Live Long and Prosper            by: Brandy Dewinter            © 2000, All rights reserved

 

Chapter 13 - "When You Wish Upon A Star"

I wasn’t doing a very good job of being ‘on watch’ for a while. Quite a while. But just as she had sailed into the warm shower without help, the Breeze sailed out of it by herself. It’s never really quiet at sea, especially on a sailboat with the lines creaking and the wind sighing by the sails. Still, changes in sound register regardless of the overall sound level, and when the rain went hissing off by itself, we both roused.

I was about to stretch from my comfortable snuggle and think about finding some clothes, when Ethan said, "Oh, Anya, I am so sorry."

"Sorry?" I repeated, sitting up. I was feeling a lot of things, but sorry would not have shown on the list.

"Yes, absolutely. I never should have made you do that."

"You MADE me do that?" I repeated again. Sorry was still not on my list, but I was getting a good start on irritated.

"I promised myself that I would just hold you, and be ‘nice’ tonight," Ethan explained - or tried. "But you are so beautiful, and so . . . so . . . sensual, and . . ."

"I’m glad you think so," I said, interrupting, "but why do you also think I’m so weak-willed?"

"Weak-willed?" Now it was Ethan’s turn to be a questioning echo.

"Well, I don’t seem to remember you using physical force on me. So, Mr. Macho, is it your force of personality that you think makes me so weak and compliant that I just fall helplessly at your feet?"

"No, not at all," he protested. "It’s just that, well, I started it and, um, I didn’t think you wanted . . . "

"It’s just that you started it," I repeated, interrupting again, "and I finished it. The way I wanted to finish it. Don’t you think I can love you enough to want to do something for you?"

"Well, sure, but . . ."

"Then maybe you think I draw little lines among the things that I will do; boundary conditions on my love so that I avoid anything that is uncomfortable on inconvenient. Is that how you love me?"

"No, not at all, but, I mean, this has been a lot harder for you, and . . . "

"And you’re not making it any easier by assuming that I’ve lost my strength of will along with my upper body strength. And I don’t know where you’ve been all your life, but I for damn sure would never say I was sorry, or unhappy, or anything but ecstatic when someone has made me feel as wonderful as you made ME feel. Didn’t you enjoy it?"

"Oh, yeah, I mean, I really loved it! You were great! I . . . um, you were so . . . HOT! It was incredible how you reacted. I felt like I was . . . doing something so good, and so right. And then, when you did, um, what you did for me. It was . . . fantastic!"

"Look," Ethan said, reaching for me. "I’m, uh, sorry that I said I was sorry. That wasn’t what I meant."

I stood up out of his reach, and glared at him, still angry that he should have taken such a lovely moment and made it a thing of regret. I was about to let him have it both barrels - that was the expression that was in my mind - when I realized he wasn’t looking at me. At least, not at my face. He was taking in ‘both barrels’ though, even if it meant his eyes were crossing a lot.

It cracked me up. I almost laughed out loud, but at the last instant I stifled that. In a heartbeat, I decided I’d use this as an opportunity to establish that while I looked like a young girl, I was still a tough-minded old bastard, or bitch as the case may be, on the inside. Instead of yelling at him, I turned away (in part so that I could let a smile loose before it escaped on its own) and hunted around for my clothes.

"Take the wheel while I get some dry clothes," I ordered, not looking back. It was only the gentle sway of the Breeze that forced my hips to wag back and forth as I slipped below. Really. Would I lie?

By the time I was back on deck, I had my face under control again. I wore one of Adam’s loose shirts, and under it I had my ‘barrels’ tucked into a minimizing sports bra. Before he could say a word, I showed again who was in control. "Why don’t you go below and get some rest? I’ll be wanting my own rest in a few hours when my watch is over."

He just nodded, looking like I had hit him in the gut with a 2x4, but he deserved it. The rules were different for men, and if he thought being a man was so terrific, he’d just have to learn what that really entailed.

I could feel his eyes on me, one last glance before he disappeared below, but I was carefully scanning the horizon. After he was gone, I slumped back onto the still-damp seat cushion. That last thought had resonated with me even as I was applying it to him. The ‘rules’ really were different for men and women.

