"Live Long and Prosper"
by Brandy Dewinter
(c 2000, All rights reserved)
Chapter 5 - "It's All My Fault"
It was nice to be able to sleep with Lainey in our cabin again. I
really like nights at sea, at least when the weather is good, but the
price of separate sleeping times while the other is on watch is a high
one. I felt like I hadn't slept as much as I usually do, waking several
times to snuggle a little closer, but I still felt refreshed and energetic
in the morning.
We bustled about getting ready for sea, getting underway an hour
after dawn. It wasn't long, though, before the first problem occurred.
I couldn't get the mainsail up. Not all the way, taut and as it
should be. The sheets were slack, of course, so it wasn't wind pressure.
I just couldn't pull hard enough on the winch handle.
I was trying to shift my position to get some more leverage when the
Breeze staggered a bit in an errant wave and I was thrown against the
mast. I hit my chest on the right side, and I thought a bomb had gone
of under my nipple. It hurt so bad I couldn't even cry out, though part
of that was that my throat choked up and I realized I had tears in my
eyes. All I could do was slump to the deck and cradle my aching chest in
my hand. That revealed another problem.
Lainey came running up before I even absorbed what my fingers were
discovering, asking, "What happened?"
"I just couldn't get the halyard taut, and then I bumped against the
mast."
"Are you hurt?"
"Well, it certainly hurts, but I don't think I'm injured. I suppose
when we get to port I'll have to have that winch looked at."
"Let me help you," she offered. "The Breeze can stay on autopilot
for a few more minutes."
Nodding, I stood and we both reached for the winch handle. With
Lainey's help, it wasn't really any problem at all, which made me feel
even more foolish. When I finished tying off the line, she asked me a
question with her eyes and I nodded, so she went back to the helm and
I raised the other sails. It was a lot harder than I felt it should be,
but I managed everything except that mainsail.
A part of my mind was seeking shelter in mundane thoughts about how
long it had been since the winches were overhauled. That was mostly to
keep me from thinking about the real problem.
My cradling fingers had found a lump behind my nipple. In fact, I
soon discovered I had them on both sides. And that was not good news.
Men can get breast cancer, too, though it's less likely. Here we were,
days from anywhere, and I had developed breast lumps, which had apparently
spread to both sides almost immediately. All our care in checking my
heart, all my work to keep fit on the filter cycle and with all the other
exercise you get working a sailboat, all of that was no defense against
cancer.
I had thought we were pretty safe from that. Neither of our parents
had ever had cancer, and neither of us had ever smoked. Of course, it
would happen out in the middle of nowhere. There were modern hospitals
in the South Pacific, but they were few and far between. The closest one
I knew of for sure was way back at Tahiti, probably a week's hard sail
away. I thought about telling Lainey what I had found, but decided not
to. There wasn't anything we could do about it that we weren't already
doing. We'd just have to see what we found in Taiohae.
By the time I had wrapped my mind around those concerns, the Breeze
was a sailboat again, all sails drawing well and the auxiliary shut down.
I made my way back to the cockpit and sat next to Lainey, shifting a little
as I bent to fit the cushions.
"What's wrong?" she asked, worry showing on her own face. "Are you
hurt for real?"
"No, not really," I sighed. "It's just that these shorts are
slipping. They're too damn loose."
"Put on a different pair."
"These are about as tight as any I had. They've all stretched or
something."
Lainey looked pensive for a moment, a long moment. She looked
at my hair, still in its braid, and then a smile I was really glad to
see lit her face. She'd been looking pretty worried lately, her brows
prominent in a frown, and her jaw looking firmer than usual.
She did have a suggestion, not that I liked it. "So go put on your
Speedo again. It's stretchy. We'll be alone at sea all day, so no one
will see but me, and I like it."
I just chuckled and shook my head, but a larger than usual wave
made the Breeze wiggle a little and I felt like my shorts were slipping
again. Lainey, took the wheel to see if changing our course a few
degrees would help and I went to retrim the sails. While I was working,
I watched her more closely and realized she was frowning again. I
suppose it was concentration, but I decided that if wearing that silly
suit would make her happy, I'd do it.
