Kirk VII


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Kirk walked back to his quarters, feeling shaken, the incident with Errol playing over and over in his mind.  The man’s hand on Kirk’s breast, his thigh, the unwanted kiss.  It made him shiver, and he hunched over, feeling self-conscious, vulnerable in his short dress, his long legs exposed, and the eyes of the men constantly caressing his figure.

Plunging into his quarters, he sighed with relief as the door wooshed shut, and he could finally relax, no longer feel embattled.  He sat down at his desk, knees together without even thinking about it, and tossed his long, blonde hair.  Who had done this to him?   He started to cycle through the names and faces, trying to figure out who had not only motive but means.  Nothing.

He checked his messages, he found orders to report to see Captain Finnegan that afternoon, as well as messages from Spock, McCoy, Uhura and Rand, all checking up on him to see how he was doing.  He realized he could still taste Errol, and he got up, disgusted.

How am I doing? He thought.  Terrible. He gargled some mouthwash, trying to get the taste of Errol out of his mouth.   Spit it out.  Gargled some more.  Then he thought he could smell Errol’s sweat on his body, and he didn’t know if this was all just female hysteria or not, but once the idea got into his mind he felt disgusted and dirty, so he took a quick shower, and then sprayed himself with some of his old cologne.  He felt like crying. Screaming.  How am I doing?  How do you think?

The only one he trusted to share his feminine struggles with was Rand.  They’d been… close before his change, and she’d been there helping him adjust to his new life even from the beginning.  The others, he needed them to continue to see him as the man he’d been, and would be again.

Should I ask Spock to help me investigate?  Kirk wondered.  The thought made him feel warm, and he imagined himself in Spock’s powerful arms, looking up into his–

No!  Kirk pushed the thought away.  He’d been struggling with his feelings for Spock, ever since, back on Rammerham, Spock had rescued him.


The warrior had carried Kirk to a cell and unceremoniously plunked him on the floor.  He sat there in his little red uniform, staring at the long, shapely legs spread out before him, the small, dainty hands, the full, heavy breasts.  He was stunned.  It all seemed impossible.

After a time, he got to his feet, standing unsteadily.  His whole body felt wrong.  His legs were too long, he had what felt like a mountain of hair piled on top of his head, and of course there was impossible weight of his chest.  He walked around his small cell, trying to get used to the feel of walking in this new body, in these boots, these clothes.  He found himself tugging constantly on the short dress.  He felt naked.

The cell wasn’t much.  A cot, a toilet, a sink.  Looking up, he saw a camera following him around the cell, and he imagined the guards, the men, ogling him, and he crossed his arms over the swelling of his soft, new chest.

What had happened?  Why had he transported down in this body?  He looked in the mirror, and quickly looked away.  The face he’d seen?  It was– beautiful. Feminine.  Young.  It shocked him to see her with her big,  wide eyes, and full lips, and to realize that kissable face was him.

Death.  The guard had told him the penalty for a woman to speak was death.

Well, how am I going to get out of this one?  He wondered.  And where was his crew?  He examined the bars, looked for any means of escape.  Found nothing. He lay on the cot, trying to pull his dress down, to keep his legs together, so the guards wouldn’t have anything to look at.  He’d never had to worry about it before, but he’d never worn a tiny little dress, either.  He decided he needed to think through the situation, wait for an opportunity to present itself.  Was it the stress?  The shock of finding himself in a new, female body?  He didn’t know, but he plunged into a deep, troubled sleep and only woke up when he heard a man bellow, “Wake up!”

Kirk snapped awake, initially confused by the weight of his breasts bouncing on his chest, the sight of his long, coltish legs, exposed by his dress.  Then it all started to come back to him, the slap, being taken prisoner.  He pushed a few strands of hair away from his face with his slender hands and sat on the edge of the cot, his knees together.

The man leered at Kirk, letting his eyes roam across his body.  Then, he met Kirk’s eyes and smiled, like a shark.

‘I am a Federation Officer,” Kirk started, wincing at the high-pitched sound of his voice.  He didn’t even sound like a woman, but a girl.

“Shut up! The man said “And listen to me if you want to live.”

“I want to talk to my ship,” Kirk continued.

“No,” the man said, setting his briefcase down, adjusting his suit.

