"Live Long and Prosper"

by Brandy Dewinter

(c 2000, All rights reserved)

Chapter 9 - "Trial Run"

     I didn't sleep well when I went below, despite my impending all-night
watch.  Lainey's enthusiasm for what was happening to us was obvious, but
I wasn't sure I shared it.  Unfortunately for my state of mind, I wasn't 
sure I *didn't* share it either.  And that surprised me.  I'd been 
comfortable my whole life as a man; marrying a pretty, sophisticated 
woman, succeeding in a traditionally-masculine career field, even 
embarking on a 'manly' voyage around the world in retirement.  I didn't 
think I had done (and was still doing) all that to prove anything.  It was 
just 'comfortable' for me - something I could do well. 

     That should have made it obvious what we should do.  We should have 
fought this transformation, committing in our hearts to see it as 
temporary.  I should have refused Elaine's suggestion that we give 'it' a
try immediately.  

     So why wasn't I tearing my hair out at the prospect of becoming a 
woman?  I made the formal complaints, the expected ones for a 'real' man 
against shaving my legs or wearing panties.  But I found my hands 
caressing my soft, smooth skin, my wonderfully sensitive skin, and 
enjoying the touch.  I knew I liked the feel of satiny panties as soon as 
I felt them in my hands.  I had found myself admiring my own figure in the 
mirror, several times, and the excuse that I was just checking on the 
progress of the changes was wearing thin even in my own mind.

     It should be bothering me that I was losing my manhood.  Instead, it 
bothered me that my eyebrows looked shaggy!  What was wrong with me?  Ha!  
That was the obvious question.  But it was a question with so many levels.  
The physical changes I was experiencing were the less important ones.  I 
didn't feel like I was being 'forced' to accept becoming a woman, mentally 
I mean, but I did feel like there were more changes in me than the 
physical.  How much of my acceptance, even - I had to admit it to myself 
at least - my active willingness was a part of some spell?  

     Or was all that just an excuse to justify the way I felt?  'Real' 
men would *never* accept becoming a woman.  If I *did* accept it without
a magical compulsion, then was I ever a 'real' man? 

     On the other hand, what difference did it make?  Now was now.  I was
female in my genes, and becoming female in my body.  If I could sweep away
all the baggage that I had picked up in a lifetime as a man in a male-
oriented society, would the prospect of being a pretty, young woman seem 
horrible . . . or enticing?

     I fell back on my engineer mentality, which I was pleased to find 
seemed to be intact, and analyzed the problem in pieces.  First, there
was the appearance thing.  I rolled my thoughts on that around in my 
mind and decided I did indeed 'like' the way I looked, or was beginning
to look.  Part of that was just being younger, I knew that, but part of
it was a pride that I was shapely.  My bust was growing every day, and I
knew I was going to look way more like a woman than Elaine ever had, 
and I knew I was proud of that.  My face was improving, too, and with a 
little work, well, it might even keep people from looking at my body.  
Nah, not really, but I for sure wouldn't look like I needed a bag over 
my head.  Okay, that much I could accept.   

     The next step was doing 'female' things.  Shaving my legs, wearing
panties, God help me, wearing makeup!  Could I do that?  The good news 
was that at sea, there wouldn't be any silliness like high heels.  The 
bad news was . . . that I sort of liked the idea.  My curiosity was up, 
and there was this nagging feeling that I *should* be doing more.  Maybe
that was connected with my 'duty' to please Elaine, to whom I was still
committed heart and soul.  It was clear that *she* liked the idea of me 
doing things to enhance the way I looked, traditionally feminine things.

     I guess I was sort of neutral on that.  It wouldn't hurt to do 
something that might be a bit silly, a bit 'unmanly' out there in the
middle of the Pacific.  No one would know but Elaine.  And me.  And my 
curiosity was real, no doubt about it.  Especially since everything I 
could do out here was really part of the appearance thing anyway.  Like I 
said (uh, thought?), no high heels, no pantyhose, no hairspray.  I 
wouldn't need to get into all those things that were, I don't know, 
foolishly feminine.  I could put a barrette in my hair to hold it back 
instead of tying it in a ponytail, but that was pretty minor.  If we 
managed to get transformed back into our real selves, none of the other 
things would ever matter.  

