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Shortcut Through Ovid
The Professor


        "Do you have any fucking idea where we are?"

        "Can it, Steve," I said calmly as I watched mile after mile of
gently sloping farmland cruise by at eighty miles an hour. "Randy
knows where he's going."

        I hope Randy knows where he's going, I thought. For the last
ten miles, I hadn't seen a road sign of any kind. I didn't know if we
were in Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, or the dark side of the moon.

        We had left South Bend on Wednesday, blowing off nearly a week
of classes. Some of our fraternity brothers were taking notes for us,
so we wouldn't be totally lost when we got back. It would mean we'd
miss a lot of classes, though, but what the hell? How often does Texas
play Notre Dame? Besides, South Bend was getting cold and gray as
October slipped away, and the forecast for the weekend in Austin was
lots of sunshine and temperatures in the seventies. In fact, as we had
traveled south from Kansas City, the temperatures had risen into the
mid seventies, causing me to wish I had worn shorts instead of jeans.

        The trip had been my idea; I'll admit that. I had a cousin in
Austin who'd agreed to put us up, and he had even promised to find
some girls for us. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. This was a
one game only series, and who knew how long it would be again before
Notre Dame and Texas played against each other? Both had national
title aspirations, so it should be a great game, I reasoned.  I
approached Randy with the idea. Randy had always been my best friend
in the fraternity. He and I had pledged as freshmen and had roomed
together ever since. Also, Randy had a car - a fiery red Trans-Am that
looked like it was going ninety even when it was standing still. His
folks had given it to him for getting a 4.0 his junior year.

        Steve and Carl were two more guys who had been in our pledge
class three years before. Unlike Randy and I, who both took school
pretty seriously, Steve and Carl floated by with 2.5 averages. They
were smart enough, but to them, every day was party day.  When they
heard we were headed for Austin, they tagged along somewhat
uninvited. At least, I thought, they would share expenses with
us. Unlike Randy and I, they hadn't worried about picking up class
assignments. They figured they could catch up when we got back - if
they felt like it.

        We got as far as Kansas City by Wednesday night. It was late,
but we took a little time to party before holing up in a Motel 6 for
the night.  Kansas City isn't a great college town, but the bars and
clubs in the Plaza district proved to be a great source of
action. Nobody managed to get laid, but a lot of heavy petting went on
in one of the clubs. By Thursday morning, we were all a little under
the weather. Randy was driving. He wouldn't trust anyone else but me
to drive his car, and I had begged off with a dull headache. Steve and
Carl had gotten pretty well wasted, so they slept in the back seat
while Randy drove and I navigated.

        "Head straight south out of Kansas City on US 69," I told
Randy.

        "Hey, sixty-nine, mighty fine," Carl managed weakly from the
back seat.

        "Don't we want to head out I-70 to catch I-35?" Randy asked.

        "We could," I agreed. "But this way, we avoid the turnpike. It
will be cheaper, and we can cut across on two lane road and hook back
onto I-35 in Oklahoma. Less cops, too, I would imagine, so we can
cruise."

        It had been good advice at first. We didn't see a cop all
morning and were able to cruise along at eighty. We stopped off for
lunch in some little no-name town and hit the road again, after Steve
and Carl had dived into a liquor store next to the café and picked up
a fifth of bourbon.  "A little hair of the dog that bit us," Steve
explained, twisting off the top in the back seat. I don't know how
those two managed to drink again. It would be Friday before I could
face the thought of another drink.

        Steve and Carl nipped at the bourbon while Randy and I tried
to figure out where to go next. "You should be coming to the road we
need in about ten miles," I told him.

        It was at that moment that a battered red farm truck chose to
pull out from an unmarked side road, directly in our path.

        "Jesus! Look out!" I screamed, but my voice was drowned out by
the squeal of the Z-rated tires on the Trans-Am as we skidded sideways
directly into-

        "God, that was close!" Randy breathed.

        Close? I couldn't think of any way we could have missed the
truck. We had been headed directly toward it. The last thing I had
seen before closing my eyes and bracing for impact was one of the big
external gas tanks slung under the frame of the truck. We were going
to hit it with no chance of escape.

        But we had escaped. I looked around to see what had happened
to the truck, but to my surprise, there was nothing on the road. He
must have gone directly across the highway, I reasoned. Perhaps there
was another little unmarked farm road on the other side.

        "Where did he go?" I asked.

        "I don't know," Randy admitted, screwing with the rearview
mirror to try to see the truck. "Wherever he went, I'm glad it wasn't
into this car."

        "This calls for another drink!" Steve shouted with bravado
from the back seat. It was met by Carl's childish giggling.

        "I think that's it up ahead, Matt," Randy told me, changing
the subject.

        I looked ahead about a quarter of a mile at a green highway
sign which said "Ovid 20 Miles."

        "There's no Ovid on my map," I said. "And besides, this road
can't be the right one. It's too soon. The road you want has to be at
least three miles further."

        "Well, it looks like it's going the right way," Randy
argued. Without further discussion, Randy turned onto the road to
Ovid.

        I looked carefully at my map. It was a good one, although not
highly detailed, but I was sure that a road as good as this one should
have been on it. And there was no sign of a town called Ovid. I
mentioned this to Randy, only to be interrupted by Steve with a
childish drunken "Are we there yet?" Carl gave out a sound half way
between a snort and a giggle. He was equally drunk.

        "Quiet, guys," I scolded.

        "Who are you?" Steve asked sarcastically. "Our mother?"

        Carl chortled again.

        "Maybe it's a new road," Randy suggested. "It might not be on
the map yet. And as for the town, maybe it's too small to be on a map
like that.

        He had a point. The map was a couple of years old, and the
road was smooth, seamless blacktop stretching to the horizon. Also, if
Ovid was very small, it might not qualify to appear on the map. At
least we were traveling in the right direction, and I knew that
eventually, we would run into I-35, so no damage was done. Still, I
would have felt more comfortable if we had taken the road we had
originally decided upon. But I was too relieved having narrowly
avoided death to argue.

        Randy was a safe driver, but a fast one.  Eighty was nothing
in a Trans-Am, and the newly harvested fields and groves of trees shot
by with alarming speed. Randy's confidence and speed increased as we
encountered no traffic in either direction on the road. The
speedometer had begun to hover around ninety.

        It was then that we heard the siren.

        "Shit!" Randy cursed. I looked around away from the afternoon
sun to see the familiar flashing blue and red lights of a police
cruiser.

        "Where did he come from?" I asked. I had been watching the
road for speed traps but had seen nothing since we had turned off onto
the road to Ovid. But then again, I hadn't spotted the farm truck
either.

        "I don't know," Randy replied. "I've been watching, too, and I
never saw him. Hell, there hasn't even been a turnoff on this road, so
I don't know where he was hiding."

        "Outrun him, man!" Carl called out. "You got a Trans-Am."

        "Right, Carl, and the cop's got a radio," I said with
disgust. It was hard to believe Carl was my age since he usually acted
like a kid and Steve wasn't much better.  Some people never seemed to
grow up.

        Randy brought the Trans-Am to a smooth stop on the gravel
shoulder, and the police cruiser pulled up behind him, lights on but
siren off.  Turning around, I could see that there appeared to be only
one officer in the cruiser. He looked to be a pro, tall in gray-blue
uniform shirts. He was wearing the mirrored sunglasses which always
seemed popular in law enforcement.

        The officer got out of the car. He was hatless and about six
foot three. Unlike the stereotype of local law enforcement officers,
he appeared to not have an ounce of fat on him. His movements were
almost graceful, and there was a purposeful quickness to his movements
which made me think he could probably outrun a jack rabbit.  He looked
big and intimidating as he strode toward our car.

        "Is he state or county?" Randy asked, watching him approach in
the mirror.

        "I don't know," I replied. "I haven't seen any state highway
markers, so he's probably county."

        The officer stopped a few feet away from and slightly behind
Randy's door. "Could you step out of the car, sir?"

        Randy slowly opened his door while I watched. Carl and Steve
giggled in the back seat.

        "Hide that bottle, you idiots," I whispered to them, hoping
the cop couldn't hear.

        "I need your license and registration," the officer told
Randy, almost as if it were a mantra. I pulled the registration slip
off the visor and put it on the driver's seat while Randy fished out
his license. The officer studied it carefully for a minute through his
mirrored glasses, then handed them back to Randy. "Do you have any
idea how fast you were going?"

        "Um, sixty-five?" Randy guessed, knowing full well that he had
topped eighty.

        "You were going eighty-nine miles and hour," the officer said
precisely. "I'm going to have to take you in to see the Judge."

        "Take me in?" Randy protested. "But can't you just write me a
ticket? I mean, we're on our way to Austin for the game Saturday and-"

        "I have to take you in," the officer insisted. "the speed
limit through here is still only fifty-five. You were more than twenty
miles an hour over that, so I'm required to take you in to see the
Judge. Wait right here and Officer Mercer will ride over with you."

        "But there's no room," Randy argued. Besides, I wondered, who
was Officer Mercer? I could swear there had been only one cop in that
patrol car.

        "Your two back seat passengers can ride with me. They appear
to be drinking, so I'll need some ID on them, too."

        Carl and Steve sullenly piled themselves out of the back seat,
fishing into their pockets for wallets. Fortunately, I thought, all of
us were twenty-one, so they couldn't get us on any underage drinking
or contributing to the delinquency of a minor charges. The officer
checked their IDs, grunted, and returned them.

        "I'm Officer Mercer," a voice said next to my window. "Please
get out of the car and I'll climb in back."

        "Would you like to..." My voice trailed off. Officer Mercer
looked identical to the officer who had come up to the car first. I
don't just mean the uniform. I mean they were as identical as twins.

        "Would I like to what?"

        "Uh... would you like to ride up front?"

        "I'll ride in back," he said. Of course, I thought. If I were
in back, I could get the drop on him. He wanted to be behind both
Randy and me.

        "OK." I climbed out of the car. "Are you and the other officer
related?"

        "Not exactly," was all he replied as I got out of his way to
allow him to crawl into the back seat.

        I wanted to press him on his relation to the other cop. I know
the uniform and the sunglasses helped to make them look alike, but
they appeared absolutely identical to me. There was something odd
about this, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

        "This is illegal in the state of Oklahoma," the officer said
behind me.

        "What?" I asked, turning around to see the officer holding the
bourbon bottle Steve and Carl had been nipping from.

        "This bottle," he said. "It's against state law to have an
open bottle in your vehicle."

        "I'm sorry," I managed. "We didn't know."

        "Has the driver been drinking?"

        "No, sir," I replied. "Randy and I neither one were drinking."

        The officer just grunted and put the bottle next to him.

        Shortly, our two cars were caravaning into town, the cruiser
in front.  I noticed as it passed us that the logo on the side read
"Ovid Municipal Police." I had an idea. It was a long shot, but I
decided to try it.

        "Officer," I began, "you and your partner are town cop - er -
police?"

        "That's right, son."

        Aha! "Well then, aren't you a little out of your jurisdiction
out here in the country?"

        I couldn't turn around, but I swear I could feel him
smile. "You crossed into Ovid the minute you turned off the main
highway."

        "Oh." I had heard of small towns that had done that sort of
thing. They would annex land several miles from the actual town for
any number of reasons, but I had never heard of a town annexing twenty
miles of open farmland. I thought about mentioning this, but something
in my gut said it wouldn't do any of us any good. I didn't want to
piss these guys off.

        Randy was a model driver, following the lead officer at a
respectful distance. Soon, we crested a tree-lined hill and I could
look down into a pleasant little valley where a town had grown. From
the top of the hill, I could see that Ovid was larger than I had
expected. It appeared to be about the size of my home town, which was
about fifteen thousand people. I could see the well-kept tree-lined
residential streets, broken occasionally by wider business streets
which converged on a downtown business districts with a collection of
office building and retail stores, none of which were taller than
three stories.

        We entered town on what appeared to be the widest of the
business streets. Its curbsides were populated with gas stations, fast
food restaurants, and a small strip shopping center. The only business
which I was surprised to see was a place called Randy Andy's, which
appeared to be a small strip club. Although it was only mid afternoon,
there were half a dozen cars and pickup trucks parked in front of the
place. I hadn't expected to see a strip club in a small town in the
middle of the Bible Belt.

        We proceeded on down the main drag. Ovid was a typical small
town with diagonal parking in front of the stores and a few of the
local residents strolling casually in front of the shops. At first
glance, it appeared to be the main street of a small farming
community, populated by the usual casual folks you would expect to see
in any small town from coast to coast.  But it was here on the main
street (which I later learned was actually called "Main Street") that
I first noticed something odd about Ovid.

        The first odd thing I noticed - the first of many odd things
about Ovid I was to notice as time passed - was the people. They
seemed normal enough, but it was as if they were extras in a
movie. They seemed somehow to be acting their parts rather than real
small town folks. They went through all the motions, but they did so
in a somewhat stilted manner. And they seemed
somehow... transparent. I couldn't exactly see through them, but it
was as if they weren't really there. I passed it off as travel
fatigue.

        We turned off the main street about half way through the
business district. A block west of Main Street, we came upon a gray
granite building with Doric columns in front. The words "City Hall"
were carved into the granite above the columns. As small town city
halls went, it was reasonably impressive, but except for the Oklahoma
flag flying next to the US flag in the grassy area in front of the
building, it could have been the city hall of almost any small town in
America.

        "Pull in that driveway," Officer Mercer told Randy. Randy
followed the police cruiser into the driveway which bore a sign which
said "Police Business Only." We parked next to the police car and got
out of the Trans-Am.

        The other officer was opening the back door of the cruiser,
motioning for Steve and Carl to get out. I was relieved to see they
were behaving themselves. With those two, you just never knew. They
were, however, a little unsteady on their feet. The effects of the
alcohol were still apparent, and I was certain that the other officer
had smelled the liquor on their breath.

        "I got a bad feeling about this," Randy muttered to me.

        "Me. too," I muttered back. "Let's just hope they agree to a
fine and let us go."

        "You don't think they'll put us in jail?" Randy asked,
suddenly becoming even more worried.

        "I don't know," I said truthfully. Then, I asked Randy, "Do
you notice how much these two cops look alike?"

        Randy scowled the little "what are you talking about?" scowl I
had seen from him ever since our freshman year. "Matt, have you been
hitting the bottle with Steve and Carl?"

        I looked at him seriously. "Of course not. Are you saying you
don't think they look alike?"

        "Well of course they don't look alike."

        I didn't get a chance to continue the conversation, because
Officer Mercer was suddenly at my side.

        "Okay, boys," Officer Mercer said. "It's time to go see the
Judge."

        

Although our discussion had been interrupted, I continued to think
about what Randy had said as we were led down a short corridor to a
room with a brass nameplate declaring it to be "Court Room A." How
could Randy have missed the similarity between the two officers? He
was usually much more observant than I was. Yet he saw nothing unusual
about the two officers. I shuddered suddenly. I had a bad feeling
about Ovid, Oklahoma. I only hoped we would be fined and quickly sent
on our way. I didn't want to be in Ovid after the sun went down. I had
seen too many horror movies.

