Chapter 1
                           THE AWAKENING


     As sunlight moved through the trees to the back of the
apartment building, it fell first on the roof and then slowly moved
its way down the wall until it found the window on the corner of
the third floor.  Seeping through the open blinds, it traveled
across the floor, then up the bed, until it finally reached his
eyes.  Probing, flashing, searing into his eyes and then his mind,
he faced the realization that a new day had dawned, and it was time
to get up.

     Hiding from the sunlight, Joe Bates placed his arm over his
face, and turned his head away, seeking the darkness.  As he did,
he became alert to the fact that something was different.  His arm
seemed smaller, it did not support his head as easily as usual, and
his body did not press into the mattress as it had before.  His
buttocks felt huge, as though they were covered with padding.  He
rubbed his hand across his chest, and was surprised to feel bare,
soft, bulging roundness, where there should have been thick chest
hair.  When he turned his head into the pillow, it seemed that the
skin on his face was more sensitive to touch than usual.  He felt
his cheek, and was amazed to feel a smoothness and softness he knew
was not his normal, early morning, scratchy beard growth.

     Was this a dream?  Did someone shave his face while he was
asleep?  Surely, it was not his longtime girlfriend Linda, whom he
had been with last night.  They had been discussing marriage, and
argued late into the night about his thoughts about discrimination
and sexism.  Had she stayed over, or gone home?  He could not
remember.  The discussion had been pretty intense, but Linda really
loved him, and was always quick to make up.  He groggily tried to
jump start his brain.  There was no one there when he reached to the other side of the
bed.  He was alone.

     Rolling over on to his back, he trying to rub the sleep from
his eyes, when he saw his hand.  It looked tiny, with slender
fingers which had an enhanced sense of touch.  He pulled himself up. 
Sitting up straight, he looked into the mirror on the dresser.  He
looked in disbelief at what he saw looking back.  Instead of his
usual face and usual stubble, he saw another face.  It was his
face, to be sure, but different, with no morning stubble.  His eyes
and eyebrows were different too.  His hair looked the same length,
but it seemed softer, or finer.  Looking more closely he noticed his
face, too, was softer, more defined, smaller, maybe even feminine. 
He thought of his knee.  Two days before, he had sprained it
slightly while playing racquetball with his friend Jay.  He moved
his right leg, and yes, it still ached a little.  It was still he,
no matter what the mirror said.

     Startled, he shot straight up in bed, and as he did so, the
sheet fell from his chest, exposing something which really threw
him for a loop.  Breasts.  They looked like female breasts.  His
female breasts.  Staring at disbelief at the image in the mirror,
he raised his hand to his face to touch and feel, as if to prove
that the person in the glass was him.

     Again, he ran his hand across his cheeks, feeling the
softness, the lack of stubble, and then to his cheekbones, which
seemed higher and more pronounced.  As he looked, he realized that
he felt different all over.  The most noticeable difference was
that he felt much smaller, or maybe every thing else seemed bigger. 
To be sure, there were other differences too.  It felt like his
butt was huge, compared to his upper torso.  The center of gravity
of his body had, some how, shifted lower.

     In curiosity, his hand ran down his neck to his chest, to
those breasts, which he cupped and felt with his small hands.  His
fingers moved to the large nipples.  His fingers could feel, and he
could sense them hardening as he touched them.  With that pleasant
sensation, he also felt a reaction in his groin, a sensation he did
not recognize, a warmth and tightening that was not at all normal. 
"What next?" he thought.

     He quickly placed his hand beneath the sheets to check.  It
moved down a smooth, flat stomach to feel for his cock.  His pubic
hair seemed finer than usual, but he was not exactly prepared for
what he found next.  His penis was not there.  His scrotum and
testicles were gone too.  Instead, his probing fingers felt a warm,
soft slit, with moist fleshy folds, which reacted to his gentle
stroking by opening slightly.  He was not unfamiliar with what
he was touching, but found it difficult to accept that he now
possessed what seemed to be labia, a clitoris, and a vagina; a
pussy.

     Totally confused, he explored his body, feeling new sensa-
tions.  The unfamiliar softness and shape of his chest, a strange
tightening of his pelvic muscles, and the uncomfortable sensation
of wetness in his crotch.  He ran his sensitive fingers over the
unfamiliar contours, and then swept them over all the curves,
bumps, and creases that his hands and slim fingers could reach.

     As he did so he began to slip back to sleep, and into a
languorous state of semi-dreaming.  Soon, the clock radio jolted
him back into the present.  "Work," he thought.  "Time for work.  A
weird dream was all it was.  Just a dream, but at least it was an
interesting dream."

