This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don't read it.

Unfortunately no politicians were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.

If you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hated it, Email me and lie. I will always welcome contact.

tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk

The legal stuff.
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.

7.

The week went past quickly, we rehearsed on the first three evenings, and we became very slick. On Wednesday, Wes, the base guitarist, had written some songs, and we mucked about with them. A couple were just the sort into which a strong female vocalist could really sink her teeth. One was called, It's a pity, but it's the truth, and another was, I'll wait, but not forever.

We played about with the music and lyrics, and were practicing the finished versions, when Gwen walked in on the rehearsal.

She sat at the back, and just watched. When we finished, she came up to us.

“That was really good, but I have a couple of suggestions,” she said.

Her couple of suggestions ran to about twelve, dealing with everything from my voice, to the drummer's fill-ins.

Taking what she said into account, we tried again, and the difference was amazing.

Gwen smiled and nodded, and left us to it. We went through another couple of songs, and then we noticed it was ten o'clock. Steve and the others, loaded their stuff onto the van, and I got a quick kiss goodnight. He wanted to linger, but Gwen was watching from her window.

Later, after Steve and the guys had gone, I was in my room, trying to write some lyrics and she sought me out.

She knocked on my door, even though I always left it wide open, unless I was asleep or changing.

“Hello Gwen. Come in, please.”

I chucked some stuff off my armchair, and she sat down. I sat on the bed, with my legs folded underneath me.

“Emma, I just wanted to say that I was very impressed with your rehearsal. The band seems really quite good,” she said.

I smiled, “Thanks, that means a lot, coming from you,” I said.

“Oh, not really. I am not exactly an expert in the fickle world of popular music, but I think you ought to consider recording a demo CD, and see if you can't make a few bob.”

“Really. Do you think we could?” I asked.

“Oh yes, if you speak to your young man, and tomorrow I will ask Edward to let you rehearse in the recording studio, and try to record a sample song,” she said. “But, don't forget, anything you do in here, the college gets 40%.”

“That's more than fair,” I said.

She stood up, and went over to my desk; I had been sketching some of the girls. The sketches were lying on my desk. She looked through them, and then she turned and smiled at me.

“Is there anything you aren't good at, Emma?” she asked.

“Rugby, football, and cricket,” I said, without hesitation.

She laughed, “Have you tried them?”

“Yes, and I was hideously awful.” I said, with a smile.

“Then it is just as well you are a girl, isn't it?”

“Just a bit,” I admitted, with a grin.

“I had a phone call from Mark's mother, earlier today,” she said.

“Oh, how is he?”

“They have been to a psychiatrist, and she has diagnosed that he has gender Dysphoria. So they are looking at possible avenues open to them,” she said.

“I hope they manage to sort him out. He is such a nice boy,” I said.

“Well, if they go through with what has been recommended, he will turn out to be a nice girl,” she said.

“Really, so they think he is that serious?” I asked.

“It is very early, but Mrs Williams believes that the only answer is a full blown sex change.”

“That is quite a decision to have to make. Is that what Mark wants?” I asked.

“Yes, it seems to be. I thought that he might need a friend, so I suggested that Mark call you, from time to time. You don't mind, do you?”

“Not at all, I was going to ask for his number, but didn't know if I ought to.”

“I think it will be essential for him to have someone he can talk to. Particularly a girl, who is both sympathetic, and able to encourage him. You were so good for him the other night, I was very impressed with how you handled him,” she said.

“I'd like that. It would be fun having him here while he was in transition, wouldn't it?” I asked.

“It might be a little difficult, but I am sure we could cope.”

“If the trick is to let him, or her, live as normal a life as possible, then I think it would be essential for him, or her, or whatever. I see what you mean,” I said, and grinned.

“If only everyone had your fresh approach to life. Goodnight Emma, dear,” she said, and left me alone again.

I dashed to the telephone, and called Steve's mobile for three rings. A minute later, he called back and I told him about the recording idea. He was thrilled, so he planned to get the band up to the college as early as he could on the following day, Thursday.

We chatted on about absolute crap for a few minutes, and I rang off. He really was a soppy sod, but I realised that I was becoming rather too attached to him. I liked having him around, but I did not really want to get too serious yet. I didn't want to hurt him, but we both needed space to live our lives.

The Thursday rehearsal took place in the small recording studio. Edward Massey was the man in charge, he got the band in first, and they played the two tracks written by Wes. I thought it sounded great, but Edward twiddled some knobs, and made them play both again. Satisfied, he got me, and the backing singers in next, and we put headphones on. We sang along to the music that came through our sets. Again, he made us do them twice.

Edward gave us a thumbs up, and we all went into the big hall to continue with the other numbers, while he mixed the recording, and produced our first demo.

We were just finishing the session and Edward came in.

“Do you want to hear the finished product?” he asked.

We all rushed over to the studio, and sat as he played back the demo. Gwen popped in just as it started. It sounded very good, but I couldn't believe that it was me singing. It sounded like someone else - someone much older, and when I sang, I'll wait, my voice sounded really sexy. Everyone was grinning, it was the first time any of us had heard ourselves like this.

When it finished, there was an excited buzz in the room.

Gwen nodded, and said to Steve and the guys, “I think you and I should have a little chat. Girls, could you excuse us please?”

We left, and went back to the main hall. We ran through a couple of step routines while we waited, and after twenty minutes, the boys appeared.

“Well, what did she want?” I asked, impatiently.

Steve grinned. “We have ourselves an agent. Gwen will deal with the demo, and we have signed a contract with her. She will undertake the negotiations with any interested recording companies, and so we may get something from this after all. She says that if it comes down to it we may just release our own label through the college. But we are in with a chance.”

I was thrilled, but then a thought occurred to me.

“What about your police career?” I asked.

“I'll still go ahead with that, but if this takes off, I'll just leave,” he said.

The other guys all had jobs, and were unwilling to throw everything away on a slim chance. They were under no illusions about the difficulties in finding success in this business. If a recording contract was forthcoming, then they could look at things differently, but they were aware that our input made all the difference, and the college bound us.

We said goodnight to the lads, I noticed Wes and Joanna were getting rather close. Sheri and Dave were worse than Steve and I.

