CHAPTER 5. The spunky little redhead had finished her story... for now, anyway. She became intent on docking the launch, which was no easy matter, as the currents around Yaros were treacherous and unpredictable. So let us leave her to her seamanship and trouble her no further with narrating our story. The poor, frightened girl had worked so very hard... dealing not only with her own sudden transformation into girlhood, but essentially mothering the other new girls (except for Stavros and Dimitrios) as they tried to come to terms with what they had become. What did she know about being female, after all? Was she automatically some sort of girl expert just because she was the principal research assistant? Yet she patiently listened to the new girls' complaints, and tried to explain the Feminine Mysteries when she herself was as confused (and as afraid) as any of them. But she did not let it show. It was she who suggested to Justin that she tear up a few cotton T-shirts and boil the strips with pebbles until they were soft, dry them in the sun until they were fluffy, then braid them tightly to form a sort of tampon to stanch her considerable flow when her period started. It was she who assured Martin that it was all right to take a razor from camp and shave the carrot-red hair off her little blunt mound, by convincing her that many men liked their women bare. And it was she who comforted Steven when she mourned how small-breasted she was, by telling her that he'd fill out just as soon as she became pregnant (and from that moment on Steven began dreaming of the man she would marry). Where the little redhead had gotten such practical wisdom was a mystery; perhaps it Circe's secret gift to her! But her wisdom was scant comfort when it came to herself! Each night, in her little temple bedchamber (so redolent of cedar), she would cry herself to sleep because she doubted herself, doubted that she ever could be a Real Woman. For she desired nothing more! But for all her doubts, each night, when slumber finally overtook her, she dreamed, as Martin did, of the man she would marry, the man who would father her babies. So let us grant the poor little redhead some respite. Let us lift from her frail shoulders her narrative burden before we proceed with what, after all, is really the Professor's Story. And what better way to do it than to read from her notebook - from her vignettes of what each new girl thought and felt during that first momentous week when they first found themselves female. THE NEW GIRLS - THEIR STORIES * * * * * MARTIN Slim little Martin had been a burly fellow, a captain of his college football team. His ambition was to join the Marines after graduate school in order to gain the discipline so lacking in his life. Martin always partied hard and drank hard, and his liaisons with girls rarely lasted more than one night. He had a inexplicable aversion to red pubic hair on a girl. He often boasted how he had actually kicked a pretty brunette out of bed the moment she slipped off her panties and revealed her red bush. So imagine his mortification to find that he had been transmuted into just such a girl! Yes, Martin found himself turned into a lovely girl with a fine head of auburn hair, but when he looked down at his little blunt mound for the first time and saw that it was covered with a carrot-red bush, he wanted to die! I convinced him to simply shave himself. After all, lots of men like their women shaved. So Martin went down to the camp, found his safety razor, lathered up his bush, and - Presto! With a few careful strokes of his razor, his love-mound was as bare and as smooth as a little girl's! Since then, Martin has taken to walking about wrapped in a long shawl of fine black silk, which he pulls off at every opportunity in order to expose himself. Then he'll ask you, "Don't I look better shaved?" * * * * * NEAL In high school, Neal had been a ectomorphic, pimply teenager who never got dates. In college, he was known as a grind and got straight A's, though his complexion did not improve. In graduate school his acne finally settled down, but left deep pocks on his cheeks and on the back of his neck. Thus, we were all rather surprised to see that he is now the fullest-figured girl among us, with a lovely, clear complexion and a face that radiated womanly serenity. Of all the girls, Neal is the most dreamy and introspective, and the first one to say that he adores being female; he hopes that his transformation will be a lifelong one. * * * * * STEVEN Steven had been lanky and rawboned and wore a scraggly, unkempt beard. He came from a small mountain community in western Tennessee and loved playing the part of a hillbilly - which he was, though a college-educated one. He played a mean twelve-string guitar and often entertained us with Bluegrass songs. Steven is now a delicate little creature - small-breasted, with an adorable tummy that makes him look slightly pregnant. He liked to go swimming each morning, and used to wade quickly through the shallows until he reached water deep enough to swim in. Now he finds he must watch his step, for his little feet are so soft and tender that every pebble and piece of shell hurts him, so he's afraid of cutting himself. He still speaks with a Tennessee drawl, but now in a babygirl voice that is quite amusing to hear. * * * * * JUSTIN Justin was the camp's resident philosopher, always quoting some excruciatingly boring (but erudite) passage from Schopenhauer, Hegel or Kant - much to everyone's annoyance. After all, once supper was done and the dishes washed and put away, we all wanted was to get drunk and relax, not hear about The Transcendental Imperative and other such nonsense. Justin was fastidious in the extreme about his personal appearance. He shaved every day, used a deodorant, and somehow his work clothes always were freshly pressed and creased, although there was no iron on the island. His face was sharp-featured, rather like an eagle's, and his voice had an annoying nasal twang to it like the annoying drone of a bagpipe. As a girl, Justin is high-waisted, broad-hipped and soft-shouldered. He speaks in a sweet, well-modulated soprano, always enunciating clearly. His face has a perpetual little-girl-pouty expression, which everyone finds