And what really hit home with me was that for the first time since the nature of our transformation became apparent, I was intrigued by the opportunity and was not just feeling a sense of loss. I was still a little angry at Ethan despite the flattery of his adolescent fascination with my, um, flotation devices, but I truly was flattered by his interest in my body. I had known I liked looking pretty and I now realized I would feel a sense of loss in giving that up, even if I were to become an extremely handsome man like Ethan. Taking real, emotion-triggering, pride in how I looked instead of just appreciating it in an intellectual way was new for me.

God knows the pleasure I received from his talented lips and tongue was spectacular. Tirce could have had something to do with that, giving me a hyper-responsive body or something. In the end, it didn’t matter, though. If all women felt that great during sex, then good for the species! If only I felt that incredible, then great for me. Going back to being a man could never be the same. Been there, done that, loved it a lot, loved the new way even more.

Taking pleasure in giving him pleasure, not only the success but the act itself was an even bigger surprise for me. I had always felt that way with Lainey. There were times, more of them as we had grown older, where I never ‘got my rocks off’ at all when we made love. I still enjoyed it, and eventually managed to convince her of that as well. It pleased me to pleasure her. Pleased me a lot.

And now I realized that it pleased me to pleasure him. Ethan. I was truly glad that I could do it; that in my personal little calculus of desirability, the unpleasant parts were outweighed by the satisfaction. I suspected it was much the same for all couples, all the time. I mean, putting a man’s dick in your mouth is not particularly efficient at stimulating pleasure sensors. But women have been doing it for men for a long time. The converse is just as true (there had been too damn many hairs in my teeth, that’s for sure!). Lovers do it all the time. And the key was, I felt the same way giving Ethan oral sex as I had felt when I had done the same for Elaine. The awkwardness of the act, even while I was doing it, was buried beneath the satisfaction of giving pleasure to the one that I loved. That seemed like a really important revelation to me - a breakthrough in acceptance. Whatever residual homophobia I might have hidden seemed to have been overcome by events.

All that was nice and ‘noble’ of me, but how much of it was real, and how much was just . . . rationalization, trying to make the best of a bad situation? Had I really accepted this transformation? I knew I ‘should’ accept it, since it was clearly Ethan’s dream come true. I never realized Lainey was unhappy as a woman, but she was very happy as a man - or at least could be, if I did my part. Could I accept my role in the fulfillment of her wish? More importantly, since I truly believed that Ethan loved me and could not be happy if I were not, could I truly be happy if these transformations were not reversed? Did I really mean my own wish, which was that above all else I wanted Lainey to be happy?

If so, then I could not accept Anya grudgingly, constantly reminding myself that I had ‘made a deal’ with my wish and had to live with the consequences. If my wish were truly a reflection of my heart, then I would want to be Anya even if the choice to be a young man instead were offered to me, now that I knew it was such an important part of Lainey’s happiness. Did I feel that way? And could I accept the full truth of that?

That was the tough part. All the oral sex in the world was not the same as taking Ethan’s body into my body. Could I accept the idea of his huge sword plunging into me? There was something so . . . vulnerable about that. We spend our lives inside our own little world bounded yet protected by our skin. Sex, from the woman’s perspective, was very, very different than sex from a man’s perspective. He was expanding his world by penetrating INTO hers. Into mine.

The idea still fascinated me. Despite the saturating intensity of Ethan’s demonstration of my body’s ability to respond, I felt a decidedly pleasant tingle in my nips and my panties at the thought of joining with Ethan. Yet, I was afraid, too. As I watched the mainmast point in turn at a pattern of stars, over and over, I realized that part of my fear, maybe most of it, was that Ethan’s, um, member seemed so damn big. The idea of Ethan putting only his finger in me, as I had done to myself, made me wet. The idea of Ethan putting his huge . . . tower in me - it just had to hurt!

The mainmast never did point out a real answer, but one came to me anyway, about the time the dawn caused the stars to fade away. When the mast was down to one visible star to point at on each gentle cycle, I knew what my wish would be. "Star light, star bright; last star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight."

"A nice sentiment," Ethan observed from the hatch. "Care to share what that wish was?"

"Oh, you surprised me."

"Sorry," he said, ducking his head like I had hit him.

"You big dummy," I said, laughing. "I’m not mad at you. C’mere."

He walked over, a little-boy smile on his chiseled face, wanting so bad for things to be right between us that he was afraid to do anything for fear it might make things wrong. I loved that man, for all that he was as clueless as the rest of his gender. Just like I had been.