I went back to my room, and the pay phone rang. I didn't think that it wouldn't be for me, but I answered it anyway.

“Hello, Emma?” said a familiar voice.

“Mark. Is that you?” I was amazed.

“Hi Emma. I just thought I'd call. Is this a bad moment?”

“No, it's fine. How are you, I've been thinking and praying for you?”

“I'm much better, now. I went to see a shrink, and it's official, I'm a transsexual,” he said.

“Yeah, I thought so. So what happens now?”

“I had another appointment today with the lady shrink, who specialises in such things, and we are going for a transition period, and they will give me small doses of oestrogens to change my body. I am starting tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“Nervous, but excited. By parents have been great, they were as you said they would be. I wish I'd told them years ago.”

“Hey, you weren't to know. Besides, they couldn't do anything until you were over seventeen in any case,” I said.

“Yeah, I know that now. I just wanted to say thanks. I think I owe you a lot.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” I said.

“Emma, are you busy this weekend?”

“Some of it, why?”

“I was wondering if you would come and stay, if I'm to start being a girl, I'd like a real one to help me, and you are the only one I know.”

“Oh, Mark, that's really sweet. Look, I am singing in a hall in Buckingham on Saturday night, I was going to stay here over the weekend, rather than go home. But if you like, why don't I stay with you on Friday, and then you could come to the gig on Saturday, and then either back here, or to your place for Sunday?” I suggested.

“Oh, I don't know about the gig. I don't know if I'm ready to go out,” he said.

“Hey Mark, or have you decided on another name yet?”

“Not yet, everything is happening rather fast.”

“Well, we could do that, we could decide who you want to be for the rest of your life,” I said.

“I'd like that.”

“And, you can't hide away for ever. Look, we don't need to decide now, would you like to collect me from college on Friday, and we will see what happens on Saturday. If needs be, you could always stay backstage. There are only the five of us from here, and the band. It's cool,” I said.

“Maybe, but I'll pick you up at five on Friday, I'll have my mum's Polo.”

“Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

“Bye, and Emma, thanks.”

I hung up. I called Steve and let him know the change of plans. I just told him a girl friend was in a bit of a jam and needed help. He was okay about it, and made slobbery kissing noises down the phone at me. I laughed and hung up.

The next day was a busy day. We were rehearsing a short one-act play that we had all co-written. I was playing a wayward daughter who had got herself pregnant by the local vicar, and it was all set in her parent's kitchen. It was rather too close to the Strongs for comfort, but I just tried to put myself in Caroline's shoes, and the character just took off.

After lunch, we had a tap class, and I really loved tap dancing. Mark had always been good at tap, and I hoped they would let him, or her, come back.

At five o'clock, I was up in my room packing a small holdall, and Gwen appeared.

“Hi Gwen,” I said.

“I see young Mark has arrived. I have just had a word with him, and he told me you are going to stay for the weekend. I think that is really sweet of you. He needs contact with friends,” she said.

“Yeah, did he tell you why I'm going there?” I asked.

“Yes, it is quite a moment for him. I know you will be kind to him. He needs to get into as normal a life as possible,” she said.

“I suggested he comes to the gig tomorrow night, he can stay behind the scenes, but I think he needs to get confidence and go out as often as he can.” I said.

“I agree. But don't throw him in the deep end, will you?”

“Not a chance,” I said, with a smile.

“Good girl. Have a lovely weekend, and good luck with the gig.”

“Thanks. We'll need it,” I said.

“Nonsense. I have a couple of record producers interested, they may be at the back, so do your best,” she said, with a little smile.

“Really? Oh, thanks Gwen. That's brilliant.”

“Keep it quiet, if the others hear about it they will go to pieces, but I thought you could tell them afterwards. Anyway, have fun, I wish I were your age again.”

“Thanks so much, Gwen,” I said, and gave her a hug.

I left my stuff for the gig in my room, as I intended to come here first, and then go on to the hall, which was literally about 500 yards down the road.

I had my holdall, and two carrier bags. As, I had scraped together a few bits and pieces from the girls and from the wardrobe department. I wanted to help Mark as much as I could. Then I went down to the car park.

Mark was sitting in his mothers blue VW Polo. I went over and opened the passenger door. I threw my bags in the back, and got in.

He was wearing jeans and a jumper, and he looked a lot better than the last time I had seen him.

I kissed his cheek, and said, “Hi, Markie. You're looking good.”

He looked at me. I was wearing my suede outfit. I thought I'd try to look a little smart.

“You always look good, Emma. Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem. I want to.”

He set off, and drove very carefully.

“When did you pass your test?” I asked.

“Just after Christmas. But I don't get out and drive very much,” he admitted.

The Williams' lived in a village called Eastcote, in Northamptonshire. It was about fifteen minutes from Buckingham.

Mark told me more about his parents' reaction to his disclosure. There was a little resistance from his father to the seriousness of his condition, and not a little embarrassment. However, they had worked through it, and had contact with a support network. His mother was just relieved to have things cleared up, and just wanted whatever it took to make her child happy.

I felt glad for him. I would never have had any of that, perhaps that was why I was granted the miracle I had experienced. Who knows?

We arrived at his home, and it was lovely. It was a restored farmhouse, and the house incorporated the old barns and out buildings. It was L shaped, and thatched. There was a high wall enclosing the missing L, to form a square yard. Another old outbuilding was now a triple garage, with a small apartment above it. The extensive gardens and orchards were on the south side of the property, and they even had a swimming pool.

“Mark, this is lovely. What does your dad do?” I asked.

“He is a corporate lawyer. He does pretty well,” he said, with a smile.

“I should say so. You have a super home.”

“Thanks.”

Mrs Williams came out to meet us, and she hugged me as if I was a long lost daughter.

“Thanks so much for coming, I think you are about the only friend that Mark has,” she said.

“Nonsense. He has a lot of friends at college, and they have all been asking after him,” I said.

That seemed to cheer them both up, and we went inside.

“Would you like a tea or coffee, Emma?” she asked.

“No thanks, but could I have a glass of milk, please, Mrs Williams?”

“Emma only drinks water or milk, Mummy,” said Mark.