        I had also seen The Dukes of Hazard, and I will admit that I
expected something out of that for a courtroom (and Judge). I was
wrong, though.  The courtroom was well appointed, with fairly new
walnut wainscoting and matching furniture. The Judge's bench had a
crest in gold in the center. I couldn't quite make out the picture on
it, but it appeared to be a bird of some sort. Whatever the bird was,
it did not look familiar.

        "All rise," Officer Mercer intoned needlessly, as we were all
standing at the defendant's table already. The door to the Judge's
chambers opened and the Judge appeared.

        The Judge was also different from what I had imagined. Instead
of the tobacco-chewing good ol' boy I had expected, he was middle aged
- perhaps mid-fifties - with dark hair that was fading to give promise
of future graying. He had a neatly trimmed beard which was still dark
but flecked with gray giving him a distinguished look. He wore
gold-rimmed glasses which somehow made him look more scholarly. His
black robe was impeccably neat and pressed to the point that it looked
as if you could cut yourself on one of the pleats.

My only surprise was that we were the only people in the courtroom.
Granted, I only wanted to be a lawyer at this point, so I really
didn't know much about actual court procedure. Still, I thought it was
customary to have a court stenographer there to transcribe the
proceedings of the court. But, I thought, this was a small town, and
they might be lax about such things. Then another thought crossed my
mind. If there was no one in the court room to transcribe the
proceedings, what was to stop Officer Mercer, who appeared to be
acting as bailiff, and the Judge from fining Randy and pocketing the
take? I knew there were such "speed traps" scattered across the
country.

"Is something wrong, son?" the Judge asked, and I suddenly realized he
was asking the question of me.

"Huh?" I replied, embarrassed. "Oh, I was just wondering -"

"Where the court reporter was," he finished for me.

"Well, yes," I admitted. How had he known? It was if... as if he had
read my mind.

Now, I grew up on old Twilight Zone reruns, and I could almost imagine
Rod Serling standing in the corner of the courtroom ("Imagine, if you
will, four college boys, on their way to the big game..."). It was one
thing for a town to have two cops who looked enough alike to be twins,
but add that to a town full of residents who appeared to be
semi-transparent zombies and a Judge who finished sentences for you, I
was ready to leave. I looked at Randy, Steve and Carl. They were all
tense at the idea of being in court, but I could tell they had noticed
nothing out of the ordinary.

"Well," the Judge began with a hint of a Southern drawl which I was
later to realize was an Oklahoma twang, "we like to keep things
informal down here. But I am planning to get a new court reporter in
here real soon. In the mean time, we've just got to make do with what
we've got. Do you understand?"

"Yes, your honor," I said respectfully. I supposed if things went
badly, Randy could always get a lawyer and appeal any decision the
Judge would make.

"Well, now," the Judge said, looking down though gold rimmed glasses
at the paperwork Officer Mercer had put in front of him, "it says here
that you boys were speeding. Eighty-nine miles an hour in a fifty-five
mile per hour zone. That sounds pretty fast to me."

"Yes, sir," Randy said respectfully.

"Lots of folks get killed doing that kind of speed around here," the
Judge said, his eyes burning into Randy. "You're just lucky our police
officers caught you before you got hurt. Or hurt somebody else."

He stopped for a moment, looking at Steve and Carl. "You boys been
drinking?"

Steve and Carl both turned pale and said nothing.

"You might as well admit it," the Judge said at last. "I can smell it
up here. Now how much have you boys had to drink?"

"Just a few," Steve managed to say nervously.

"Yeah, just a few," Carl echoed unconvincingly.

"Well," the Judge said, casting a harsh gaze at both of them, "it
smells like you've had more than a few. You boys are too old for that
sort of behavior. How about you other two? Have you been drinking?"

"Not today, no sir," I managed to say and saw Randy nod his head in
agreement.

"Well, then you're the smart ones," he said. "I'll keep that in mind.
Now, though, it's time for your sentence."

Sentence? What was he talking about? There hadn't even been a trial. I
looked at my friends to gauge their reaction, but to my shock, they
were calmly staring at the Judge as if nothing was wrong.

"Excuse me," I ventured. "Your honor, may I approach the bench?"

The Judge squinted at me. "You're a little young to be a lawyer, son."

"Yes, sir," I replied in agreement. "But I plan to be one some day."

"Well," the Judge drawled thoughtfully, "given that you have an
interest in the law, and given that we like to keep things informal
here as I've mentioned, go ahead and approach the bench."

I looked at my friends. Their calm stares continued. I was on my own
here. Slowly, I walked forward to face the Judge. "Your honor," I
began, "I don't know that much about the law, but shouldn't you ask
how we plead and then hear evidence?"

The Judge stared at me as if sizing me up. "So you don't think this is
proper courtroom procedure?"

"Uh, no, sir. I'm sorry, but I don't."

To my great surprise, he smiled. "It sounds as if I need someone like
you around here to help me out. I wouldn't want to be guilty of
improper courtroom procedure."

The irony was lost on me. "I just thought, your honor, that-"

His gavel came down suddenly causing me to jump. "That's enough, son.
You were speeding and that's all there is to it. Now step back so I
can pronounce sentence."

I obeyed at once. There was nothing further to be gained by arguing
with him.

Suddenly, the Judge stood up. He raised his hands over his head like a
television evangelist and closed his eyes. I was so surprised, I
didn't know what to do. This didn't seem to be standard court
procedure. I looked over at Officer Mercer. He was watching the
proceedings as if nothing were wrong. Then I looked at Randy, Steve,
and Carl. Each of them stood rigidly, their eyes staring blindly
forward as if they were in a trance. What was going on here?

The Judge began speaking in a language I had never heard before. Then
the courtroom actually darkened slightly, and I felt a soft breeze
flow through the room. My body gave an involuntary shiver, as if I had
experienced something frightening. I thought I could hear voices
whispering to me on the breeze. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the
breeze stopped and the lights returned to normal. There was a sudden
crack of wood striking wood, and I realized at once that the Judge had
resumed his seat and rapped his gavel. "Court is adjourned!" I heard
him say.

"What?" I asked as the Judge rose and left the courtroom. As I looked
around, everything seemed to have returned to normal.

Randy was all smiles. "Hey, man, do you believe it?"

"Believe what?" I asked.

"Matt, weren't you paying any attention?" Randy asked. "He let us go
with a warning."

I looked in Randy's innocent eyes with astonishment. He wasn't pulling
my leg. He really didn't remember a thing that had happened in the
courtroom. "Explain that to me," I said, attempting to clarify what he
believed.

"Bullshit!" Steve interjected suddenly, his old exuberance returning.
"We can talk about it later. I'm hungry."

"Yeah," Carl chimed in. "Let's get outta this place. It gives me the
creeps."

It gave me the creeps, too, but I suspected for a different
reason. Carl was creeped out by the fact that our little weekend party
was almost ruined by a small town cop and Judge. I was creeped out
because there was something weird going on and I seemed to be the only
one to notice.

"The guys are right," Randy told me. "Let's get out of here. We'll
find someplace on the edge of town to grab a burger and then drive
late tonight. We can be in Austin by afternoon if we get going now."

I was outvoted, I realized. But maybe they were right, I thought. I
had just watched a Judge do his Druid act, but no one else seemed to
notice.  Why not just ignore it and head out of town as quickly as
possible. I certainly didn't want to spend one more minute in Ovid.

Officer Mercer even seemed to agree. "Come on, boys, he said to us.
"I'll walk you back to your car. You can be on the road in no time"

We walked back to the parking lot as I silently tried to convince
myself that nothing was really out of sorts. Just when I was starting
to think that I was just imagining things, I got my next
shock. Randy's car was missing! I turned to enlist Officer Mercer's
help when Randy called, "Are you coming or not, Matt?"

I looked around at Randy and the other guys. They were piling into a
car, but it wasn't Randy's red Trans-Am. Instead, it was a fairly new
dark green Taurus station wagon. Now, I had known Randy for a long
time, and I knew he would never have a Taurus wagon. He'd die first.

"Are you okay?" Randy called.

"Not really," I muttered, but only Officer Mercer could hear me.

"Don't worry," he told me. "It's not as bad as you think."

"What?" I asked, as puzzled as ever.

Ignoring my question, he opened the front passenger door of the wagon
for me and gently herded me in. "You drive carefully now. I'll see you
later."

Later?  I didn't plan to see him ever again, but once more, I was the
only one to notice. I decided it wasn't worth discussing.

"You kids buckle up now, okay?" This was from Randy. What was he
talking about? But I heard the distinct click of seat belts in the
back seat. It wasn't like Carl and Steve to take the admonition
without comment. But rather than their usual crude comments, all I
heard from the back seat was soft, childish giggling.

Randy, what the hell is going on?" I asked as he started the engine
and pulled out of the municipal parking lot.

"What do you mean... Matt?" he said, almost as if he was having
trouble remembering my name. There was a distant look on his face.

"I mean where is your Trans-Am? And do you mean to tell me you didn't
see the Judge's little high priest imitation?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Randy said, shaking his
head.  As his head turned slightly toward me, I saw his upper lip had
the beginnings of a mustache. Randy had never had a mustache
before. In fact, he had never liked them, even convincing me to shave
off the one I had grown during our junior year.

"I'm hungry!" Steve yelled again, but there was something not quite
right about the way he said it. He sounded almost petulant.

"Me, too!" Carl yelled, equally petulant.

"Okay now," Randy said in a soothing voice. "Don't worry. Rusty's
Burger Barn is just up the road. We all like Rusty's, don't we?"

"You bet!" came two voices from the back seat.

I started to ask Randy how he knew there was a place called Rusty's
Burger Barn and how he knew its location, but I was sure I wouldn't
get a meaningful response. I was starting to think I was the only
person in the car who hadn't lost his wits. It was as if they had all
been in a trance since we left the courtroom.

Suddenly, I hear more giggling in the back seat. There was something
wrong back there. I turned around sharply and got yet another shock.
Carl and Steve were both smaller, younger looking. They each appeared
to be about fifteen or so, and their jeans had been replaced by blue
shorts. In addition, Carl's face actually looked somehow softer than
it had before. Both of them had childish grins on their faces, and
neither of them acted as if there was anything even remotely
wrong. What the hell was happening to them?

Then, with a sudden chill, I realized if something was happening to
them, it was probably happening to me as well. With trepidation, I
pulled down the visor. The vanity mirror was lighted, so I could see
myself clearly. Whereas Steve and Carl looked younger, I looked
somehow more mature, and my brown hair was now a dark blonde and
growing longer as I watched it.

"Jerry, stop the car!" I exclaimed. Jerry? Who the hell was Jerry? But
Randy did stop the car.

"What's wrong, hon?" he asked.

Oh my God, I thought. Somehow, I knew what was happening to us. Not
the specifics, but I knew we were changing, and if I had to guess, we
were changing from four college students into the stereotypical
American family. That meant Randy was dad, Steve and Carl were the
kids, and I was...

"We've got to go back to the city hall. I have to see the Judge," I
told him in a voice that suddenly didn't seem quite right. It was as
if my voice had been shifted half an octave higher.

"What did you forget?" Randy asked with irritation in his voice.

"Just turn around!" I pleaded. Yes, my voice definitely didn't sound
right. It was pitching itself higher and higher. It was a full octave
higher now and there was a soft Oklahoma twang in it. I could feel an
odd tingling sensation spreading throughout my body.

"Okay," Randy said, "but I don't know why you can't wait 'til
tomorrow."  There was a soft twang in his voice, too.

As we drove back to the municipal complex, I began to fear that we
wouldn't be in time. I watched in silent horror as my body seemed to
ripple under my clothes. I fought back with all my conscious will, but
I knew instinctively that I wouldn't be able to hold off the changes
forever.

It took only a few minutes to return to the municipal complex, but I
saw with concern that there were no lights in the area that housed the
courtrooms. The only lights were from the police offices in another
wing. I thought about demanding to see the police, but something told
me that wouldn't do any good. Only the Judge had the power to stop
what I feared was happening, and he was nowhere to be seen. Still, in
desperation, I sprinted from the car and rattled to door to the court
wing, but to no avail.

Randy joined me on the steps, and to my horror, put an arm around me.
"Don't worry, sugar," he said. "Whatever you forgot, you can get when
you go to work tomorrow."

I actually jumped a little when Randy put his arm around me. I knew
what was happening to me. My hair was longer, touching my shoulders
now, and my voice was higher, and I noticed I was perhaps four inches
shorter than Randy. He and I had been the same height before the
changes started. And other things about my body would be changing
shortly, I knew. I don't know what bothered me more, the fact that my
best friend had put an arm around me as if I were a girl who needed to
be comforted, or the fact that it actually felt pretty good. I was
becoming very confused.

I actually began to cry softly to myself. I don't even think Randy
noticed. Even if he had, he wouldn't have understood what I was crying
about. Everything seemed normal to him. Steve and Carl didn't see
anything unusual either. They sat quietly in the back seat of the
Taurus wagon like the good little children I knew they were
becoming. Each looked to be about eleven or twelve now, and Carl was
starting to look quite feminine with a softer face and dark blonde
hair perhaps five inches long. Their clothing had changed almost
completely to reflect their new status as children. In addition to
their blue shorts, each wore brown sandals and matching Six Flags Over
Texas T-shirts.

I had let Randy lead me back to the car, knowing that in his mind, he
was leading his wife back to her seat at his side. That's what I was
becoming, I realized. I could already feel indications of what was
about to happen. I could feel my hair getting longer. I had never
liked long hair, so its feel was unusual to me. Also, I was starting
to feel my skin moving around, particularly around my nipples and my
groin. There was nothing definite happening yet, but I was bracing
myself for the changes I knew were about to occur.

As I stepped back into the car, I unconsciously slid in as demurely as
any girl I had ever seen. It seemed even I was to be affected somewhat
mentally by the spell as well. But it wasn't just mental, I knew. I
had worn jeans that day, in spite of the surprising heat of the
day. But now, I was wearing denim shorts that were much shorter than
any I would have normally worn. Also, I was wearing sandals, I could
see, with a small heel on them unlike anything a man would wear.

As we drove away from the municipal building, I heard soft giggling in
the back seat, rising in octave each block we traveled. I looked at
Randy. He had changed the least of any of us, I knew. He was a little
taller and a little broader through the shoulders, as if he had once
played football. He was handsome (where had that thought come from?)
and appeared to be about twenty five. The mustache he had suddenly
grown had filled out, and I couldn't help but think it looked a
little... sexy?  No! Yes. No.

I looked down at myself. My bare legs were now hairless, and my feet
had been reduced in size. To add to my humiliation, I could see
through the straps of the sandals that my toenails were now a frosted
pink. I looked in fear at my fingernails, suspecting what I would
find. And yes, they were the same frosted pink color now, and filed to
a feminine point nearly half an inch beyond the tips of my now-slender
fingers.

