Part One - P.D.Q

I was a normal, happy child; or so I thought. My change of life came on October 31st, 2005 but I had no idea what was to come. My name is Dana Quartermaine; actually P.Dana Quartermaine, to be exact. My parents had always called me Dana for so long I had never even bothered to look on my birth certificate to find out what the P stood for. I had a great-grandfather who was Philleus and a great-great-grandfather called Parthonagene (we were from some odd tribe in the Mediterranean way back) so I thought it was better left alone.

Anyway, back to that particular day. As it was Halloween Day you would expect things to be a little strange. We had hosted a Halloween Party for family and friends on the Saturday night and my parents insisted that I wear a white wedding dress. I know this sounds kinky but, with my long blond hair and smooth skin, I actually looked good in it and had a lot of fun. At fourteen I was still able to pull it off and my witch and warlock friends had a lot of fun marrying me off to each other. I did have to kiss one warlock they married me off to but it was actually my school friend, Cindy, in a costume so it was nice. It would have been gross to have to kiss another boy!

My parents woke me up that particular Monday with a case packed for me and told me they were taking me to an aunts’ house for the week as they were going off on a business trip. We were quite a well-off family so this was not unusual, in itself. What was unusual was that I never knew about this particular Aunt and the fact that they insisted I wear short shorts with a tee-shirt and sneakers. I looked a right Nancy in these and, when I made a fuss, they allowed me to put a hoodie on over the top.

We lived in a beachside house near Monterey, California and this Aunt lived on the other side of San Francisco and the ride was completely normal until we reached the city. We were stopped at a set of lights, in the front row, going up one of the hills and looking out between my parents’ car seats I could see a big building up near the top of the hill was being demolished. Waiting at the lights I could see a strangely painted convertible on the other side of the junction with all of the passengers in clown costumes and make-up, blowing trumpets and bulb horns and having a whale of a time. My father said that some kid was going to have an unusual birthday and, as the words left his mouth, I saw an enormous black ball rolling down the hill from the demolition site. It all happened as if it was in slow motion. The big ball glanced of parked cars on our side of the road and veered towards the other side. I thought that we would now be safe as it should miss us but then it hit the back of the clowns’ car with such a force that it made the car rocket across the intersection and straight into us. I slipped my seatbelt and slid into the footwell in a vain attempt to live. Of course, with us pointing uphill, when it cleared the level roadway we were about to cross, it hit us above fender height and was, by then, side on to us and already rolling. As I ducked behind the drivers’ seat I saw the screaming faces of the clowns looking down at me and then there was an almighty crash, the shattering of glass and the last thing I saw that day was a clowns head, complete with a big red wig and big red lips, landing on the back seat beside me.

Part Two - Princess????

I woke up in a hospital bed, with bandages around my head and dressings across my shoulders and along my arms. I could also feel dressings around my chest under the gown I was wearing. When I opened my eyes a nurse, who was sitting beside my bed, said “Ah, you are awake, that’s good.” And she got out of her chair, checked the drip that was behind my head, and gave me some water through a straw. She then said “I won’t ask how you are feeling as I think I know the answer already. I’ll go and fetch the doctor. Just stay calm, Princess, I’ll be back soon.”

Princess!!! Who is she calling princess? I know I have (had?) long hair but calling me princess is going too far. Five minutes later she came back with a greying man, with a stethoscope around his neck, and left again before I could argue with her. The doctor looked at me and said “Don’t look so angry young lady; Nurse Evans needed to call me as soon as you woke up.” I said “Young lady, you call me young lady and she called me princess! Back at school you would both be heading for the treatment room yourself if you called me that. My name is Dana and I am a boy, unless the accident did more than knock me out.”