“Emma, please call me Anne,” she said.

I nodded, “Thank you, Anne,” I said.

Mark had a cup of tea, and I drank my glass of milk.

“I understand that today is the big day,” I said, as the conversation reached an awkward pause.

Mark nodded, and Anne said, “Yes, the doctor thinks that Mark ought to begin trying to live as a girl, from now on. Apparently, if he can do it for a year, and the psychiatrist gives approval, then they recommend SRS.”

“I have already started hormone treatment, but it hasn't started to effect me, yet,” he said, a little nervously.

“What do you say we get organised?” I said.

“How?”

“Well, step one is to put everything that is Mark into a box, and put it away. The day you get back from surgery, you can burn the whole lot. Then, step two, we make you into the person you feel you ought to be, and then, step three, tomorrow morning, we do some therapy,” I said.

“Therapy? That sounds a bit heavy,” said Anne, frowning.

“Shopping, it is called retail therapy. I thought the three of us could see how your new daughter gets on.”

Anne laughed, and we agreed.

We all went up stairs to Mark's room, and Anne found an old tea chest.

“That will never be big enough,” I said. “Have you a dozen black bags?”
Mark went and collected the bags.

We spent the next hour emptying his cupboards and drawers. Anne was reluctant to discard some stuff, but I was pretty ruthless.

“Everything from the old life must go. We can't look back, only forward. Besides, if any second thoughts come up, the bags will still be in the attic,” I told them.

Finally, he only had the clothes he was standing in.

“Step four, on Sunday we redecorate. This is a boy's room. We go for softer, brighter colours, and some nice sexy curtains,” I said, looking at the rather sombre dark blues and greys.

I went and collected my bags, and asked Anne to leave me with Mark for a while.

She nodded, and went to start supper.

Mark looked very nervous.

“Okay, Mark, get undressed,” I said. He did, and I turned away. I rummaged in the bags, and brought out a plain white bra, and a pair of knickers. I also had a couple of tubes of hair removing cream.

He was standing in his briefs. He was slim and narrow shouldered. He had grown slightly, and was a little taller than me, which made him about 5'7” and a bit. He had small feet, and wasn't very hairy.

I handed him the cream. “Spread this on your arms, legs and chest. Take it right down past the tummy button, just above your pubic hair,” I said.

He started to, and said, “Cor, it stinks.”

I laughed. I looked at his face, he was wispy, but no real beard. I rubbed some cream onto his face, and we waited for it to dry. He put on a dressing gown, no cord, I noticed.

“While we wait, what are you going to want to be called?” I asked.

He shrugged, “I hadn't thought really. What do you think?”

“Well you could go for anything you like, or you could stay with your initials, and go for a first name like Mary, Marcia, Marsha, Mandy, Madeline, Melissa, Marion, Maryanne, or whatever. It really is up to you.”

While he was deciding, I went and ran a bath. Then he went and washed off all the cream, and most of his body hair went with it.

He came back wrapped in a towel, and sat on the bed. His hair was quite short, so I blow dried it, and backcombed it into a more feminine style, and put on some mousse.

“How about Marcia?” he said.

“Okay, Marcia sounds good to me, from now on you will be Marcia. Okay?”

“Yes. I think so.”

Then, I got out a box that Gwen had given to me, as she felt it might help. They were silicone breast forms, and special adhesive, that needed a resin release liquid to remove. I had Marcia lie on her back on the bed. I pasted the adhesive onto the back of the forms, and located them directly above her own nipples, and so they were positioned in approximately the right place. She lay there for a few minutes, and I used some foundation cream to disguise the joins.

While she lay there, I applied a little foundation to her face, covering the little acne that she had. I then put eyeliner round her eyes, and mascara on her eyelashes, which were remarkably long. I put some light blue highlights above the eye on each lid, and just emphasised her eyebrows. She had fair skin, and light brown hair. I outlined her lips with a pencil, and then put on some lipstick. I gave her a touch of blusher on the cheekbones, and sat back and had a look.

The transformation was quite astounding. Mark had been a nice looking boy, nothing special, but Marcia was a striking girl. She would never be beautiful, as her mouth was a little too big, but her eyes were fantastic.

“Are those dry yet?” I asked. I tested the breasts, and they needed a few moments longer.

“Give me your hands,” I said.

I filed and shaped her nails, and gave them a coat of plain pale pink varnish. I decided against red varnish, as it was probably too much too soon, and her father would have enough trouble coping with what I was doing in any case.

At last, her breasts were set, and she sat up.

She looked at her small, but very realistic breasts, and giggled, in a very feminine fashion.

“This is bizarre. They feel odd, but right. Do I make sense?” she asked.

“Yes, perfect sense. Now put this on,” I handed her the bra.

I didn't even have to help her do it up properly, as she had obviously been practising with her mother's clothes for some time.

I said, “Okay Marcia. This is the awkward bit. If you want me to leave, I will, but you need to push your balls up into your groin, and squeeze your willy between your legs.”

She smiled.

“I've been doing that for years.”

She took the white knickers, and put them on. I could not see any telltale bulge, and, apart from rather narrow hips, there was a girl standing in front of me.

I gave her a pair of tights, she slipped them on, and I passed her a pale green turtleneck top and a knee length dark skirt. I had her put the top outside the skirt, and gave her a wide belt to put round her waist. Then I gave her a selection of shoes, none with high heels. I had no idea what size she was, but she found some that fitted.

She stood in front of me, and gave a little twirl. I took her to her mother's room, where there was a full-length mirror.

She stood, transfixed by her appearance.

“That, that isn't me?” she said.

“Oh yes, it is.”

“But she's a girl.”

“Yup, that's you,” I said, smiling.

Slowly the girl smiled, until the smile threatened to cut her head in two.

“Shall we show your mum?” I suggested.

She nodded, reluctant to leave the mirror.

We went down stairs, and Marcia was suddenly afraid to confront her mother.

“Wait here,” I said. I went into the kitchen, and asked Anne to sit down for a moment.

Then, I called, “Marcia, you can come in now.”

Marcia came in, very shyly, and stood by the door. She looked great, and I would have had difficulty knowing that an unhappy boy called Mark was lurking out of sight.

