The Emerging

by Tanya Allan

  He had not repeated the experience, as it just brought it home what he was really like and what he was missing.

  He had few friends. The boys tended to call him names and treat him like something odd, which he admitted that he probably was. The girls didn’t like him because he wasn’t what they looked for in boys. A few of the odd-ball girls saw in him the lonely and sensitive person that they were, and because they were on the fringes themselves, they tended to band together for a bit of companionship.

  Now he had the house to himself, as his aunt had set off early for the hospital. Left in charge of Compo, Kenneth was almost happy.

  He liked their house; it was big and rambling, with many places to explore. Today, he decided to explore the one place he had never managed to get to, the attic.

  It took him a while, as there was a lot of junk in this house. But, in a small wooden box, which had once brought fruit from some distant part of the Empire, he found a really odd collection of bits that intrigued him.

  The small box of old .303 shells was of not much interest, and neither was the old bomb-sight. The bayonet and helmet were in quite good condition, so Kenneth idly wondered how much these were all worth.

  There was a small box of metal soldiers, lead probably that pre-dated even his grandparents. They looked to be WW1 soldiers marching.

  He almost ignored the strange ‘c’ shaped object, but when he put the box back, it fell out and landed with a thump at his feet. He picked it up, surprised as to how light it was.

  As with everyone who saw it, he wondered what it could be. It was rather like a torc that one of his RPG characters wore in one of his games. She was a thief and sorceress, and she wore the magic torc that gave her invisibility.

  Kenneth was only truly happy when being in character as the girl. None of his on-line co-players suspected that he wasn’t a real girl, and that really pleased him.

  He turned it over in his hands, disappointed that he could see no Celtic runes on the item.

  If it was meant to go round a neck, then it was not pliable enough for him to open it. He held the two orbs at each end. To start with, he thought he was imagining things, as the whole torc started warming up. However, just as his grandfather had discovered, after a few moments, it suddenly seemed to soften and became pliable.

  It opened with no difficulty, so he wrapped it around his neck and released the orbs.

  It closed slightly, just enough so it would not come off. It stayed warm. Unbeknown to him, it was now activated and aligning with his DNA.

  He was about to try to take it off again, when he saw a large trunk at the end. It was a leather trunk, and seemed very old.

  It was covered in dust, indicating that it hadn’t been opened or even moved for a long time.

  The catches were stiff, but opened after a little sweat. Inside were several items, all covered in very thin paper.

  Carefully, he investigated by taking out the first item and carefully peeking under the paper.

  They were all items of women’s clothing. Most were evening dresses, carefully folded. As he investigated further, he found that the top six dresses were all held in an insert-tray that sat on the top part of the trunk, with other items possible kept below.

  He lifted out the tray and found two compartments below. In one, were lady’s underwear, foundation garments and stockings. In the other, were ancient cosmetics: bottles, tubs and tubes. Most were dried up and useless, but then he saw a red, leather box, like a hat box. In it he discovered a long, blonde wig made out of human hair.

  It was at this point he began to feel strange; not ill, or unwell, just very odd. He felt faintly dizzy, almost as if he was on the deck of a moving ship. He sat down on an old chair. It helped, a bit. Then the itches started; nothing serious, just a sort of tickly tingle. It started at the top of his head and seemed to travel down his head to his neck, across his shoulders and down his arms and torso. It stayed in his groin and abdomen for quite a while, almost becoming uncomfortable. Just as he began to panic, it moved on down his legs to his feet and then gradually disappeared.

  He sat there for a moment, rather breathless and confused.

  Was he allergic to the dust?

  That was it; he was having an allergy attack. Connie Rogers, a friend at school, got terrible asthma whenever dust or grass pollen floated around, so it must be something like that.

  He sat for a moment, feeling slightly better. The tingles had gone, the dizziness had passed. Idly he felt slight discomfort from his chest, as if his shirt was scratching, somehow. Without looking, he moved his right hand up to alleviate the feeling and then he stopped dead.

  Without moving anything else, he looked down. He felt almost that his heart had stopped, for suddenly, there, on his chest was a perfectly formed pair of female breasts, pushing out his tee shirt like a couple of enthusiastic puppies. The nipples protruded, bringing the thin material to two points.

  “Wha…?” he said, aloud. Then he clamped one hand over his mouth.

  How had his voice changed?

  Even to his ears, he sounded like a girl.

  Then hardly daring to hope, he thrust his hand down the front of his jeans.

  “Yes!” the girl shrieked. “Oh, my God; I’m a girl; I’m a girl; I’m a girl! Yes!”

  In one unbelievable moment, she realised that all her dreams had come to fruition.

  How?

  Her hand immediately went to the torc at her neck. It was still warm, the same temperature as was she. It was a magic torc! No, it couldn’t be.

  “There’s no such thing as magic; is there?” she asked the empty attic. Unsurprisingly, the attic didn’t reply. Placing her hands to the two orbs once more, she held them. The torc became pliable and she was able to remove it.

  As soon as she felt the tingles start, she replaced the torc, so she remaining as a female.

