Changing Sam - The Changes Continue.

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Changing Sam—The Changes Continue.
by Angharad

Copyright © 2013 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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(Photo courtesy of wikipedia)

She felt really good as she put her key in the door and walked into the house, only for her mother to ask loudly, “Who the hell are you?”

This was a real oh shite moment and Sam suddenly felt quite sick. She stood there trembling amazed her mother hadn’t recognised her–she didn’t look that different–well okay, she did.

Her mother stepped towards her, “Well, who are you and where’s my son? That’s his key, what are you doing with it?”

Sam looked down at the key held in her painted nails, the same colour as her toenails and the blush that was spreading all over her. She was about to say something when her mother did a double take. “Samuel, is that you?” Her eyes were nearly out on stalks.

Sam almost paralysed with embarrassment, not difficult for the average teenage girl, nodded as tears formed in her eyes and as she looked at the carpet to avoid her mother’s withering stare, drops of water rolled down her nose and dripped onto the Axminster. She was aware of her mother’s legs standing before her and felt her hands gently grip the tops of her arms. “Sam, what’s this all about?”

“I’m sorry,” said Sam who then tried to push past her to escape to her bedroom but her mum held on to her arm and wheeled her into the sitting room handing her a tissue as she did.

“Here, dry your eyes.” She watched as the teen carefully dabbed at her eyes minimising the damage to her makeup–this was a practised hand and her mum felt even more confused. Sam sat down, sweeping her bum with her hand as if she were wearing a skirt–she wasn’t–but the automatic nature of it showed.

Sitting in an easy chair Sam finished dabbing at her eyes and looked across at her mother who was seated on the settee. Her mother took in the careful makeup, the now tidy hair with a fringe–very girlish–and the ear studs–they weren’t there last night, surely?

“You’ve had your hair cut, I see.”

Sam nodded.

“Looks nice.”

“Thank you,” said a tiny voice.

“How long have you been doing this?”

Sam shrugged, “Dunno, a year or so.”

Helen, Sam’s mother, was a clever woman and yet she felt like kicking herself, suddenly little things which she’d seen in isolation were making sense–the jigsaw was coming together. She wasn’t sure she liked the picture very much, but that was because it was on the edge of her comfort zone and perhaps more importantly, she feared for her child. He was isolated as a boy, as a girl, albeit quite an attractive one, life would be very difficult. She also felt very guilty. Had she and Ben, her husband spent more time with the boy, would this have happened? She didn’t know but she knew a man who might–but that was for later.

“I’ll go and change,” said Sam standing up.

“No, stay there,” Helen barked and the child started, “I mean, there’s no need and I think I’d like to get to know my daughter a little better...if that’s okay?” Sam sat down again and nodded, blushing furiously. “Do you want to be a girl–I mean permanently?”

Sam shrugged, “Dunno–maybe,” she said quietly, though she suspected she did, she just hadn’t got that far. Today had taken all her energy for the past week or so and teens were not renowned for long term strategies.

“You went out like that to the hairdressers?”

Sam nodded.

“And no one spotted you were a boy?”

“Dunno.”

“Stand up for me, please.” Sam complied with the request, “do a twirl for me.” Sam turned round in a circle–slowly, feeling like a rabbit being viewed by a hungry fox. “They wouldn’t have spotted you, would they?”

Sam shrugged and sat down when Helen asked her to. Helen’s mind was reeling. He–no she, was so thin, but had the hips and bum of a girl and, she was almost betting those breasts weren’t all padding. Her son was turning into a girl before her very eyes and she hadn’t noticed. How could that happen? She shook her head.

“I need a cuppa, would you like one? What do I call you in this mode?”

“Samantha, yes please, I’d like a cup of tea.”

“Okay, I’ll go and make one; you young lady, had best go and sort your makeup–but I expect you back here as you are, I haven’t finished with you yet–okay?”

“Okay,” said the diminutive voice and as Helen went off to the kitchen to fill the kettle and give herself a moment to think, Sam escaped to the cloakroom with her handbag to touch up her makeup. She cursed herself–how come she didn’t see her mother was home? What would she have done if she had? Why was she home, she hadn’t said yet at the same time she realised these things happened, serendipity or something like that.

Sam looked at herself in the mirror, her eye makeup had smudged. She looked again and felt so stupid. It was all going to come out now. She’d decided she wouldn’t tell them about the pills she’d bought, just the ones she taken from her mum, if her mum spotted anything, that is. No matter what her mother said, Sam knew she was going to continue expressing this part of her–perhaps it was the real part of her–she didn’t know. With shaky hands she had to lean against the wall to steady, she repaired her makeup and redid her lip gloss where she’d licked it off as her mother interrogated her. She wondered how she was going to drink a cup of tea, especially if it comes in a cup and saucer.