These changes were nothing, though, compared to the changes which were
occurring over the rest of my body. I felt an odd twitching in my
crotch and abdomen. It was as if my internal organs were being
rearranged. I had little doubt that ovaries and a womb would be there
in no time. As if to confirm that thought, I felt my testicles shrink
and retract into my body.  I gave a small gasp as I felt a sudden void
between my legs as my penis shrank to nearly nothing. . I knew I now
had a feminine slit between my legs. The slit actually moistened
slightly at the thought.

On my chest, breasts were beginning to develop and began poking up
into the soft white cotton top which clung to me like a second
skin. My hair was continuing to get longer, and I could feel its
weight on my head.  There was a sudden pinprick at the lobe of each
ear, and then I felt the small weight of earrings. I reached up to
touch one, realizing as I touched it with my long frosted pink
fingernail that it was a loop about an inch in diameter.

"Cindy, you got any money in your purse?"

So that was to be my name. It wasn't a bad name, I supposed. I looked
down near my feet and saw a purse. There was nothing I could do but
play the role, at least until I saw the Judge again. If I suddenly
started claiming I was a guy, I would find myself on a one-way trip to
Ovid's version of the funny farm. I looked in the purse and pulled out
a wallet. There were two twenties in it. "It looks like forty
dollars," I said in a voice that was now firmly alto.

"That should be enough," Randy said. "I don't want to put it on a
credit card."

I felt something trying to get into my mind. It was as if there were a
thousand voices whispering at me. Instinctively (woman's intuition?),
I knew the voice were trying to change my mind as they had changed my
body. They would make me believe that I was Cindy, just as they had
made Randy, Steve, and Carl believe they were not themselves. I tried
to shut the voices out, and for the most part, I knew I had
succeeded. I was still Matt O'Hara, regardless of what my body looked
like.

I finally dared to look in the back seat, feeling the sweep of long
hair as I turned. There, where Carl and Steve had been minutes before,
were two young children, each about six years old. They appeared to be
twins with dark blonde hair similar to my own, each dressed in white
T-shirts, dark blue shorts, and sandals. But I knew they were
fraternal twins, not identical, since Steve was now a young boy and
Carl was obviously a young girl.

"Are we almost there, Mommy?" the girl Carl now was asked in a sweet,
innocent voice.

What could I do but answer... her? "Almost, sweetheart."

I don't know where the "sweetheart" came from. Apparently, I wasn't
completely successful in keeping out the information the small voices
had tried to whisper to me. I felt an odd link to the children, which
I recognized as what is commonly called "maternal instinct." I didn't
even know their names, but I knew they were mine.

"Mike, are you gonna get a Rusty Burger?" Randy asked, settling into
his new role as the children's father. Randy, now Jerry, I realized,
was dressed like us, in shorts, T-shirt, and sandals. He was a good
looking guy, I realized, unable to shut the thought out of my mind. I
felt as if I were suddenly gay even though I realized that the new
plumbing between my legs made my thought about Jerry's looks
completely heterosexual.

"You bet, Dad," Steve, now Mike, replied.

"Me, too," the little girl said.

"I don't know, Michelle," Randy said slowly. "You don't seem to be
able to eat as much as Mike. That's how your mom and I will be able to
tell you apart when you're older. Mike will be the fat one and you'll
be the skinny one."

Carl, now Michelle, giggled so girlishly that I nearly shuddered.

I almost envied the three of them. They thought they had always been
the people they were now. Only I seemed to remember who I really
was. But I knew that wouldn't do me any good. Until I could find the
Judge, I would have to be Cindy Whoever, wife and mother, or I would
probably find myself on the receiving end of whatever passed for
psychiatric care in Ovid, Oklahoma.

We pulled up at a brightly-lit building with a large smiling neon bull
under which in neon was written "Rusty's Best Burgers." I got out of
the car, trying to play my role, but feeling like a man in unwilling
drag.  As I shut the door, Randy called, "Honey, you forgot your
purse."

Well, that was my first mistake. I wasn't used to carrying a purse. I
wondered for a few seconds why women didn't carry wallets like men,
but the feeling of denim tight against my now-prominent ass told me
why. I grabbed the purse and slung the strap over one of my
newly-narrowed shoulders, embarrassed at the feminine look it must
have given me.

The children Steve and Carl had become piled out of the back seat as
if there was nothing out of the ordinary. "Mom?" the girl who had been
Carl asked, sending a weird chill up my spine with the realization
that in this warped reality, I was her mother. "Can I have a sundae?"

"We'll see," I said in the best motherly tone I could muster. I have
to play the role, I told myself.

As we walked into the restaurant, I felt for the first time the sway
of large breasts and ample hips. It was the strangest, most alien
feeling I had ever experienced. I could feel Randy, or rather the man
he had become, taking my body in with his eyes. I imagined I was quite
a sexy sight, with my long bare legs and short denim shorts. I halfway
expected him to ravish me in the parking lot, but he stopped short by
slipping his arm around my newly narrow waist while the children
skipped ahead of us, oblivious to both what had happened to them and
the attentions their "father" was giving their "mother."

Once inside the restaurant, I felt a new surge of embarrassment as
every male eye in the place turned to look at me. Again, I felt as if
I were in drag. But I knew there was nothing unfeminine about me. I
hadn't seen my face yet, but I could taste the lipstick which had
suddenly appeared there, and I was sure my face matched the rest of my
body. Every man in the place saw an attractive young woman.

I quickly rushed the kids to a booth, taking Michelle on my side while
Mike and Jerry sat across from us. I nearly shuddered upon realizing
how glibly their new names had come to me.

"Hi, Jerry, Cindy," a perky young waitress greeted us. She was perhaps
eighteen, brunette, and quite attractive. Again, I realized I could
almost see through her.

"Hi, Maxine," Randy, or rather, Jerry said nonchalantly. I just smiled
and hoped it looked friendly. "I think it's gonna be Rusty Burgers all
around, except Michelle will have a Rusty Junior."

"Aw, dad!" My new daughter whined.

"Don't worry," I said in my best soothing mother's voice, "you can
have some of mine if you're still hungry." God knew I wasn't going to
be very hungry. The thought of what I had become was enough to ruin my
appetite.

"Cheese?"

"Sure. On all of them," Jerry said without asking. I was a little
incensed. I was used to ordering my own food.

"How about drinks?"

"Choc malt," both kids said at once.

"I'll take a vanilla malt," Jerry said. Then, to me. "Your usual,
hon?"

"Sure," I said noncommittally. Whatever my usual was, I supposed this
body would like it.

"A Diet Coke for Cindy," he said.

Diet Coke?

If I was going to drink Coke, I never drank Diet Coke. Still, I
reasoned, this female body had borne two children. It wouldn't be a
good idea to let it get fat. If, perish the thought, I was stuck in it
for the rest of my life, I certainly didn't want to be a fat chick.
While I could see that my body was well proportioned, I wasn't exactly
model slim even at that.

"I've got to go to the restroom," I announced at once. I didn't really
need to, but I wanted to get a better view of what I had become. Also,
I didn't want to have to keep up my end of the conversation with my
"family." They seemed to be comfortable with their new situation, but
I was not.

"Me, too, mom!" my "daughter" declared. It seemed as if going to the
restroom in packs was normal, even for girls as young as - what - six?

"Okay," I sighed, resigned to having to play the new role even in the
restroom. Together, we marched off to the restroom.

"Where are you going, mom?"

Than god she had gone with me. I nearly blundered into the men's room.
"Sorry, honey. I just made a wrong turn."

"Are you okay, mom?"

Was I okay? I couldn't say for sure. "Yeah," I'm fine," I lied.

My first impression of the women's restroom was how much cleaner it
was than the typical men's room. Well, I didn't object. If I had to
use one, I wanted everything to be clean since I could no longer stand
to do my business. As long as I remained a woman, I wanted to be able
to sit down on a clean toilet seat. I realized with a pang of sadness
that I was going to miss the ability to piss standing up. You never
realize how much the little things mean until something comes along to
take them away.

Michelle marched nonchalantly into one of the stalls, and I could see
her shorts fall around her ankles as she sat down, her short legs
causing her feet to rise up off the floor. I was beginning to think of
her as being Michelle now. It was not part of the spell, I
realized. It was simply too difficult to think of that darling little
girl having ever been a male twenty-one year old.

Darling? I thought. I had never used that word in that context in my
entire life. I supposed I would now start saying things like "Isn't
that precious?" and "He's so sweet." How could I survive this
experience without dying of embarrassment?

While Michelle was in the stall, I used the time to quickly examine
myself in the mirror. I was, I guessed, about five four or five
five. My hair was a fairly dark blonde, slightly curled, falling
naturally over my narrowed shoulders. My face was cute, for lack of a
better world. I wouldn't win the Miss America Pageant with it, but it
was certainly attractive. It looked a little like Meg Ryan's face, I
thought, but perhaps I was just being generous with myself.

My new breasts seemed enormous to me. I couldn't tell for sure, but I
guessed them to be about a 36C. Later, when I confirmed this size by
examining the label in the bra, I took no joy in being right. My hips
were wide, about a 38, I thought (again, I later was proven
correct). My waist was a little disappointing. It wasn't as narrow as
I thought it should be. While it wasn't bad, it had probably spread a
little with the birth of twins. Don't get me wrong - I was an
attractive woman, but I was the type of woman who would have to watch
her weight if she was going to stay attractive. I resolved next time
to order a salad instead of a Rusty Burger.

All in all, I was attractive. I wasn't model or TV star attractive,
but I would probably turn a few male heads in a shopping center
parking lot, particularly if I were wearing the tight T-shirt and
shorts combination I now had on. If I were still my male self, I would
be interested in this woman.

Damn it, I suddenly thought. I should have brought the purse into the
women's room. Then I could have found out who I was besides just
Cindy.  If I stayed in this body long, I would have to develop the
habit of carrying it with me. Men had it easier. All I had to do as a
man was stuff a wallet in my rear pocket. But I realized sadly once
more that my new ass was far too large to allow me to stick a wallet
in the tiny pocket which rested there.

"Ready, mom?" Michelle asked. I hadn't noticed she had finished.

"I guess so," I sighed. I was as ready as I could be.

The meal was relatively uneventful. It reminded me of many a meal I
had enjoyed with my family when I was younger. Mike and Michelle were
fairly well behaved and offered up only an occasional barbed comment
to his or her sibling. Ironically, as Mike and Michelle, they seemed
better behaved than they had as Steve and Carl. At least some good had
come from the transformation.

Jerry, as Randy had now become, was not too unlike Randy. He was a
little on the quiet side but polite and calm. I found myself
comfortable around his new persona, at least as long as he didn't call
me "honey" or "sweetheart."

The Rusty Burger was actually pretty good, but I found I wasn't able
to eat the entire thing. Part of the reason for my lack of appetite
was, I was my newly diminished size, but a larger part, I realized,
was my desire to not become Cindy the Human Blimp. I left nearly half
of my sandwich and all of my fries.

After we had finished, the kids and Jerry ordered ice cream cones, but
I demurred. As much as I liked ice cream, I knew I couldn't afford the
calories. I began to suspect that my shorts were a little tight not
just to be sexy but because I needed to lose a pound or two as well.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time except me. I thought I saw an
occasional look of panic on Mike's face a time or two, but it quickly
faded away into the face of the happy six year old boy he had become.
Michelle daintily licked at her cone as if she had been a girl all her
life. As Carl, I had seen him - her - eat like a pig, stuffing half an
ice cream cone down at one gulp. Now, as a young girl, she was as
careful about how she ate as a devotee of Emily Post. Jerry, my new
"husband" ate in manly silence, watching his little family enjoy their
treats much as a proud wolf watching his pack.

I tried to look happy as well. It would have served no purpose for me
to act out of character. If I were suddenly to yell, "What is wrong
with all of you? Can't you see we're not ourselves? I'm supposed to be
a man!" I would be locked up within the hour. I had to play my role as
best I could until I could see the Judge in the morning.

When my "family" had finished eating the ice cream cones, we went back
to the car. The other three were laughing and talking. For them, it
was a perfect ending to another day. I smiled and played my part as
best I could, but I felt as if I were miscast in some bizarre play as
I walked back to the car. At least it was a relief not to be in public
anymore.  Every male over the age of puberty who walked into Rusty's
as we ate took a moment to look at my breasts. I felt as if I had been
put on display.

The ride "home" was uneventful. We had turned away from the
brightly-lit business streets of the town and down a quiet residential
street, flanked by large oak trees and stately houses. Soon, though,
we were past the big houses to an area where the trees were smaller
and the houses were newer but more modest. We seemed to be in Ovid's
smaller version of a subdivision, the happy home for middle class
Americans everywhere.

We pulled into the driveway of an attractive two-story house with a
well-manicured lawn. The garage door rose automatically and we pulled
into a two-stall garage. A dark blue Ford Ranger truck was parked on
the other side of the garage. Great, I thought. My choices for driving
would be a soccer-mom station wagon or a redneck pickup. How small
town could we be?

The kids bolted for what looked like the den, and it wasn't long
before I heard the sounds of a television spewing the cheap music and
bad acting of some cartoon show. It was probably the Cartoon Network,
I thought. Well, at least we had cable. Great, I could watch Lifetime,
the women's channel.

"Hey, kids," Jerry (for I was now thinking of him as "Jerry") called,
"you guys get ready for bed. Tomorrow's a school day."

"Aw!" two voices chorused.

"Now!" he said sternly.

"Okay," came the chorused reply.

He turned to me. "What's wrong, hon?"

I suddenly realized I was just standing there by the entrance to the
garage. This was supposed to be my house. I was Cindy Whatever and
this was my home and this was my family. My problem was that none of
it was real, or at least none of it felt real. I just didn't know what
to do.

"Cindy?"

"I'm okay, Jerry," I managed to say.

"You don't look okay. Your parents are fine. That was the reason we
went out to their farm today, wasn't it?"

Was it? That explained why the family was on an outing on a
school/work day. In this reality, my parents apparently lived on a
farm and I must have been worried about them, so we had taken the day
to go see them. Or at least, we had taken the afternoon. I tried to
visualize my parents, but all I could see were the parents Matt O'Hara
had left behind in Pennsylvania at the beginning of the school term.

"Yes," I said mechanically. "They're fine."

Jerry looked a little uncertain, but he let it drop.

Fortunately, the "kids" knew the routine for getting ready for bed and
did so with a minimum of fuss. I was duly thankful of this, for I had
no idea what I would need to do to get them ready. By eight thirty,
they were in their pajamas and off to bed in their separate rooms. It
was with a sigh of relief that I turned off the lights in their rooms.

Jerry was waiting for me in the den. We hadn't spoken since I had
gotten the kids ready for bed. I saw with trepidation that his look of
concern was back.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"I feel fine," I lied. I just wanted to get off to bed and forget this
whole experience. With any luck at all, I would wake up in the morning
to find this had all been a long nightmare, the result of a hard night
of drinking in Kansas City. It would be Thursday morning again, and I
would navigate Randy around the entire state of Oklahoma. I wanted to
be as far away from Ovid as possible.