     That led me to the last aspect of 'being' a woman.  And that was one
I just wasn't ready to deal with yet.  Hiding from a problem was not my
way, but it was just too big a problem to swallow - God, now THAT was poor
phrasing!  Besides, my body wasn't ready anyway.  I was becoming an 
'innie', not an 'outie', but the space I had was *way* too small for 
anything more than a finger.  I, um, checked.  Not that that mattered, of 
course, since nothing was going to happen.  

     I gave up on my attempt at a nap, it was near enough time to go back
on deck anyway, and decided I might as well act on all that analysis.  I
took another shower, this time shaving my legs - very carefully I might 
add - and slicked my underarms while I was at it.  Have you ever put 
deodorant on freshly-shaved underarms?  Enough said.  

     Then I went back to that white sack.  There was a bra in there, a 
real bra.  One that supported and, well, I guess enhanced instead of 
minimizing like the sports bra.  I had seen it when I had gotten the 
panties, but at the time I had rejected it out of hand.  Now, well, now 
was . . . now, a problem with new aspects.  Living with Elaine for almost 
40 years kept me from being totally clueless about putting on a bra, and I 
managed to get it rigged with the aid of only a small part of my seaman's 
vocabulary.  No doubt about it.  I had tits.  Pretty ample ones, it 
appeared, certainly enough to show a distinct cleavage in that confection 
of satin and lace.  

     Well, no sense doing things half way.  The bra was pink, so I picked 
out the pink panties, arranging 'things' so that there wasn't much of a 
bulge (like I had much choice on that any more), and decided the exercise 
shorts were still clean enough.  I was reaching for my t-shirt when I 
realized that would hide all the cleavage I had decided to enhance.  So I 
went to Elaine's things and found a shirt, blouse I guess, or maybe this 
was just a 'top', whatever that difference was.  Anyway, it was a dark 
red sleeveless thing that showed plenty of what I now had to display.  I 
couldn't stop myself from smirking a bit at how much better I filled that 
top than Lainey ever had.

     With that self-satisfied grin still on my lips, I grabbed a brush and
headed topside.  

     "You've been busy," Lainey said as I paused at hatch.  "Can I take 
that to mean you've made your decision?"

     "Partly," I said, sliding next to her on the seat.  She put her arms
around me and we sat together for a while in silence.  Patience is 
definitely a virtue for a successful marriage.  That's not to say that 
Lainey's arms didn't do a bit of exploring as they held me, but it was
subtle, and sort of confirming more than prying.  There was enough moon 
that I knew she had picked up on what I was wearing right off, and that 
same moon had revealed a bright smile when she did.  

     Finally, Lainey tapped the hand I still held the brush in and asked,
"Did you bring that on deck for a reason?"  

     I nodded, handing it to her and turning my back.  She began brushing
my hair, slowly and sensually in the way we had done for each other so
often.  After a while, that comfort provided a sort of bulwark against 
which I could discuss some topics that made me uncomfortable.

     "So, what do you think we should do in giving all this a try?" I 
asked.

     "It looks like you gave it a pretty good start on your own."

     "Yeah, I guess.  I didn't do much sleeping down there.  Too much
to think about."

     Lainey nodded behind me, I could sense it even while turned the 
other way.  She said, "Yeah, me too.  So, what did you decide?"

     "You first," I said.  "You already know most of mine."  

     She paused for a while, absorbing that statement.  Then she resumed
brushing my hair and said, "Okay.  I can deal with that.  Um, suppose we
do something like, oh, using names that are more appropriate."

     I pulled out of her hands and turned to look at her.  "You're 
disappointed."  

     "Nuh, um, well, okay.  Maybe a little," she admitted.  "But your 
happiness is what's most important."  "At least to me," she added, putting
a finger to my lips to stifle my disagreement.  "We can start there at 
least."

     She twirled her finger to get me to let her finish on my hair, and 
spoke in a bright, cheery voice, "So, have you thought about a new name?"

     "Huh? Oh, no, not really."

     "Well, you certainly don't look like an Adam, especially not in that
top."

     I laughed.  Well, I never was very subtle.  Anyway, it cut the 
tension, so I just leaned back against her and said, "You pick."

