** 2 **

As I walked toward the kitchen, my father-in-law was telling the boy, "...and if you help me finish up that chore, I'll take you and your mother down to see a picture show!"

"Can we get popcorn? I like popcorn!"

"Well, I don't see why not? If we can get it done early enough, I'll even spring for some ice cream too!"

"Oh boy!" he squealed as he began stuffing his face with his sandwich.

"Small bites, Benny." The words sprang from my lips as I entered the kitchen. I sat opposite my father-in-law and sat down, he raised himself up slightly as I took my seat.

"I'd have had him wait if I knew you'd be along so directly." He studied my face; surely he could tell I had been crying even more.

"That's okay," I replied softly as I sat down. I folded my hands in my lap and stared at the sandwich he had prepared for me, waiting as if I were supposed to be doing something.

"Uh, Benny boy...don't you think we forgot something?" He reached across and pulled the sandwich from the boy's hand and placed it back on the plate.

"Oh shoot." He closed his eyes and folded his hands. "God...help me be a better boy. If you don't have the time to do that...it's okay, I'm enjoying myself pretty much as I am."

I felt the words suddenly rise into my throat, even before I could stop myself I scolded him. "Benny!" I gasped in shock. "Is that the way we taught you to pray at the supper table?"

He laid his sandwich back down and sighed. "God is great. God is good. Let us thank him for our food."

In unison, we all said, "Amen."

"That's better," I replied, glaring accusingly at his grandfather who was trying his best to keep from laughing.

I felt a strange pang of unfamiliarity, mostly because I had never really prayed at a meal before...not to mention, the way the scolding of the child came from my own mouth, as if I had always responded maternally in this way to this boy. Coupled with that, the old man was still smiling at Benny and deep down, I was surprised at the strange motherly way it had played out...including the glare I had given his grandpa. To a casual observer on that scene, I would have assumed, that I truly was the mother and was none too please with how my son's own grandfather encouraged the child's behavior.

The whole conversation unnerved me and made me feel ill. To push the alien thoughts from my mind, I hurriedly entered my way into their previous conversation in an attempt of having to ponder upon this odd scenario any longer.

"What movie did you want to see? I asked the elderly man sitting opposite me.

"Movie...oh, yeah. There's a western with Tex Ritter that I'd like to see...but I know how you feel about Westerns."

I fondly remember watching those old pictures on the disks back in my time...but this might be different, I could actually see one when it was new!

"Oh...that's okay," I began, actually excited as the boy to see a movie. "What is its name?"

"No...No, I won't hear of it. The boy and I dragged you to see the last Tex Ritter picture and I told you then that we'd see whatever you wanted." He looked down at the little boy still packing his sandwich into his mouth. "The last time you said it'd be a comedy and only one is playing...we'll see that one. I can go with the boy next week to see Oklahoma Raiders."

"Are comedy's funny? Do I like them?"

"Yes Benny, they're funny, and yes you like them. Now slow down and quit packing your food into your mouth like a chipmunk." I patted his tiny hand and pulled the sandwich down, sitting it back onto his plate.

I turned toward my father-in-law. "So what is the movie?"

"Mowrfff?"

Glancing toward my son, "Manners?" He sheepishly looked down and picked up his glass of milk.

"It's called the Canterville Ghost. It has Charles Laughton and Robert Young in it and a fairly new actress named Margaret O'Brian."

The movie sounded familiar to me, I vaguely remembered reading a story with the same title. "Is that based on a short story by Oscar Wilde?"

He looked at me with a blank expression, "I have no idea...but I heard it's pretty funny."

He reached across and jostled the boy's hair, "I got me two dollars this morning and it's burning a hole in my pocket!"

"Wow...gee two whole dollars?" Ben looked up, wiping the milk mustache from his mouth with his sleeve.

He smiled and gave me a quick fatherly wink, "The widow Hargrove paid me to stand her outhouse back up...seems it fell over during the night."

"Was it windy last night?" I asked, absentmindedly wondering what it would have been like to be inside when it tipped over.

"I think this wind was caused by two brothers down the road..," he said with a laugh. "I'll be talking to their father sometime later this week about it."

"Outhouse tipping?" I asked, to which his response was to point toward me and give a nod.