He sat on the chair and looked at my clipboard of readings and said “Dana, when you arrived in the ambulance you were wearing shorts and a tee-shirt and, with your long blonde hair, looked every bit a young girl. While you have been unconscious we took samples of your blood and your testosterone levels are so low there is no chance that you could go through puberty and come out the other side as male. On the other hand, your oestrogen levels are what we would expect of a twelve year old female. While you were in ER I examined you all over for injuries and I can tell you that your testicles are quite dead, while your penis is merely an appendage. It looks, to me, that you have been taking female hormones for several years. Now, as to Nurse Evans calling you Princess; that is the name on your birth certificate; which, incidentally, was in a suitcase that was found in the trunk of the car you were in, along with a passport in the name of Princess Dana Quartermaine and a photo of you in, what looks like, a white dress. Also, in that suitcase, there was a lot of female teenage clothing and the white dress in question; along with an envelope with a bank passbook in your name and another envelope containing ten thousand dollars.”

I looked at him blankly, and then asked “What about my parents?” He looked serious and told me that they had not survived the accident and that he was sorry for my loss. I asked what had happened and he told me that a wrecking ball had come loose from the crane at the development site and, after hitting the other car, had buried itself in a laundromat further down the street. He then told me that all of the clowns died and it had taken the fire department nearly an hour to cut me from the wreck. It seems that the convertible had ended up coming down on our car and collapsed the roof line. He told me I was lucky to have been in the footwell when that happened or I would not be here today. At that I asked “Which day?” and he told me it was Friday of the same week. He then said that the police would like to speak to me when I was able and one was coming to the hospital now. I told him that, if all he told me was true, I had a lot of questions myself as I had always thought I was a boy that was a bit slow growing into a man. I told him my mother used to give me little blue pills every morning to help me gain strength but had actively encouraged me to wear a dress at Halloween every year. I told him that I had worn a wedding dress only the Saturday before and that my mother had taken some pictures of me, in it, a few weeks prior when I tried it for size. He told me that this may well have been the picture in the passport as it looked very recent. At last I was able to ask him how badly injured I was as I did not feel a lot of pain. He said that my injuries were caused by being squashed into the footwell by the weight of the other car and that it was mainly heavy bruising and a couple of cracked ribs and lacerations on my arms. He said that the dressing on my head was to cover lacerations on my temple that needed stitching but I did not have any skull fractures. “It is what you may have got by being beaten up at school,” he said, “you may also have some trouble with your knees when you try to walk as you were compressed pretty tight.”

There was a knock at the door and a plainclothes detective came in so the doctor stood up and said that he would be in to see me later to check my dressings but stopped and added “There have been some phone calls from a lady, asking about you and when you could be released. She sounded quite agitated and, I am told, was somewhat angry when she was told that you would not be out before Monday.”

Part Three - Interrogation

He then left and the policeman came further into the room and introduced himself as DS Cliff Malone and asked if I could answer a few questions. I told him that I may have more questions than he did but to fire away. He sat on the chair and took out his notebook and his first question was if I knew what my parents did for a living. I told him they were both accountants with their own business and did tax and other work for large corporations. He then asked me why we were at the accident site and I told him we were on our way to an Aunt I had never met as my parents were leaving me with her for a week or so, while they went on a business trip. He asked if we had any strange visitors to our house and I had to say that we kept a very quiet profile except for Halloween when we had a party. He asked about the last party on Saturday and I said it was mainly my school friends and a few colleagues of my parents who were regular visitors to the house. I said my father often played golf with the men and that my mother would go to the salon with the women.

He then asked me why I was presenting as a female and I had to tell him I had only just found that out from the doctor, who had just left, and I was trying to process it in my brain as we spoke. He flipped his notebook shut, leaned back in the chair and said “Princess, or Dana, or whatever you call yourself; I find it hard to believe that you did not know that you were transitioning to a female and, as far as your parents are concerned, we have had them under surveillance for some months now as we suspected that they were involved in money laundering. We took the keys from the wrecked car and have searched the house in Monterey. We found a safe with ten million dollars’ worth of bonds and a couple of hundred thousand dollars in used bills. In your parents’ bedroom were several cases, packed and ready to go, and on the dressing table were two one way tickets to Brazil and two passports in false names. We believe that they had been tipped off that we were on to them and were dumping you before doing a runner.” At that, I finally closed my eyes and started weeping for my lost manhood, my lost parents and my lost innocence; it was a lot to take in all at once. I must have had some kind of trauma as the machine beside the bed started a shrill sound and Nurse Evans rushed into the room and gave me a shot as the detective left the room. I faded out almost immediately.