“I have rights!”  Kirk had meant the words to come out forceful and commanding, but instead he had sounded like a teen girl about to have a hissy fit.  He cringed, putting his hands to his throat, feeling his breasts pressed together between his arms.

“You are a woman, and you have no rights on Rammerham,”  the man said.  “This isn’t your precious Federation, with all of your absurd notions of equality.  However, in the interest of avoiding an interplanetary crisis, I am here to offer you a deal that will save your life.  So, do you want to listen or do you want to die?  Nod or shake your head.  I think that is your custom?”

Kirk felt ashamed of his voice, and so he just nodded.  Besides, talk of the Federation reminded him he’d come here on a mission.  He needed to do what he could to salvage that operation, even if it meant he had to put the little issue of his sex change aside for the moment.

“Good girl,” the man said.  “So, here’s what’s going to happen.  You will called before Khan Rammerham.  He will sentence you to death.  You will beg for your life, and offer to join his harem and serve him as his slave girl.  It will help if you can cry.  He likes to play the hero.”

Harem?  Slave girl?  The words sounded impossible to Kirk’s ears.  He was a man.  Had been a man.  How could?  What?  “A slave girl?  Harem?  Me?”  He said softly, his eyes wide.

“Khan saw you on the video.  You’re sexy.  Got nice tits and a hot temper.  He likes this in his women. ”

The man picked up his briefcase and walked away, leaving Kirk there feeling more vulnerable and disrespected than he had ever felt in his life.   Slave girl?  A tight, strangulated laugh escaped from him.  It was all so insane.  Like the plot of an old 21st Century Fan Fiction.

No, he decided, shaking his head.  No.  If it came down to it, he would rather die than agree to join Khan Rammerham’s harem and- pleasure him.  The thought– revolted him. Sickened him.  A slave girl?  A harem girl?  How all of Star Fleet would laugh at that news.  No.  Jim Kirk was not meant for that end.

Where are you Spock?  Scotty?  He wondered.  I need you to get me out of this.  He lay on his side, fighting against a strange and powerful impulse to cry.  He pushed the feelings inside, refused to acknowledge them, and instead focused all his will on one thing: his impeding death.  He would not lose his nerve.  He would not agree to his own utter humiliation.

A short time later a group of women arrived, primping Kirk and dressing him for his trial.  They took his hair down, brushed it, made up his face and dressed him in traditional Rammerham female attire.  He just let them do what they wished, thinking the whole time about the trial, and how ashamed he would be to die as a woman, but that it would be better than to become another man’s pleasure slave.  It seemed an impossible sitation, but he would Kobayashi Maru it.

but this time, the Kobayashi Maru manuever would end in one death:  his own.







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Kirk VI

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Kirk woke up at the beginning of the first shift, the equivalent of morning on the Enterprise.  He pulled a sports bra over his head, struggling for a moment to get his breasts fitted into the cups, and then pulled on a pair of baggy sweat pants and a baggy sweat shirt, a pair of little trainers that look fit for a child but fit his tiny feet perfectly.  Then he tied his long hair back into a pony tail, just as he’d been taught to do when he’d been a slave girl.

Bounding out of his room, he ran to Rand’s quarters and knocked on the door.  She answered looking bleery and super un-excited.  “I hate you!”  She said.

“Come on!” Kirk chirped, running in place.  “You promised to run with me!”

“Ugh!”  But she came out of her room, and soon the two ran along the corridors of The Enterprise, making their way down to the rec room, where they climbed onto adjacent treadmills and started to run.

“This bra isn’t working either,” Jim Kirk said, looking down ruefully at his bouncing breasts.

“You have a lot of boobage,” Rand said.  “It’s going to bounce.  Get used to it, sister.”

“I think the girls are issuing me bouncy bras on purpose.”

“Why would they do that?”  Rand said.

“Because they think it’s funny to see a man have to deal with these puppies.”

“I think you’re paranoid,” Rand said.  “Believe me.  Big boobs bounce.  I should know.”

“I just wish these guys would stop staring at us.”  Kirk said, slitting his eyes at a guy who had stopped and stared, but the guy just smirk and kept looking.

Rand just shrugged.  “I’ve been putting up with it all–”

“I know.  I know.”  Kirk said, his little voice rising higher.  “It’s just part of being a woman.”

