Adult Image Library 1/Adult_Image_Library_Volume_1.iso/stories/abfh1c.txt

Text File | 1996-04-15 | 15.6 KB | 282 lines

    Things began to change a little in the second month.  Doris
took Anderson to a hairdresser.  No names were mentioned, but she
clucked with disapproval at the military haircut.  Anderson thought
his hair was long; it was longer than the uniform regs allowed, but
still short.  The stylist recut it into a hairstyle that was short
but fairly feminine.  She looked at his nails.  "Your nails are a
mess.  You need to stop chewing them."  She painted them with a
clear liquid, thed waited for the coating to dry.  "Now chew on
them," she said.
    Anderson tried, the stuff tasted horrible.  he spit out a
fragment of nail and said as much.
    "That's just the point.  Take the bottle with you and put a
coat on your nails each morning.  After a while, you won't even
think of biting them."  She then pierced his ears.  "You're about
what, 26," she asked.
    Anderson nodded.
    She pierced them twice more, so he had three gold studs in
each ear.  "You're young enough so that looks about right," she
concluded.  After a lecture on how to care for the piercings, she
took him over to a vanity table and began showing him how to apply
cosmetics, indoctrinating him in the mysteries of foundations,
bases, power, lipstick, gloss, mascara, eyeshadow, and cold cream.
After she was done, she scrubbed it all off and had him apply it,
correcting him as he made mistakes.
    "That's sort of the `full formal' look," she explained.  "It's
good for an evening out.  But for daytime, it's a bit much..."  She
then showed him how to lightly apply makeup for a look that was
both enhanced and natural.  "You don't want to wind up looking like
the daughter of Bozo the Clown and Tammy Faye Bakker."  Anderson
left the salon with that coating still applied.
    That took the entire morning and then some.  Anderson was
getting very hungry, so Doris dropped him back at the townhouse.
"See you in an hour," she said.  Anderson made a couple of
sandwiches and leafed through two aviation magazines that had been
dropped off.  He also noticed that "Cosmopolitan," "Redbook," and
"YM" had been added to the selection.  He repaired the damage to
his lipstick by the time Doris returned.
    Doris showed up carrying two purses, one of them was for
Anderson.  She showed him what cosmetics to carry, enough for field
repairs.  He looked at the wallet, it had a Wisconsin driver's
license in the name of Sherry Anderson, complete with photograph
and signature.  There was also a VISA and American Express credit
cards, a pilot's license (private, instrument airplane), medical
certificate and a radiotelephone permit in Sherry's name.  There
was also $52.47 in cash.
    "All those are legal," Doris said.  "Anyone who checks with
the DMV or the FAA will find Sherry Anderson listed.  Give me your
logbooks."
    Anderson went to find them and handed them over.
    "You'll get these back in a while.  Now we have an appointment
with a voice coach.  You really need help there, Sherry."
    "I know I sound like a man, but why do you say that?"
    They left the townhouse as Doris explained:  "Appearances are
very important for a man who is passing himself off as a woman.
What someone first perceives is the way they are going to think of
you, 99% of the time.  If they see a woman, then they are going to
think `woman' even if your voice is a tad low.  But in your case,
the first contact a lot of people are going to have with you is
over an airplane's radio.  So your voice has to convey that you
are a woman.
    "You might say we are going into phase two of your training
here."
    "Which is?"
    "Female training.  You're going to take deportment lessons.
We aren't going to teach you how to act like a woman.  An act can
fail under stress.  So we are going to teach you to BE a woman.
There will be sessions with image consultants, the voice coach,
and some time out in the real world.  You're going to start
spending some time with a therapist to ensure that we aren't
overloading you.  She'll also help you sort out your feelings about
who you are and what we are training you.  Feel free to talk with
her about anything, ok?"
    "Sure.  Will I still be flying?"
    "Oh, yes.  You have a *lot* more training to go through."
    The voice coaching was simple.  The first session took just
fifteen minutes.  The coach showed Anderson how to raise his voice
slightly through humming and gave him a tape-recorder to practice
with.
    The therapist was next.  Her name was Janet, she explained
that the process was to talk things out.  She would have him
explain his life to her.  The process was like peeling an onion,
one removes one layer at a time.
    Anderson digested that.  "But there's nothing distinct about
the center of an onion," he remarked.  "How do you know when you
get there?"
    "When there's nothing else left.  You'll know it, and so will
I.  We'll start on your next visit."
    Doris was waiting in the therapist's outer office.  "What's
next on the schedule," Anderson asked.
    "We're going to get you some new clothes."  They rode the
electric jeep to a clothing store.  There the saleslady first
fitted Anderson with a bra and a set of breast prothesis.  She had
him try on a number of differnt bras, then camesoles and slips.
After that, she brought in a hound's tooth suit with a white blouse
which she had him try on.  Then she fitted him with a pair of black
leather pumps with 3" heels.  Finally, she led him over to a three-
sided mirror.
    Anderson's jaw dropped.  Gazing back at him in the mirror was
an attractive young businesswoman.  He ran his hands down the side
of the skirt, feeling the smooth material.  He smiled and the woman
in the mirror smiled back.  What he didn't see was the satisfied
grins Doris and the saleslady gave each other.  He wasn't sure how
long he stood there, entranced at his image in the mirror.  He felt
something click inside himself, and from then on knew that the
female pronouns were the right ones.  It just felt right.  It was
a moment that Sherry would remember as long as she lived.  She
would later say it felt like she had been reborn.
    They spent a lot of time assembling a wardrobe; dresses,
skirts, tops, casual wear, coats, shoes, and a couple of pairs of
boots.  Doris picked out a few things to take back with them, the
saleslady promised the rest would be delivered.
    Doris helped Sherry put her clothes away when they returned
to the townhouse.  "Tomorrow you start on your commercial pilot's
license," she said.  "Just be at the flight school by 0730.  You'll
do your training in the Bonanza, since you'll need to use a complex
airplane for the exam.  Wear the jeans and the sneaks for your
flight training.  As before, you'll be flying every other day.
I'll let you know each afternoon what is planned for the next day
so you can choose the proper attire.  If I don't see you' I'll
leave a note in your mail slot.
    "The other thing is, you need to start on a physical training
program.  Some of that will come later, but I want you to start
running each afternoon.  That is to be the only activity where you
aren't to wear the artificial breasts.  Start today."
    "Okay."  Sherry changed into a t-shirt and shorts, then went
out for a run.  It was a brief run, she hadn't been running for a
few months.  But she knew from past experience that the wind would
come back quickly.