When I came around again it was night and all the lights were low. I gathered that I was attached to a catheter as I did not feel the need to pee. I laid there with my eyes shut and tried to go through all of the things I had been told. My mother had fed me hormones to turn me into a girl since I was little, why? My parents had been high level crooks and were going to leave me to go on the run with false names, what the???? What on earth was I going to do now?

Part Four - The plot thickens

When I woke again it was morning and Nurse Evans brought me some porridge and toast for breakfast with some fruit juice. I was feeling a lot better in my body so I asked if I could be allowed out of bed for a while and she said that a physio would be in soon to help me move again. But first she had to remove the drip and catheter. I was looking forward to that! She told me to press the call button when I had finished my breakfast and I did so with some trepidation. She came back with the doctor and they pulled back the sheets and the catheter was taken out, then the drip was removed. The doctor took the dressings off my arms and applied some gel to the scars and then put big band aids on them. He took the dressing off my head and swabbed me with an anaesthetic so he could take out the stiches, and then put band aids over those scars. To get to the bandages around my chest I had to swivel on the bed and put my arms up while I was unwrapped like a Christmas present. He poked and prodded my ribs and, when I didn’t collapse screaming, pronounced that I could go with a light strapping for a week or two but, otherwise, was very lucky girl.

I really could not refute his statement as, when I had my arms up; I had looked down at my chest and seen the two budding breasts that I now knew were not the start of my six-pack physique. The Physio had come into the room while this was going on and, together, they got me standing. After my knees stopped hurting, I was helped around the room a few times before being allowed to sit in the chair while my bed was changed and the equipment taken away. I felt as weak as a kitten but was happy to be off my back. Nurse Evans brought another chair alongside mine and said that she would bring my visitor in now. A few minutes later she led a lady into the room and asked her to sit down and not to upset me as I was still a bit fragile. The lady agreed and, after Nurse Evans had left, looked me in the eyes and said “Princess, I know this has all been a big shock to you. I am your father’s sister Esmerelda and I told your mother years ago to tell you what you were being groomed for but she insisted that you grow up like any normal child. If she had told you before you had got in the car last Monday I expect they would still be looking for you. You were supposed to have been brought to me so that I could help you become a true princess, a big task as I only had until today to succeed. Today was to be your wedding day.”

“Wedding Day!!” I exclaimed, “How on earth could I get married and satisfy a wife when my mother had chemically castrated me?” She looked away and said “You were not going to marry a woman. You were going to marry a man. It was a marriage that was agreed to before you were born and was very much a family payment for a debt of honour. It matters not what gender you were, you just had to turn up looking like a young girl to satisfy the agreement. Our family has always been involved with organised crime, starting in the old country, and your parents were given the opportunity to gain their professional credentials and took their place as accountants for ‘the firm’ in return of the hand in marriage of their first-born to, the then teenage, Prince Carlon of Bellefontaine. The wedding had to take place before your fifteenth birthday, as is the custom in the old country, and it should have happened today.” I said that surely the Prince would be surprised on our wedding night that he had not got what he expected and she told me that it did not matter to the Prince as he swung more than two ways. I asked what happens now and she told me that the Prince had been notified of my accident and had agreed to postpone the wedding to when I felt better but no later than the Saturday after next!

Part Five - Solutions?

I closed my eyes and said “This can’t be happening. I am a boy and have been all my life and now you tell me that I will marry a man in two weeks’ time and let him have his wicked way with me that night. It is horrendous and I don’t know if I can do any of it.” She put both of her hands on my shoulders and looked me straight into my eyes and said “You are committed to go through with it. If you don’t you will destroy your parents honour, as well as your own, and the old way solution to that insult is for you to find your death by garrotte. I am told that, in cases like this, they make it last a very long time and do despicable things to you first anyway.”