When he got close enough, I slipped the Breeze on autopilot and wrapped my arms around him. It was a good thing it was daylight, because the flare of his kiss would have brought ships from a thousand miles away to see what had happened. As it was, we merely boiled away a couple of thousand gallons of sea water, but the Pacific Ocean had plenty to spare.

"There, now do you believe me?" I asked, laughing.

"Uh, yeah, er, um, no. I don’t. You still haven’t convinced me."

So I tried again. And felt an undeniable demonstration that he was feeling okay. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something we could take advantage of. I pulled back, and laid my head on his shoulder where I could talk, but I wouldn’t have to see his eyes.

"Ethan, darling, now it is my turn to be sorry. Let me finish," I said quickly when he stirred, "and explain why. I did a lot of thinking last night, and I truly have come to a sort of peace with what has happened. When you came on deck I wasn’t wishing for the transformations to be undone - just the opposite in fact. It’s just that . . . I’m not . . . complete, yet. I’m just not large enough, I mean, my . . . it’s too tight. I can barely get my finger inside, and you are so, um, big and all that . . . I’m truly afraid I’ll be hurt. So my wish was that we can get Tirce to complete me, to make it so that we can truly make love as we should. I do truly love you, Ethan, but . . . I just . . . can’t. Not right now."

"It’s okay," he said softly.

I pulled my head back from his shoulder and looked up at his deep blue eyes, eyes that were never warmer despite a color as cool as the ocean. "No, love, it’s not okay. But we’re doing what we can by going back to Tirce. The sooner we can get there, the sooner we can have her ‘correct’ her cruel joke and make me right so you can make me whole. Oh, Ethan, I do want you. My body wants you. But . . . we have to wait a little longer."

He nodded, the hope and joy in his eyes warring with the pain of a reaction that my words had made more intense, not eased. His arms squeezed me with gentle force, telling me in a way beyond words that he accepted what I had said. I nodded in my turn, then looked at the steps leading below.

"I should get some rest," I said, smiling.

"Yes," he agreed, letting me go, yet still holding my hand as I moved past him.

"Take a nice long shower after you get up, if you want," he offered.

"What, now that I’m the lady in our relationship you think I’ll want those hour-long showers that Lainey enjoyed?"

"Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you want them, but this is a special case."

My expression asked why, and he answered, a wry grin touching his eyes as much as his mouth. "I think I’ll be spending some extra time on the filter cycle, at least until we get to Tirce’s."

"Oh, yes. Um, it never worked all that well for me, but knock yourself out," I said, grinning in spite of his obvious discomfort. I thought seriously of doing something . . . nicely naughty, but I just winked and ducked out of sight.

When I woke up a few hours later, well, several hours later, the fresh water tank was so full that if I didn’t use some, poor Ethan was going to end up pumping filtered water overboard. So I did my spousal duty, of course, and had a nice long shower. Lukewarm, as all showers are at sea, but still wonderful. I had been shaving my legs and underarms for several days now, and was almost done with my revised shower routine when I saw Elaine’s cosmetics.

Even I knew that most of the colors used by a blonde would not work with my now-black hair. Only the tips were gray any more, and I swear I think it was thicker, maybe even longer, and had a sort of natural wave to it. In any event, it wasn’t Elaine’s woolly white blonde by any means. But . . . surely some of the makeup things would be okay anyway. Now that I was . . . resolved to make the most of this woman thing, it seemed like I should be learning about, well, all of it. All that I could, anyway.

I actually decided to get dressed first, because I had an idea on that, too. Lainey had only worn her electric-blue bikini one time, but I certainly remembered it. I figured I’d look at least as good in it as she had. Okay, I figured I’d look a LOT better in it than she had. When I found it, the bottoms seemed to fit much the same as they had on her. I hadn’t taken any real measurements; the limited supply of clothes we had on board made that sort of irrelevant. Things either fit or they didn’t and a number on a tape measure wouldn’t change that. But it was clear that I was about the same size as Lainey in the hips, though I was gratified that my waist tucked in quite nicely. In any event, the sides tied about as they had on her and I figured it would stay on if I didn’t do any racing dives.

The top, though, was a different story. It actually tied about the same under my bust, but when I went to pull the other strings up to tie behind my neck, it was . . . unproductive. The tiny triangles of fabric weren’t big enough to cover the dark circles around my nipples, and there wasn’t enough string to reach behind my neck and still tie a decent bow.