While she was in the loo she used it and washed her hands noticing how slim her fingers looked with the nail varnish. She dried them and returned to the sitting room and once again sat in the chair alongside which lay the bags containing her shoes and skirt.

While Sam was fixing her face, Helen was texting Ben asking him if he could get home earlier as something had come up. She made the tea before he responded that he’d be home tomorrow evening. She didn’t know if she’d make Sam stay girly all weekend and see what Ben said or make her change back to a boy. She wondered what Sam would like to do.

She returned to the sitting room with the two mugs of tea. “Have you had lunch?” she asked her ‘daughter’.

“No–I’m not very hungry, thank you.”

“You need to eat, girl.” The last word had just slipped out, her child looked natural as a girl–this was doing her head in. “Drink your tea and we’ll go out and grab a snack somewhere.” Did she really just say that? What was she thinking?

Sam’s expression went from stoic endurance to astonishment. Was her mother offering to take them out to lunch? Was there some hidden agenda?

They sat in silence, each with their thoughts as they sipped the tea. Helen decided she would take the bo–girl out and see how she coped with being in public. Probably too well, after all, she could have been doing it for months–there was that guilt thing again.

A little later they set off in Helen’s car. As time was passing, she drove to a nearby pub that she thought did reasonable food and which hopefully would be relatively quiet now the main lunch time was over. Sam had entered the car okay, but as Helen parked it, she felt rather nervous. It was bad enough doing this on her own, to have her mother watching as well–was a bit of overkill.

Sensing the teen’s nervousness, Helen opened the car door for her. “C’mon, you’ll be okay, and I’m here, so no one is going to hurt you–promise.”

Sam grimaced and nodded but got out of the car and was rewarded with her mum offering her hand. They entered the pub hand in hand.

“What can I get you, ladies?” asked the barman.

“A white wine and a pineapple juice for my daughter. Are you still doing food?”

“We are indeed,” he replied and handed her a menu. Helen paid and gave Sam her drink then led her over to a secluded table in a corner. They spent a few minutes perusing the list of meals before Helen announced she would have a cheesy jacket potato, she looked at Sam who nodded that she would too. The barman took the order and disappeared behind the bar.

“Nervous?” asked Helen.

Sam nodded, a gesture which could be regarded as the understatement of the century.

“Don’t be, you look fine.”

Sam smiled an acknowledgement of the compliment.

“You make quite a pretty girl.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome–so cheer up and enjoy the experience. I’m going to, this is my first mother and daughter time–so it’s precious to me. I hope you feel the same.”

Sam nodded more out of politeness than agreement–she was still running on pure adrenalin. She also knew her mother wasn’t half as happy as she was trying to make out and which she took as a form of bravado, but it was better than a screaming fit.

“What size is your wardrobe?” asked Helen.

For a moment Sam the boy nearly emerged and gave the measurements in centimetres before being submersed by his girl self who suddenly realised her mum was talking about clothes.

“A few things.”

“I saw the nightdress–is that the only one?”

“No, I’ve got two.”

“Okay, what about other clothes?”

“I’ve got a couple of skirts and tops.”

“Shoes?”

“These, a pair of slippers, some ballet pumps and pair I bought today.”

“You bought some today? What tried them on?”

“Yes,” Sam replied blushing. The memory was very fresh.

“What about undies?”

“I’ve got two bras and some panties.”

“Tights?”

“A few pairs.”

“Trousers? I suppose you don’t wear those do you?” said Helen forgetting that Sam was wearing shorts.

“Yes. I wear trousers to school.”

“I meant girl’s trousers.”

“So did I,” replied Sam and her mother nearly choked on her wine.

“Isn’t that a bit risky?” asked Helen having cleared the alcohol from her bronchioles.

“No one’s said anything yet and they fit better.”

Helen said nothing but understood why that might be the case. The person sitting with her might be her son, but he seemed to be turning into a female. She mentally kicked herself again for not noticing before. Is this what happens when you leave teenagers on their own for too long? Didn’t most of them go mad on drink and drugs and cause mayhem, or get girls pregnant? Would that be any easier to cope with than this? She didn’t think so, but then she needed an educated opinion. Was this a temporary thing or was this the shape of things to come? Oh boy. Where’s Ben when you need him? Bloody men.

After a tense meal Helen took her daughter to the town centre and again they walked round together, saying very little. She bought her child another nightdress which she chose herself. Then they added some more panties and a dress. Sam chose it and Helen thought it was going to be a disappointment. Instead she nearly fell over when Sam emerged from the changing room to show her mother. It fitted her like it was made for her. A stretchy sculpted velvet in a pinky dark red, it fitted perfectly.