“Anne, meet Marcia, your daughter,” I said, and held my hand to Marcia.

She took my hand, and I led her to face her mother.

Anne went very pale, and shook her head very slowly. She stood up, and the two embraced. Then, Anne held Marcia at arms length, and looked her up and down, still shaking her head in disbelief.

“You look wonderful. I can't believe it. To think that underneath you've always been this lovely girl. How sad that it has taken this long,” Anne said. Marcia was almost in tears.

“Marcia, no crying, you will make your mascara run,” I said, with a laugh.

She laughed, and the moment was lost.

Anne turned to me.

“Oh Emma, thank you. You've done wonders,” she said.

“Not really, it was there all the time, I just helped her bring it to the surface,” I replied.

“How on earth did you manage to get her, you know, her breasts so lifelike?” Anne was clearly quite embarrassed.

“Gwen had some silicone breast forms, and they are literally stuck to her. They are the natural colour, and even have nipples,” I explained.

“I can see that. It is really odd.”

“As the hormones take effect, she should develop her own, and perhaps we can do away with them. In any case, she could always have implants to create the right size,” I said.

“You seem to know an awful lot about all this, how come?” Anne asked.

“I read up on it, I thought I needed to know a bit, so I could help,” I said.

There was the sound of a car in the drive.

“That'll be Roger,” Anne said.

Marcia looked panicky.

“It'll be fine. Anne you go and warn him, and we will just sit here as if it is the most normal thing in the world,” I said.

Anne got up, and I sat Marcia down at the kitchen table. I found a magazine of her mother's, and opened it at random. It was a page on make up. I sat next to her, and we just looked like two teenaged girls looking at a girly magazine. Which is exactly what we were.

We heard voices in the hall, and eventually the door opened and Anne and Roger came in.

Anna sat down next to Marcia, and put her arm round her shoulder.

Roger stared at his new daughter, and swallowed.

“Hello Marcia. Emma, nice to see you again,” he said, I could see the strain on his face.

I stood up, “Hello Mr Williams. It is so nice to be here. Thanks for having me.”

He was staring at his daughter. Marcia looked at him from under her eyelashes.

“Hello Daddy. Emma has helped me a little,” she said.

He laughed.

“A little, she has worked a small miracle. Marcia, you look lovely. I am speechless. Now, Anne I need a drink, can I get anyone else one?” Roger said, and the ice was broken.

Roger held his arms open, and said, “Come here, my little girl,” And Marcia ran to him and they hugged. Anne sat and openly wept, and I confess that I felt somewhat emotional as well. It was a lovely moment.

I quietly left them to it, and went up to my room. I sat on the bed, and reflected on what had just happened. A loving family now surrounded Marcia, and whatever happened, she was safe. I wondered about my mother, and whether the arms of the law were going to ever reach her. Somehow, I doubted it, and felt that our showdown would come when Russell's 21 st birthday was due.

I unpacked my few clothes, and brushed my hair. I never heard Anne come in.

“Emma?” she said.

I spun round, startled.

“I'm sorry, I never heard you,” I said.

“I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to say thank you. You have no idea how much you have helped. I had no idea where to start, I was pretty useless, I'm afraid,” she said.

“Don't worry. It must be so hard for you all. I haven't the attachment or the history. I enjoyed doing it. She looks wonderful, doesn't she?” I asked.

“You called her she, should we do that?”

“Is there any doubt? If she is to succeed, she needs to live a normal life. This means that you and I have to teach her seventeen years worth of girly stuff in a few hours, and days. She must learn to stand, walk, sit, talk and live every minute as a woman. You and I do it naturally, but we need to watch and help her every step of the way.

“My boyfriend moans that I eat like a pig. I do. I take huge mouthfuls, and I eat too much too quickly. I have nothing to prove, and if anything, he is attracted to me for being a bit different. Marcia is going to be hypersensitive to the way she looks, and as to how others see her. Therefore, we have to be honest, and encouraging. She will get panicky over everything, but needs to gain in confidence as quickly as possible.”

“You mentioned her going to the concert you are singing in tomorrow, is that possible?” Anne asked.

“After seeing how she looks, her only problem will be keeping boys away. Seriously Anne, I think it is not only possible, but it is a way to build up her confidence. Five of us from college are going to be there. Once the girls accept her, then the next step of getting back into college will be easier. I know Gwen would support her, and think what a difference that would make?” I asked.

“I hadn't dreamed of thinking that far ahead. I am living each minute as it comes,” Anne admitted.

“Well, she has a hell of a struggle ahead. She just needs all the help she can get,” I said.

“Thanks, Emma, come on down, I think Roger has got over his shock now,” Anne said, smiling.

We went down and found Roger and Marcia talking together in the kitchen. Roger was looking more composed now, and he stood up as we entered. He has a glass of whisky in his hand.

“Emma, I'm sorry, I didn't really greet you properly. I was sort of side tracked. Hello, and thank you.” He came up to me and kissed me on the cheek.

I went and put my hand on Marcia's shoulder.

“You've nothing to thank me for, she has always been there, only now she has been able to come into the open,” I said.

“Can I get you a drink, I'm getting a wine for Anne, and Marcia? He asked

“A glass of wine would be super, thanks,” I said.

Roger disappeared, and I said to Marcia, “Well, how was it?”

She smiled, “A bit strained to start with, but then he relaxed, and we spoke to each other like nothing had changed, only he was more at ease than he has been for ages. For the first time, Emma, I think this actually might work,” she said.

I stood up, and asked Anne if there was anything I could do to help. She had me shredding a cabbage, and peeling some potatoes. Marcia peeled and chopped the carrots. Roger came in with the wine, and took in the scene of domestic industry, and shook his head.

“Ladies, your wine,” he announced, and gave us each a glass.

Then he raised his glass, and said, “I should like to propose a toast to our daughter, Marcia, and may she truly find happiness.”

“To Marcia, and Happiness,” I said, and we clinked glasses.

We spent a very jolly evening, but Roger managed to drink rather too much, but handled it well. Anne told me that he was the most relaxed he had been in a long time, and I noticed he kept looking at Marcia, when she wasn't looking at him.

