped her glasses off and turned a little in her seat.

“It’s just… well, my underwear is really pinching,” I said, my cheeks feeling a little warm. I looked down at my sweatshirt, the NYC logo stretched across my chest. “And, uh… I feel a little sore on top.”

“Oh. Well, what are you wearing underneath?” Lauren asked.

“Just my usual boxers, why?”

Lauren nodded slowly. “I see… that makes sense.” She closed the laptop lid and set it down on the coffee table in front of us. “I think we can sort you out,” she said, rising from the sofa. “Come upstairs with me for a second.”

* * * * *

I followed Lauren back into the bedroom and watched as she opened her bottom drawer. “Here… these should work for you,” Lauren said lifting out something small and soft, and placing it onto the bed.

“Wait, uh… are those… panties?” I balked, looking down at them.

“They’re underwear — better suited to your body shape,” Lauren stated, matter-of-factly.

“Lauren, I don’t think… I…”

“You don’t need to get too hung up on it. It’s just about being practical,” Lauren reassured.

I stepped forward and picked the panties up. They were plain, unremarkable and unadorned, and the cotton felt reassuringly soft in my hands. Seeing I had picked them up, Lauren turned to open another drawer, producing a plain white vest top. “And this should help make you more comfortable as well,” she said. There was a flicker of a glance to my chest, but it was casual and didn’t linger. She lay the vest out on the bed and then turned, bringing a warm smile and a squeeze to my shoulder, before silently excusing herself.

I glanced over my shoulder as the bedroom door clicked shut and I was left alone, still cradling the cotton panties in my hands. Almost alone. I looked across and saw my reflection in the free-standing mirror. The woman staring back at me wore a beige sweatshirt and matching bottoms, looking just as disconcerted as I felt.

“And you can get out of here as well!” I spoke at her. At me. I stepped forward and swivelled the mirror up, my reflected image slipping out of view.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, tossing the panties back onto the bed for the moment. “It’s just practical,” I repeated Lauren’s words to myself. And these boxer briefs were hurting me. I reached down to loosen the cord of my sweatpants. I eased them down over my hips and backside, after which they fell freely to the floor. I took a moment to look down, running a careful finger against a noticeable red mark on my hip caused by the waistband of my boxers. They’d never left me sore like this before — to the point of feeling relief when I pushed them down and shook them off my feet. Standing naked now from the waist down, I felt a renewed sense of exposure, of the cool air playing across my skin, giving shape and awareness to the vacancy between my legs.

I picked up the panties and held them in front of me, stretching them gently to widen the leg openings. They seemed small, insubstantial almost. I stepped into them and slowly drew them up my legs. They reached my crotch, settling as I raised the waistband above my hips. The difference was immediate and I felt the soft cotton conform to the shape of my new body. The higher cut of the panties freed my hips and thighs from discomfort, while the waist band seemed to dip slightly to follow the contour of my middle. They needed little adjustment, though there was now no hiding the shape of my body down there.

I ran a palm across my chest, reminded of the soreness where the sweatshirt had rubbed against my skin. The soft cotton of the vest began to look more inviting.

I tugged at the neck of the sweatshirt, and awkwardly pulled it over my head, finding the fabric caught briefly against the contours of my new body. As I freed myself, my breasts bobbed gently. I looked down, seeing how they curved outward from my body. When I breathed in they gently rose. And when I exhaled… they settled again. The soreness that I felt was centred around my more prominent nipples, though it quickly began to fade now that I was free of the sweatshirt.

I picked up the vest and slipped my arms through before drawing it down over my head. In contrast to the sweatshirt, the thin cotton clung to my new shape, following the contour of my breasts before tapering to sit flush against my waist. One of the straps had twisted against my shoulder, so I ran a finger along its length to straighten it. I gave a little tug at the hem and smoothed it out. The fabric felt noticeably kinder against me.

I slipped back into the matching beige sweatpants and sweatshirt, relieved to be covered up again. Despite my initial reluctance to wear Lauren’s panties, I soon forgot I was even wearing them. They were unobtrusive and faded out of thought, hidden beneath my sweatpants. Likewise, having an additional layer under my sweatshirt had immediately curbed the unwanted friction and soreness of my chest. As a woman, Lauren instinctively knew what my body would need to feel comfortable. I now understood why she’d given me a pair of her own pyjamas to wear to bed last night.

I took a breath and went to leave the bedroom, but something made me pause. I stepped back to the upturned mirror and swung it back down into place. “Hey again,” I said quietly to my reflection. I stood a little straighter and smoothed the line of my sweatshirt.

* * * * *

I came downstairs, a little more quickly this time — more buoyant perhaps — and I could feel my blonde hair bouncing at my shoulders. As my bare feet reached the living area, I glanced around for Lauren but I couldn’t see her anywhere. I checked the back porch, and though the rear doors were still open, the seating area was empty.

“Lauren?” I called out, my higher voice ringing out in the high-ceilinged expanse of our home. I was greeted with silence and for a moment the house seemed to grow larger around me, the lake beyond becoming more vast. My hands came up to rub against my upper arms as my thoughts ran away with me.

What if she left? What if she couldn’t handle this?

It must have only been a few minutes — though it felt much longer — when Lauren walked casually back in, flicking through a few envelopes that she held. “Lauren!” I hurried up to her, relief hitting me like a wave.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She stopped, looking surprised.

“I… I thought you’d gone,” I said quietly as I looked up at her.

"Hey — no, I'm here," she said quickly. “I just went to check the mailbox. I'm not going anywhere!” She cupped my cheek. Alongside the warmth of her hand, I could feel the outline of her wedding and engagement rings against my cheek.

I paused, gazing up at my wife’s reassuring smile for a second. I cleared my throat and looked down at the letters in her hand. “Uh… anything interesting?”

“No, just junk,” Lauren said, walking past me to toss the letters onto the kitchen side.

I turned away, feeling myself blush, though my heart was still beating fast from my momentary panic. I played with my hands, my thumb sliding along the side of my left hand, when I became suddenly aware of the absence there. My eyes widened. I glanced back to Lauren, seeing her busy in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water.

I took the opportunity to hurry down the short hallway that led to the front door. I found my heavy outdoor coat hung on its usual hook. I slid my hands into the pockets, fingertips searching amongst keys and coins, until… there. I pulled my platinum wedding band from one of the coat pockets and held it up in front of me. I was relieved I hadn’t lost it but... how had I not remembered about it until now? This was important to me.

As I returned to the living area, I saw that Lauren now stood out on the porch, with her back to me, looking out to the lake. The sunlight cast her in silhouette, and the gentle breeze softly lifted her brown hair and rustled her light skirt. On my left hand I now wore my wedding band once more, but as I felt it with my thumb, it spun loosely on my slender finger.

* * * * *

CONTINUE TO DAY THREE