“What d’you think?” asked Sam.

“I think you look lovely,” she said and they hugged each other, Sam escaping back to the changing room before she burst into tears and Helen had to sniff back the odd one as well. They got the dress and some glossy fifteen denier tights plus a pair of black patent Mary Janes with a two inch heel.

Back in the car an hour and a half later, Sam was in danger of becoming delirious with pleasure. She was still on an adrenalin buzz, but added to that was a shopping trip and lunch with her mum who so far hadn’t told her anything negative. She knew a crunch was approaching but in true hedonist style, she was enjoying it while it lasted.

They got home and Helen insisted on seeing all the clothes that Samantha had. The dress was a nice addition to a very small wardrobe. “Wear that tomorrow for dinner,” Helen instructed Sam.

“I can do this tomorrow, then?” there was true surprise in Sam’s voice.

“Yes–why not? Have you any homework to do?”

“No, I did it last night.”

“In which case you can help me tidy the house and cook the dinner.”

“Okay,” agreed Sam, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“We’ll do something nice, Daddy’s home tomorrow evening.”

The shoe hit the deck with a loud bang–or it did in Sam’s mind. “You want me to dress up for Daddy?” She hadn’t called him that since she was seven and a school friend called her a baby for doing so; since when she’d called him Dad.

“Yes, of course. How can we make an informed decision without the full facts. Plus I want him to see what pretty daughter he has.” Sam nearly collapsed. Her father was reasonably broadminded but was her mum setting her up for the coup de grace at the hands of her father? Her tummy flipped.

“Right, I paid for lunch so you can make the tea–there’s some salad and some nice rolls out there–do something with it. Well go on, girl.”

The rest of the evening was quiet. They watched some stupid film which had Sam not been so tense, she might have enjoyed. She was thinking about tomorrow and what that would bring. She hardly slept, worrying about what her dad would say. Her mum had been really good, perhaps too good–was it all going to end in tears? If so, which ones? Sam thought probably tears of unhappiness, but no matter what happened she was going to continue taking the pills–the taste of freedom she’d had that day meant she wasn’t going back in the closet–or if forced back there–it would only be a temporary situation–Samantha was here to stay, though it didn’t seem quite so definite in the wee sma’ ’oors.

Helen, though not as relaxed as she’d tried to appear and still very concerned on lots of levels, tried to appear encouraging to her new daughter. She decided that if it all went pear shaped later, at least she’d have had some mother and daughter time, something she’d never have believed twenty four hours before. Talk about life throwing a curve ball at you...

She encouraged Sam to wear something comfortable to help round the house. They’d do the housework in the morning and after lunch change into something tidier for the return of the man of the house. She’d decided that she’d shoo Ben up to the bathroom to shower and shave and change into something nice before introducing him to their new daughter, unconsciously conspiring to keep her.

They vacuumed and dusted and polished and wiped everything they could find. Sam even agreed to tidy her bedroom–Helen wondered if there was some apocalyptic planetary alignment she’d not been informed about that was causing all this change.

After a light lunch they prepared the makings of the dinner and Sam laid the table in the dining room. Ben had texted that he hoped to be home about seven, which would fit in with her plans perfectly. The dinner ready to cook, a leg of pork–Ben’s favourite and they could go off to get ready.

As they went upstairs, Sam was asked by her mother if she had any perfume. “I’ve got some cheap stuff I got in Superdrug, why?”

“Try this,” she handed her daughter some decent stuff and watched as she sprayed a little on her wrist rubbed it against the other before sniffing it.

“Hmm, it’s nice,” she said looking at the bottle.

“Daddy bought it for me but it doesn’t go with my skin, I’m sure he won’t mind you having it.”

“Thank you, Mummy,” she responded hugging her parent.

“C’mon, it’s five o’clock, we need to get ready, but once he comes, stay in the kitchen until I tell you to come out.”

At a few minutes after seven, Sam heard her dad’s car pull into the drive, the diesel engine of his Range Rover stopping as he parked in front of the garage. She stood nearly pooing her panties as he came in and protested about being sent up to shower before they ate.

Some twenty minutes later she heard him talking with her mother and her tummy did somersaults making the butterflies it contained loop de loop. Her mouth felt dry and her hands paradoxically were almost dripping with sweat. She wiped them in the skirt of her dress as she did so her hyper aware senses recognised the Givenchy scent amongst those of the resting, roasted meat and vegetables.

Shit, they were in the dining room. “Where’s Sam,” she heard her father’s voice.

“He’s not here.”