    Sherry was at the flight school on time.  If Craig had any
thoughts about her changed appearance, he kept them to himself.
The classroom phase was over quickly, most of the material was the
same as the instrument course, so they went through it at a fast
clip.
    The instructor thought she was a little weak on slow flight
and stalls.  "I think you're afraid of them, so let's change the
syllabus a bit," he said.  Sherry found herself in the front seat
of a Bellanca Decathalon; they went through stalls, spins, and some
basic aerobatics.  She had to use a Sic-Sack on a couple of
occaisions, but soon she was doing loops, rolls, and inverted
flight.  Craig had her do inverted stalls and spins, then he let
her take the Decathalon up when she had some free time.
    Sherry had the time of her life in the Decathalon.  Craig
chewed her ass out for making a low inverted pass down the runway
one afternoon, but she didn't mind.
    For most of the non-flying days, Doris had her wear more lady-
like attire.  She got used to moving around in dresses, skirts, and
high heels.  She lost her purse a few times the first week, but
soon carrying one became automatic.
    The therapy was easier than she thought it would be.  Sherry
trusted Janet and opened up to her completely.  They met three
times a week, then scaled back to twice a week.  Janet wanted to
make sure that the training wasn't taking Sherry down a road she
didn't want to go.  But what she saw was a young woman who was full
of life.  Sherry was finally doing everything she had wanted to do.
    The deportment classes (to use Doris's term) were more like
aerobics.  The instructor's name was Sharon, she worked to teach
Sherry to loosen up and move more fluidly, not to shamble along
like a male.  They were tiring at first, but also fun.  Sherry was
keeping up her running, she was now doing over four miles a day.
The town (she thought of it as that) has several running courses
laid out along the roads, complete with mileage markers.  Sherry's
goal was to run three laps around the airport, a distance of over
seven miles.
    The coursework was changing constantly.  After a series of
lessons on clothing and accessories, Sherry started a basic cooking
course.  Doris pointed out that most women knew how to do more than
fry hamburgers and eggs, which about the extent of Sherry's kitchen
skills.  So she learned how to cook and how to select items from
the supermarket.  Sherry privately didn't think much of this phase
of her training.  It seemed like a lot of effort to spend so much
time spreparing a meal that normally didn't take anywhere near as
long to eat.  Lord Sandwich knew what he was doing, she concluded.
    The big treat came after Sherry passed her commercial pilot's
check ride.  Doris and Janet treated her to a trip to Chicago for
three days of R&R.  They took the Bonanza, Sherry flew them to
Meig's Field right downtown.  They went shopping on Michigan Avenue
and in Watertower Place.  The highpoint was a theatre night,
including a fantastic dinner afterwards.  Sherry was sorry to leave
Chicago, even though she logged some good instrument time,
including a NDB approach to their home base.