"Tell you what," I said, as I returned to the cockpit. "Today, I'll
fix brunch. If you don't mind."
"Deal," she agreed quickly, smiling again. It looked a little less
. . . real than usual, though. I don't think her face really relaxed.
The harder planes at brow and chin were still there, despite what showed
on her lips and in her eyes. Still, it was better than nothing, so I
went below.
'Brunch', when you've been a long time at sea, is not your typical
ham and eggs sort of thing. I did find some ground beef way in the back
of the freezer that we seemed to have forgotten about, and with that I
was able to make some hash. There was no bread for toast, but we had
some crackers, which was going to have to be close enough. At least we
still had coffee.
I did change back into that Speedo, which was still a bit damp from
its fresh water rinse and a bit uncomfortable. It was better than those
too-loose shorts, though. At least I didn't have to worry about suddenly
finding them dangling from my fanny, with who knows what showing. Maybe
I was just over feeling so stupid when I wore it.
Lainey appreciated it, too. As I rose through the hatch, and she
saw what little there was covering my legs, she let out a long, low
whistle that made me blush worse than I had done in years.
"Keep that up and I'll go change," I threatened.
"The way you look, I should have bought you some more," she
countered.
Taking her plate, she leaned back against the cushions and
looked at me again, clearly enjoying what she was seeing.
"Stop that," I said, though I just had to smile at her blatant
appreciation.
"Why? I'm just sorry I didn't make you wear those things before.
You really have good looking legs, you know?"
"No, I don't know," I said. But I did sort of look at them myself.
They were a lot smoother than I expected. I guess all the hair had
hidden their real shape, and since men's shorts stop at the knees, which
are inherently sort of lumpy, the line to my hips had seldom showed
anyway. I ran my fingers along my thighs, testing to see if they felt as
sleek as they looked. Out of the corner of my eye, I looked at Lainey's
legs, and I had to admit that mine looked almost as good as hers - and I
had always thought she had great legs.
God, what was I thinking? It was just that my legs looked so
different with the hair removed. I didn't even *care* what they looked
like anyway.
I looked back at Lainey, to see if she had caught me admiring
myself, and found instead that she had a distant, worried look.
"What's the matter, love?" I asked.
"Oh, um, nothing. Well, I was just thinking about the changes in
us, and, um, wondering what the cause might be."
"I wish I knew," I said, which for some reason caused Lainey to jerk
in her seat, and then really frown.
The rest of the day followed our normal at-sea routine, pretty much.
However, whenever I had an excuse to go below for a few minutes, I pulled
off my shirt and tried to see if 'things' had gotten any worse. That was
probably stupid, because I checked so often that I couldn't really tell if
there were some sort of slow change, but even if I wasn't sure, I still
felt the lumps were getting bigger and that my nipples were swollen more
than they had been.
Then I would plaster a false smile on my face and go back on deck.
That afternoon, when I was brushing Lainey's hair, I noticed
something unusual for her, too.
"Lainey, did you do something to your hair?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's, um . . ." I ran out of words, because I wasn't
supposed to have noticed the condition that made the present difference
significant.
"What?"
Oh, well, it was too late now. "It's just that your hair is, um,
well, less blonde at the roots."
"Dark roots? Don't be silly. You know I've never dyed my hair."
She said that in a funny way. The first part was like a reflex, but
half way through her statement she got very thoughtful. It ended like a
formal statement with no emotional content.
I figured she was worried because I had been unclear, so I tried
again. "They're not really 'dark', just, well, they're more honey-gold
than, um, really pale blonde."
"Damnit, Adam, quit beating around the bush. I know my hair turned
white over the last few years. I appreciate your providing an excuse, but
with the things that are going on, we need to be clear."
With that, she got up and went below, leaving me to scramble into my
vest and lifeline. In a couple of minutes, she was back on deck, the
lines of her brows and chin sharper than ever. But she didn't say
anything. She just looked sharply at me, not angry, just inspecting, and
then stared out to sea.
