The Ranch - Chapter 2

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 idea was certainly not original but unlike the hapless fugitives in Some Like It Hot, I wouldn’t be playing this role for laughs. The sobering reality was that in order to hide in plain sight, my apparent femininity would need to be faultless. Success or failure could mean life or death for me. Rapidly the essentials of the plan began to take shape in my head. This might just work.

Immediately, however, doubts began to assail me. Now I was older, would that make things more difficult? Would I be able to resume life as a female after so much time had passed? Could I achieve a convincing transformation using the limited possessions I had with me? How long had I got before my assailants would return to finish the job? I forced myself to put such anxieties aside and tried to stay focused on what I had to do.

Carefully, I removed my false beard and brushed out my hair. I stripped off my polo shirt and the chest-constricting singlet I had adopted as my normal wear. Then with my polo shirt back on and clutched about my waist I struck what I deemed to be a feminine pose. I held up my head, arched my neck and pulled back my shoulders then looked in the mirror seeking confirmation that this could work. I was reassured to see more than a trace of a woman gazing back at me. Sadly, the masculinity I had tried so hard to foster had so easily begun to fade.

It was a relief to see that I had a chance of eluding my pursuers, but I needed to act fast. My constant anxiety was whether my would-be assassins might have returned, as return they surely would. I rummaged hastily through my things and found the most appealing shirt I had. I put it on in place of my present one. It was tight across my torso and made my chest appear more prominent. The lift which a bra would have provided would have been welcome but no dice there. I thought that my figure seemed a touch matronly, so I unbuttoned the front a little to display a hint of cleavage. Perhaps that would distract any onlooker from too closely critiquing the shape of my 'bosom'. So far so good.

Now for my bottom half. I dug out a reel of tape from the med-kit I carried and applied some lengths of it down below. It was vital to achieve a convincing tuck and avoid that telltale bump in my nether regions. I had a pair of pants which had shrunk when I’d carelessly tossed them into the laundromat. They were now on the small side, and I could only just squeeze into them. Their snugness across my well-rounded butt ought to help project the feminine look I was after. My footwear would have to remain unchanged, as I had no alternative pair with me, but I hoped my sneakers were androgynous enough to pass.

Last came hair and make-up. I spent precious minutes restyling the former, piling it up to give more volume. I was thankful that Rachel had insisted on it remaining long, so I had never gone through with having it cut. As for the latter, by a stroke of fortune I had recently purchased a travel set of cosmetics. It was to be a present for my daughter, Georgie, whose birthday was due shortly. I hesitated to raid its contents but decided that my immediate need was greater than hers. I applied the make-up with careful attention to detail after promising myself I would send her a replacement at the first opportunity. The prospect of us actually meeting up looked like being more remote than ever and I wondered who would be the more embarrassed if she were to see the image staring back at me from the glass, her or me.

As I regarded the result of my efforts, the renewal of my feminised self, it occurred to me that my mother would be overjoyed if she were able to see me got up like this once more, if not by the danger I was in. Though she had long been in her grave I could almost feel the ties of her all-pervading apron strings dragging me back from my much too brief excursion into the masculine world which she had fought so hard to prevent me being part of. It now appeared that there was to be no lasting escape from her manipulating clutches. I could imagine her having the last laugh at my expense.

I had no leisure for such idle musings. My hurried transformation was as complete as precious time allowed and I deemed I was ready to endure the scrutiny of a waiting world, always providing it wasn’t too intense. I put my wallet in the make-up purse, slung a jacket over my shoulder and abandoning the rest of my possessions and my rented car, I hit the road. The first truck that came by screeched to a halt when I stuck out my thumb. My growing confidence in my altered appearance was boosted by the driver’s greeting. “Where’s a pretty girl like you bound to, missy?”

Though I had apparently made my getaway undetected I reckoned I needed to cover my tracks more thoroughly. Also, I needed to perfect my disguise. I alighted at the first town we came to and thanking the truckdriver, waved him goodbye. Across the road stood a Goodwill store which I entered and began to rummage among the racks of discarded clothing. For a handful of dollars I could surely find myself a few essentials.