    Sherry started working with Craig on her multi-engine rating
in the Twin Beech the next day, including a session on the care and
feeding of radial engines.  "You can't overprime a radial," Craig
admonished.  She learned about engines that measured their oil
levels in gallons, not quarts.
    While Sherry was being introduced to the fun of engine-out
drills, a conference was underway concerning her progress.  Col
Hampton had flown in, he met with Janet, Doris, and Dr. Trotti.
"How's our boy doing," was his first question.
    Janet smiled.  "She's a woman, Colonel, and she's doing fine."
    "Explain."
    "Frankly, I don't think Sherry's a transvestite.  I think
she's a transsexual, although she really hasn't admitted it to
herself.  The majority of TVs we get here aren't content to go
full-time dressed up.  They find some way of visibly asserting
their masculinity.  The TSs assimilate completely.  Sherry has
shown no signs of not wanting to be a woman.  No covert strength
exercises, or anything like that.
    "Her adjustment to female living has been remarkable, although
I don't think she should consider making a living as a chef."  That
comment earned a laugh from Doris.
    Col Hampton mulled that over.  "How's the flying coming?"
    Doris fielded that.  "Craig says she's doing well.  She may
not be a pure natural at it, but she is working very hard at it."
    "So, what's the next step in her training?"
    "She's started multi-engine work.  Once she gets her multi
ticket, then we are going to get her rated in DC-3s and C-46s,
along with turboprops.  After that, then it may be time to send her
out living full-time as a pilot to build up her flight time."
    "What about tradecraft?"
    "We'll start weapons training next week, along with escape and
evasion, surveillance and counter-surveillance techniques, and the
usual stuff," Doris said.
    "What about her femininity?"
    "I think it's time to see if she wants to start hormones,"
Janet replied.  If she agrees and sticks with it for the next few
months, then it may be advisable to consider some non-genital
reassignment surgery."
    "Face and voice?"
    "Yes.  I'd say if she is to go that route, we do the surgery
before she goes out for learning how to live on her own as a
woman."
    "All right," Col Hampton concluded.  "Call the airport and
have Sherry brought here for a discussion about hormones with you
and you alone.  We'll wait up in Trotti's office."

    Sherry came to Janet's office looking an absolute mess.  She
was sweating from the effort of conducting the dead engine
exercises.  "This is a little out of the unusual," Sherry said.
"What's up?"
    "I've been reviewing your progress here, Sherry.  You are
turning out to be a fine young woman.  When I or anyone else looks
at you, we'd be hard-pressed to believe that you are really a man.
How do you feel about it?"
    Sherry was taken a little aback.  "I guess I feel good about
it.  When I get dressed and look in the mirror, I see me.  It's
hard for me to realize that I am a man, too."
    "Do you want to go back to being Sam?"
    "What?  But Colonel Hampton said-"
    I know what he said," Janet interrupted.  "What has been done
is easily changable.  Even if you have no facial hair, all you'd
need to do is get a crewcut, change clothes, take out your
earrings, and everyone would assume you are a man.  But now you're
at a decision point.
    "For what I am going to say now, I do not want an answer.
Promise me you won't say a word to me until tomorrow morning or
later if you need the time.  All right?"
    Sherry nodded.
    "This is the choice:  you can go down the impersonation road
with facial surgery and breast implants.  It'll fool most of the
people.  When you're done, Dr. Trotti can make you look almost the
way you look now.  Not quite, but almost.
    "The other option is more permanent.  Instead of implants,
you'd start hormones.  We'll schedule you for voice surgery, your
voice will be higher forever.  The facial surgery will be more
extensive.  And finally, if you make it that far, you'd go through
sexual reassignment surgery.  At that point, you'd be as female as
chemistry, training, and surgery can make you.
    "It's your choice.  Go home and think it over."
    Sherry nodded solemnly and left.  She thought about it quite
a lot.  She thought about how she had never quite fit in as a man
and how everything felt so right now.  She had a few drinks in
thinking it over, too.

    Sherry was wearing a pink suit and was waiting in Janet's
outer office when Janet came to work the next day.  "Come on in,
Sherry," Janet said.  They sat down and Janet didn't say anything.
    Sherry took a deep breath and smiled.  "I want it to be
permanent.  When can we start?"
    Janet looked solemn.  Inside she felt joyous, but kept a
professional demeanor.  She opened a drawer and handed her a piece
of paper.  "Take this to the pharmacy, they'll fill the order.
Follow the instructions exactly, Sherry.  Ok?"
    "Sure, Janet."
    Janet stood up and hugged Sherry.  "Welcome to the other side,
Sherry."

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