     Convinced that was what it was, he cast the sheets aside and
swung his legs over the edge the bed.  Stepping out, his legs,
which now barely touched the floor as he sat on the edge of bed,
tangled up in his pajama bottoms, which somehow had slid down from
his waist to his thighs.  Catching himself against the dresser, he
looked down and saw that his dream had not ended, and his body was
still different.  He new it was impossible, but to his quickly
clearing vision, it almost appeared that he had uh...  a... 
woman's body.

     He reached down to pull up his pajamas, whose legs now were
long enough to almost cover his feet, as he stumbled out of the
bedroom for some coffee to get his overloaded brain engaged. 
Looking down, he realized that although a guy could walk around in
his apartment without a shirt, a guy with a chest like he had now,
could not.  He grabbed a tee-shirt and pulled it over his head, and
covered his protruding breasts.

     As he walked across the living room toward the kitchen, his
brain registered the differences it was experiencing, and started
to make the necessary adjustments for the shorter stride and wider
hips.  Everything seemed so much larger.  The kitchen counter was
higher than his waist.  To get a cup
from the upper shelf, he had to stand on a chair.  His conscious mind continued to race ahead,
thinking less about what had happened to him and more about what he
was going to do about it.

     The first issue to be addressed, he thought, was work.  He
figured he could not go to work looking like this, but he could
call in.  Had his voice changed too?  He spoke aloud; it seemed the
same.  He could not tell for sure.  Pouring a cup of coffee, he
began to review the problems he faced.

     If he had indeed changed, then his job was a problem.  He
could not report to his job looking like this, like a woman.  There
were women at work, but none were engineers, and besides, his peers
knew him as a man anyway.  He could hardly walk in with this new
size and shape, and just say, "Hi, guys!  Look what I sprouted last
night!"  He did not think his present body shape would let him pass
as a man, but he figured his mind would not let him pass as a woman
either.  He would probably have to try that, though, since he was
quickly running out of options.

     He had just read in Playboy about some woman who had passed as
a man for years.  Maybe he could do that, but for now he realized
that he was going to have to deal with the immediate problem of
looking like a woman.

     Then he sensed another immediate concern.  He had to urinate. 
"Strange," he thought to himself, "it looks so different, but it
feels almost the same."

     He hopped quickly into the adjoining bathroom, and as he did,
he felt his breasts bounce uncomfortably.  He cupped them with his
hands, and stopped when he reached the toilet.  The seat was still
up from the last time he used it.  As he reached into his pajamas,
to stand, aim his penis at the bowl, and pee, he realized that he
could not do that, at least he could not figure out a practical
way.  Irritated, he lowered the seat, pulled down the pajama
bottoms and sat.

     As he relaxed, the urine started to flow, and he felt yet
another difference.  The pee did not come out in a tight stream
like normal, but seemed to come out as a heavier flow, and it
seemed to him it emerged from near his anal opening.  He finished
quickly, and started to get up, but realized that his crotch was
still rather wet.  He took some tissue and carefully wiped his
unfamiliar genitalia.  "This will take some getting used to," he
thought.  He flushed, pulled his pajama bottoms back up, and went
back to the bedroom.

     His pajama bottoms did not fit, and, judging by the looks of
the tee-shirt and how it clung to his breasts, he was going to have
get something he could wear in public.  That meant he had to go
shopping.  If he was going to go shopping, he would need money, and
since all of his credit cards were in his name, he was concerned as
to whether he would be able to use them.  With a name like Joe, it
might be possible to use that name in public, while pretending to
be a woman, but it said Joel on his card, and that did not look
like a woman's name.

     Identification was the next issue: his driver's license,
insurance, the basic IDs used during a normal course of a day. 
This predicament could not be permanent, and he was sure it could
not be, but if he had to act like a woman, then he was going to
have to think about his job.  Well, he may have somehow misplaced
his balls, but he still had his engineering skills.  At least he
thought he did.  His brain seemed the same as always.  If he could
work out a way to get back to his job, he figured, he could still
do it.  He would work out that problem after getting some ID. 
Besides, he still had some money in the bank which would last a
little while, at least till he could get this identity thing worked
out.  Writing checks might be a problem if his handwriting had
changed.  He tested it with a pencil and his notebook.  His small
hand caused it to be a little different, but he figured it would
get by, and besides, an automatic teller did not look at that
anyway.  What was he forgetting?

     Suddenly, he realized.  Linda!  Linda would be expecting him
to call tonight.  If he did not, she would probably call him, since
they usually went out to eat on Friday evenings.  What would she
think...  What would she do if...  No, WHEN she saw him looking
like this?