They ran for a solid thirty minutes, then went over to the juice bar and got smoothies.  Rand looked at the clock on the wall.  “I need to go get ready.  I have to report in a couple hours.  You mind?”

“Go.  I’ll be fine,” Kirk said.

Rand covered his hand with her own and gave it a squeeze.  “You sure?”


Rand got up, grabbed her ankle and stretched.  “What are you going to do all day since you don’t have a duty assignment right now?”

“I’m going to go down to engineering and investigate.  Scotty has the device that was patched into the transporter to make me– this.”

“But Star Fleet has their investigators looking into it,” Rand said.  “I’m sure they would have any clues.”

“I’m not.”

Rand jogged off.  Kirk slipped the straw into his mouth and slurped down the rest of his protein smoothie.  He saw a couple guys watching him with his lips wrapped around the straw, sucking, and they were whispering together.   Kirk knew what they were thinking, saying, and it made him feel gross and violated.  Again.  He couldn’t even drink a smoothie in public without guys imagining him performing sex acts.  It felt like he was always under attack, always being looked at and sexualized.  Was it like this for women?  Really?

He resisted the urge to make an obscene gesture.  He was still an officer, and he had to conduct himself accordingly.  But he didn’t know it he would ever drink from a straw in public again.  Or eat a banana.

“Scotty!”  He said as he entered engineering and saw the temperamental old Scotsman director some of his crew to position a hadron helix interpolater.


“Secure that good and then seal it,” Scotty said, then walked over to Jim, who had to crane his neck back to look up at the now taller man.  Scotty had met Jim’s eyes and kept his eyes up there, much to Kirk’s relief.  “How are you holding up?”  Scotty said.

“Fine,”  Kirk responded.  “I’ve been in tougher positions than this one and come out on top.”

‘Yes, you have.  What brings you to engineering?”

“I want to look at the evidence from the transporter sabotage.”

Scott considered. Shrugged.  “Be my guest.  I’m not sure there’s much there, though.  It mostly burned up.”

‘I’ll look just the same.”  Kirk said.

“This way,” Scotty said, gesturing toward a clean room.   Kirk walked ahead, and he felt Scotty looking at his rear.  Oh well, he thought.  Scotty did better than most.  They made their pleasantries and then Scotty opened up the evidence locker and left Kirk in the room alone.  Kirk hooked some loose hairs behind his ear and examined the melted circuits and wires under an enlarger.  He’d read the report previously, and as the report suggested he could see it was clearly alien tech.  The mineral composition, the way the circuits had been formed, the remains of a few inscribings all pointed to some alien civilization that had not been identified so far.

Kirk went back to the report.  After the sabotage, Scotty had found evidence of two unauthorized transports,  both several hours before Kirk beamed down and found himself a female.  The speculation was that some foreign agent had beamed onto the ship from a cloaked vessel, installed the alien tech to transform Kirk, and then beamed back to their own ship, escaping into deep space.

There was no way to track them or identify them, and the footage from the cameras that monitored the transporter room had been erased.   Who had done it and why might well remain a mystery forever, which was not James Kirk’s primary concern.  His main concern was this alien tech, and where to get some that would restore him to his own body.

Who would want to do this to him?  Who hated him enough to go to these elaborate means to turn him into a woman and strip him of his command?

He heard the door to the clean room hiss open and glanced back over his shoulder to see a young man entering–  “Petty Officer Errol?”  Kirk said, the name coming to him.

“Captain Kirk,”  Errol answered with a smile.  “You need any help.”

“Maybe,” Kirk said.  “Do you know the access codes for the recording from the transporter room?”

‘Sure do.”  Errol gestured.  “Come over here.”

Kirk got up and followed Errol over, and when they approached the view screen Errol put his hand on the small of Kirk’s back and led him forward.

Kirk stiffened, looking up at the man.  ‘Um, your hand?”

“Oh,” Errol said.  “So sorry.”  He pulled up the recordings, and Kirk leaned in to take a look.  Errol stood very close, so close Kirk could feel the heat coming off the man’s body.  He felt himself getting tense and nervous, but he didn’t want to seem like a –girl, so he just hooked his hair back and looked into the viewer, watching as the image of the empty room went black, and the fast forwarding until the image came on again.

Errol leaned down until his face was right next to Kirk’s.  “What are you looking for?”