“What? Don’t tell me he’s got himself a girlfriend at last.”

“Something like that.”

“So it’s just you and me, then?” he asked seductively.

“Ah, not quite.”

“What d’you mean and what about these flowers?”

“They’re for the cook.”

“Cook? What cook?”

The kitchen door was pushed open and Sam nearly died. Her mother grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the dining room. “This young lady–well give her the flowers then.”

“Oh right, hi. These are for you.” He handed the large bunch of flowers to the vaguely familiar young woman standing before him. She was quite pretty and had a lovely figure–pity they can’t stay like that forever, said the brain he kept in his trousers. She took them and said a thank you which was so quiet only the cat would have heard it. “Well don’t I get a proper thank you?” he bent down and she moved to him and pecked him on the cheek saying something which he thought ended in daddy.

As he stood back upright the young woman stepped back the light from the kitchen catching the side of her face, “Oh fuck!” said Ben as recognition dawned.

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Comments

Enjoy.

Angharad's picture

I honestly don't know if I'll do a follow up to this one.

Angharad

You Are Such A Tease

littlerocksilver's picture

Of course you will, or I'll have our cats talk to your cats about seeing to it.

Portia

LOL

you said it!

8D

Hugs, Fran

That Was Really Quite Delicious

While I suppose it could stand alone, you really have baited yourself into writing at least one more. If you didn't want to, you shouldn't have ended on an unresolved cliffhanger. We at least need to see the rest of the father's reaction, even if it is anticlimactic.

"I see. Aren't you a little young to be wearing makeup? And, who said you could get your ears pierced? Doesn't the shop need parental permission for that? Go to your room, young lady, your mother and I need to discuss this."

Okay, it's not going to be THAT anticlimactic... Actually, with B-Cup breasts, Sam isn't going to get away without revealing the online hormones. Whether that happens on the page or between scenes, that's up to you, Dear Author, but I sense that the story wants it to happen.

Oh my!

Hypatia Littlewings's picture

First, “Who the hell are you?” and then “Oh fuck!”, you sure know how to end an episode. More please!

Oh, myyy...

Talk about teasing your readers! LOL

That WAS a fun start to things... I imagine many of us would wish something like that (well - up to that last line, maybe) had happened to us as teens! (Though, I'd not turn the clock back for a do-over were the option given... I love my family far to much.)

Then, you go and toss that last line in... And AGAIN make us wonder "what next"...

Thanks,
Annette

Please!!

I like where this is going. Please continue this. Please.....

Love your work

Ang,
If there is no follow-up, you have sure ended it magnificently.

Joani

well we would

love it if you did follow up with another part or two or thirty, okay just a few more. Samantha is just so sweet we really want to get to know her better.

Goddess Bless you

Love Desiree

well we would

love it if you did follow up with another part or two or thirty, okay just a few more. Samantha is just so sweet we really want to get to know her better.

Goddess Bless you

Love Desiree

My Cat is sending your Cats an e-mail

Please do a little more. So many of your one chapter wonders are worth a followup. This one screams for a little more.

Heather Marie

It's a cliff-hanger ... again!

So you'd berra' finish it! Anyway, looking at the title; the changes are still continuing so this tale begs a finale.

Well one more chapter or an epilogue ... at least!

Pleease! Pretty please.

Thanks for the pleasure.

Bevs.

x

bev_1.jpg

Please write a least one more chapter

I've really enjoyed this story. I agree with the other folk. It needs at least one more chapter to make it perfect.

KimF

Seems like ...

you may have made a rod for your own back with this delightful second chapter Angharad , I suppose you could leave it there, But i suspect even you yourself would like to know how it finishes... As you have mentioned previously when writing BIKE forward planning is not something you do much of, So i am guessing that maybe the same applies here ... Fingers crossed it does, And then we just might get to find out what happens to Samamtha :-)

Kirri

Can you say Armageddon ?

Things will never be the same in that house again. :) The 'rents would have not been surprised had they been paying attention.

A

"Thank you Daddy!"

"Oh f**k!". Yes I think you'll see more of Samantha. After all, it's only fair that there should be a "a Father/Daughter day!". Nice one Ang! Loving Hugs Talia

Oh what?

Hey, daddy Ben was coming on to his own daughter/son, wasn't he?
Keep it coming, Ang, please.

Cef

" Oh f**k",indeed! Nice story

" Oh f**k",indeed! Nice story, quickly moved on to lunch with Mom, dinner with Dad.
Ang, this is something you do so well.

Karen

Shame on "Daddy" for him

Shame on "Daddy" for him having such thoughts about his "new" daughter. Should be a rather interesting meal and evening for everyone.