“So what am I to do?” I asked. She said that the only way forward is for her to pick me up from the hospital on Monday morning and go to her house so I can be quickly schooled to be a lady, then we were to fly to Las Vegas to meet the Prince in a ‘quickie’ wedding before he took my virginity that night, She said that the Prince would fly back to the old country with his copy of the marriage certificate to prove that the debt had been paid and I would be allowed to finish my schooling. I asked about that and she told me that my parents had already taken me out of my old school and I had been enrolled in a very nice girl’s school near where she lived, as a female. My birth was actually registered as female and my passport was marked F as well, so there should be no problems. She asked me if I had my case and I rang the call button to get Nurse Evans in, asking her if my case had been sent to the hospital. She said it was in a locked locker at the Nurse Station and she would get it for me.

When she brought it in we put it on the bed and I opened it. The combination was one my parents knew I would guess and, when we opened it, there was a jumble of womens’ clothing. I told my Aunt that the police had already searched it and I didn’t expect them to repack it nicely. We took out all of the clothes and laid them out on the bed in a neat pile; put the few pairs of shoes on the floor and hung the two bags on the hook at the end of the bed; and then we got to the packages lying on the bottom of the case. The first was an envelope with my birth certificate which, actually, listed me as a female baby. There were also my school records and medical records and my new passport with the picture taken, as I had guessed, at the dress fitting. Another envelope contained ten thousand dollars in used notes, as the detective had said, and my Aunt told me that this was for the Prince as my dowry, according to custom. The last thing was a letter, in my mothers’ hand, telling me how sorry she was that she couldn’t warn me of my fate and that I would never see them again. She was right in that, but not in the way she expected. She told me to make the best of my future as a young lady of breeding and importance and that, after my marriage, I would be a genuine Princess. There were also two bank account cards in my name at two different banks.

Part Six - Training

We left an outfit out for me to wear on Monday and also took my own toiletries to the shower room and I had a wonderful shower and washed my hair. Luckily, the lacerations were below my hairline so I had not lost any of my golden locks. We found some nighties and a light gown which I swapped my hospital gown for. Although it felt odd, it also felt right and I was very glad I was not showing my bum whenever I stood up. My Aunt took the, now neatly repacked, suitcase back to the Nurse Station so I could be locked away again and I was left, once more, to contemplate my future. Sunday I did a lot more walking and was tired enough to get a good night’s sleep and then Monday came around. My band aids were replaced, where needed, with lighter ones and I had my chest rewrapped in light strapping. I dressed myself in my new outfit; panties and padded bra, white blouse and red pencil skirt and Mary Janes on my feet. It did not seem too strange thanks to my mothers’ annual training. With my toiletry bag in my hand I went to the Nurse Station and asked for my suitcase. When I got it I took out one of the bags and put my personal paperwork in it, along with a wallet with my bank cards in. Closing it up I was escorted to the entrance of the hospital where the policeman was waiting. “Hello, Cliff, “I said brightly, “waiting for me?”

He looked shocked at seeing me standing there, every inch the teenage girl. When he recovered his composure, he asked me if I was being picked up and I told him my Aunt was going to take care of me. I asked him if his men had left my house in the same mess as my case and he looked sheepish as he said it was normal procedure to not replace anything once it had been moved. I said that it looked like I would need a cleaning crew, then. I asked him about the cash and bonds and he told me that they were in the police evidence room and that, if no link to any crime was found, it would all be returned to me but that this would take about six months. Just then my Aunt came in and smiled when she saw me. Her smile turned to a scowl when the saw the detective. He wanted to ask her questions about my parents but she said she knew nothing except that she was to look after me while they would have been away and she would do so now until I came of age. With that she picked up my bag and told him her address should he want to talk some more. After she had signed for me we then left, walking past the detective with me aping her regal manner and, when we got sitting in her car, she had a fit of the giggles and congratulated me on my correct deportment during the exit. We then drove to her house, a reasonably sized place in the suburbs.