Jerry rose from his chair and, to my alarm, slipped his arms around my
waist, pressing me to his chest. I felt the not exactly unpleasant
sensation of having my new boobs pressed against his chest. Then I
felt with alarm something growing in his groin, pressing against my
abdomen.  Good god, he was getting a hard-on over me!

"You need to relax," he said, his voice soothing.

Oh, I did need to relax, I thought, but not the way he had in mind. I
had been on the other side of this scene enough times to know where
this was leading. No amount of soothing talk was going to get me on my
back with my legs spread wide.

But my new body had other ideas. Those nipples flattened against his
chest were trying to get hard, and there was a feeling of pain mixed
with pleasure coursing through them. Down south, I could feel my new
vagina starting to moisten, and there was a tingling sensation in
about the spot I suspected my clitoris lay.

"Jerry," I began, surprised at how throaty my voice had suddenly
become, "I don't think this is a good idea."

"It isn't," he agreed, bending to kiss me on the neck. "It's a great
idea."

I could feel my heart beating faster. In my mind, I was a normal,
heterosexual male with all the normal drives. I still found women
attractive, at least on an intellectual level. The last thing in the
world my male mind wanted was to have a man kissing my body. But my
male mind was now attached to a very female body, and as repugnant as
the thought of making love was to Matt, Cindy was beginning to
respond.

Involuntarily, my own hands came up to grip Jerry's ass. It was rock
hard, unlike the soft female asses I was used to holding. And instead
of my large male hands, I was gripping Jerry's ass with small,
delicate hands crowned with long, feminine nails. As if to contrast
the feeling I was experiencing, I felt Jerry's large, strong hands
grip my own fleshy ass, and I felt a little shudder of pleasure.

There was still time for my male mind to assert itself, I
realized. All I had to do was say "no." Just say no, I thought. Just
say it...

But before I could say it, my lips were covered by his. I felt his
tongue pressing past my lips and into my own mouth. The time to say no
had passed. I had begun to feel dizzy as my breathing became more
rapid.  No matter what my mind wanted, my body wanted something
different.

With almost no effort, I was able to shift my mind into neutral. I
felt everything normally, and even reacted as a normal woman would
react, but I no longer reasoned in the usual sense of the word. Cindy
was now in full control, only I was Cindy.

Still holding on to each other, we strolled into our darkened bedroom.
Then, with a hunger too intense to describe, we pulled at each other's
clothing until we were sprawled out nude across the bed.

My body was on fire, anxious for the touch of my man. Our hands moved
over each other's body's in a random frenzy. Then, suddenly, Jerry's
hand rested between my legs, and for the first time in my life, I
learned what it really meant to have a clitoris. I returned the favor,
grasping his penis without thinking.

In moments, he was inside me, sending tiny surges of pleasure through
my entire groin. My male mind tried to resurface and stop the action,
but my female body held any rational thoughts back. Then, without
warning, there was a surge of intense pleasure which seemed to wash
through my entire body. This was followed by a sudden moan from Jerry,
and I felt something warm and wet coursing into my body...

I awakened about half an hour later, disoriented and shocked to find
my body both naked and female, held in place by a large, hairy
arm. Then, it all flooded back into my mind. I was someone named
Cindy, mother of two, wife of Jerry and... And that was about all I
knew. Wasn't I something? I didn't even know who I was, and yet I had
just slept with a man. Slept? We did a lot more than sleep, I
realized.

I carefully moved Jerry's arm away without waking him, got up, and
went to the bathroom. Turning on the light, I saw I was no worse for
the wear of the evening. My hair was a mess and my crotch looked a
little sticky, but other than that, I was about normal, if being a
woman after twenty-one years of being male could be considered normal.

I washed myself off, paying special attention to the sticky substance.
My god, I realized, I had just had sex with a man. I could get
pregnant.  Apparently this Cindy had done so twice before. What could
I do?

Then, I spied a little silver container, circular in shape. I had seen
this type of container before. Sure enough, I thought as I opened the
case. It contained birth control pills in little slots labeled with
the days of the week. It was Thursday, so I looked at the slot for
that day.  There was no pill in the slot, I realized with relief.

When I got back into the bedroom, I saw Jerry had gotten up, put on
some pajamas and gone back to bed without cleaning up. Just like a
man, I found myself thinking. What an odd thought, I mused. After all,
I was a man, or at least I had been. Yet I knew what to do as a woman
after sex, almost as if everything I needed to know was buried
somewhere in my mind. As if to prove this point, I realized I had
absently gone over to "my" dresser, pulled out a short nightie, and
slipped it over my head without giving it a second thought. It was
like an autonomic response, like breathing in and out.

I slipped gracefully into bed. Thank god it was a king size. The way
Jerry was sprawled out, my small body wouldn't have had a chance in a
standard bed.

I lay there thinking about what had happened the last few hours. The
day had started normally enough, but from the moment we had approached
Ovid, my life had changed radically. Ovid. Where had I heard that name
before?  He was an ancient poet, I realized, either Greek or Roman, I
couldn't recall which. I remembered a history teacher way back in high
school talking about him. Yes, he was Roman, and he had written... the
Odyssey?  No, that was Homer. Let me see... right, love poems and
something else.  What was it?

Then I remembered. It was called Metamorphosis, or something like
that, and it dealt with stories of transformation from Greek and roman
myths.  Had there been a sex change in it? I didn't really know. My
reading tastes revolved around the techno-thrillers such as Tom
Clancy. I resolved to read it sometime since I now could be an entire
chapter in the book. Apparently someone in this little spot of
Oklahoma (or was it the Twilight Zone?) had a sense of humor.

Okay, so what was to be done? I thought before sleep claimed me. I
needed to get back first thing Friday and see the Judge. He was
obviously the key to all of this. I would try to get him to change me
back into my normal male self and my friends back as well. At least,
the rest of my "family" thought everything was normal. They weren't
going through what I was experiencing. But I began to realize the
longer I was Cindy, the more I would begin to think like and become
her. Already I had given in to the sexual needs of this female body,
something that I would have never imagined only a few hours before. As
sick as that made me feel in retrospect, it had seemed normal at the
time. It was as if I were an airplane on auto pilot. If I just let
myself go, I could act like a normal woman. How long would it be
before being female and a wife and mother felt absolutely normal even
off auto pilot? I had to act quickly, I thought, as I drifted off to
sleep.


I awakened the next morning to the sound of water running in the
shower.  For a moment, I forgot what had happened to me and thought I
was back at Notre Dame, getting ready for another day of classes. Then
I realized not only did I not have my frequent morning hard-on, but
that there was nothing between my legs, and the weight on my chest and
hips reminded me that I wasn't my usual self. I absently brushed a
lock of hair out of my eyes and sat up, feeling the weight of my
breasts shift. I bit my lip softly, tasting the lipstick which was
there. It seemed as if every sensation was designed to remind me of my
new identity.

I got up, feeling the odd sensation of my nightie on my thighs and
headed for the toilet to relieve a most insistent urge to
void. Sitting on the stool, I once again regretted the loss of being
able to pee standing up. This was most inconvenient. On auto pilot
once more, I wiped myself and flushed.

I padded back into the bedroom where Jerry had just finished his
shower.  He was standing in front of me in the buff, and I was
embarrassed to realize that I was admiring his body. He smiled and
grabbed me by the waist, planting a big kiss on my lips.

"Too bad we've both got to go to work," he said.

Work? I worked? Where? Thank god we both worked though, I thought.
Otherwise, it would be back to bed for more bang bang.

"I got the kids up already," he told me. "I'll get them fed while you
shower. Then I'll take them to school but you'll have to pick them up
from day care."

"Sure," I muttered, not having the foggiest idea where Jerry or I
worked or where the kids went to school or day care. How was I going
to fake my way through an entire day? I still hadn't looked in my
wallet to see what my last name was.

He gave me another kiss. "You'd better get your shower or you'll be
late," he admonished me.

"Okay," I agreed.

Where to start? I had no idea what to wear, or for that matter, even
where my clothes were. The only women I ever lived around were my
mother and younger sister, but I never paid a lot of attention to what
they did since I was a kid and that was "girl stuff." Perhaps if I had
been married I might have a clue, but I was at a total loss.

I knew enough to recognize which dresser was mine from the array of
cosmetics arranged on its top. Then I remembered that I had managed to
find a nightie there the night before without knowing where to look.
That had been in the dark, too. I tried to reach the same mental state
I had been in then (minus the sex, of course). On auto pilot again to
my relief, I went directly to the right drawer and pulled out a tan
bra and matching panties. Okay, I was on a roll...

Jerry was downstairs fixing cereal for the kids, so I didn't have to
worry about stripping in front of him for my shower. I imagined that
seeing me in the nude might lead to complications.

I had been tired and confused the previous night, and we had made love
in the dark, so this was my first time to really examine my new body
closely. It was certainly an attractive body with large but firm
breasts with alert pink nipples and areolae. My hips were, I thought,
a little wider than I would have liked, and my waist was showing signs
of being not as narrow as I would have hoped. Probably the result of
birthing twins, I thought. My legs were terrific, though, long and
well shaped with well-defined ankles. I would look great in heels, I
realized with some discomfort.

Before stepping into the shower, I took a moment to examine my face
again since I hadn't had much time to look at it at Rusty's.  It was a
pretty face, but again, not beautiful. I could have been a cheerleader
in school, but I would have fallen way short of being a movie star. Or
maybe I could be in movies, I thought mischievously. I could dye my
hair light blonde, wear a pushup bra, and be lounging by the pool in
some insipid B-movie. The thought was enough to almost make me laugh
or cry, but I wasn't sure which.

My shower was sensuous without being provocative. I resisted with ease
the temptation to rub myself all over like they do in the late night
movies on cable. Maybe later, I thought. I had too many other things
to worry about this morning. Finding the Judge was the most important
order of the day.

But what was I going to say to him, I thought as I absently soaped my
new body. Anyone who had the power of transformation was not someone
to cross. What could I say? Change me back or I'll... Or I'll what?
Stomp my foot? Cry? No, I would have to appeal to his better nature,
assuming he had one.

Perhaps the first question I should ask was why? Oh, sure, I had seen
movies where the hero's sex was changed, but that was usually as a
punishment for mistreating women. Had I done that? Not that I could
remember. I was just your normal every day college guy, looking for
your normal every day college co-ed. I had managed to get laid once in
a while, but I never forced myself on anyone. So why me? If I had to
be changed, why was I the mommy instead of the daddy?

Deep in thought, my auto pilot had taken over again, and I found
myself standing outside the shower, dry, with my bra and panties on
while I rolled on deodorant.  Well, at least the auto pilot seemed to
work well enough for me that I would look normal. I shuddered at the
thought of putting on makeup all by myself.

Next, I had to decide on an outfit to wear. Where did I work and what
sort of job did I do? Did I work someplace where casual attire was the
order of the day, or did I have to get dressed in a skirt and heels? I
decided on the latter since it would be more explainable to be
overdressed than underdressed. Besides, a little voice inside me told
me it was the natural thing to do. Between the auto pilot and the
little voice, I might just make it through this yet, I thought.

I selected a conservative white blouse, silky but not overtly frilly
and feminine and a navy skirt and matching jacket. I needed heels, so
I selected a pair of black ones with about an inch heel. No sense in
getting on three inch heels and falling over. Given the weight on my
chest, that was a real possibility. Pantyhose proved no problem, as
Cindy had a drawer full of them, mostly the same neutral taupe color.

I didn't even need any help to finish getting dressed. I had seen
enough women put on pantyhose to know how to do it properly. Still, I
began to realize why women shave their legs. Other than the obvious
reason of appearance, even the slightest stubble would probably be
enough to run the hose. Now I understood why you see so many pantyhose
ads on TV.  These wouldn't last more than a few wearings. I had to
admit, though, that they looked good on me. They were a perfect fit.

The blouse was a little difficult, since it buttoned up the
back. Still, my arms proved to be quite limber, so I was able to get
it buttoned without too much trouble. The skirt was even easier than
pants. All you had to do was step into it. It seemed terribly short,
but at three inches above the knee, it was stylish. Still, I felt
terribly overexposed. However when in Rome (or Ovid as the case might
be)...  The jacket was tailored differently than a man's jacket, but
it served the same function, so it proved no trouble at all.

Next came the makeup. I sighed in resignation and let the auto pilot
engage again. There was no sense in attempting this exercise without
help, unless I wanted to try out for the circus. I watched with
amazement as my hands deftly applied eye shadow, eye liner and
mascara.  I was astounded at the change it gave my eyes. They seemed
bigger and deeper. They made me look more sophisticated.

Less time was spent applying a little blush and lipstick, but the
finished product was a work of art. I looked good enough to eat. But I
began to notice there was something missing... In a few moments, I
realized I wasn't wearing any jewelry. No woman was fully dressed
without the right accessories. I expertly picked out a conservative
gold necklace, a gold bracelet, and two small gold hoops for my ears.
Attaching them, I took another look at myself and decided I was ready
to face the day.

"Bye, Mommy!" two young voices chorused, and my reverie was
interrupted by two small children attached to my hips.

"Bye, kids," I managed to say, playing my role well, I thought.

"Later, hon," Jerry said, his arm around me as he planted a small kiss
on my cheek. I guess he knew better than to screw up my makeup. "I'll
see you at five."

Suddenly, I was alone. I began to realize how normal this entire
morning had felt. I wondered suddenly if we were all just playing our
roles.  Perhaps Jerry knew he was really Randy, and Mike and Michelle
knew they were really Steve and Carl. Maybe they were just as
frightened as I was and playing their parts until something could be
done. I doubted it, though. They seemed too comfortable with the parts
they were playing.

I went downstairs and made some toast (no butter - must lose weight)
and poured a glass of juice. It was about seven thirty. The offices at
city hall should be open at eight, I thought. That meant I would
probably be late for work, wherever work was. Maybe me wallet would
answer the question.

I broke it open and looked at my ID's. My full name was Cindy Mae
Patton. Not a bad name, I thought. It could have been something long
and hard to pronounce. Patton would do for now. I was twenty-five
years old.  Given the age of the twins, I must have had them right
after high school. I wondered if I had had to get married. My height
was listed as five four, so I had guessed almost right, and my weight
was... well, let's just say that I vowed to lose five pounds in a
hurry and ten pounds over time if I remained as Cindy.

There was nothing in the wallet to tell me where I worked. There were
no company badges or insurance cards or business cards. After I
finished at the city hall, I would have to go back on auto pilot and
drive myself to work.

I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was a quarter until
eight, so I figured I would be able to be in the Judge's office by
eight. Ovid was a small enough town that I was sure I'd have no
trouble the city hall again. All I had to do was backtrack until I
reached the business district. It would be easy from there.

