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.....