Marcia was relaxed and quite quiet. She smiled a lot, and I began to see feminine characteristics. She began to hold her hands and touch her face in a more lady-like way. She was very at home in her clothes, and it was strange to realise that this was her first time. Her walk was very graceful, and I remembered the dancer. Mark had always been graceful, and now I could see why.

Whereas Marcia was quiet, I was chatty. I was very aware of the strain the family had been under, and I probably talked too much.

I talked about the college, about Steve and the band, and our hopes for a recording contract. I talked a little about my fictitious past, but I worked on the principle, the less lies you tell, the less they can hang you by.

I found out a little about the Williams family. Stewart, the elder brother, was in America, at the Harvard business school. He had graduated with a 2.1 from Oxford, and was doing a business masters at Harvard. He was everything that Mark had not been, and in some small way, this contributed to Marcia's levels of self-esteem and confidence. Siblings are always compared with each other, and poor Mark had never come up to his brother's level.

After supper, I asked if I could phone Mike and Mary, just to let them know what was happening at the weekend. They knew I wasn't coming home, but I thought they would like to know what was planned.

I rang the number, and Mike answered.

“Vicarage, hello?”

“Hi Mike, it's Emma.”

“Em. How are you?”

“I'm good. I just wanted to tell you I'm staying with my friend Marcia, in Northamptonshire. She will be driving me to the gig tomorrow, and I will stay with her tomorrow night as well. Just so you know.”

“Thanks. We were wondering what you were up to. Is there a number there, in case?”

I told him the number of Marcia's phone.

“How's things with you and Mary?” I asked.

“Well, the weirdest thing happened. Do you remember Charles Gregson?”

“Didn't I meet him at your house once?” I asked.

“Yes, he was the guy from the PCC, not a desperately nice man. Anyway, he and his family have sold up and gone, almost overnight. I got a letter from him, no explanation, just resigning from the PCC. Some personal matter, I understand. But he has donated £20,000 to the fund. That means the Diocese has to fork out £30,000. Isn't that wonderful?”

“That's great, but why did he do it?” I asked.

“I have no idea. He has left no forwarding address, they've moved to Cornwall, for some strange reason. I've asked about, and no one seems to know why,” he said.

“How odd,” I said, with my heart racing. Well, that's what a guilty conscience does!

“Isn't it? Anyway, Caroline has at last replied to our emails, and she has sent through photographs of the children. Mary is thrilled, and they have been writing reams and reams to each other. Last night, they spoke on the telephone for quite a long time. I think things are being patched up.”

“Good, I'm pleased for you. I have another gig in Milton Keynes on next Saturday, and another in Winslow again the Saturday after that. That will probably be the last, as Stephen is off to police training school the following week,” I said.

“That sound fun. You are quite fond of Stephen, aren't you?”

“He's nice, but I'm not going to do anything silly. So tell Mary to stop clucking,” I said, and he chuckled on the other end of the phone.

“Well, have fun, and let us know whether you want to come home next week. You know you are always welcome?”

“I know Mike, and thanks. I've got some news about you know who, but I'll tell you when I see you both next.”

We rang off, and I was thrilled that my little ploy worked. I needed to make sure that the notebook was removed from circulation. I didn't want it coming to light at the wrong moment.

It was nearly ten thirty, I was tired, and I knew that we had a full day ahead of us tomorrow.

I went and said good night, and Marcia said she would come up with me. I got a hug from Anne and from Roger. I felt a little awkward, as these people thought I was some sort of miracle worker.

We went up, and Marcia came into my room, and sat on my bed.

“This has been the happiest day of my life,” she said. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Oh you poor girl,” I said, and embraced her.

“I have never felt like this before, it is as if, suddenly there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and I have a reason the live.”

“I'm pleased.”

“I couldn't have done it without you.”

“You could have done, but perhaps not so quickly,” I said.

“What I don't understand is how you seem to understand me so well.”

“One day, I'll tell you my story, and you will see why I understand better than you realise,” I said, still reluctant to tell her the truth.

“Will you pray for me?” she asked me.

“Sure, now?” I asked, surprised.

“Whenever. I can't seem to know what to say.”

“Okay. Listen, Marcia, I don't know much, but once, when I was at the bottom, I cried out, and my prayer was answered. I wasn't specific, but the answer I got exceeded any expectations I had. To be honest, I didn't expect an answer at all.”

“When were you at the bottom? You've got so much going for you. I always envied you. You were so confident, you weren't afraid of anything, and everyone likes you. I wanted to be like you,” she said.

“You've only known me a few weeks. But all I can say, at the beginning of February, I was about as low as anyone can be. Dressing gown cord time. And I mean it,” I said, telling her more than I meant to.

“I don't believe it, not you!” she said.

“Oh, Marcie. I wasn't always like this. My miracle has made me the person you now know, and see. One day, when it is safe, I promise I will tell you everything, but for now, just trust me. The impossible became reality for me. So lets pray that the improbable can become your reality too.”

“You are so kind. But I know that you could never have been as low as that, you've made me feel better anyway, so please pray for me,” she said.

We sat together, I held her hand, and she shut her eyes. I watched her, and I tried to remember the feeling of desperation I felt when I cried out in my pain.

I felt a real fraud. A miracle had happened for me, and yet here was someone who was suffering as much, if not more that I had been. Yet, although I was convinced there was a God, I'm wasn't certain that He (or She) had anything to do with my miracle.

“Oh God. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart and soul for what you have done for me. I ask that you look to my friend. She is just as much in need, just as desperate and hurts just as much as I did. I don't know how you managed to do what you did for me, but I ask you now to do what needs to be done for my friend Marcia. You have always known who she was, deep down, and she has suffered so much. I know that the path she is now on has a goal, and an end of sorts, but grant this girl a miracle. Allow her to be as much a woman, just like her mother. Bless her and allow her to be the mother that could be her destiny. As much as surgeons are skilful, and the ways of man can bring her to a near replication of a woman, cut through all of that, and give her the blessing of womanhood, whole and complete. Just as Jesus brought wholeness and completeness to those who suffered all those centuries ago. Lord, please work a miracle here and in this house. Thank you. Amen,” I finished, not knowing what else I could say.