In the morning sun, Ovid appeared to be the pleasant small town of my
youth. It was clean and bright, and showed the signs of small town
prosperity. The only thing wrong with it was the people. Most of them
still appeared almost transparent. I could see them, but I could also
see right through them. But their actions appeared normal as they went
about their business.

As expected, I had no trouble finding city hall. A police car was just
pulling out, and the driver looked like Officer Mercer. I parked the
Taurus in the adjoining lot and walked nervously into city hall. I
expected to have to give a lengthy explanation to someone, but the
receptionist on duty (mostly transparent) just looked up at me and
smiled. "Morning, Cindy. You guys have a fun day at your folk's farm?"

This was probably the most unexpected thing she could have said to me.
"Uh, sure," I managed to say.

"Good, because the mayor has been looking for you already."

"The mayor?"

She frowned. "Cindy, are you okay, honey? You didn't get bad news at
your folk's place, did you?"

"Huh? Oh, no. They're fine. Everything's fine." I almost added "How
are you?" in imitation of the Star Wars line, but I held myself
back. "I'll check in with... the mayor right now," I promised,
starting down the corridor to my right toward the courtrooms.

"Then don't you think you should go the right direction?" she asked.

"Oops," I said with a smile and changed direction, nearly losing my
balance when my weight shifted in the heels.

I was met suddenly by a man in a suit. He was partially bald with a
small mustache. He appeared to be about fifty or so and significantly
overweight. Like the receptionist and most of the people I had seen in
Ovid, he was somewhat transparent. "Oh, there you are, Cindy," he
said.  "I wanted to go over the speeding citations issued last week."

I didn't know what to say. I just stared at him. I had no idea what he
was talking about.

When I didn't answer, he said, "Let's go down to the Judge's
office. We can look at them there."

That was a great idea, I thought. He was going to take me right to the
Judge. "Sure," I agreed, following him to an office near the end of
the corridor.

I could tell as we stepped in the office that no one was there. The
office suite consisted of an empty secretarial station which was
situated by the entrance to a larger, more opulent office, also
deserted.

"Ah, here they are," he said, lifting a report off the secretarial
desk.  As he leafed through the report, my eyes rested on the
nameplate on the secretary's desk. "Cindy Patton" it read. Well, at
least I didn't have to figure out where I worked. I was there. This
was the best break I could have hoped for, I realized. Now all I had
to do was wait for the Judge to come to work.

"If you talk to the Judge today, tell him I'd like to go over this
report with him," the man said, heading for the door. "And tell him to
enjoy his stay in Tulsa. I wish I could take a long weekend there."

Tulsa? Long weekend? Oh no, I thought. That meant the Judge wouldn't
be back until Monday at the earliest. I was going to be stuck as a
woman for the entire weekend. Well, at least I had access to the
Judge's office. Maybe I could learn what was going on.

If I was the Judge's secretary, I assumed I would have full access to
his office, and that seemed to be the case. Several people came into
the outer office during the morning, and none of them seemed to give a
second thought to the fact that I was systematically going through the
Judge's files.

At first, I found very little of interest. Most of the paperwork on
and in his desk was the sort of thing you would expect on a municipal
Judge's desk. There were court briefs, recent rulings in other courts,
and a number of professional journals. The only interesting aspect of
his desk was the lack of personal paraphernalia. Everyone I've ever
known had some personal items on his desk. Usually, it's family
pictures or coffee mugs that say "World's Greatest Golfer," but in the
Judge's case, there was nothing. It was almost as if the Judge was as
transparent in his own way as the other residents of Ovid.

The file that finally interested me was one tucked in the back of one
of his desk drawers. It was a list of names with no explanation of its
meaning. The list consisted of about five hundred names, one of the
last of which was mine, or at least the name I now had. The rest of my
family appeared on that list as well. I decided to make a copy of
it. I suspected that the list was the roster of people the Judge had
created in Ovid. Again, no one questioned me as I made the copy.

Once I had gone through the Judge's desk, I decided it was time to go
through my own desk. As I already pointed out, a good deal can be
learned about a person by observing what is on or in their desk. There
was the obligatory family picture, showing me in a nice off-white
dress and Jerry in a stylish suit. The kids were dressed in their
Sunday best, and we all looked happy and content. The only problem was
we never posed for that picture.

There was another picture of me with an attractive older couple
standing outside what appeared to be a well kept farm house. The
receptionist had said something about my folk's farm. My guess was
that this couple was my nonexistent parents. Or were they nonexistent?
Perhaps they really were out there on the farm, thinking about their
daughter and her family. I shuddered. It was all too weird.

The side drawers of the desk were filled with files and forms which
looked like the files and forms anyone would expect in an office, but
the center drawer held more clues about me and my new life. There was
a list of emergency phone numbers, one for my "parents," two for the
kids (one for school and one for after school day care), and one for
Jerry.

I had to pick up the kids after school, so I decided I'd better find
out where to go. I dialed the number.

"Northside Elementary," a voice answered.

"Yes," I began. "My family just moved to town." No lie there. "Could
you tell me where your school is located?"

The directions were simple enough. I copied them down and then asked
what time school was out. I was told three thirty. I did the same with
the day care center, making sure that they picked up kids from
Northside at three thirty. At least that situation was under
control. All I would need to do after work was pick them up.

Next, I called Jerry.

"Duggan's IGA," a voice said.

"Yes, this is Cindy Patton. Is Jerry there?" I was a little tentative
in my request. To be honest, I was surprised to learn that Jerry
worked in a supermarket. I had seen several IGA stores on our trip, so
I knew what they were. We seemed to live pretty well on a secretary's
salary and the earnings of a grocery clerk.

"Hey, hon," Jerry's voice came through, "I was just going to call you.
Mr Duggan is coming in from Oklahoma City tonight. He wants to meet
with me in the morning and then play a round of golf with Jack and
I. Then, he's going to take you, me, Jack and Sherry over to Winston's
for dinner. It sounds like it may mean a promotion to Store
Manager. Jack's in line to move up. Plan on meeting them about six
tomorrow.  Since the kids will be at church camp Saturday night, we
won't even need a sitter."

"Gee, that's great," I replied, not really thinking it was great at
all.

"Okay see you after work. What's for dinner?"

Dinner? I had to cook dinner? "It's a surprise," I said. And it would
be too - a surprise for me. I couldn't cook worth a damn. At school, I
had depended upon microwave dinners and fast food. At home, I always
left cooking to my mother and sister. After all, that was women's
work. Well, guess what I was now.

"Sounds interesting. See you tonight about six thirty."

I slumped down in my chair. This was getting more complicated than I
could ever imagine.


At about noon, an interesting person came into my office. She was
about my height, black with long black hair, and a body that would
have stopped traffic. If I had thought my skirt was short, I looked
like I was wearing a peasant skirt compared to this girl. I knew I was
attractive, but I couldn't hold a candle to this girl. But I haven't
mentioned the most interesting thing about her yet: she wasn't
transparent.

"Want to grab some lunch, Cindy?" she asked.

I looked at my tiny women's watch. I could barely read the numbers,
but I could see that it was lunchtime. "Okay," I replied firmly. If
this girl was real, I needed to talk to her.

"I'm Dinah Moon," she told me with a smile. Her words surprised me for
she obviously knew my name. There was something about her, too. It was
as if she could walk through a rainstorm and not get wet. I knew
instinctively that Dinah could tell me what was going on in Ovid - if
she would.

"What's going on here, Dinah?" I asked bluntly as we walked out of the
building and headed toward the business district. No sense in delaying
my questions. I felt like Alice in Wonderland (even down to the right
sex), and something told me Dinah was my Cheshire cat. I didn't want
her to disappear before I got my answers.

"Let's wait until we're at lunch to discuss it, okay?"

"Sure," I agreed, trying clumsily to keep up with her brisk pace. "But
would you mind slowing down a bit?"

She stopped and looked at me. "A little new in heels, are we?"

Oh god! She did know! "No, I- I mean-"

"Don't worry," she laughed. "I'm the only one who's noticed." She
slowed her pace to accommodate me.

We walked wordlessly for about a block when we came to a little café
with a small painted sign in front which said "The Greenhouse."

Dinah gave me a wicked smile and said, "Nothing but soup and salad for
us chicks, eh?"

I didn't bother to answer. Dinah seemed to be having enough fun for
the both of us.

The café was only about half full. I guess Ovid wasn't much of a town
for soup and salad. It was probably more of a steak and potatoes
place, I thought. Still, the Greenhouse was a pleasant enough place
with lots of hanging plants and cozy little booths that afforded a
fair degree of privacy. I wondered if that wasn't the real reason
Dinah had chosen it for lunch.

We were seated quickly, and each of us ordered a small chef's salad. I
ordered a glass of white wine while Dinah ordered an iced tea. "I have
to watch my weight," she told me with a wink, "so no booze for Dinah."

"Uh, right," I agreed, stopping the waiter. "Make mine iced tea, too."
No sense in tempting the God of Fat. I was going to have to be more
careful.

"So how do you like Ovid?" Dinah asked.

"I thought I was a life-long resident," I responded coyly. If she
wasn't going to tell me anything, why should I open up to her?

She laughed and patted my slender risk. "Oh, that is really rich! You
sure, are, honey. You've lived here all your life. So let me ask it
another way. Is everything going well for you and Jerry?"

"I suppose as well as can be expected under the circumstances," I said
evasively. "I'm learning the ropes. Now, how about you? You know
what's happening here, don't you?"

"Well," she said with false modesty, "I suppose I do know more than
most people around here."

"Then tell me what's going on," I demanded.

She said nothing for a moment as our tea was delivered. I cursed the
waiter's timing, for now she would have time to consider her remarks
more carefully.

"I really can't tell you everything I know," she said after the waiter
left. "But I'll try to answer some of your questions."

Okay," I agreed, "here's the first question. Why is it you and I know
I wasn't Cindy until yesterday?"

"Oh, more people than that know," she said. "When the Judge changes
someone - you had figured out it was the Judge, hadn't you?"

I nodded.

"Well, when he changes you, you have about a one in four chance of
remembering your past life.  If you think about it, your family is
right on the mark. You remembered, but Jerry and the twins don't have
a clue, right?"

"That's right."

"Well, there's about five hundred changees in town right now, so that
means about a hundred and twenty-five or so remember. Then there's
maybe another fifty or so who remember some of the time. Usually, they
just chalk it up to a dream or fantasy, but every now and then,
someone sort of 'wakes up' and remembers everything. Some of them
remember from then on, and with some of them, the memory fades. Of
course, that's just the people. I don't know about the animals."

"Animals?" I asked, sipping my tea. It was good with some sort of
berry flavor.

"Oh, sure. The Judge can make you into an animal, too. One guy a
couple of weeks ago even got made into a tree. He's that big oak tree
down at Sooner Park by the playground."

"What did he do to piss off the Judge that much?" I asked, horrified.

"I think he was some kind of child molester. I think the Judge thought
if he liked kids so much, he'd put him where he could be around them
all the time but never do them any harm. He has a unique sense of
justice."

"Who is he?" I asked.

"The Tree Man? I don't know his name, but-"

"No," I interrupted. "Not the Tree Man. The Judge. Who is he?"

She grinned a wicked grin at me. "I don't think he wants you to know -
at least not yet."

We paused for a moment as our salads were delivered. Ovid might have
been a small town in farming country, but the chef's salad would have
been a hit in Chicago. After only toast that morning, I was hungrier
than I realized. I dug in, stopping for only a moment to ask, "So who
were you before? I mean, were you a guy, too?"

Her smile this time was forced. "That's not a proper question to ask
in Ovid."

"But you know about me," I argued. "Why shouldn't I know about you?"

"Oh, you'll know some day," she promised. "I think the Judge has some
interesting things in store for you. After you've worked with him
awhile, you'll learn about me."

I hoped he didn't have anything else in store for me. What he had done
to me already was bad enough. But on the other hand, at least I was
still human. I didn't think I could cope with being turned into an
animal or, worse yet, a tree.

"At least tell me about Ovid," I urged. "Anything you can tell me
might be of great help later."

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in telling you," she mused. "After
all, a lot of what you want to know is probably available at the
library.  What would you like to know?'

"First, where did it come from? It's not even on the map."

"Well," Dinah said looking up as if reading a book in her mind, "I
believe the town was incorporated in 1908, the year after Oklahoma
became a state and-"

"I thought you were going to level with me," I said, showing my
irritation. "I had a map of the state in the car before we came here,
and there was no Ovid on it. The town isn't so small that it wouldn't
be on the map."

"Well," she said slowly with a grin, "we did have lot of growth last
year. We went from zero to about fifteen thousand."

"Including the ghosts," I prompted.

"Ghosts? Oh, you mean the shades. Yes, including them."

"So where were you before Ovid?" I had asked her before if she had
been a guy and she hadn't answered, but I figured I might as well ask
again in a little different fashion. It couldn't hurt, and I didn't
really expect a straight answer. After all, Ovid seemed short on
straight answers.

The question actually caught her by surprise. Her eyes widened for a
moment before she said, "That's not a good question. Don't ever ask
that of anyone. If they want you to know, they'll tell you - quietly,
of course."

"But you haven't always been Dinah Moon," I prompted.

She shook her head, letting her silky black curls drift over her
shoulder. "No, I suppose I haven't, but then again, I suppose I have."

"You're talking in riddles," I pointed out.

She patted my hand again. "Oh, I like you, Cindy. You'll try to hunt
the truth no matter what the cost. I think we'll be good friends. But
come on, let's go now. Lunch is my treat."

We walked back to the office together, discussing innocuous things,
the weather and so on.  I wanted to know more about what had happened
to me, but every time I asked a penetrating question, she would
deflect it with another innocuous remark. Finally, Dinah waived
good-bye to me at the receptionist's desk and I started back toward my
office. Then, I remembered suddenly that Dinah had never stopped to
pay for our lunches.  She had apparently forgotten, I thought. I'd
better run back to her office and remind her. Then I realized that I
didn't know where her office was.

I walked back to the receptionist and asked, "Where is Dinah's
office?"

"Who?" I got a blank stare from the shade (Dinah had called them) at
the desk.

"Dinah," I repeated. "Dinah Moon, the woman who came in here with me a
few minutes ago."

I had a sudden bad feeling about this. I half expected her to say "but
you came in here alone," but she didn't. What she did say, though, was
almost as bad. "She doesn't work here. I've never seen her before."

Well, what was one more mystery added to all the others? I went back
to my office and pulled out the Ovid phone directory. As I
anticipated, the book listed no Dinah Moon or D Moon or anything else
to them. At least she said she liked me. In this Alice in Wonderland
town, that might be important some day.

The rest of the afternoon I used to acquaint myself with my job,
whatever that might be. I figured if I was going to be stuck this way
for awhile, I needed to follow my job description. The afternoon
passed without incident, and soon, it was four thirty. I gathered my
purse and locked up the office with a key I found attached to my key
ring.