quite endearing. He hasn't mentioned Schopenhauer, Hegel or Kant once since he's been a girl. Instead, he chatters on endlessly about the sort of man he wants to marry and what sort of house he wants to live in. He says he wants a man who can buy him clothes from Paris, lots of jewelry and a fast red sports car. He says he's never going to have a baby, because they take up all your time. And besides, he's sure he could never go through childbirth. If he's said "Look how big babies are! How can they possibly come out without maiming you!"once, he's said it a hundred times! * * * * * BRAD Brad was our resident joker and comedian. He was jolly and chubby, pushing the scales at over 225. Brad knew many card tricks and was a skilled poker player, but he had an uncanny ability to pick up the essence of any card game in a matter of minutes. He was rather unpopular with the Greeks because he always beat them at cards, even when they chose the game. Brad is now the most delicate and soft female of us all! Not much more than five feet tall, he's beautifully proportioned and amazingly graceful in his carriage. After being a girl for only two days, Brad became hopelessly obsessed with his extraordinary softness. He chooses only the filmiest of gowns so that he can stroke himself with his little hands whenever he feels like it - which is rather often. We sometimes come upon him - on the belvedere, for example - to find him in a trance. He'll be draped in some transparent garment or other, striking classical poses as if he were an artist's model. Brad's a quiet sort of girl. We really don't know what he's thinking, but it's clear to all that he quite enjoys his femininity. * * * * * Stavros Stavros was an enigma. Boisterous and coarse as a man, he was frequently drunk during the day. He was married with a wife and seven children on Andros, but visited them as little as possible and rarely even talked about them. He was quite silent, almost morose, after his transformation. He usually went about in his old male clothes, but had difficulty avoiding the temptation to dress as a girl, which he sometimes did, at which times he presented a striking appearance. Stavros and Dimitrios made quite a pair as girls, always aloof, always vexed about one thing or another and usually drunk. They lived apart in the tent camp, but would come to the temple at mealtimes. Dimitrios continued to cook for all of us, though he and Stavros always ate alone. We all got the impression that they were deeply resentful of having been turned into girls and considered being female an intense disgrace. * * * * * KONSTANTINOS Konstantinos, one of the four "Little Greeks," was the youngest in the camp, only seventeen. A cheerful, hard worker, he was obviously gay, and had paired off with Alexandros (who was eighteen) right from the start. After they were turned into girls, the two stayed together, but I did not learn of this until later. The same went for Giorgios and Andreas after their transformation. The word among the other girls was that they often traded off. The four Little Greeks took their transformation in stride - it seemed that being male or female made little difference to them, although when Konstantinos got his first period he became disconsolate for a few days. * * * * * COLIN Because I'm writing about myself, I won't go into what I had been, but what I've become. As a girl, the only aspect of my appearance that's at all recognizable is my red hair. And yes, my little bush is red, too, just like Martin's, but it doesn't bother me a bit. I never minded my red hair. What affects me most about suddenly being a girl is the ineffable feeling of penetrability. It's impossible for a man to understand. But penetrability is much more than a feeling. It's really an all-pervasive state of mind, an ever-present consciousness that, as a girl, you are open and vulnerable to men and can be penetrated at their whim - impaled, raped, reamed, pinned to a bed by a hot, stiff cock whether you like it or not. Of course, I can't go around saying this: I have to set an example for all the other girls - mother them, console them, address their fears. I must act detached and above it all. Now, I may seem the very picture of maidenly modesty, but it's a sham! A sham because all during that first week I wanted nothing more than to be fucked, violently fucked, fucked for hours at a time, fucked in every conceivable position by any number of men. But of course, I'm a virgin, like the other girls, so I don't yet know what it's like to be fucked. But I can imagine. I get all wet and sloppy just thinking about it! I don't talk of this with the other girls, and I'll continue to play the prim, detached schoolmarm type whenever I'm with them. But I take advantage of every moment of solitude to bring myself off. I've been enjoying absolutely shattering orgasms ever since I learned the right way to touch my clit - which was the first night I was a girl. Perhaps the other girls have made the same discovery. Chances are, they have. I can only speak for myself. As far as I'm concerned, being turned into a girl is the best thing that ever happened to me. Now, if only I could get fucked! The Professor is arriving in just a few days. If I can outmaneuver the other girls, perhaps I can snag him. I think I'll play the weak, vulnerable type... cry a bit, bat my eyelashes, look helpless and not be too forward. I'll see how things play.... I bet I can get him into bed - and into me - the first night he's here. In the meantime, I think I'll go sun myself on the beach again. It's a treat to feel the fine, warm sand against my skin, to feel the hot breeze caress my nipples. Lying on the warm sand is ever so much nicer when you are a girl. And really, I don't mind being female... No, not at all. But I can't admit it in public! I'll keep making believe that I hate being female, that being turned into a girl is the pits. But between you and me, it's not... It's the greatest! Just ask anyone who's been lucky enough to have been transmuted. I guarantee they'll tell you it's a very good deal. No ifs, ands or buts: there's simply nothing like being a girl! Trust me! I know, and I've been a girl for only a week! I do wish I had boobs like Neal's, though. Mine are a bit smallish.....