When we went in she showed me my room, an explosion of pink and lilac with stuffed animals, a couple of dolls and posters of boy bands on the wall. I stood still when we went in and when she asked if I liked it I answered that I would have to. We hung up all of my clothes and put away the undies in drawers and I put my paperwork in the bedside drawer. I told her that we would have to go to the house in Monterey and get the locks changed and a cleaning crew through. She said we could do that tomorrow. In the meantime, however, I needed to be taken to my new school to register and also to her doctor to be put on her list. Then, she said, we needed to do some shopping. We had a sandwich and a cup of coffee and then went to do our chores. The school was nice and I felt no qualms about the place, just the other schoolchildren. The doctor gave me a quick check and took some blood for her own records and then we hit the shops. I had never realised that this would be the first real test of my new girlness. I had been made used to getting out in dresses over the years without feeling embarrassed but shopping in lingerie stores for bras, panties, nightdresses, stockings and garter belts was certainly a new experience. Then it was a teenage dress shop where I ended up trying the whole store stock on before we decided on four skirts, ten various blouses and tops and six dresses, before moving to the school outfitting department for my school uniform, plus spares and sports outfits. Then it was a shoe shop where I ended up with some two inch heels to start with, a couple of pairs of boots and some very fluffy pink slippers.

My Aunt said that there was not a lot she had to teach me about dressing as I had it pretty well at heart. We took all of the bags back to the car before heading back into the shop for a late lunch. After that we had an appointment for me in a salon where my hair was properly made into gorgeous curls that cascaded over my shoulders and I had my toenails painted and acrylic nails added to my fingers, all in a deep red. Then I had a single piercing in each ear and a lesson in make-up suitable for a girl of my age before walking out with a small make-up case. Then we went to a perfume counter where I had to decide on what fragrance I liked. All this time I did not fight it as I knew my future demanded that I be the best girl I can be. Lastly we visited a shop which catered for the transgendered and I was fitted with realistic breasts with a space inside for my own to grow, plus my excuses for testicles were pushed into my body and a realistic vagina was glued to my, now hairless, groin. After I redressed I felt as if I had turned a corner and was looking down a new life road.

Part Seven - A Married Woman

The next day we drove to Monterey and sorted out the house. The cleaning crew came in while we were there and were very quick and the locksmith did his thing and left us three sets of keys. I looked in my old room and did not feel anything, although I did grab a few little keepsakes. The rest would have to be put out in the trash at a later date. In my parents’ bedroom I opened up a secret compartment that my mother had shown me years ago and which the police had not found. Inside were several account books, which my Aunt took care of, and several bundles of cash that we put into a shopping bag to take with us. We threw out all of the old food and put the bins out for a garbage pick-up. The final thing was to go through the suitcases and separate the good from the throw-outs. I got another shopping bag and filled it with my mothers’ jewellery and some of her newer cosmetics and toiletries. My Aunt took some of my mothers’ clothes and put them in the top of the shopping bags. My fathers’ cases only yielded a bunch of bank and credit cards in both of their new names. My Aunt said it looked like they had transferred everything before the escape and put them with the account books. We made sure the house was secure and locked it up after putting our booty in the car. As we were about to leave I found out why my Aunt had put clothing on top of the stuff in the shopping bags, because an unmarked cruiser pulled up and a couple of detectives asked us what we were taking. I said we had made sure that the house was now clean and tidy and that all we were taking was some of my keepsakes and some clothes I thought I could use from my mothers’ wardrobe. As they peeked into the shopping bags I also mentioned that we had thrown out a lot of old food if they wanted to go through the bins. They rolled their eyes and let us leave. On the way north my Aunt commented on my quickness of thinking and said I was a chip off the old block.

Back in San Francisco we went to the bank shown on one of my cards and I spoke to the teller, asking about my account as my parents’ had set it up without my knowledge and that they were overseas for an extended time. I discovered that I was the owner of an account with over fifty thousand dollars as well as a strong box in the basement. I asked if it needed a key or was it a combination and, being told it was a combination, got my Aunt to get the shopping bags from the car. When she returned with them, we followed the teller down to the basement where he let us into the strongroom and pointed out my box. I opened it with the combination I had always used for my bike lock and we looked at the contents. There was a 9mm pistol with a box of ammunition, another passport with my new photo but in another name and even a driving license in that name showing that I was eighteen. There were also two more packets of money in new one hundred dollar bills. We added the money and account books we had taken from the house and closed the box up and put it back in its place. I rang the bell to get the teller back to escort us back upstairs and we then went to the bank on the second card. Using the same gambit we found that I had another account with a hundred and ten thousand dollars in it and yet another safe deposit box. Alone in the strongroom the same code opened the box; to our amazement there was the same jewellery in it that I had taken from my mothers’ bag, along with a note from my father saying that this was the real stuff, they had only taken replicas in case they were caught by the police.