I had no trouble finding the kid's day care facility. I had studied a
map of Ovid during my afternoon, and it wasn't hard to figure out
where everything was. I suspected I could have put myself on auto
pilot and made it there, but I didn't want to do that too often. I was
afraid of what might happen if I put myself on auto pilot and couldn't
pull myself back off. Then I would really be stuck, just like Jerry
and the kids.

It was funny, I thought as I pulled into the day care parking lot, I
was actually starting to think of them as my husband and my
children. If they had been able to remember their previous lives as I
had, I might have been able to continue to think of them as Randy,
Carl, and Steve.  But instead, they acted at all times like my husband
and my children respectively, and I was forced to interact with them
as a wife and mother. I wondered how long it would take before this
life seemed completely natural to me. Not long, I was afraid. With no
anchor from my previous life to hold on with, I would probably drift
into Cindy Patton full time or end up a mental case.

The kids were happy to see me, as most six year olds would be happy to
see their mother. Both bounced into the car, talking at ninety miles a
minute about their day in first grade and the neat projects they were
working on. It was coming at me so fast that I couldn't absorb any of
it. I suppose it wasn't just the transformation, but rather the same
inattention all working parents gave their children every now and
again.  And god knows, I had had a stressful day.

Damn! I was going to have a stressful night, too, if I didn't figure
out what to do about dinner. Let's see, I thought, what could I cook?
My culinary skills were severely limited, but I thought maybe I could
handle a meatloaf and maybe some mashed potatoes. I had made them both
before, so it was worth a shot. I knew the address of Duggan's IGA
from my perusal of the Yellow Pages at the office and knew I would be
expected to shop there. With my husband being, I assumed, the
Assistant Manager, where else could I shop?

I was greeted at the store by one "Hi, Cindy" after another. I smiled
and said "Hi" to each of them since I was expected to know them. Then
a young boy about high school age who was spraying produce asked, "Are
you looking for your husband, Mrs. Patton?"

"Uh, no," I replied. "I just have a little shopping to do."

"Okay," he said with a grin. "Anyway, Mr. Patton is in with
Mr. Spencer and Mr. Duggan. He got in from Oklahoma City early."

"Thanks." Great, I thought. That meant he would probably be late for
dinner. And here I was, gathering the ingredients of a nice meal, and
I bet he wouldn't even bother to call to let me know he was going to
be late. Just like a man...

What was I thinking? I was a man, at least mentally. Wasn't I? I was
beginning to think more than just my body had been changed. Oh, I had
memories of my past life which the others didn't have, but my thoughts
seemed to be slowly coming into line with my body. This was not
good. I only hoped there was enough of my male self left on Monday to
demand a return to my old life.

I shopped quickly, brushing off the children's incessant attempts to
get me to buy every product in the store with sugar in them. I picked
up a couple of pounds of lean (must watch the fats) ground beef, some
tomato sauce, a bagged salad and a small bag of potatoes. I also found
a cookbook dedicated to quick, easy meals for working mothers and
hoped there was a good selection of recipes in it for future
meals. And finally, I gave in to the kids and let them pick out a pie
for dessert.  I vowed to pass on that, or maybe just a small
piece. After all, they picked cherry, which was my favorite.

I don't know if I unconsciously went on auto pilot or was just a
better cook than I thought, but making dinner proved easier than I
thought.  Michelle actually helped some, and Mike set the table. I was
ready with my meal by six thirty, and to my surprise, Jerry was on
time.

"Great!" he said when he saw the meatloaf. "I love meatloaf."

I found myself being oddly delighted by his praise. And, if I do say
so myself, the meal was excellent. I took small portions, rewarding
myself with a thin sliver of the pie. Still, my smaller body seemed
satisfied with the smaller meal, so maybe losing a couple of pounds
wouldn't be difficult after all.

The evening went much the same as evenings I remembered with my old
family when I was a little boy. Mike and Michelle needed to pack for
the weekend church camp. Fortunately, they had been given a list to
help parents get them ready. I made the kids actually find the various
required items since I had no idea how their clothing was organized.
They seemed to be pleased that I would let them do it
themselves. Then, before I knew it, they were in bed, leaving me alone
with Jerry.

I had felt a gnawing fear rising in me since dinner. Jerry had
surprised me with his sexual desires the previous evening, and
confused and disoriented, I had given in. Although it had not been
unpleasant, the part of my mind which was still Matt found the idea of
sex with a man repugnant. It was enough to make me go to church and
confess, but I had noted from the list for church camp that we were
now all Baptists. In any case, I had to be strong and decline any
sexual advances or risk losing Matt forever.

I nearly gasped when finally, about ten, Jerry turned off the TV, got
up from his recliner, and came over to where I had been sitting on the
couch. Then, to my surprise, he leaned over, gently kissed me on the
lips, and said, "Well, good night."

Good night?

"You're going to bed?" I asked, uncertain as to what his normal
bedtime might be.

"Yeah. I've got an early meeting with Mr. Duggan and Jack, then a ten
o'clock tee time, so I want to be rested. Mr. Duggan was really happy
with everything at the store yesterday. I think there may be something
good coming up for us."

A transfer out of Ovid? That's all I wanted. I wanted out of this town
with my old life back. Did Mr. Duggan have that for me? I doubted it.
Mr. Duggan was probably just one more shade, playing his part in the
saga of Ovid.

"Okay," I said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh, that reminds me, you'll have to take the kids over for church
camp tomorrow. They're supposed to be there by ten."

"Okay."

My entire "family" was in bed now, leaving me to my thoughts. I had
expected a repeat of the previous night's sexual performance and found
myself relieved that it had not occurred. But on another deeper level,
I found myself a little disappointed. I felt a deep twinge in my body,
like an itch that needed to be scratched. Don't go there, I thought to
myself.

With a sigh, I tiptoed off to my bedroom, found a nightie that wasn't
too... well, sexy, and crawled into bed next to my sleeping "husband."
In spite of his snoring, I was asleep within minutes.

                                ***

Jerry was gone when I woke up, and the sunlight was streaming in the
bedroom window. I looked at the clock. It was already eight fifteen
and the kids had to be at the church by ten. I jumped out of bed
feeling the now almost familiar bounce of my breasts. It was funny how
quickly you could get used to large breasts, fleshy hips, and the
absence of anything hanging between your legs. I just hoped I wouldn't
have to get used to them permanently.

As I showered, I mentally congratulated myself on getting through an
entire day in this strange body without a major faux pas. Only two
more days to go and I could petition the Judge to get back my old
body. It was odd, I thought, that I had begun to think of my male body
not as my "proper" body, or my "rightful" body, although it was those
things.  Instead, I found myself thinking of it as my "old" body,
almost as I might speak of a castoff article. It only emphasized the
urgency of getting to the Judge. Being Cindy Patton was beginning to
be normal to me.

I managed to get the kids ready for camp, bathed, clothed and fed and
delivered them to the church parking lot with ten minutes to spare. I
waved good-bye to them, surprised to find I felt an emptiness as their
bus drove away. It was silly, I knew. They were only going to be at
the church's campsite perhaps fifteen miles away, but they were my
children and I missed them. I was beginning to think of them as my
children in any case.

Alone at last, I determined to use my day to drive around the town a
little more and finish my afternoon at the library, learning whatever
I could about Ovid - both the town and the poet.

My tour of Ovid didn't take long. There were only a few points of
interest in the town. On the west side, there was a small private
college called Capta College. It consisted of only a handful of
buildings, and the entire serene little campus would have fit in a
corner of the Notre Dame campus. It appeared to be a liberal arts
college, so I decided the college library might have more on Ovid. I
resolved to return here rather than the city library.

There were no true shopping centers. Instead, there were businesses
sprawled all along the highway as I had noted the night we came into
town, and the majority of businesses were concentrated along Main
Street. Most of the businesses were local, not national firms. There
were a couple of exceptions - a Sears Catalogue store and a Radio
Shack, but none of the other business names were familiar. The only
store which could pass for a department store was called March's. It
was only three stories tall and covered only a quarter of a block. I
decided to take a closer look at it, so I parked the car and went in.

Like most of the shade shoppers, I was casually dressed in a knit top
and jeans and tennis shoes, so I blended right in (except for the fact
that I wasn't semi-transparent). I looked like just another Saturday
shopper checking our Ovid's finest. It began as a lark, but slowly but
surely I found myself getting into the spirit of a shopping
trip. Maybe women really do have a shopping gene.  I went through the
men's wear section first out of force of habit and found myself
wondering what Jerry would look like in some of the shirts. The
children's section brought similar thoughts about Mike and
Michelle. But it was the women's department I found most
interesting. I couldn't help but wonder what I would look like in some
of the outfits.

Then I came to the lingerie section. It was sort of a small town
version of Victoria's secret, and I found myself surprised that such
sexy fashions could have made it to the hinterlands. I reached out to
touch a particularly sexy little number - a pink teddy with attractive
lace at the hem. It felt soft and silky and I was just thinking...

"It would look good on you," a feminine voice said.

I turned to face one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen in my
life. If I had still had a penis, it would have been rock hard just
staring into her deep blue eyes. Her hair was golden - not blonde, but
golden, looking lush and warm even in the mediocre department store
lights. She was about my new height, but where I was merely well
proportioned, she was magnificently proportioned. She wore a
tastefully conservative periwinkle blue dress with matching jacket,
but she could have been wearing yesterday's newspaper and looked just
as stylish. And she was real, not a shade. A small store name tag
identified her as Vera March.

I had said nothing, so she continued, "I think Jerry would like that
little number, Cindy."

I blushed, for I had been thinking the same thing. It was if she had
read my thoughts. Had I really been that transparent?

Vera laughed, "Don't be embarrassed, Cindy. Revel in your new
womanhood."

She knew, just as Dinah had known!

"I... um... don't think-"

"That's right," she said with a soothing voice which made me warm all
over. "Don't think. Love isn't about thinking, is it? It's about
feeling. It's the feeling of his strong hands on you breasts and
thighs, his loving kisses, his manhood against the entrance to your
body..."

I was floating. There was light and there was darkness, somehow mixed
together in a pattern of warmth and comfort. My body was trembling in
joy. There was Jerry and-

"Cindy!"

"Huh?"

I was standing on the sidewalk in front of the department store, a
gray sack with "March's" stylishly displayed on the side in my hand. I
looked up to see Dinah smiling at me.

"Been shopping, huh?" she said. "Whatcha get?"

Before I could protest, she snatched the bag and looked in. "Ooh..."
she drawled. "Jerry's gonna eat you alive in that."

As she handed me the bag, I caught a glimpse of the pink teddy. I
didn't recall buying it. One moment I was looking at it, then Vera
March spoke to me, and then... here I was."

Dinah gave me a knowing smile. "Vera talked you into it, didn't she?"

"Yes, I guess so."

Dinah laughed, "Vera can be very persuasive when she wants to be. I'll
bet she and Mark really go to town in bed."

"Who?" I was becoming more bewildered by the moment.

"Mark March, her husband. He's a hunk if ever I saw one. She has him
wrapped around her little finger. Why, I can remember... no, I don't
think I'll tell you about that just yet."

I bit my lip, feeling the unfamiliar taste of lipstick. "Dinah, who
are you?"

She looked at me seriously for a moment, then said, "I'm your friend,
honey."

"Why should I believe you?"

She was silent. Finally, she said, "I can't think of one good reason,
but I am your friend."

"But you're one of them," I accused, not even sure who "them"
was. "You, the Judge, Officer Mercer, Vera Martin, and probably her
husband are all... playing with me, as if I were some kind of a living
puppet."

She studied me for a moment, almost engulfing me with those deep brown
eyes. I stood my ground, though, small, blonde, female, and almost
ready to cry, but I stood my ground and never looked away from those
eyes.

"He's right about you," she finally said, more to herself than to me.
Then she was gone. I don't mean she walked away. She was just gone, as
if this were a movie in which she was there in one frame and gone in
the next. And to think, I had been afraid she would only fade away
like the Cheshire cat!

I shuddered for a moment, then looked around. There were only shades
nearby, and none of them seemed to notice anything unusual. I sighed
and got into the car. It was time to go to the college library and
look for some answers.

Suddenly, I remembered it was Saturday, and the Notre Dame-Texas game
had an early start. I fiddled with the radio until I found the
game. It was already the end of the first quarter and Notre Dame was
down 21 to 3. Disgusted, I turned it off. If we had made it to the
game, we would all be disgusted by now. Randy had fifty dollars on
Notre Dame, and Carl and Steve would have been drunk and disorderly by
now. Me, well, somehow it was hard to imagine what I would be thinking
if I were at the game.  If everything had gone as planned, I would
probably have lost my focus on the game and started looking for some
nice young Texas coed willing to console a poor Irish supporter for
the evening. Now I looked more like that prospective coed than I could
have ever imagined two days before.

The college library was small, I realized, but it was probably larger
than the town library. It was an older building, dating back, I would
say to the twenties, with faux columns on either side of the doors and
high arched windows along the front of the building. As I entered, I
saw that the librarian was a shade, but she answered my questions as
nicely as if she had been a real person. She directed me to the
research section where I immediately looked for and found a history of
the town of Ovid.

It seemed the town was founded in 1908, as Dinah had said, but I knew,
of course, that the real date was probably less than a year ago. All
the older buildings, such as the library, were really built to look
old. The college was founded by a group merely listed in the history
as a "religious order."  The current President of the college was a
woman named Betty Vest. The primary industries of the town appeared to
be agriculture and a couple of small manufacturers, the largest of
which was Vulman Industries which made car parts for Ford. I scanned a
few more pages in the book until I convinced myself that most of the
history was bogus.

Next, I tackled a copy of Ovid's Metamorphosis. If there were answers
in it, they were buried deeply, for the book was not an easy read. I
had thought it would be like Edith Hamilton's book, Mythology, which
was about the only book I had ever read on the subject, but it was
considerably more complex. I had read the Hamilton book while still in
high school, so while some of the names were familiar to me in
examining Metamorphosis, many others were not. The Hamilton book was
much more readable, I thought.

Metamorphosis contained every imaginable sort of transformation,
though.  I found men and women changed into trees, fish, spiders,
bears, cows, horse, rocks, birds, wolves, and yes, even men changed
into women.  Whoever had named Ovid had a great sense of the
ironic. But there weren't any god and goddesses running around Ovid
changing people into animals. Or were there?

My thoughts were interrupted as I looked at the clock. It was almost
four thirty! I had become so engrossed in the book that I had not even
eaten lunch. My stomach suddenly growled in protest. Oh well, at least
I had wanted to lose a few pounds. But what was more important was
that Jerry had said we would be meeting his bosses at six. That didn't
leave me much time to get ready.

I rushed out of the library and drove home. I had to keep my speed
legal, though, because for most of the trip, there was a police car
next to me, and the driver looked a lot like Officer Mercer. I
suddenly realized that I had not seen any police officer except
Officer Mercer, and he seemed to be everywhere. I filed that thought
for later and rushed home.