  “Okay,” she announced to the attic. “If it’s on, then I’m a girl, but if I take it off, I’m a boy again.”

  How it worked was of no consequence to her. The single fact that it did was all she cared about.

  She immediately stripped off her hated boy’s clothing and for an hour, she became a fashionable debutante wearing her grandmother’s clothes from the chest. Actually, they might even have been from the generation before that. She didn’t care, for she was in heaven for the first time in her life.

  She had the body she had always wanted, and was able to be free for the first time ever.

  Free?

  She was hiding in an attic and knew that before long she would have to become the boy again.

  That was not free, not by any stretch of the imagination.

  No, this had to be planned and dealt with very carefully. There were too many people to upset and too much at stake. Done wrongly, she could be separated from the torc and doomed to a life of misery.

  Reluctantly, she took off the clothes, and packed them all away as neatly as she could. She closed the trunk, and pushed it back to where she had found it.

  She then left the attic, still wearing the torc.

  Her first port of call was her aunt and uncle’s bedroom. For there she knew there was a three-door wardrobe, the doors of which were made of mirrors.

  She stood, naked, in front of the mirror, marvelling at the miracle that had befallen her.

  She then sat on the end of the bed opening her legs. Yes, it was a vagina. As far as she could see, and from the limited distance to which her probing fingers could reach, it was a vagina like so many others. It was sensitive, too, or at least one little button was.

  For the first time in her hour and a quarter of existence, the girl who now called herself ‘Keira’ masturbated and experienced a multiple female orgasm.

  She realised, without any doubt that her ambition was now to find a man who could fuck her brains out.

  She smiled, as that thought was exceedingly dirty and base, and yet, at this precise moment, if a personable young man had walked into the room, she woul
d have opened her legs and invited him in.

  Breathless and not a little confused, Keira walked into the bathroom and sat on the bidet. Directing the spout towards her vagina, she played with herself in the water. She told herself she was washing the excess moisture away, but she had too much fun to justify that excuse.

  Once cleaner and dry, she tried on some more contemporary clothing of her aunt’s, paying particular attention to the underwear. Then, feeling guilty, she undressed and replaced the clothes as best she could.

  She then dressed in her old tee shirt and jeans, posing in the mirror. She was tempted to apply some makeup, but actually she didn’t need to. She looked feminine enough without any, particularly with her hair brushed out and down, instead of back.

  Her breasts, although not enormous, were big enough and there was no doubt as to her shape. She had changed beyond all recognition; even her face was a feminine version of Kenneth. This wasn’t necessarily that much of a feat, as Kenneth was not exactly the most macho of young men in the first place. He did, however, have a rather prominent Adams Apple and a square chin. These had now vanished, almost instantly.

  The realisation that she could not be like this all the time made her feel really melancholy.

  “Just until I finish school!” she said aloud again, once more marvelling at the sound of her voice.

  Downstairs, Compo barked, so she went to the window and looked out. A delivery van was on the drive and a young man in a baseball cap was walking to the back of the van.

  Feeling brave and slightly excited, Keira walked downstairs and, after shutting Compo in the kitchen, was ready to open the door as soon as the door bell sounded.

  “Hi; Mrs Baldwin?” the man asked. He wasn’t English; Polish probably, with an accent like that.

  “No, she’s my aunt.”

  “She lives here, right?”

  Keira wished she was wearing something that exposed some cleavage, so she stretched slightly so her young but ample breasts pushed out the front of her shirt.

  “Yeah, but she’s gone to visit my Uncle in hospital.”

  “Can you sign?” he said, thrusting a big parcel at her.

  “If you like.”

  He gave her the small electronic gizmo and directed her to sign with the plastic stylus.

  She signed, ‘K. Ambrose.’

  “Thanks,” he said, and was gone.

  Okay, then maybe not the first personable young man; perhaps the next one?

  Five

  “Hey Kenneth, wait up!”

  Reluctantly, Kenneth stopped and waited for Connie to catch up with him. The school bus that had just dropped them off passed them, heading to the next drop-off point in Cookham.

  Connie was slightly plump, but still quite pretty, if it wasn’t for her thick spectacles and uncontrollable, frizzy hair. She was about Kenneth’s only friend, as he was hers. They were both misfits, but for different reasons. Kenneth didn’t want to be around people because he knew he was the wrong gender, while Connie was so desperate to be liked that she put people off. Kenneth initially felt sorry for her, so unwittingly sent her the wrong messages. Connie now believed that Kenneth was her boyfriend.

  “What’s the rush?” she asked, breathless.

  He shrugged.

  “I just want to get home.”

  “I thought you hated it at home?”

  He shrugged again and resumed walking.

  “Have I done anything to upset you?” the girl asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, you seem to be avoiding me.”

  “I’m avoiding everyone.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to be alone.”

  “Why?”

  “Coz I do.”

  He walked quickly and said no more. Connie wheezed a bit, but kept up with him. Eventually he stopped, turned and looked at her.

  “Look, what’s with always wanting to be with me?” he asked.

  It was her turn to shrug.

  “I thought you liked me.”

  “I do, Connie, but I don’t need to be with you all the time.”