After several uncomfortable minutes, I asked, "Are you okay? I
don't think it looks bad or anything."
"I'm fine," she said tersely, then stood up again. "I think I need
to write in my journal for a few minutes, to organize my thoughts."
It was getting on toward evening anyway, so I tried to smile away
her concerns, not very successfully, and she took her 'logbook' and went
to the foredeck. It wasn't really much of a logbook. I had, with her
permission, read a few of the early entries, and it was more of a journal
of impressions than a real log. I kept a navigation 'record' that was
our real logbook, but I let her call hers whatever she wanted.
**********************
Log of the Twilight Breeze
21 October 2004
Long 140.05 deg. W
Lat 8.24 deg. S
(At sea)
I know what's wrong with Adam, and it's all my fault. I just don't know
what to do about it, or how to convince him.
He's an engineer, and he'd never believe me without proof, but I'm as sure
as I can be that I know what it is.
Actually, it's not really my fault. It's that Tirce woman. She really is
a witch. Adam will never believe in magic, but she said that she'd grant
us wishes, and I let a poorly-considered one form in my mind, and I know
that's what's causing the changes in Adam.
Adam got me to thinking about that, today, when he said he 'wished' he
knew what was going on. Now, I do know.
The actual wish I wrote out was, "I wish my husband would have a long,
healthy, and happy life." I figured that would be fairly harmless. If
she granted it, then fine. If she didn't, well, then it didn't matter.
Even if Tirce considered it three wishes or something, then any part of it
would be worthwhile. At least, I thought so.
But I remember the day we set sail from her island, and I was watching
Adam as he set the sails. I remember thinking that I really thought he
would be happier if he were a little less structured. And what did I have
in mind at the time - at least as a contrast to show what was missing? A
bimbo cheerleader. Dear God, she must have picked up on that thought and
that's how she's going to interpret my wish. She's turning Adam into a
girl.
It's so obvious now. All his body hair falling out was just the start.
Now, a couple of days later, he has a little stubble on his legs, but it's
fine, and faint, and, well, about like a girl has. Hardly anything shows
on his arms or his chest, or anywhere else for that matter.
Maybe that was, oh, ambiguous or something, but I should really have
picked up on it when his waist started to shrink and his hips to, well,
swell is not the right word, because I think they're smaller overall,
but they're a lot rounder, and they look wider for some reason, even
though his shorts are loose. Then, today, his nipples look just like
an adolescent girl's. I'll bet if I felt them, I'd find small lumps
pushing out. Today, when she came up from below with her vapid smile
and those 'cute' little points showing through her shirt, it was finally
enough to become clear to me.
OH, dear God! I just wrote 'her'! And 'she'!
The rest of the symptoms make perfect sense now. The sensitivity of her,
HIS new breasts is just what you'd expect, and the smaller size of his
penis is, well, just what you'd expect. He, or she, or whatever is
getting younger, too. That explains the black roots in Adam's hair. I
don't know why it's not brown like when he was younger, but it's clearly
not his current gray. Even his problem with the mainsail halyard is a
sign of losing his male strength.
I think Tirce must have done something to his mind, too. My 'old' Adam
would never have allowed me to braid his hair, even though some men with
long hair do braid it. And no ribbon, for sure. And that little domestic
scene this morning, where she - *HE* - puttered about in the galley making
brunch. I wonder how long it will be before she'll be asking me for
help with her makeup.
She's going to be young, so that will give her a long life. And she's
looks disgustingly healthy, with bright eyes, lots of energy, and, well,
the typical cheerleader thing.
And that's not all of it. My wish included a 'happy' life for him, also.
I know how that's going to work out, too.
I'm turning into a man.
I didn't really pick up on that until today, either. My own changes were
less apparent, at least in the beginning. But now that I've accepted even
the *possibility* that Tirce's magic can change Adam into a girl, well,
the changes in me are pretty obvious, too. Where Adam's waist is
shrinking, mine is expanding. Where Adam's hips are becoming rounder,
mine are starting to show hollows like a man's do. I suppose if I'd have
had a bigger bosom, changes there would have been more obvious, but there
wasn't a lot of volume to lose, and it wasn't until I thought about Adam's
new sensitivity that I realized my own nipples were less responsive than
they used to be.