I was about to give up on it, when I thought of a way to ‘adjust’ things a little. I tied the back string into a much smaller bow, which left enough for the cups to lift in front of my nips. Then I tied the other string behind my neck, in about as small a bow as I could manage. At least everything held together. I ‘shifted’ things around a bit to get more comfortable, but it was clear I was going to need a different size. At least, if I didn’t want to get arrested. Of course, that made it just about right for a lonely boat in the middle of the ocean with only one man around.

After that, I ran a quick brush through my hair, and considered Elaine’s stash of warpaint again. All I decided to try was mascara to make my eyelashes stand out a bit, and one of her darker red lipsticks. Maybe I was just flattering myself, but when I looked in the mirror, I thought I looked pretty, um . . . I was thinking of ‘nice’ but I’m not sure that applied. Naughty maybe, and, um, healthy, but not really nice, if you know what I mean.

Just before I left the cabin, I remembered that brightly colored skirt that Lainey had once considered for me. Taking it out of the closet, I realized it was really just a very large rainbow-pattern scarf, designed to be tied off at one hip in a somewhat ornate knot leaving one leg essentially bare. I didn’t want to try and recreate that knot, so I slithered into it and adjusted it so that it just covered the bikini. Well, some of it anyway. Since I was ‘dressing’ up, I found a pair of clip-on earrings I could wear and a couple of beaded bracelets to accent one arm. There, now I looked like, well, like I think Ethan would want me to look.

Taking a deep breath, then laughing it out when I realized what that would look like in that teeny bikini top, I tried to act casual as I strolled on deck and leaned against the mizzen mast.

"Hey, sailor, been at sea long?" I asked in a husky tone right out of Lauren Bacall.

"Dear God," Ethan said, gasping and turning very, very red.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, still blushing big time, and said, "Ah, yeah, uh, fine. That outfit looks, um, very good on you. Really good. Better than I, uh, imagined it would."

"So, you’ve been imagining me in this?" I asked, sauntering over.

"Ah, yes. I did, um, have."

"And you like what you see?" So I was fishing. Sue me.

"Yes, you could say that."

"Oh, but I’d much rather hear you say it, Big Boy," I purred. And yes, I know I was changing to Mae West. But I was new at this, at least from this side.

He didn’t answer. At least, not with words, but I think we managed at least ten thousand gallons this time. Of boiled sea water from the heat of our kiss, that is. Damn, this being a pretty girl thing could be fun.

And . . . distracting. Ethan wasn’t the only one whose body was responding. His, um, distress was obvious, but my own little messengers were sending their signals to me. And due to the thinness of that material of that top, to Ethan as well. After a long, delicious moment, we pulled back sort of by mutual consent, and I looked up at Ethan.

"Oh, dear," I said, giggling a little. "I think it’s about time for you to stop wearing lipstick, don’t you?"

"What? Oh, well I guess that depends on how it’s applied."

"Oh, really?"

"Really," he said. I guess he was right.

This time our kiss was interrupted without our ‘consent’, and just when we had a couple of hundreds yards of the ocean at a nice rolling boil. But, some things can’t be denied. In this case, breakfast. Or at least that’s what Ethan’s stomach declared. Loudly. I laughed, working hard to keep it from being another silly giggle, and made as if to search my body for pockets.

"Sorry, no change," I explained. "I was going to flip you for who had to make breakfast."

"I’ll do it," Ethan quickly volunteered, "if you don’t mind waiting just a few minutes for me to, um, do something else I need to do."

"Of course," I said, moving to the wheel.

My ears must have been playing tricks on me. Because I thought I heard a groan as I took those few steps to the helm, wiggling just a bit - to keep my balance as the Breeze moved, of course. And later, well, I wasn’t sure just what I heard while Ethan was below. But it seemed to take a long time for him to fix breakfast. It must have been hard work, too, because when he came back on deck, the log he’d had in his shorts was . . . all tired or something. Imagine that.

Actually, that was what I had to do - imagine it I mean - since I was on deck and hadn’t thought of doing anything more effective when I could have. Oh, well, I’d be taking another nap myself a bit later. And in the meantime, there was always the filter cycle.

 

(continued in Part 14)

 

 

*********************************************
Live Long and Prosper © 2000 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.