  “You’re not; most of the time you’re by yourself. Most boys want to be with their girlfriends.”

  He sighed, knowing what she felt about him.

  “Look, Connie, I’m not like the other guys. I like you, but not like that.”

  “Are you gay?” she asked, fearing the worst.

  He sighed again, as this was the conclusion everyone drew.

  “If I let you in on a secret, will you swear never to reveal it, even under torture?”

  Her eyes widened a little, but she nodded rapidly.

  “I swear.”

  He looked around, like he imagined a spy would, and then leaned close to her.

  “I’m really a girl!” he whispered.

  For a moment her eyes widened even more, but then she laughed. It was a funny little laugh, nervous and uncertain.

  “No, you’re not!” she said, but with considerable uncertainty in her voice. Kenneth smiled as he heard it.

  “Come on, I’ll prove it to you,” he said, and resumed walking.

  Five minutes later, they arrived at his house. It was a nice house, much bigger than Connie’s. She liked coming here, as it gave her something to aim for in life.

  Using a key, Kenneth opened the front door. Basil, the little Jack Russell came and yapped at him in excitement, so he made a fuss of him. Then he let Basil out into the back garden.

  “Are your parents out?”

  “Both at work. Dad is away again; Germany, I think. Mum won’t be back until half-five at the earliest.” He paused. “No, it’s Thursday, so she might drive over to her brother’s house to check on how he’s doing. I expect she’ll rollup at about eight or nine.”

  “Is that the one who had a heart attack?”

  “Uncle Billy, yes. He was discharged a few weeks ago after a triple by-pass operation.”

  Connie knew that Kenneth was an only child, as the lad had bemoaned the fact many times.

  “I like your house,” she said, looking at a large cabinet with all sorts of exotic ornaments on display.

  “Whatever. Wait here, I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, heading from the stairs.

  She followed him, as he knew she would. He didn’t care.

  She followed him into his bedroom. She had been here several times. She hoped beyond hope that one day he might ask her to join him on the bed.

  She sat on it now, still hoping.

  “Well, do you want proof, or not?” he asked.

  She laughed, still rather uncertainly.

  “Do you have a pen?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  He held out his thumb.

  “Make a mark, any mark you like on my thumb,” he said.

  She took out a red felt-tip and drew a little heart on his thumb.

  “Wait here, I’m going to change,” he said, opening a drawer and taking a metal hoop from it. Leaving the door open, he walked across the landing and into the bathroom. He closed the door.

  Connie stood up and walked to the window and looked out to the large garden below. The River Thames flowed majestically past the house at the bottom of the garden. She wished she lived in a house like this. Oh, to have money!

  On hearing a noise behind her, she turned and nearly died of fright.

  There, in just a bra and panties, and a plain metal thing round her neck, was a very pretty girl who looked a little like Kenneth. Only, unlike the beanpole Kenneth, this girl had a figure that Connie would have happily killed for.

  “Shit, you startled me,” she said, but then frowned. “Where’s Kenneth?”

  “Ta-da,” said the girl, lifting her arms up in time-honoured show-biz fashion. Then she held out her thumb towards the confused girl.

  The truth dawned on Connie like a slow leak of very cold water. There was no one else in the house, and there, on the thumb, was a little red heart.

  “I told you, Con
nie; I’m not like the other boys!”

  It was about half an hour before Connie calmed down enough for Keira to be able to explain a little of what she had been through. She did not mention the torc, or how she discovered it. Instead she claimed to have been a girl all along and just hid it from the world.

  “Why?”

  “My parents are in denial,” she said. “They were only able to have one, and they wanted a boy. They made me pretend to be a boy all this time.”

  Connie was gullible, but not that gullible.

  “No, that’s bollocks; you’re too different to the Kenneth I was at school with today. How do you do this?”

  Keira sighed, working out how she could explain the inexplicable.

  “You’ve heard of hermaphrodites, yes?”

  Connie nodded.

  “Yeah, they’re people born with both a penis and a vagina.”

  “Okay, well, I’m like that, only I can control what I am by my mind. If I think I’m a girl I can be one, and likewise revert to being a boy if I concentrate. I can only be one or the other, not both at the same time.”

  Connie looked at Keira with that expression that said ‘I don’t believe you.’

  “Seriously, it’s all in the mind. You’ve heard of ESP, and telekinesis, well, it’s like that.”

  This time Connie laughed.

  “Yeah, right, like I believe that!” she said. “Okay, prove it; fly across the room!”

  Keira wasn’t quite sure who was more shocked, her or Connie. I mean, it is one thing to talk about it, but a completely different thing to fly across the room.

  One minute she was standing by the door, and literally the next second she was across the other side of the room by the wardrobe.

  As Keira stood there, somewhat shocked to say the least, Connie wailed and sat on the bed.

  “How the fuck did you do that?” she demanded, almost hysterically.

  Keira absently raised one hand to the torc around her neck.

  “I told you, I have powers,” she said, somewhat hesitantly.

  “This is fucking creepy. It’s impossible, that’s what it is!”

  Keira turned and looked at her.