“I don’t know yet,” Kirk answered,  He wished he could move away from the man, but he needed to be in front of the view finder.  He rewound the recording and watched it again.  Something was bothering him, but he didn’t know what.  “Something doesn’t feel right.  I don’t why, but I just feel it.”

“Women’s intuition,” Errol said.

Kirk gave him a dirty look. “This is not a good time,” he said, and then for some reason he smiled.  He didn’t know why, but he just hoped maybe if he smiled and was nice, this guy would leave him alone.  It didn’t work.  Errol’s eyes fell to the swell of Kirk’s breasts, then came back to his face.

“You’re a very beautiful woman,” Errol said.

“Um, I am not interested,” Kirk said, feeling his skin crawl.  “I’m really not.”

“Have you ever been with a man?”  Errol said.  “Maybe you’d like it.”

Kirk sighed and turned to face Errol, forced once more to look up into the man’s face.  Kirk hated being short.  “This is not the time, Petty offic– umph!”  Kirk’s eyes went wide with shock as Errol’s lips covered his, and he put his hands on Errol’s chest and pushed, but Errol was too big and strong, and Kirk found himself being pushed backward onto the control panel, locked in a kiss, as Errol grabbed one of his legs and lifted him off his feet, while using his other hand to paw at Jim Kirk’s breast.

Overcoming his shock, Kirk finally resorted to some of his combat training and managed to get a grip on Errol’s fingers and bent them back viciously, bringing out a cry of pain and sending the man to his knees.

“I am your superior officer!”  Kirk squealed angrily.  “What you just did is a punishable offense!”

“Sorry!”  Errol said, shaking his hand.  “It’s just that you are so hot.”

Kirk resisted the urge to Kick the man in the face.  I am an officer, he reminded himself.  “Go.” He said, crossing his arms over his breasts, his knees together.  “Go now, and I won’t report this.”

Errol got up and left.

Kirk felt– sick.  He hated that a man had just kissed him like that, had fondled him, and he hated that he was letting him get away with it.  But the truth was, he couldn’t report it.  Didn’t dare.  His reputation would be ruined if word got out that a crewman had kissed him, sexually harassed him, treated him like a– woman.  Like the woman he was.

I have to get out of this body, Kirk thought, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself, but his breasts heaving with each breath just brought back to him what he was now, what he’d become.  He tried to watch the tape again, but the incident was playing over and over in his mind.  Did I cause this?  He wondered.  “Did I give off some signal I’m not even aware of?”

He didn’t think so, but he couldn’t be sure, didn’t know what was expected of him now that he was a she.  I told him this was not a good time, he thought.  I told him i wasn’t– wait.

Not a good time.  He went back to the tape, to right before the screen went black.  There was the transporter room, with the time at the bottom left corner, and then it went black and– yes!   He scrolled it back, millisecond by millisecond.  And there it was.  He’d seen the time stamp flicker– just barely– that’s what he’d caught, but now, freezing it on one frame the saboteur had missed, he saw that the time stamped had been altered to make it look like whoever had beamed on board had gone into the system and erased the feed after they beamed onto the ship.

But this one frame, this one millisecond frame, proved that the video tampering had done before the alleged unauthorized transporter activity.  That meant that whoever had altered the video had already been on the ship.

And they probably still were.  Kirk smiled, adjusting his bra straps, tossing his ponytail.  They were on the ship.  And that meant he could find them, and he could force them to turn him back into a man.

And when he was a man again he would settled things with Errol in the boxing ring, fist to fist, and Errol would find out you don’t just kiss a girl whenever you feel like it because she just might punch you in the nose one day!

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Kirk V

The electro-crystal whirring of the transporter.  That strange moment of non-being as the transporter technology sent his essence whizzing down to the planet.  The world took form before he did, so he’d seen the distinctive tall, jagged frost covered mountains in the distance, and the dark, stone walls of the Ramerhaam palace, and then he’d started to feel wrong  as he became aware of a weight and a mass on his chest, and as he materialized he looked down to see two large, round mounds straining against his shirt even as strands of long hair blew into his eyes.

He looked at Spock– why was Spock so tall now?  The security detail, Janice Rand and Uhura, all of whom had gotten taller, and then back at — did he have breasts?  Small hands.  Slender little wrists and arms.   He felt a cool breeze blow across his bare belly; he wore his same uniform, but with all that extra mass on his chest it didn’t fit anymore and left his mid-rift bare.