     "Anya," she said without hesitation.  

     "Ready for that one, were you?"

     She shrugged.  "Pick something else if you'd like."

     "Anya," I repeated softly. Then I surprised myself with the truth, 
"I like it."

     "Now you pick for me," Lainey suggested.  

     I thought for a while, sort of murmuring, "Adam, Anya, Elaine . . ?"

     "Ethan?" I said, asking as much as suggesting.  

     "Ethan," she repeated.  "Okay.  I like it, too.  It's not common 
these days, and Lord knows we are unique."  

     "Ha!  You can say *that* again."

     I felt her braiding my hair into something a little more complex this 
time, and let that sort of fill the time for a couple of minutes.  In some 
ways, I felt there was something else, something missing in what we had 
covered.  I knew that I'd have to get more specific with my own 
limitations - saying that the clothes I was wearing were most of what I 
would do was a preliminary statement only - but I felt there was more, 
something basic. 

     Lainey figured it out.  Probably she already had, like my new name.

     "Um, Anya, how do you think of yourself, and of me?"

     "What do you mean?"  

     "When I was writing in my logbook," she explained, "I realized I was
referring to you as 'she'.  As in, 'I'll have to talk to Adam when *she* 
comes on deck.'  That's part of why I decided a different name would be a
good idea.  But more importantly, it tells me that you really have become
a woman in my mind."  She smiled and leaned forward to whisper in my ear,  
"A very shapely one, I'm pleased to say."  

     I seized on that last part of what she had said, realizing it was 
important to me. "Are you?  Pleased, I mean?  I was, well, not sure."

     "Yes, my love," she said, quietly, but firmly.  "I love the way you
look.  But get back to my question.  How do you think of yourself, and 
of me?"  

     "How do you think of *yourself*?" I asked, stalling.

     Lainey, Ethan now I suppose, sat back and said, "You know, I've been 
so caught up in realizing I thought of you as a woman, that I hadn't 
considered how I think of myself.  Ha!  Fair question.  Let's see."
  
     Ethan paused for a long moment, then said, "I guess I see myself as a
man now."  

     I turned around to look as she, no, *he* snickered and said, "I 
think that started when I was able to stand up to pee."

     Oh.  I hadn't been able to do that since we reached Taiohae, about 
the time my voice quit cracking and stayed higher.  Did that mean I should 
consider myself to be a woman?  

     "Anya?" Ethan prodded gently.  

     "Um, well, until you brought this up, I guess I thought of you as my 
Lainey, just like always.  As a woman, I mean.  It was like you were 
wearing that appearance, not 'being' it, if you know what I mean.  As 
though at any minute you might take it off and be my Lainey again because
that's who you 'really' were, or are, or whatever.  Does that make sense?"

     "Do you still feel that way?" She asked, not answering my question.

     "I'm not sure," I admitted.  "The name thing is surprisingly 
important in that.  If I think of you as Elaine, or Lainey, you are a 
woman.  But as Ethan, you are a man."  

     "Well, the ancients always said names had great power.  I think I 
have become more visually oriented, so the way you look sort of dominated
things for me."

     "Really?  And does that mean I have become *less* visually oriented?"

     Ethan shrugged.  "I suppose you're the only one who can really decide
that."  

     I leaned back against the seat cushions, thinking of what Ethan, of 
what 'he' had said.  In some ways, it made it harder to decide how I felt.

     "Ethan," I said, listening to the sound of that new name in my new 
voice.  "Kiss me."

     I wonder if I'd have hesitated at that request, back when I was Adam.  
Lainey was always more comfortable with the touchy-feely stuff than I was 
anyway.  But, Lai . . , um, Ethan didn't hesitate a bit.  The next thing I 
knew I was in his arms and he was demonstrating what quickly seemed to be 
the best of both worlds, passionate, powerful, yet tender.  Damn, I wish I 
had known how to kiss like that.  Now, though, all I had to do was 
appreciate it.  

     My body sure did.  I felt my sensitive nipples pop up HARD, and I 
was both pleased and tortured by the satin of that bra as it rubbed oh
so gently across them.  I felt a little moisture in a more intimate place
as well, but I couldn't tell what it was from.  I had sort of 'tucked' 
what little was left of myself back between my legs, but my recent 
examinations had discovered the possibility of another source for 
moisture.  Or maybe that was the absence of something, leaving a space 
that was empty.  