So, I was independently wealthy and, after the legal stuff had been processed, had my own house. All I had to do now was get through the marriage night. The next ten days was passed in fine tuning my femininity and careful dilation of my anus, combined with strict training in preparation for sex and the treatment needed for after sex. The bruising was fading and I now only needed a light band aid on my temple scars, which was easily covered by concealer. Just before we flew to Las Vegas we were visited by a really big guy, one of the ‘family’, who worked directly for the ‘firm’. He wanted to know if we had found anything at the house that could be directly linked to the family and we both said that there were only personal items and a little cash, and some paste jewellery. My Aunt suggested that my parents’ had already sent the evidence overseas in the weeks before they were killed as my father may have suspected he was under watch. The big guy said he would pick us both up in the morning and fly with us to Las Vegas to make certain the debt of honour was paid. He looked at me and thanked me for going along with things as he thought that I was so cute having to kill me would not be much fun.

Friday we flew to Las Vegas and a limo picked us up at the airport to take us to our hotel. Once in my room I ran a hot bath and just relaxed in it for an hour. When I had dressed in my good underwear and a brand name dress I knocked on the next door and my Aunt came out to join me. Going down in the lift we decided that we needed some serious salon time so went into the hotel salon and asked for the works. Some three hours later two hot babes walked out of the salon to go to have dinner with my fiancé. He and our travelling companion were waiting for us in the dining room. He was about thirty, lean and quite dapper in a slick bastard way. Thinking impure thoughts I walked up to him and gave him a big kiss, which he was firstly surprised at but reacted in a satisfying way a few seconds later. We sat down and ordered our dinner. It was a pleasant meal and the two men were really very good company; until the Prince asked if I had brought my dowry. I picked up my bag and gave him the envelope. He passed it to the big guy who quickly made sure it was all there and surprised me by writing out a receipt to give me.

At the end of the meal the Prince kissed me goodnight and said he would see us at the chapel at five pm the next day, waving to his companion and telling him to make sure we were there. The next day we did a tour of the city and wondered at the different casinos, going into a couple and losing a few dollars. Come three pm we were back in my room and I was being dressed in the white gown. With heels and my mothers’ paste adorning my body, I looked really beautiful, the ideal bride. At a little after four there was knock on the door and the big guy was there to take us to the chapel. It was a little way out of town and, thankfully, did not feature an Elvis or cartoon character. Getting out of the car, my Aunt was directed to go inside and when she went through the doors the big guy gave me a squeeze and told me that my parents’ would have been proud of me. I took his arm and, as the wedding march started playing, we went in and walked slowly up the aisle, coming to a halt next to the Prince. The marriage ceremony was nice and I nearly shed a tear at the effect the moment was having on me and my life. I ended up with a gold band on my finger and a husband, not bad for a fourteen year old boy. I realised that I was now a genuine Princess so my first name had become my title. My husband and I left the chapel after we had signed all of the paperwork, obviously some palms had been greased to put my age at eighteen. We both received copies of the certificate. I gave mine to my Aunt for safe keeping. The Prince and Princess were driven, in the limo, to an upmarket Italian restaurant which was; it turned out, one belonging to the ‘firm’. After the big guy and my Aunt arrived, we were sat at a long table and joined by a number of ‘company’ men and their wives. There was the traditional wedding cake and my husband gave a short speech so full of BS I could hardly keep a straight face. As he sat down I turned on my smile and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Part Eight – The Wedding; and beyond.