“What’s going on?”  Rand whispered.  “Who is she?”

Kirk tried to brush the long hair away from his face, but the strong wind kept blowing it back across his eyes.  “Spock?”  He said, putting a hand to his throat as he heard the chirping sound of his new voice.

Spock examined Kirk the same way he would look at a specimen in a jar, then raised an eyebrow.  “It appears the transporter has experienced a non-standard outcome.”

Kirk slapped at his hip, reaching for his communicator.  The belt had risen up on his now wide, round hips, but hung lose across his slender waist, and he had to reach around to find it.

“Is she the Captain?”  He heard Uhuru ask.

She.  For the first time, someone referred to him a she, and he felt his stomach turn queasy.  “Cut the chatter,” he said, as he flipped his communicator open, and it squawked.   Across the way, he saw the Ramerhaam delegation approaching, their flags snapping in the wind, the armor flashing in the sun.  Well, there would have to be a delay..

‘Kirk to Enterprise,” he said, trying to put some man in his little voice.  “Scotty. Beam us back up.  There’s been an– incident.”

“Who is this?”  Scotty answered, sounding furious.  “Get off the Captain’s channel!”

“Scotty, I don’t have time–”

“This is first officer Spock,” Kirk heard a deep, manly voice cut in.  “Beam the party back up.  There has been an unexpected transporter outcome.”

“I–  I can’t,” Scotty said.  “As soon as I beamed you down, the whole system shorted out and caught fire.”

“Shorted out?”   Kirk said, watching as the Ramerhaam delegation drew closer.  “How long until you can get it up and running?”

“It may take days.”

Kirk nodded.  Okay.  Then, he would just have to find a way to make it work.  The Ramerhaamians had discovered one of the richest deposits of dilithium crystals in the galaxy, and he had been tasked to secure a treaty and trade partnership.  “Keep us posted,” he said.  “The delegation is here. Kirk out.”  He threw his shoulders back, feeling his breasts bounce, but ignored it, ignored the wrongness of this body, the way his hips seemed to sway, his legs felt too long, his butt felt too big, never mind his bare belly.  He had to go, to do, to complete his mission.

“Send a shuttle,” he heard Spock say, then Spock called, “Captain!  Wait!”

Spock giving orders?  Kirk hid his displeasure.  They would have to talk about this.  But right now, he had a mission, and so he walked up to the delegation and made the gesture of greeting he’d been taught, putting his hand over his heart and feeling something soft and round–  so wrong– then raising a fist in the air.

The Ramerhaam men laughed, and then Kirk noticed the way they were all looking at him– or, rather, at his body, letting their hungry eyes slink up and down his shape, lingering on his breasts.   His skin crawled, and he resisted the urge to cross his little arms across his breasts, and instead stood as he usually would, looking their leader right in the eyes.

“Captain…”  he heard Spock say.

‘That’s enough,” Kirk snapped back, his little voice rising to an even higher squeak.

Once again, the men of Ramerhaam laughed.

Kirk felt unsure, locked their in their hungry gaze, being laughed at, but he decided to brazen it out.  “I bring an offering of peace and mutual prosperity from the Federation,” he said.

The men all laughed again, except for the leader, whose face grew dark and whose eyes burned with rage.  “Why is this female speaking?”  He asked, looking past Kirk to Mister Spock.

“Excuse her,” Spock said.  “She doesn’t know her place.”

My place?  Kirk glanced back at Spock, furious.  He ignored the long hair blowing into his face, and turned back to face the sneering, arrogant face of the Rameerhaam diplomat.  ‘I am Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise, and I am the—”


Kirk saw stars, felt a burning on his cheek, shook his head as he struggled to process what had just happened, that this man had smacked him in the face.

“Shut up!”  The man bellowed.  “Women do not speak in the presence of men!”

Kirk saw his security detail reach for their phasers, but an autogun behind them they hadn’t even seen fired a spear that slammed right through the chest of one of them– Bradley– and he fell to the ground, dead.

Kirk’s own hand went to his phaser, but before he could find it he felt his face slapped again and again, and then a man’s powerful arms around him.  He struggled helplessly, stunned at how small and weak he’d become, and the man lifted him off his feet and turned him around so he could watch as his crew were disarmed.