“Emma?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you telling me that you weren't as beautiful as you are now?” Marcia looked confused. Fortunately, she had not grasped the depth of my miracle.

“Marcie, I promised I would tell you, and I will. Some miracles are on the outside and others on the inside. Telling you now won't help either of us. But all I can say, my life is turned around. I have an obligation to help others now, and it is a wonderful obligation,” I said.

“Thanks Emma. I've certainly got piece of mind now, and I've never had that before,” she said.

“Look, Marcie. I'll take those thingies off you now,” I said. Referring to her breast forms.

“No, I rather like them. Can't I keep them tonight?” she asked.

“What happens if you grow your own in the night, two sets is just plain greedy,” I said.

She laughed, but then she saw I was serious.

“You really believe that that is possible?” she asked.

“Why not?” I asked, hardly daring to believe it myself.

“It doesn't happen. Not like that. The hormones take a long time to build up,” she said.

“Doesn't it?” I asked.

“All right, but have you enough adhesive for tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes, but I am hoping we won't need any.”

“Fat chance,” she said.

She took off her top and bra, exposing her false breasts. They were very lifelike, and I applied the liquid release. They fell off neatly, and I wiped them down and put them in the box. She went and had a wash, and put on a nightie her mother had set aside for her.

I gave her a hug.

“Listen. If it happens, don't tell anyone, but come and wake me up?” I said.

“If what happens?” she asked.

“You will know,” I said, “Good night Marcie. Sweet dreams.”

She went to bed, a much happier person. I got ready for bed, and sat reading for a while. Then I turned out my light, and went to sleep very quickly.

It was pitch black, and something was violently shaking me. I forgot where I was, and was afraid. I struggle to wake up, and I reached for the light.

I sat up, Marcie was standing by my bed, and she was shaking.

“Marcie. What is the time?” I asked.

“How did you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“You knew. You knew, didn't you?”

“Marcie, what did I know?”

She lifted up her nightie, and there it was, or rather, there it wasn't. Just as it had happened for me. She was now female, in fact, and reality.

“Sit down Marcie,” I said.

She wasn't listening, and she was almost hysterically pleased.

“MARCIE!” I almost shouted.

She stopped and stared at me.

“Please, sit down,” I said.

She sat on my bed. I reached out, and held her hand.

“Marcia, you need to get real. You are now a woman, but certain responsibilities go with it. For starters, you must deal with this carefully, imagine the fuss if you go public, and the medics want to do hundreds of tests, and the press want photos of you showing your new boobs. It could turn into a circus. So, by all means enjoy your new life, but take care, it could turn into a nightmare,” I said.

It then dawned on her that all the doctors, surgeons, tests and hormones were no longer an issue. She grinned and hugged me. I felt something beneath her nightie.

“See, I told you that you would grow your own. You didn't believe me, did you?” I asked.

She looked down her front and squealed with delight, she lifted it up to show me. Small, but perfectly formed, she had begun to grow her own breasts.

“They will get bigger in a couple of days. I can't wait to see your mum's expression,” I said.

“Emma, I think I know who you really are?” she said, and I had a sudden lurch of panic. How could she have guessed?

“Oh yes?” I said, my heart thumping.

“I should have guessed. You arrived so suddenly, you are so beautiful, you are brilliant at everything, you love everyone, and everyone loves you. You know exactly what is going to happen, and it is so obvious,” she said.

This was a little unexpected, and I now had no idea where she was going with this.

“Go on.”

“Now I know why you have no family, no roots and no past. It is because you haven't got one, have you?” She asked.

“Marcie, I love you dearly, but I don't know what you are talking about,” I said, thoroughly confused.

“What was your father's first name?” she asked, out of the blue.

I had to think, I couldn't remember what was on the birth certificate, then it came to me.

“John, why?”

“Too slow! What was your mother's maiden name?”

“Smith. Look Marcie, what are you getting at?” I asked.

“Smith, yeah. Like, I really believe that. Look, you can trust me, and I promise I won't tell anyone. Besides who would believe me?” she said.

“Marcie, for the love of God, what are you talking about?” I said.

“See. I knew it. You were sent weren't you?”

“Marcie, if you don't tell me what you are on about, I will get seriously pissed off,” I said.

“Oh, Emma, I know that you are an angel. Nothing you can say can convince me of anything else. It is the only thing that makes any sense.”

I burst out laughing, and I can remember when I laughed so much. I sat on the floor and laughed until I almost wet myself.

Marcie looked at me, looking worried, then doubtful, and the she smiled.

“Brilliant. That is the best way to deal with the truth. Well, I promise I won't tell anyone,” she said.

“Oh, Marcie. You've got me all wrong. I am anything but an angel,” I said, wiping the tears away from my eyes.

“Oh yes, you are.”

“No, honestly, I'm not.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

“I can't, not yet.”

“See, you are!” she said.

“Oh, bollocks. Believe what you want. I can see I am not going to convince you anyway,” I said.

“Oh, I'm convinced,” she said. I hit her with my pillow.

She was positively bouncy, but I had to send her back to her room. I had a really busy day planned, and I needed my sleep. I looked at my clock, four a.m., now was that familiar or what?

Marcie couldn't leave me asleep for long, and she bounced me out of bed at seven o'clock.

“Did you go back to sleep at all?” I asked her grumpily.

“No, I'm far to excited for that. I'm a girl!”

“Yes dear, so am I and I'm bloody knackered,” I said.

I had to examine her boobs, and I had to agree, they had grown a little in the three and a half hours since I had last seen them. Moreover, yes, her hips were wider and her waist was slimmer. It was a case of déjà vu.

I went and had a shower, in the rather vain hope I would feel refreshed and a bit more alive. It did work, a bit.

I then dressed, and went to Marcia's room. She was parading naked in front her mirror. I remembered what I felt like, and the environment I found myself at the time. She was incredibly lucky to be in a home where she would be accepted and loved.

I managed to persuade her to get dressed, and I helped her with her makeup. We were both downstairs a little after eight.