The ‘company’ men all gave me a kiss on the cheek and wished me well before thanking me for fulfilling the debt of honour and upholding the family tradition. I tried to smile nicely while I wondered how quickly these hard men could have issued my death notice. Around nine my husband and I left in the limo and went to his suite in the hotel. When we got into the room I excused myself to freshen up. In the bedroom I saw a very daring white nightdress and satin gown, while in the walk-in robe I saw an outfit for the morning. I got out of my wedding dress and stripped off completely to prepare my love tunnel and put on the nightie and robe. I sprayed myself with my perfume and walked back into the lounge room where my husband had shed his suit and shirt and was sitting on the settee looking at the hotel porn channel. I went over to him and asked if he would like to have a taste of the real thing and put my hand in his crotch. I think he was interested as he stood up and carried me into the bedroom, dumping me on the bed and taking off everything that he still had on. I managed to rid myself of my gown before he got into bed and started kissing me passionately. It only took about five minutes before I was on my back with my legs in the air and his penis well and truly inside me, pumping in and out while he grunted between mashing my mouth with his. I got very excited at this and wondered if I was really a woman after all as we both climaxed at the same time. He collapsed on top of me and I could hardly breathe but gripped him tightly and told him that he was wonderful husband while I could feel him shrinking inside me. After a few minutes he rolled off me and went into the ensuite to wash his genitals and I went in after to douche. We got back into bed and cuddled; and I liked it, being surrounded by strong arms that smelt like a man of action. About an hour later I started kissing his body, travelling downwards until I reached his groin where his penis poked me in the cheek. What else could I do but give it a lick and a kiss before surrounding the tip with my lips. Working my mouth down his shaft I got quite a lot of it in before it reached the back of my throat. Then it slid my lips up and down while massaging his shaft with my tongue. It wasn’t long before he gave a moan and filled my mouth with his cum. I thought for a second or two and then just swallowed it. After that he went off to sleep and I quietly went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and have a gargle with the mouthwash.

Early in the morning he was laying on his back with a morning glory so I straddled him and eased my anus down on it. He soon woke up and gripped my waist as I bobbed up and down before he exploded in me and I fell forward to cover his face and mouth with kisses. When I lifted off his rapidly shrinking penis he got out of bed and went for a shower. I sat there in bed and wondered what would happen now. When he came out I went in for a long shower and hair wash. By the time I had dried and put on my robe, I came out to the bedroom to find my silent husband gone with just a large envelope on the bedside table. I took my time getting myself dressed and made up, then called room service for breakfast. I rang my Aunts room and asked her if she would meet me in the hotel lounge later in the morning and had my breakfast.

Gathering up my wedding dress and putting the nightie and gown into a bag, along with yesterdays’ underwear; I left the suite with its rumpled and cum-stained sheets and went down a couple of floors to my own room. Making myself a coffee I opened the big envelope. In it was the deeds to a house in the old country and the keys, a key to an apartment in New York and a wallet with bank and credit cards in the name of Princess Dana of Bellefontaine, along with yet another passport that had the photo my mother took, with that name as the holder but issued by the old country, not the US. There was also a note saying that my husband was mindful of my need to fulfil my schooling and that he would wait for me to join him at the family villa. The letter was typewritten but along the bottom was a rider in pen. He must have written it this morning before he left. It said “My darling Princess, you were fantastic last night and I hate to leave, but there is business to do and places to go. Look after yourself and join me please, in a few years.” He signed it ‘Your loving husband, Carlon.’

I showed it all to my Aunt when we met and she told me that I was an obvious success and that she could see that I had become a genuine woman overnight. I laughed and told her it had happened in two episodes. We packed up our things and flew back to San Francisco for me to go to the girl’s school for a couple of years. I did well enough and, as an elective, went on to study the arts, becoming a pretty good painter. We sold the house in Monterey and the police eventually returned the bonds and money they had taken. When I turned nineteen I went into hospital and had the full SRS surgery to become a woman. While I was recovering the big guy came around and told me I had also become a widow. My husband Carlon had made a couple of mistakes while negotiating a deal with a rival firm and had paid for it with his life. “It is difficult to swim with concrete feet” he said.

So there I was; a painter with several properties and a lot of money in the bank, and suddenly, the beneficiary of my husbands’ estate. What else was I to do but enjoy the rest of my life? My paintings are signed PDQ and always have a clowns’ head in them under the signature – with a big red wig and big red mouth.