“The penalty for a female who disrespects a man,” the diplomat said as he held Kirk in his arms.  “Is death.”

Kirk’s eyes met Spock’s.  He saw the cool, Vulcan determination, and Kirk felt his heart flutter.  Then, the man holding him lifted Kirk, tossed him over his shoulder and carried James T. Kirk kicking and writhing into Ramerhaam Hall.








Kirk IV

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When they got to Rand’s room, Kirk sat on her bed, tucking his long legs under him, accepting a glass of wine from Rand, who climbed on the bed and sat near him, giving him another sisterly touch on the arm.  “What will you do now?”  Rand asked, sipping her wine.

The way he’d tucked his legs under him, the way he walked, gestured, even the way he spoke all carried traces of his time training and serving as a slave girl.  Rand wondered if he even realized how naturally feminine his mannerisms had become.

Kirk took a slug of his own wine and felt it warm and sweet as it poured down his throat.  He reminded himself to slow down.  He couldn’t handle alcohol as well as he once did in this smaller body.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “Resign?  Ask for re-assignment?  Find some way to get my body back?  Build a time machine?”

“You can’t resign,” Rand said.  “You love Star Fleet.”

“And I love the Enterprise.  I love her crew.”  He idly brushed a strand of his golden blonde hair away from his face.

“So stay.  Be a part of her crew,” Rand said.

Kirk took another sip of wine.  “This is all so wrong,” he said, the anger bubbling up in him.  “I am still James T. Kirk!  I am still the rightful captain!  How can they take the ship away from me?  It isn’t fair!”

“There are a lot of things that aren’t fair for women,” Rand said.

“I’m not supposed to be a woman!”  Kirk spat.  “I’m not supposed to have to deal with this kind of sexist nonsense.”

“But now you do.  Maybe it will make you a better person, just like you said—”

“Better?  Ha.  But not the Captain.  Probably never again.”

“You don’t know that,” Rand said.  “You have to stay strong!”

Kirk drank some more wine.  Sighed.  “You’ve been so good to me, Jan.  So loyal.”  He reached out and touched her hair, then her cheek.

“I will always love and support you,” Rand said.

“Jan.” Kirk cupped her cheek, then his eyes went soft, and he leaned in, meaning to kiss her, but Rand pulled away.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “You know I’m not into other girls.  I told you before.”

Kirk sat back, burning with shame.  He looked away.  “I’m sorry.  I — I forget myself.”

“Let me get you some more wine.”

Kirk got up and went to Jan’s mirror, looking at the young woman in the mirror.  He threw his shoulders back, turned to the side and examined his figure.  Rand brought him a second glass of wine.  “What are you thinking?” She said, meeting his eyes in the mirror, standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

‘I’m still trying to accept that is me,” he said, shaking his head.  “Trying to figure out if I can be me in this body, with this face.  What do you think?  Can this pretty girl be James T. Kirk?”

Rand sat in a chair and crossed her legs, regarding James Kirk as he looked over his figure in the mirror, turning this way and that, still trying to wrap his head around the reality that he was now one of them– a female.

“Yes,” Rand said with a little smile.  “But you said it yourself.  You can’t be the same old James Kirk.  You have to be a new one, one that accepts that she is now a woman.”

“I’m not sure if I will ever get used to the idea.”

They talked.  Kirk got angry, then cried, and Rand did hold him then, as a friend holds another friend, and then they drank some more wine, and finally they hugged goodnight, and Kirk stumbled back to his own quarters and flopped into the bed, passing out almost immediately still wearing his new uniform.

He woke sometime after midnight, his bra seemed to choking him, and sitting up, he reached back to find the zipper on his dress, slipping out of it and then out of his bra, sighing with relief as the pressure on his chest and ribs eased, and he felt his breasts sway free.  He put his hands on the small of his back and stretched, then went to his closet and pulled on his old robe, which now hung on him like an over sized coat, but which was soft and comfortable and reminded him of home.

He drank a glass of water and another, then curled up in his reading chair, pulling his legs to his chest, biting his pinky finger, thinking about Rand, her smile, how much he wanted to kiss her, and how empty it had made him feel when she’d said no.

His mind drifted back to the day of the transformation, when he’d suddenly found himself a woman.