Anne was surprised to see us, and Roger was still fast asleep. We had some breakfast, and Marcia was so excited, that Anne eventually asked, “All right, what the hell has made you so wonderfully happy all of a sudden?”

“I'm a girl, Mummy,” she said.

“Yes, I know, dear.” Anne said, patiently.

“No, you don't understand. I really am a girl. I don't know how, but I am not a male anymore. I have got girl's bits, and these are my own, they aren't rubber,” she said, holding her hands under her breasts.

Anne looked at her, with rather a sad expression.

“Anne, she is right. Something happened in the night. She is a woman now, just like you, and just like me,” I said. “I should know, as she woke me up at four o'clock to show me.”

Anne just looked at me, and then at Marcia. I could tell that she thought that we were playing a trick on her.

“Oh, you are going to have to show her Marcie,” I said, and poured myself a glass of milk.

Marcia simply dropped her knickers and tights, and lifted her skirt.

Anne put her hand to her mouth, and sank into the chair I placed behind her.

“Oh, dear God!” she said.

“Pull them up Marcie, I think she has seen enough,” I suggested.

Marcie pulled her knickers and tights back up, and smoothed her skirt down.

Anne was very pale. She looked at me, “How?” she said.

“Anne, I honestly don't know. When she went to bed she was Mark, and at four she woke me up and she was most definitely Marcia,” I said.

“I don't understand. It's impossible!” she said.

“Anne, if it happened it must be possible. The important thing is not to panic, and not to screw up Marcia's life. What you have to do is find a sympathetic doctor, and just persuade him or her that Mark must have been a girl all along, and developed late into a normal female. If you make her into some special case, she will be a guinea pig for the medical profession, and she will become a modern day side show freak,” I said, quite heatedly. I had had time to think about this.

Anne nodded, vacantly.

“Right, we have some shopping to do. It will do us all a lot of good. It is best we keep Roger out of the loop, he will only panic and screw it all up,” I said.

Anne nodded, again, still vacantly.

“Come on Anne, you have to drive, as Marcia only has a drivers licence as a male, and no copper would believe what has just happened,” I said. Marcia went and got her bag, and I picked up mine, and put on my coat. Anne was still in shock.

“Oh hell. Marcia, drive, and for pities sake don't get stopped,” I said. I got Anne into the front passenger seat and jumped into the back. Marcia brought her mother's handbag, and got in the drivers seat. We were off.

I took Marcia and Anne straight to see Pam. She was pleased to see me, and we chatted about trivial things. I arranged for her to do a makeover for Marcie, and Anne and I went to the coffee shop.

I bought Anne a strong black coffee, and she was coming out of her shock.

“Emma, have I just been dreaming, or did I really see what I think I have?” she asked.

“It was no dream, Anne. You have a real daughter now. It's what's called a miracle,” I said.

She looked at me, in a very strange way. I began to feel uneasy, again. What was it with these people?

“You have no parents, they died, Mark, no Marcia, told me?” She asked.

“Yes, in a car crash in Uganda,” I said.

“So you have no family at all, here in England?”

“No, why?” I asked. I had just been here with Marcia, not Anne too?

“Marcia also said that you live with a vicar and his wife, not far from Buckingham?”

“That's right. Anne, where is this leading?” I asked.

“I know what you are. Oh my God. I never believed, and you've been sent to us. I prayed and prayed, all through the pain and troubles, and He sent you! I won't tell anyone, I promise. How long are you here for?” she said.

I was seriously worried now, as she had clearly flipped as badly as her daughter.

“Anne, take a step back, please. Who, or what, do you think I am?” I asked, dreading the answer.

She looked around, in a conspiratorial manner. She leaned across the table, and whispered.

“You're an angel. I should have believed. Can you forgive me?” she said.

I smiled, if I had burst out laughing, that would have hurt her.

“Oh Anne. I am not an angel. I promise. Look, I had the curse a week or so ago, would an angel bleed?” I said.

“If you wanted to appear human, you would do anything a human would do,” she said.

“Like mother - like daughter. Oh, Anne, what is it with you two? I had the same silly conversation with Marcie in the middle of the night, and I can tell you I'm not impressed,” I said, getting quite cross now.

“So she can see it too. Well, I promise we won't tell anyone,” she said.

“Oh, Anne, I am no bloody angel.” I said.

She just smiled. I gave up, they were convinced, and there was nothing I could do about it.

She finished her coffee, and we went and picked up a completely different Marcia. She had bought the £15 worth of cosmetics, and Pam was pleased, and promised to come to the gig that evening

Marcia was vivacious, and so out-going, it was difficult to imagine she was the same person as yesterday. She had her ears pierced at the same place I had mine done, and then we spent several hours shopping for clothes.

Unlike yours truly, Marcia had access to a lot of money, and she was very generous. She insisted on buying me several skirts and tops, and three pairs of sexy shoes, that I could use on stage. One was a long pair of shiny black boots, which came up above the knees, and had 4” heels. The others were black shoes, one just had high heels, and the other had sexy lacing up the ankle as well.

She also bought me a pair of black leather hot pants, and a leather top to match. Everything I had, she bought similar for herself. The last task was to have her hair done. She had it cut, as I had done, quite short, so that it would grow back nicely.

Anne had relaxed now, and was looking more as if she was on planet earth. She and Marcia kept giving each other knowing smiles, and I felt very amused, but somewhat frustrated.

We got back to their home at noon, and had a quick bite to eat. Roger had gone to play golf, and that was definitely a blessing. I had to get back to Buckingham to help set up, and I suggested Marcia come too. There was no holding her back. She suggested that she do a bit of backing dance for the band, and I just shrugged. It wasn't up to me.

She and I grabbed some of the clothes we had bought, said goodbye to Anne, and she drove, very carefully, to the college. I went up to my room, and Marcia came too, Sheri and the others were all getting their stuff together.

I was just finishing putting my stuff in a bag, when Sheri popped in.

“Hi Emma, nearly ready?” she asked, and then saw Marcia.

“Hi Sheri, yeah I'm ready. You remember Marcia?” I said.

“Marcia, no. Hi Marcia,” she said, frowning.

“Hi Sheri. You probably don't recognise me. I used to be called Mark,” she said.