As luck would have it, I beat Jerry home by ten minutes, so when he
came into the bedroom, I was already stripping out of my jeans. I had
no idea what to wear, though, and was considering slipping back into
auto pilot when Jerry walked into our closet, turned me around and
planted a big kiss on my lips.

"Please, Jerry," I gasped, "I'm half naked and I need to get dressed."

"I've got great news, honey," he said with a grin. "You're looking at
the new manager of Duggan's IGA here in Ovid!"

Oh great, I thought, we get to stay in Ovid. "That's wonderful...
Jerry," I managed.

"Yeah, Jack's going to manage a big new store over in Tulsa, and he
recommended me to take over here. That means a raise and that country
club membership you've always wanted."

I grew up in a small town, so I knew what a country club membership
really meant. Usually in small towns, the country club was the hangout
for businessmen and their wives since it often had the only golf
course.  It wasn't the pillar of society often found in larger
cities. Still, it mean Jerry and I would be with the local in
crowd. As for his manager, he was probably just another shade, so
instead of a store in Tulsa, he would probably be going to wherever
the shades went when they were no longer needed.

Jerry grabbed a dress shirt and slacks and headed for the shower,
leaving me to try to figure out what to wear. I slipped into auto
pilot and let my body do whatever it had to do. I slipped off a short
black cocktail dress, the proverbial "little black dress" and
proceeded to gather everything I would need to go with it - new bra
and panties, a smoky patterned pair of hose with a garter belt, black
three inch heels, and a gold necklace and matching bracelet. The dress
was more revealing than I had realized, showing a significant amount
of both thigh and breasts, but it was too late to start over. Besides,
I told myself, women wore these things all the time. I would be
fine. My body seemed to know how to dress and apply makeup, so by some
miracle, I managed to be ready a few minutes before six. Even my first
attempt at three inch heels went fine.

Jerry drove, so I didn't have to figure out where Winston's was. It
turned out to be on a little hill overlooking the town. The sign in
front said "Best Darn Steaks in Oklahoma," so it looked like I was
going to get a good meal out of this. A suddenly feminine thought
crossed my mind as I realized any meal I didn't have to cook was a
good meal. I might be in for a future as chief cook and bottle washer
for the Patton family for some time to come, and the thought disturbed
me.

There was no valet parking. This was a small town, and ideas like
valet parking didn't jive with most people's small town, egalitarian
ideas. I knew this because Ovid was in many ways like my home town. So
Jerry let me out at the door, coming around to help me out, for which
I was grateful since I still wasn't too sure about the three inch
heels.

As I waited for Jerry, two couples went in and one went out. We all
smiled and said our "good evenings" to each other, and everyone
accepted me as normal. Even though they were all shades, I did feel a
little uncomfortable as the men seemed to be staring at my breasts and
not at my face.

Jerry collected me and we went in together. The rest of our party was
already seated with wine glasses filled in front of them. My spirits
perked up at the sight of the wine. A glass of wine would be
perfect. I hadn't had a drink since my transformation, and there is
nothing like finding yourself in a body of the wrong sex to make you
want a drink.

Jack and Sherry both stood with big smiles on their faces and greeted
us. Fortunately, Jerry had given me their names, so I was able to
greet Sherry by name and give her a sisterly hug. Although she was a
shade, I was struck by how solid she felt. She might appear a little
transparent, but it was an illusion. As I had expected, though, Jerry
and I were the only two real people at the table.

"Cindy," Jack boomed in a voice thick with an Oklahoma twang (did I
sound like that?) that could be heard three tables away, "I want you
to meet Henry Duggan and his lovely wife, Christine."

I smiled and shook their hands before sitting demurely next to Jerry.

"Have you told her?" Jack asked Jerry without preamble.

"Not yet," Jerry replied with an innocent lie. He couldn't keep a
secret, I suspected..

"Is there something I should know?" I asked innocently, playing along
with Jerry's little white lie.

"Cindy," Jack began, "your looking at the new Store Manager of
Duggan's IGA here in Ovid."

Think fast, I told myself. This is supposed to be great news. I get to
stay in Ovid near my non-existent parents. I don't have to move. I'm a
lucky girl. Come on, Cindy, be happy. "Oh, that's wonderful!" I
gushed.

"This calls for a celebration," Mr. Duggan said, beckoning to a
waiter.  He ordered two bottles of champagne and added to the waiter,
"And keep them coming."

The evening was pleasant, with champagne flowing through every
course. I tried to order as light a meal as possible, sticking with a
salad, a petite filet (of which I only ate half) and no dessert. But
the empty calories I picked up from the champagne probably did more
damage than the steak would have done.

Sherry and Christine without knowing it initiated me in the ritual of
going to the ladies room as a group. I had to field questions which
were new to me such as "I love your dress. Where did you find it?" and
"how do you stay so trim with two children?" Apparently I gave all the
right answers, for they seemed satisfied that I was one of their
sorority.

We broke up about ten. As I stood up, I realized that all the
champagne had been too much for my new, smaller body. I weaved
slightly, almost falling. The combination of a body with new
proportions balanced on high heels, coupled with more champagne than I
could handle was almost disastrous. Fortunately, Jerry noticed my
distress and put his arm around my waist, as much for support as for
affection. He helped me into the car and began the drive home.

"You were a big hit with Christine Duggan," he told me happily.

"I was?"

"That's what Henry told me." I noticed he and Mr. Duggan were now on a
first name basis. "He told me he can always tell when his wife likes
someone because she invited us to stay with them whenever we're in
Oklahoma City."

"That's nice," I said, wondering when my world would stop spinning
around. I vowed to watch my champagne consumption in the future.


When we got home, Jerry put his arm around me again and helped me up
to our bedroom. In spite of the champagne, or maybe because of it, I
found myself glad to be near him, so when he turned me around to face
him and lifted my chin, I actually reached up with my lips to kiss
him, enthralled as his tongue entered my mouth.

We were suddenly sliding our hands along each other's body. I felt his
strong back and firm ass while his hands were on my own ass. I could
feel the heat from his body as it rubbed against my own.

The first night of my transformation, I had been too shocked to
experience my initiation into sex as a woman. It had been as if I were
in a bad dream, or rather, in someone else's bad dream. But this time,
I had been a woman for two full days, and the body was not quite as
alien as it had been. That, coupled with several glasses of champagne,
was sufficient to make me relaxed and willing. I no longer thought of
this man I was holding as my old friend, Randy. Jerry was like Randy
in many ways, but he was... well, he was Jerry.

I marveled at how good it felt to hold on to his muscular body, and
how my nipples brushing against the hair on his chest felt so hard and
pleasantly sensitive. I began to feel something hard against the
inside of my thigh, and then I felt a liquid warmth coming from
between my own legs.

Jerry gently laid me on the bed and spread my legs. I knew what was
expected of me and arched my back as I felt him enter me. He was
gentle, playing around the entrance to my vagina rather than plowing
into me, and I began to feel a wave of pleasure rising in me unlike
anything I had ever felt before until I heard Jerry cry out and felt
something warm in me as he gave an orgasmic shudder.

 I realized in the pleasurable fog which claimed me that we had both
orgasmed together. I had never in my entire life, or perhaps I should
say either of my lives felt such intense pleasure. Between the buzz
from the champagne and the afterglow of my orgasm, I slipped off into
a blissful sleep.

I was awakened by the morning sun peeking into our room through a
crack in the drapes. I became aware suddenly of two things. The first
thing was that I was still as female as ever, as evidenced by the fact
that I was still completely nude, having fallen asleep after sex. The
second thing I noticed was that Jerry was just as nude as I, sleeping
peacefully beside me. I had avoided a hangover, but just barely, for
there was the faint fuzziness I always experienced after too much
liquor.

What had I done? I thought to myself. For the second night, I had
experience sex as a woman, but this time, it was different from the
first. The first time, it was just surprisingly pleasant, but this
time, it was terrific. I had enjoyed every minute of it, and I found
my body even now getting turned on at the sight of the man sleeping
beside me.

I slipped out of bed and covered myself in a filmy peach-colored robe.
It did little to hide my body, but it was the principal of the
thing. I was at least clothed again. Every day - in fact, every hour -
I was becoming more and more Cindy Patton. Did this mean that
eventually, I would be oblivious to what had happened to me as the
rest my family?

My thoughts were interrupted as Jerry woke with a groan and asked,
"What time is it?"

I looked at the clock on my nightstand. "Eight o'clock."

Jerry leaped out of bed, nearly startling me. "Jesus! We need to
hurry.  It will be time for church in an hour."

Church? As Randy, he had seldom gone to church. Even when he did, it
was never on Sunday mornings. Like me, he had been raised a Catholic,
and evening Masses were much more convenient. Sunday morning Masses
were too much of an effort, especially after Saturday night parties.

"Church?" I asked.

"We're greeting at the nine thirty service, remember?"

Greeting? Oh, that's all I needed. I would have to stand there in a
dress, pantyhose and heels and smile and shake hands with hundreds of
people, most of whom didn't really exist.

"And then we have to pick up the kids from Sunday school. That's when
their overnight camp ends." He looked at me for a moment. "Are you
feeling all right?"

I smiled a reassuring smile. "I'm fine." What was I going to say? No,
I'm not fine. I just had my sex changed and now I'm forced to live as
a woman raising two kids who used to be my fraternity brothers while
I'm on the receiving end of a game of hide the sausage with my former
best friend. Oh, and to top it off, I'm surrounded by people who
aren't really there and a few others who are but still don't seem
normal. Maybe I wasn't really fine, but the only person I really
needed to talk to about it wouldn't be back until the next day.

With a sigh of resignation, I headed for the shower while mentally
planning what I would have to wear to church.

Jerry and I made it with ten minutes to spare. I managed to cut a
little time off by fixing a breakfast of juice coffee, and
toast. Jerry was expecting bacon and eggs, but I told him there wasn't
time. Besides, I thought to myself, I couldn't afford the calories.

Jerry wore a sport coat and tie, and I found myself envying the good
old days when I would have been similarly attired. As Cindy, though, I
had to find the right dress (a light blue knit dress which had a
little longer skirt - that is, ending at the top of the knee), neutral
pantyhose, matching shoes and purse (white two inch heels and a small
white leather purse), and the right accessories (gold necklace with
matching earrings and a simple gold bracelet). Then came the makeup. I
had to go back on auto pilot for the first time in about fifteen
hours.  I was learning how to be a woman, but I wasn't ready to ride
without the training wheels when it came to applying makeup.

I did a lot of smiling, handshaking, and saying "Hi" to the members of
the congregation as if I knew them. Most were shades, but every now
and then, a real person would come up to shake my hand. A real
person's handshake didn't really feel any different from a shade's
handshake, but with the shades, it was disconcerting to realize that I
could almost see right through them.

One real person particularly caught my attention. He was young,
perhaps sixteen tops and dressed in a blue dress shirt and what
appeared to be a Jerry Garcia tie. He was pleasant looking, sort of
like the proverbial boy next door. What caught my interest though was
when he shook my hand and said softly, "Welcome to Ovid."

He knew. He was one of the ones who retained his memory. There was a
little coffee social after services, and I made a mental note to talk
to him when we could be in private.

This was my first Baptist service, and I was comforted to see it
wasn't too unlike a Catholic service. Actually, given that I was now
wearing a dress, I was just as happy to go through a church service
without kneeling. The minister was a shade, but his sermon was a bit
more passionate than any I had seen at Mass. The hymns were mostly
familiar, and I was somehow pleasantly surprised to learn that I had a
very pleasing soprano voice. Jerry's clear tenor matched well with my
voice, and I found it fun to be sharing the Hymnal with him as we sang
in harmony.

After the service, Jerry stopped to speak with several of his friends
while I got a cup of coffee and sought out the boy I had greeted
earlier. He smiled when he saw me approach. Looking about to see that
there was no one else in easy earshot, he smiled and said, "I'm Danny
Mitchell. So how is your new life working out?"

I liked that. There was no preamble. I suspected this type of
conversation was discouraged in Ovid, so it paid to get right to the
point.

"All right, I guess," I told him. "I'm not exactly used to it yet." I
wanted to add "and I want to get out of here before I do get used to
it," but I didn't.

He smiled again. "It takes awhile to get used to it. I've been here
almost a year now."

"Then were you one of the first real residents?" I asked, warming to
this young man.

"Pretty close," he agreed. "When we got here, I think the town had
just gotten started. You could go all day and not see anyone who was
real."

"We?"

"Oh, I suppose I should tell you my story. I was on a college football
team last fall. We were flying down here from Northwest Missouri State
to play Muskogee State in football when our plane developed engine
trouble and had to land in Ovid."

"Ovid has an airport?" I asked, surprised as I took a sip of coffee.

He nodded. "It does. It isn't much of an airport, really - just a
couple of private hangars and a lighted concrete runway, but it was
big enough for our chartered plane. Anyhow, the coach explained our
problem to the police officer who greeted us."

"Officer Mercer?" I asked on a hunch.

"Who else? He's the entire police force, but he seems to be
everywhere.  I've even seen two police cars on the street, both driven
by Officer Mercer."

So had I.

"Anyhow," Danny continued, "we were taken into town on a bus that- you
know, it's funny, but I just happened to think of something. There was
a bus waiting for us at the airport as if they knew we were coming."

"I imagine they did," I told him.

He nodded in agreement. "We appeared before the Judge right away. I
couldn't imagine why they took us to see him. I mean, we hadn't done
anything wrong. The Judge came out a muttered something I couldn't
understand, and then the changes began. About half of us stayed boys,
although different, younger boys. We were all high school age. A
couple of the white guys turned black and a couple became Hispanic,
and some of the blacks and Hispanics on the team turned white. The
rest changed into girls - all kinds of girls. Some were cute and some
were plain. Again, some of their races changed. There was a lot of
yelling and screaming from those of us who remembered who we had been,
but the rest of the team just stood there and smiled as the changes
claimed them. They didn't even seem to notice what was happening.

"Did the pilot and the coaching staff turn into students, too?" I
asked.

"No," Danny said, shaking his head. "Coach Wallace - he was the head
coach - is now Miss Samson, our History teacher. The pilot was a
woman.  She's a teller in one of the banks now. The rest of the crew
just changed into people I haven't met yet. Officer Mercer took me
'home' after that. I found out my parents weren't real, but they were
okay to me. Dad is real now, but I don't know who they got to be him
and he doesn't remember."

I hesitated for a moment, then asked, "What about the ones who became
girls and remembered who they were. How did they handle it?"

"Pretty well, actually. One of them was our starting halfback, and he-
she is now our head cheerleader. Another player - he was a defensive
end like me - was runner-up for Homecoming Queen. She remembers
everything, but she's adapted well. She and I date quite a bit and I
think she's starting to like being a girl."

"It sounds as if things are turning out all right for them," I
commented.

Danny nodded. "I think so. Of course it's a lot harder for them than
it is for you or me."

I was puzzled. "Why do you say that?"

"Well," he explained, "I was originally male, and you were originally
female, so-"

"Wait a minute!" I interjected. "What makes you think I was originally
female?"