It seemed that, within ten minutes of my sitting down at the table, Ben had finished eating and downed the last of his milk. The door soon followed, slamming behind him as he headed outside was the exclamation point to his exit.

"Sure Benny boy, you may be excused!" the old man called out after his grandson. I smiled and took another small bite of my sandwich. "He gets that from his father, you know."

I smiled as there was a shadow falling across the tabletop; the boy was back at the door. "May I be excused from the table?"

"Yes you may Benny," I replied, "But next time, it would be better to ask before you actually leave!"

"Sorry, Mom." He leaned toward the screen and cupped his hands around his eyes so he could see inside. "You coming Grandpa? We still got that chore to do!"

The old man placed his napkin on the table, "Nicole, may I be excused?"

"Sure, Grandpa," I replied, not really knowing what his name was or if I called him Dad.

He gave me a sideways glance and raised an eyebrow, "Now the boy can call me Grandpa...but you don't have to rub it in. I feel old enough as it is, John or Dad will be just fine, thank you!"

I laughed aloud and nodded as he headed toward the door, "I guess while you men are taking care of that little chore of yours, I'll see to cleaning up in here."

As I cleared the table, I began to fill the sink with warm, soapy water for dish washing. I stood at the sink and began scrubbing at the surface of the dirty dishes while stared out the little window in front of me. I could see John and Ben carrying buckets of water out to several goats that were penned up near the barn. If I was quiet enough, I could hear John complaining about the dog licking the water that dripped from the pump again. I smiled at this rural setting with its seemingly mundane lifestyle.

I pushed a dishrag into a cup causing water to be squirted out and toward my dress, backing away rather quickly, I did my best to try and avoid the most of it. Hanging on the wall, not far from where I was standing, was an apron. Without much thought, I quickly tied it on.

I smoothed out the front and went back to my own chore, all the while watching my son and father-in-law working together outside. My idle studying of them veiled what was actually going on inside my head though, as thoughts of who I've become drifted slowly into mind.

"Who was this woman my body possessed? Where did she go when I came here? How did the Guardian's choose this body? Is she now inhabiting my former self?" Still I wondered, "How do I seem to know what to do, even though I have never done something like this before?"

I looked down at myself in the dress and wondered just why I didn't feel like exploring my body, as I would have assumed a man suddenly transformed into a woman would do! It was true; I had absolutely no desire to examine myself, than I might have at getting ready to do some grocery shopping. When I looked at myself, there was no arousal...nothing at all.

I knew back when I was in my former body that I had been pushing the envelope, using my powers for personal gain. I think the last straw was when I used my magic to enact revenge on a total stranger. For that...for everything, I was stripped of my abilities and deposited here. I again looked down, my bosom gently pushing the top of my dress out, more than likely, making it the focal point to many wavering eyes. Yet, no arousal in seeing this woman I've become...nothing. It was as though I felt as I was raised this way, feeling nothing different. Normalcy was first and foremost, changing from a man to this woman, was as if changing from a blue
blouse to a green.

I shook my head, even in mundane thought, I was still thinking like a woman. Why would the word "blouse" come into my mind before something like "shirt"? I sighed at the complexity of this change to my body. Part of me felt slightly cheated, I wanted to feel the turmoil of the transformation and feeling that erotic surge of being suddenly dropped into a beautiful feminine body. Yet, I felt nothing more than if I had been born this way. "Why?" I sighed.

Then too was my name, not the former name of myself, but rather the name of Nicole. It rolled from my tongue as if it were the only one I had ever had. For the first thirty years of my life, Anderson Kemplar was the only name attached to my being. Now when I think of my former name, it's more like an acquaintance than a name intimately familiar to me. I've found myself answering to Nicole without even a second thought, and then too I've begun thinking of myself as Nicole...on top of constantly referring to myself as female.

I sighed while letting down the water, picked up a dry towel and started wiping dry the dishes of their water. It was bad enough to become a woman, but to suddenly find yourself one and not even the wherewithal to partake in intercourse as one. I sighed, Any other family and I might feel the fear of a man taking me and making me into a true woman, but here...he was away, fighting in Germany, and I was left to mother a young son and her elderly father-in-law...and no sexual release even if I wanted one.