But the really unambiguous proof showed up when I went below to check out
my 'blonde' roots.
I'm growing whiskers.
I have a stubble on my chin and my upper lip, about like Adam gets every
day at this time, except mine doesn't show much because the hairs are
blonde. I don't know why it took several days to show up, which doesn't
really matter. The fact that I need to shave is all the proof needed that
something is happening, and how do you analyze magic anyway? It just is.
With that 'clue' I did a quick examination and my clit is almost an inch
long. It was lying back between my labia, and soft, but there's not much
doubt about it. I also noticed that my face is getting, oh, what's the
word? 'Craggier'? Anyway, my brows and chin are heavier. I think I'm
physically heavier, too, overall. We don't have a scale on board, but
little things, like the creak when I step on a ladder, and oh, even the
way the boat moves when I move, make me think I've gained weight.
I think I'm taller, too. Adam hasn't mentioned it, but I think I'm as
tall as he is now.
And my white hair really is turning blonde again, so I guess I'm getting
younger, just like he is. I suppose I should be flattered by that. It
would seem that I'm to be part of Adam's 'happy' life, only as *her*
husband. Or at least her boyfriend.
End log entry
Elaine Bridger
******************
After she finished writing in her journal, Elaine looked at me sort
of sadly, and went below. I wish I knew what was bothering her. Ever
since I pointed out her blonde roots, she was really distant. Not pouting
or angry, just distracted. For the first time in a long time I thought
about looking in her 'logbook', but if she was working through things in
her mind, then I felt she deserved the privacy.
I heard her getting into our bunk, and the cabin light went out.
Being alone at night on the sea can be good or bad, depending more on your
mood than anything else. I was feeling more alone than I had felt in a
very long time. The lumps in my chest were definitely growing, and while
a gentle caress was really nice, any sort of real pressure at all hurt a
lot. I figured even if we got to a hospital in time to 'fix' whatever was
wrong with me, it was just a matter of time until something else showed
up. Somehow, once you get any form of cancer, it seems like you're
susceptible to more of it. Certainly the other symptoms, like the hair
loss and changes in my waistline indicated there were widespread problems
with my body.
And then there was the other problem. Once I was sure Lainey was in
bed, I slipped the Speedo down and, um, examined myself; my dick and
testes. They were definitely smaller, and the 'family jewels' inside the
sack felt different, softer somehow, or spongy, not like they had before.
I was, at that particular time, VERY conscious of the fact that prostate
cancer was the biggest risk for an otherwise healthy middle-aged man. I
didn't know nearly enough about it to know if it could have triggered the
other symptoms, but between my swelling nipples and shrinking manhood, it
seemed like my body was losing cohesion somehow, slipping out of control.
Maybe that explained my feeling of energy and, oh, youthfulness, like when
alcohol, though a sedative, makes people the life of the party by shutting
down the reasoning centers in the brain.
At some point, I realized I was thinking back on the wish I had left
with Tirce, and 'wishing' it were possible for wishes to come true. They
don't, of course. People make things happen. Mostly, as Edison pointed
out, through, '1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.'
But it looked like my own wish was not even going to get started.
Or maybe . . . maybe I was being too self-centered. Maybe the way
for my wish to come true required me personally to be out of the way.
Ha! Wouldn't that be something? I had wished for Lainey to be happy,
of course. I just hadn't ever figured the path to her happiness would
require *me* to get out of the way.
Well, so be it. I wasn't going to do anything before we saw a
doctor, but I wasn't going to let her ruin her life to extend whatever
was left of mine by some trivial amount. The way things had worked out,
the royalties from her books amounted to more income than my pension
anyway, and she could always write more so finances would not be a
problem for her unless I squandered a lot of money.
And there was an easy way out of that, alone at night on the wide
sea.
But the sea would still be there after I saw a doctor.