     Why was I so aware of that emptiness right then?  

     Before I could figure it out, Ethan leaned back and grinned at me.  
"Glad to be of service, ma'am."

     He leaned forward again, but this time I put my hand on his chest.
"I'm sorry, Ethan, but this is, um, there are too many things to think 
about right now.  I need some time."  
  
     He looked like, well, he looked so sad.  It broke my heart, but I 
was still too confused by everything that was going on.  I was afraid I 
would regret things if I didn't understand what was happening better.  

     After a minute, he grinned ruefully and said, "Yes, ma'am.  I suppose
if *I* can't accept it when a girl says, 'no', then no one could.  
However, I think it's about time for me to go take a cold shower.  Will
you be alright alone?"

     "Yes, love, and thank you," I said, reaching for the vest and 
lifeline.  

     As he reached the hatch, though, I called out to him, "Ethan?  If it
helps any, I definitely think of you as a man now.  And at least for a 
while there, you definitely made me feel, well, let's just say I'll be 
glad to answer to Anya for the time being."  

     He smiled again, which I was *really* happy to see, and then went 
below.   

     It should have been a long night after that.  I hadn't slept very 
well, and eight hours in the dark just monitoring the autopilot could be 
a killer even when I was well rested.  Not that night, though.  The 
thoughts that had been churning in my mind when I was trying to nap had
not been abated at all by what had happened on deck.  

     As if I knew what had really happened on deck.  

     I had asked Ethan to kiss me.  No big deal, right?  After all, 
regardless of what he might look like on the outside, inside that was 
still my spouse, and we had kissed many times before.  Kissing is not
really a sexual thing with direct stimulation of reproductive 'bits', so
I thought it would be a solid anchor to build on as we decided what and 
who we were.

     There should have been two possible outcomes.  The good news one, the
one I really expected, was that despite the exterior, the kiss would show
my Lainey on the inside and it would be like it had always been.  I've 
never had nor wanted the expertise to decide if *all* women could be 
identified by the way they kiss.  I just felt I could tell Lainey's kiss, 
and that's all I needed.

     The bad news option was that it would really be like kissing a man, 
Ethan not Lainey.  Instead of soft warmth, and tender passion, I would 
feel whatever a man feels like - not something I had ever experienced, but 
surely different than kissing Lainey.  Since I was not interested in men, 
not in any sense of personal intimacy whatsoever, that would have been 
apparent in the lack of involvement I would feel.  And so, with either 
outcome I could answer Lainey's question on how I thought about her.  Or 
Ethans' question on how I thought about *him* as the case might be. 

     Well, it was certainly different.  That part of my little chain of 
logic was valid.  Ethan definitely did not kiss like Lainey.  But the 
whole 'experiment' fell apart when I realized *I* did not kiss like Adam.  
And at the same time I was uncovering this deep, dark secret, I discovered
something even more disquieting.  I did not *want* to kiss like Adam.  As 
soon as Ethan wrapped me in his arms, I felt myself melt, just like in all
the silly romance novels.  I wanted him to pull me closer to him, to mold
my pliant body to his, to merge us together, forever inseparable.  If I 
lost my identity in his kiss, well, that was just fine with me.  I never
wanted to come back anyway.  

     A data sample of one is a piss-poor basis for drawing a sweeping 
conclusion, but that very fact made it all the more compelling.  This 
was so far from science that application of scientific logic was 
ludicrous.   And if that were true on something as 'simple' as a kiss,
then how many more of my assumptions needed to be thrown out?  Apparently 
a lot more than I had expected.

     The stars had no answers for me, and the moon set long before my 
watch was over.  We had been running close-hauled on the starboard tack, 
sliding up and down easy three-foot swells, when the motion of the Breeze
began to change.  It was pretty dark by then.  In fact, I realized that 
the stars were gone over about half the sky when I roused from an 
introspective fugue.  The seas were picking up, and for the first time
in forever, the trade wind was getting a bit unsteady.  It wasn't anything
to worry about, really.  At least, not yet.  But worrying about things 
before they are problems is one of the way to keep them from ever being
problems.  