A blue polka dot crop top caught my eye, and close by there was a pleated miniskirt whose colour complemented it. Doubtful that it would cover as much of my womanly thighs as I would have liked, I was tempted instead to look for a skirt or dress which approached my knees, but I couldn’t find anything in my size, or at least anything that went well with the top. I searched on. I came across some mid-heel pumps in a shade which went pretty well and that settled it. A short pink jacket provided the finishing touch and reassured me about the wisdom of my other choices. As an afterthought I added a holdall to carry my new belongings.

Pleased with my purchases, I left the store with a new lightness in my step, satisfied that I had not wasted my time in there. My justification for spending precious minutes shopping for clothes wasn’t all about looking chic, though I must confess that had always been important to me when I’d been in girl-mode before. No! Ideally I needed an outfit that caught the eye, but tastefully so, in order to distract from too close an examination of my person. Now all I had to do was to make the final transition.

I walked farther along the main drag and came to a mart which sold pretty much everything. There I selected some underwear in my size and picked up some pantyhose. I paid for my purchases and moments later found myself in a stall in the ladies’ powder room. Here was my opportunity. I stripped off the androgynous get-up I had worn for my escape and hesitated, regarding my new girly outfit with disfavour. I sighed. There was nothing else for it!

First, I slipped my feet into the pair of panties I had purchased. They were of a plain style but the softness of the fabric against my skin made me shiver. It seemed like I was stepping into a fathomless pool of womanhood which lay ready to engulf me. I slid them up my legs and eased them over my tucked nether regions, trying to ignore any such unsettling notions. Next, I carefully inserted my toes into the pantyhose and, careful not to snag them, pulled them up to my waist. It seemed like immersing my reluctant self even deeper in those dark waters while the life-raft of my manhood drifted further out of reach, despite my vain desire to cling to it.

The simple white bra I put on was unadorned, but its impact was dramatic. The lift it gave the swollen mounds on my chest made them clamour for attention. There was no escape from the siren seas of female allure surrounding me and when I donned the crop top, its tightness pushed my boobs up higher still. Now I was out of my depth, swept away on a voluptuous tide. It was a struggle to wriggle the little skirt I’d bought up and over my butt. A glance in the mirror reassured me. I had to admit that it looked hot and so did I! Any second glances I could expect to receive would be given for all the right reasons. Actually, they would be for all the wrong reasons but… you know what I mean! Now I was in over my head, submerged in an ocean of femininity.

I left the store and making a brief detour down a side alley to a dumpster, which allowed me to bid farewell to the remains of my masculine clothing, I set out for the bus station. I scanned warily around but there was no sign of a homburg hat of any shade in any direction. I took some encouragement from this circumstance and stepped out boldly, my heels clattering loudly on the hard paving. I couldn’t help but notice that my hips were swaying in time to their rhythm and that was without my even trying. The pleated hem of my little skirt fluttered teasingly against my legs and the sensation gave rise to a tingling down below, an undesired but all too familiar feeling to which I knew I would have to get used.

Memories of Jennifer’s former existence came flooding back to me as an irresistible tidal wave swept me away, lost to the deep for good. I sighed. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, I had to own that, despite my wishes to the contrary, this was sort of, kind of, fun!

At the bus station I ran my eye over the board and picked a destination almost at random. My ruling thought was that if I hadn’t heard of a place there was an even chance that it wouldn’t have heard of me.

I boarded the Greyhound and steeled myself to disregard the stares I was getting as I passed down the aisle, disapproving or otherwise. The latter were principally from the males among my fellow passengers. I’d been free from that kind of attention for so long that it was a shock to be forcibly reminded that it went with the territory. Welcome to being a woman! I made my way to the back of the bus where there was a pair of vacant seats over which I could spread myself and my scant belongings. The first hurdle had been surmounted and a new life beckoned. Or was it my old one returning? Who cared?

Watch out world. Jennifer Cartwright is back!