Sheri's mouth opened and closed a few times, and no sound was forthcoming.

“No flies today?” I asked.

Sheri looked at me, and then at Marcia, who was wearing a low cut top, showing her cleavage in all its glory.

“Emma, what the hell is going on?” Sheri asked.

“It seems that Mark has always been a Marcia, but had a funny condition that masked the truth. It seems that a build up of female hormones kicked in and she is the person you now see before you. That is why she had to leave. It has all been a bit of a shock to the family,” I explained.

Sheri bought it, hook, line and sinker.

She hugged Marcia, and said, “You look really good. Are you okay?”

“I'm brilliant. Its like an angel has worked a miracle,” she said, winking at me. I groaned and rolled my eyes heavenward.

Sheri was out into the corridor, and spread the news in no time. In a matter of minutes there were about ten people in my room, all trying to speak at once.

“Oi!” I yelled. The noise level came down a little.

“Listen. Please don't talk about this; we don't want to upset Gwen by getting the media involved. Marcie just wants to get on and live her life. Please give us a little space,” I asked.

Gradually, they left, one by one, each giving Marcia a hug, and being amazingly supportive. Finally, we were alone again, and Gwen was standing by the door. She looked at Marcia, and then at me.

“Emma, I would be obliged if you could give me an explanation as to what has happened,” she said.

“Gwen, I don't really know, but Marcia, who used to be Mark, has experienced a gender transformation, and is now a normal female. I'm not a doctor, but I think, underneath it all she was always female. There is probably a word for the condition, but I don't know. I think she would like to come back to college,” I said.

Gwen looked at me, then at Marcia, who was looking rather nervous.

The older woman smiled, and took Marcia by the hand.

“You look so much better, and I am pleased that you are sorted. I will call your parents, and we will discuss your return. But I need to know that the press won't be bothering us,” she said.

“Oh Gwen, I want to come back. All my friends are here. I hope that the press don't get hold of this,” Marcia said.

“Good. I'll ring them this afternoon. You had better get down to the hall. I will see you later, Emma,” she turned and walked out.

Twenty minutes later, we were in the hall, and found Steve and the boys already setting up. The other girls were there, and the atmosphere was exciting. I introduced Marcia to the guys as a dancer, who would give us some extra colour. She had the most amazing long legs, and I could see that they had no problem with that.

We rehearsed the whole list, and in particular, the numbers we had recorded. Marcia just stood next to the backing singers and watched, and then, as the rehearsal moved along, she began to dance quietly off to the side. The Hall's stage was a prefabricated one, made out of large wooden box like structures. Scaffold poles held up the curtain, and one of these was visible to the left of the stage.

Marcia danced her own pole routine, and at one point the music almost was stopped altogether as the band were distracted by her incredibly sexy pole-dance routine.

We changed into our costumes, I went over the top a bit with the makeup, and was quite heavy with the black around the eyes. I had a lot of silver on the eyelids, with brilliant orange as well. I put the black hot pants and leather top on, with the boots; it brought a few gasps from the other girls. I walked out into the hall, and Steve took one look at me, and started dribbling.

“Fucking Hell, Emma,” he said.

“Thank you so much. A girl really knows when she is appreciated,” I said.

He put his guitar down and came over to me, and put his arms around me.

“You don't know what you do to me.”

“I know exactly what I do to you. Cool it, I've just put my makeup on, and I don't want it smudged,” I said.

“I promise, what I want to do to you does not involve your face.”

I hit him.

“Down. Ground rule number one. Remember?” I said.

“But I'll go blind,” he said, rubbing his arm.

“Good,” I said, grinning.

Marcia walked out, and she was dressed in the same way as I, except she had fishnet tights and stiletto shoes. She looked absolutely stunning. She was very slim and very tall, those legs of hers went on forever, and the hot pants left very little to the imagination. There was absolutely no doubt as to her gender now. Steve whistled, so I hit him again, and he grinned and rubbed his arm.

The other girls were all in black, and either in mini skirts or hot pants. We all agreed that we looked hot.

We pulled the curtains back, and waited for the hall to fill up. It was about the same size as Winslow, and there had been many enquiries. The organisers told us it was a sell out, and they were starting to turn people away.

We took our places, and all light was kept out. The curtains were drawn, and I started the first number, still in the dark. The first two lines were slow and sexy, and then it went up-tempo as the band came in with a heavy rhythm, and the lights came up.

As the crowd saw me, there was a roar and a surge forward. As the other girls were lit up, the roar got louder. Marcia was dancing, and some intelligent soul put a spot onto her. The noise of the crowd drowned out the first number.

There was no looking back. We all gave it our best, and I was as raunchy as I could. However, the real star was our new dancer, who captivated many male hearts that night.

Our two songs went down really well, and I began to believe that we could make something from them. I really enjoyed doing the routines with the backing group, and we managed to get several roars from the crowd with some of the sexier stuff.

After six curtain calls, we were ready to drop, but the band launched into a raunchy tune, that would suit a strip show. All the lights were out, except one spot, and Marcia managed to captivate everyone for three minutes with the most sensuous dance I had ever seen. She managed to do things around a scaffold pole that defied reason.

When she finished, and gracefully curled up on the stage, the applause was absolutely deafening,

After the show, we all relaxed, the girls had thoroughly enjoyed their work, and here was still a buzz in the air. The guys were on cloud nine. They had never been so well received before, and even though they were aware that the female additions had helped, everyone was grinning.

The organiser came backstage, and he took Steve to one side to pay him his cut. Two youngish guys came through, and one of the bouncers went to stop them.

“We are from Polymorph Records, we were asked by their agent to come,” the taller one said.

The bouncer looked at Steve, who grinned and waved for them to come through.

I wandered over and was standing next to Steve when they introduced themselves. There was talk of a recording contract, and all manner of things, few of which I understood.

Steve's expression displayed similar ignorance, and I suggested that we continue the conversation with our agent present. The rather smooth tall guy, Rob Grierson, seemed a little put out that we were being cautious, but I stuck to my guns, and gave him Gwen's phone number.

One factor that became apparent, any contract was dependant upon the group and all the girls working together.

Tanya Allen

© 5 December 2004