     "Lainey!"  I wasn't sure she heard me, but she'd soon notice the 
changed motion of the Breeze.  Where we had been running about 45 degrees
to the rollers, easing up one side and down the other, I had changed 
course about 30 degrees to stay close-hauled and now we were bucking them 
a lot more directly.  

     "What's up?" Lainey, I mean, Ethan asked from the passageway.  

     "Wind's shifting, and the sky is clouding over.  Let's retrim to 
get back on course, then if you'll take the helm, I'll download the 
latest weather."  
 
     We had faced several minor storms in our year at sea, but we had 
ridden out any really bad weather safely in port.  I was kicking myself 
for leaving Taiohae without checking the weather properly.  That's what
happens when you screw around with a routine that's working.  The local
forecast in Taiohae was for good weather, but we were a hundred miles 
away by now, and heading into what ever was happening.  

     By the time we had the sheets trimmed again, we were seeing the first
light of day behind us.  Just before I ducked below I looked back at the 
gleam in the eastern sky, and saw Ethan standing at the wheel.  He was 
wearing one of my shirts, but it fit him a lot better than it had fit me, 
at least for a lot of years.  With a bit of a beard, he'd really look like
something out of a romance novel.  Maybe need to tear his shirt a bit, 
too.

     Oh, God, I was doing it again.  Now was NOT the time for those sorts 
of distractions.

     However, like a lot of possible problems, this one wouldn't be as bad
as my worst fears had imagined.  The satellite download showed a minor 
front, and open-ocean monitoring stations were reporting conditions we 
could handle pretty easily with the proper precautions.  In fact, it would
be exhilarating for a few days.  And distracting, in a way I could use.  

     I fixed a bit of breakfast and went back on deck, grateful that my
new body hadn't lost its sea legs.  And that my new stomach was still 
comfortable with a bit of motion as well.  

     "What's the verdict?" Ethan asked as he took a cup of coffee.  If it
had been bad news, I'd have been on deck a lot sooner, so he already knew
not to worry.

     "Seas will probably pick up to about 5-6 feet, but the wind should 
only get up a little.  It's a front, not a real storm.  We can probably 
run today on this tack, then shorten sail this evening on the port tack
and miss most of it.  It'll be a bit wilder ride than we've had for a 
while, though."

     "Good," he said, grinning broadly.  "I have to tell, you, Anya my 
love, that I really *like* being strong.  I'm looking forward to a bit of
weather."  Then he laughed and said, "It's the 'manly' thing to do."

     "Ah, yes, I suppose it is," I said quietly.  And then I realized 
something else.  

     "Ethan, do you ever feel, well, jealous that I look so much, I mean,
that I have, um, well, a better shape than Elaine?"

     "No," he said, a little confused.  Then it sort of hit him, too, and
he repeated, "No, it doesn't.  And that is a bit of a surprise.  I was 
never ashamed of my body, and I worked hard to keep it fit, but I have to 
admit I sometimes envied those with bigger bosoms, like you."

     It bothered me a bit to have my new shape referred to so . . . 
bluntly, but what he said was simple and to the point.  

     Ethan continued, "But when I look at you, all I feel is appreciation 
for how pretty you are.  I never even considered jealousy.  Why, are you,
um, feeling bad about the way *I* look?"

     "No, and that's the point.  I was just watching you, and I was proud
you were, that you are so tall and fit and strong.  I was glad you were
feeling 'manly', and what really surprised me is that I didn't feel the
least bit bad about not feeling the same way.  I guess that's good news."

     I could see he really wanted to agree, to make a big deal about just
how good that news was.  But he didn't say anything, just nodding quietly
and reaching for a piece of toast.  

     After we ate, Ethan said, "Why don't you go below and get some sleep?
I know you could use some, and neither of us may get any later."  

     I could have managed for a while longer, maybe ride the filter cycle 
or something, but my protest that I was okay was swallowed up in an 
enormous yawn.  After which, well, resistance was futile.  The Breeze soon
rocked me to sleep, this time without conflicting thoughts or dreams, or 
as far as I could tell even breathing, for the next several hours.