His eyes went wide and his face reddened. "You mean you weren't a
woman before? Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that you act like a woman. I
mean, I was watching you while you were greeting, and then in church
with your husband. You talk and act just like a woman. Did I say
something else wrong?"

"Oh, no," I told him. "Excuse me, Danny. I'd better go now."

I turned away without another word. Danny had said something wrong all
right. How could he have ever thought that I was originally female? I
hadn't changed that much, had I? Maybe, I thought, my body was on auto
pilot more than I realized. Either that, or my female body was
beginning to affect my predominately male mind.

As Jerry and I drove home from church after picking up the kids, I
began to sort through my thoughts in light of Danny's
assumption. First, there was the sex. I had experienced sex as a woman
on two evenings now. How did I feel about it? Did I enjoy it? I had to
admit that I did. The physical sensations were very pleasant. I began
to feel a moistness in my crotch just thinking about it. But what did
this mean? Was I gay? I didn't think so. I had been a normal
heterosexual male in all ways before coming to Ovid. Now, I was a
normal heterosexual female. It seemed the right thing to be.

Then there were the kids. I had to admit when we picked them up after
church that I was glad to see them. Was it because I was worried about
Steve and Carl? I didn't think so. In some bizarre way, I was
beginning to think of them as my children. It was hard to think of
Mike as Steve and even harder to think of Michelle as Carl. They were
happy, healthy, normal children in every respect.

I began to realize that I was becoming Cindy Patton in every way that
was meaningful. I was beginning to think of myself as a wife and
mother, to the detriment of my male ego. It was imperative that I see
the Judge in the morning before Matt O'Hara disappeared completely.

Sunday afternoon was just a normal weekend day for the Patton family.
Jerry settled in to watch a football game. Apparently, we were Dallas
Cowboy fans to my chagrin. I had been a Steelers fan as long as I
could remember since I grew up in Pennsylvania. In some ways, I mused,
supporting the Cowboys would be tougher than being a woman. Although I
said all the right things as we watched the game together, I was
secretly glad when they were upset by the lowly Atlanta Falcons.

The kids just played and had a wonderful time of it. Two little girls
(one a shade) came by to play with Michelle, while Mike was content to
read comics and watch TV. In some ways, he was just like Steve had
been.  I resolved that if I had to stay in this role, I would raise
Mike to be a better man than Steve had been. But then, what mother
doesn't want the best for her son?

I actually managed to make a pretty decent snack to tide everyone
over, and then put together a meal I was actually quite proud of. It
consisted of baked chicken and fresh green beans and a salad. It was
nutritious and pretty low in fat. I had a waistline to think about.

By evening, the kids were tired, so I had no trouble putting them to
bed. As I put them both to bed, I felt feelings of accomplishment I
had never felt before. I think they must be feelings only a mother can
experience. It was a felling of pride that I had actually created
these two children. I knew, of course, that I had never experienced
their actual birth, but the feeling that I had was there nonetheless.

Jerry had spent the evening reading and watching TV. It was how the
old me would have spent the evening as well, but I felt the need to
putter around the house a little bit. I did a quick load of laundry
and folded it. Then, as I was putting it away, I noticed the sack from
Martin's. I had forgotten about it with all that had happened over the
last day. I pulled the pink teddy out of the sack and held it up. It
was incredibly sexy, and I found my groin becoming warm just looking
at it. The matching panties were so sheer and soft...

        There was something magical about the outfit. As I held it, I
began to wonder what I would look like in it. I wondered what Jerry
would think of it. I smiled at the thought.

        A part of me knew that this was not what I should be thinking
or feeling. I was not really a woman in spirit, only in body. Then I
remembered the woman who had sold me the teddy. She had murmured
something to me as she sold it, something hypnotic. I was being forced
into these thoughts and feelings, I realized. They were not really my
own.

        My body disagreed. I began to feel the soft, yielding warmth
between my legs, urging me to put on the teddy. It didn't seem to be
worth resisting, so I stripped off my clothes and put it on. The
panties softly caressed my dampening crotch, and the silky feel of the
teddy on my erect nipples made my body shudder involuntarily.

        I looked at myself in the mirror. I was absolutely sexy. To
hell with the five pounds I needed to lose. A little touch up of
lipstick, expertly applied, a brush through my hair, and a little
perfume spritzed in all the right places, and I was fantastic. For
good measure, I slipped on a pair of three inch white heels.  I smiled
at the finished product and started into the den.

        "Honey," I called softly from behind him.

        He turned around and I nearly laughed as his mouth fell open.
Wordlessly, he jumped from his chair and slipped his arm around my
waist. I smiled at him as we walked together silently back into the
bedroom.

        I won't go through all the details. Let's just say that it was
everything I hoped it would be the first, second, and third time. When
we had finished, we were both exhausted and fell asleep in each
other's arms.


I awakened the next morning to the sound of Jerry in the shower. I
felt sticky between my legs and realized with a blush that I had slept
through the night without cleaning up. It had been a contented sleep,
I knew, and even in the light of day with my reason in control, I
realized how fantastic the evening had been. As a man, I had never
felt the waves of pleasure this new body had given me.

        And yet, I realized suddenly, this was the day I would
confront the Judge and ask him to change me back into my male
self. What would it be like to be male again? I had actually grown
used to the vacant feeling between my legs, and my breasts felt as if
they had always been there.  What would happen to Jerry and the kids?
Could I bargain to get back all of our old lives. And what if I did?
How could I ever face Randy again after what we had done repeatedly as
Jerry and Cindy? Would Steve and Carl be as happy as my wastrel
fraternity brothers as they seemed to be as Mike and Michelle? These
were nagging questions for which I had incomplete answers.

        And what was going on in Ovid? I thought I knew what, but not
why. The answers had come to me slower than they might have had I not
been faced with adjusting to a new life at the same time. But I was
certain now that I knew who the Judge and Dinah and all the rest of
them were.  Somehow, I should have been more frightened, knowing what
I suspected I knew, but I wasn't.

        I dropped the kids off at school and drove to work. In the
parking lot, I looked myself over one more time. I had tried to look
very professional for my confrontation with the Judge. I wore a cream
colored silk blouse, a tan suit, two-inch brown heels, and had
carefully styled my hair as best I could. My makeup was a little
understated, and I thought I actually looked like a lawyer myself. I
had sought that look.  I had a case to plead.

        I arrived in the office before the Judge and had a sinking
feeling.  What if he didn't come in again today? I was beginning to
lose my grip on my male identity; I was fully aware of that. Was that
his plan? To hide until I no longer had the will to return to my male
form? How long would that be? If I were to remain Cindy Patton for
even a few more days, I would completely lose my resolve to return to
my old life. Each time I looked into my children's eyes or felt the
embrace of my husband or admired my image in the mirror, a little more
of Matt died.

        My fears turned out to be groundless, though, as he entered
the office at exactly nine o'clock. He was dressed in a conservative
gray suit with a red and gray striped tie and crisp white shirt. There
was a newspaper tucked under his arm.

        "Good morning, Cindy," he said with a smile, as if there was
nothing unusual. I thought for a moment that perhaps I was
wrong. Perhaps the Judge knew no more than Jerry or the kids. But I
dismissed the idea as quickly as I thought of it. The Judge had to be
behind our transformations, and I was sure I knew who, or at least
what, he was.

        "Why did you do this to me?" I asked with a frown.

        To my consternation, his smile grew wider. "Why did I do
what?"

        "You know what. Why did you change me into... into this?" I
gestured at myself. "And why did you turn Randy into Jerry and Steve
and Carl into children?"

        He actually laughed. "Come into my office, Cindy, and I'll
answer all of your questions."

        When I was seated in front of his desk, he pushed the paper in
front of me. "This may answer the 'why,' Cindy."

        I looked at the paper. It was a Friday Tulsa paper. I scanned
the headlines, trying to determine from the front page exactly what he
was talking about. There were the usual national and international
stories, but it was a headline and a picture which went with it that
caught my eye. In the picture, the remains of a charred Firebird were
clearly visible.  The headline read "Five Die in Fiery Crash!" With a
sickening shock, I realized the car was Randy's. There could be no
doubt as to who four of the five who died were.

        "Do you mean... we're actually... dead?"

        To my relief, he shook his head. "No, not really. This is only
what should have happened."

        It had to be the farm truck we almost hit, I realized. I
remembered we were headed right for it and then... it was gone.  We
had hit that truck, I realized, or at least we should have hit
it. Then we would have all died, taking the driver of the farm truck
with us.

        I looked up from the paper to face the Judge. "You saved us
then?"

        He nodded. "In a manner of speaking I did. If I had simply
saved you, there would have been too many loose ends in reality. Your
loved ones would have found you had disappeared, and the subsequent
search might have led them here. What I did was erase you from
reality. If you were to call your friends from school or your family,
you would discover that they had never heard of you. Then, you four
and the truck driver became mine to mold as I wished."

        "But that isn't right," I protested. "What gives you the right
to do this to us?"

        "I could say might makes right," the Judge said grimly, "but I
might also remind you that in many cultures, saving a life means that
life is mine to do with as I please. In other cultures, I would be
obligated to take care of you however I saw fit. Any of these answers
gives me the right. Besides, you participated in the selection of your
roles here.  Observe."

        Suddenly, I could see the four of us back on the road
again.. The old me was speaking.

        "There's no Ovid on the map," I was saying.

        Steve, drunkenly from the back seat yelled, "Are we there
yet?" as Carl snickered.

        "Quiet, guys," I had growled.

        "Who are you?" Steve had taunted, "our mother?"

        The scene faded. "I rest my case," the Judge said.

        "So based on that exchange, I get to be the mother?" I
practically yelled.

        "It won't be so bad," the Judge said. "Dinah tells me you've
adapted to your role quite well. And I understand Vera sold you quite
a sexy outfit on Saturday. Have you had a chance to wear it yet?"

        My blush told him that I had.

        "I thought so.  As I said, you seem to be adapting well."

        It was true, I realized. I had been a woman for - what? - less
than four days, and yet I had dressed as a woman, acted as a woman,
and even on several occasions made love as a woman. Was I revolted by
all of this, particularly the lovemaking? Yes, at first. It had all
seemed so alien to me, but now? This morning, I had gotten dressed and
put on my makeup as if it were second nature. I walked confidently in
heels. I had kissed my husband good-bye as if I hated to see him go,
and I had hugged my children before school as if I were trying to
return them to my body from which they had supposedly come.

        "All right," I granted. "I suppose I have adapted, and this
life isn't so bad. But why did you do this to us? You didn't save us
out of the goodness of your heart."

        The Judge smiled. "I was right not to underestimate you. To
explain why, you have to know who I am. Have you figured that out
yet?"

        "I think I have," I admitted. "There were plenty of clues, but
the answer was almost too fantastic. That's why I rejected it when I
first thought of it. But I suppose it was no more fantastic than what
you did to us."

        "And the answer is?"

        "You are the Roman gods," I ventured, almost certain I was
correct.

        "Very good!" he replied, clapping his hands as he leaned back
in his leather chair. "Have you figured out which ones?"

        "I think so. You are Jupiter."

        He nodded, still smiling. "Correct."

        "Dinah is Diana, Officer Mercer is Mars."

        "Wrong on that one! Officer Mercer is Mercury."

        "Of course," I said. "I should have guessed from the name. But
wouldn't Mars have made a better police officer?"

        The Judge grunted. "I don't think so. Mars is too much of a
martinet. I needed someone who would be a little more understanding,
and of course, I needed someone who could be everywhere almost at
once. Mercury has the speed to do so. Mars, along with his wife,
Venus, whom I believe you have met?"

        I nodded. No wonder I bought the teddy from her and used it so
amorously. I was under a spell from Venus.

        "Anyhow, they run Martin's Department Store. I suppose I
should have let Mercury run it. He is, after all, the God of Commerce,
but someone once compared business to war, so I suppose it all works
out."

        "Are there any other gods I should be aware of? I wouldn't
want to cross any of them," I told him. "The way I talked to Dinah,
I'm surprised she didn't turn me into a stag like she did in
Metamorphosis."

        "Oh, that's just the legend that survived," he told me. "Have
you ever heard of Siproetes?"

        I frowned. "No, I don't think so. I didn't see it in Ovid."

        "It isn't in any of Ovid's works," he told me. "The legend of
Siproetes didn't survive to your time. The only reference to him is in
a work called Metamorphoses by Antoninus Liberalis. Siproetes was a
young man in Crete who saw Diana - she was called Artemis then, by the
way - bathing naked in a fountain. Rather than change him into a stag
as in the legend you know, she changed him into a woman. Some day,
I'll tell you the whole story of that incident, but as you can see,
your current transformation meets with her approval.

        "As far as any other gods you should be aware of, well, you'll
meet others, I'm sure, but don't worry about them now. They all know I
personally decided to make you and your friends into the Patton
family.  I doubt if any of them will bother you. Actually, there are
only twelve true gods in the pantheon. The rest are sort of
second-rate gods. I'll introduce you as the occasion arises."

        My conversation with the Judge had not worked out quite the
way I had thought it would. I had as much as agreed to remain Cindy
Patton. I supposed I could have suffered a worse fate. Besides, in a
perverse sort of way, it was actually fun to be a woman. It's just
that I had thought from the moment that my transformation had been all
wrong. Now, though, it seemed so right. Matt O'Hara had another
semester of undergraduate work left followed by three years of law
school. Cindy Patton had the opportunity to participate in the most
unique exercise of the law ever imagined. And I would get to be with
Jerry and the kids.

        "All right," I sighed. "I guess I'm Cindy Patton for
keeps. But what am I supposed to do around here?"

        "Oh, general secretarial chores will be your official job."

        "And unofficially?"

        "Very good. You will attend court sessions with me," he told
me. "I need someone who can chronicle all of the cases as they
actually occur.  Otherwise, eventually even I will forget who was who
around here."

        I frowned. "You mean you want me to be the court reporter?"

        "No, no," he replied, shaking his head. "I want you to tell
them as stories. You will be my female Homer, telling the stories of
those who visit my courtroom. I want you to tell the tales in your own
words, expressing your own feelings. The stories will, of course, be
only for the consumption of myself and my fellow gods. Yours will be
the most important job of any mortal in Ovid. How does that sound?"

        I had to admit to myself that it was intriguing. I would be
witness to remarkable events that no mortal had witnessed before. And
since I had wanted to be an attorney before my transformation, I would
see courtroom justice meted out in a way I could never have imagined a
few days before. How could I say no? I smiled at the Judge and nodded
my head.  "Okay," I said, "you have a deal."

        He clapped his hands. "Excellent, my dear. You won't regret
this. Now, we had better go to court. Officer Mercer has just stopped
a drunk driver on the edge of town. Such childish behavior warrants a
stern sentence."

        "How did you know he just picked up a drunk driver?" I asked,
hurrying to keep up with him as he headed for the courtroom.

        The judge only laughed.

        You know, I said to myself, come to think of it, this could be
fun.


End