     He put his concern about his relationship with Linda aside,
knowing that it presented an insurmountable problem for now, and
then he remembered Jay.  Jay was a lawyer, very bright and
skillful.  Jay was his best friend.  Jay would know how to handle
ID and the bank.  He might even know of a doctor who could help him
with his physical problems, but could not think of anything like
this, happening to anybody else.  "At least nobody who admitted
it," he thought.  He reached over for the phone to talk to, and
arrange an appointment with, Jay.

     He called his office, and Jay's secretary answered.  As soon
as he heard her voice, he knew he had a problem if he did not sound
like himself, so he simply said hello and asked if Mr. Logan was
in.  Denise, Jay's secretary, said no, that he would be in court
this morning.  Joe asked if he could set up a meeting with him
today.  Denise asked if he was a client, and Joe got the bright
idea of pretending to be his own secretary.  He said he was calling
for Joe Bates, and that Mr. Bates would like to have lunch with Mr. 
Logan, to discuss some business.  Denise said Mr. Logan would be
free for lunch, and suggested the health club where they both
worked out regularly.  Joe said no, the Beacher Restaurant would be
better for Mr. Bates.  (No kidding!) He sighed with relief as he
hung up the phone.  He had made the appointment.

     "This can be worked out," he thought.  Jay could help him
solve the identity and the money issues.  Now for work.  He called
in, and identified himself as a nurse, and told the receptionist
that Joel Bates had been admitted for a gastrointestinal problem
and would be staying in the hospital for a few days for tests and
possible surgery.  He would not be in to work until next week at
the earliest.  "Who knows?" he thought.  "It might be true."
Remarkably, she did not ask which hospital so he did not have to
lie about that.

     Feeling better for the first time since he awoke, Joe leaned
back in the chair and reached for his coffee.  As he did so, he
realized that he was crossing his legs like a man, and placed his
feet flat on the floor.  Seeing him through the open window,
anybody would have thought he was just another woman, maybe
somebody's wife, sitting at a breakfast table drinking a cup of
coffee, free of the everyday need to go off to work.

     In reality, his engineer's mind was again going through
the schematic process of sorting and collecting data in order to
establish a plan.  He reached out and started to make a list of
things he would need.  By now, the realization had dawned that he
had nothing to wear that would fit, and that he had to go shopping
for clothes.  He also concluded that he was going to look like an
idiot while shopping.  It also occurred to him that he was going to
look even more ridiculous, since he had no idea how to dress like
a woman, what sizes they wore in clothing, or what size he wore,
for that matter.  Worse yet, he was probably going to have to buy
things like panties and brassieres.  Now, he surely knew how to take
stuff like that off a woman, but he had no idea how to buy, or even
put those things on like a woman.

     Finishing the coffee, he walked back to the bedroom, and
decided that he had better take a quick shower.  While he stood under
the hot water, quickly soaping and rinsing his unfamiliar body, he
was almost afraid to look at it, thinking that if he would ignore
it, the problems he was facing might simply go away as quickly as
they came.  He grinned a sarcastic grin, as it occurred to him that
he did not have to shave this morning.  After the brief shower, he
went to the closet, and started looking for something to wear.

     His jockey shorts just did not seem to make it.  He tried them
on and found that even with the elastic in the waist they would not
stay on his hips.  "Damn!" he thought.  "I need to wear underwear
at least."

     Then he remembered a Christmas present from two years back. 
Carol was his girl then, and she had given him three pairs of men's
bikini briefs which he had never worn because they were too snug
fitting and uncomfortable.  He found them in the back of one of his
drawers.  He slipped on the black ones.  Although they had been
tight before, they now fit pretty well.  Of course, the "contoured
pouch" crotch was now strangely baggy on him.  Then he tried on a
pair of jeans to see if a pair fit, and, needless to say, they did
not.  One pair, however, had just come back from the laundry and
was tighter than the ones he had worn a few times before washing.

     Slipping them on, he hoped they had a chance of staying above
his hips when he remembered his suspenders, the ones with clips. 
Putting them on, he was able to hold his jeans up with some feeling
of confidence.  He then reached down for his loafers.  Sliding his
small feet in, they felt like boats.  This would not do, he knew,
so he then pulled out some white socks and a pair of sneakers. 
They seemed too big, hell, they were too big, but at least they
sort of fit with the extra absorbent socks on.

     Finally, he came to the shirt.  He tried on a couple and found
them too large, but at least they were not too tight.  He did not
have a bra, of course, but the embarrassing jiggles of his breasts
when he moved made him decide to put a cotton sweatshirt over his
shirt.  He reached down to the night stand, took his large
aviator's watch and put it on his thin wrist.  It dangled loosely,
almost large enough to go around his wrist twice.  He eyed the
time, as he put the watch in his pants pocket.  He knew the mall
would soon be open.  He had to get over there and buy some clothes
so that he could meet Jay for lunch, and start figuring things out.