Joe Bates Saga 1. Chapter : The Awakening As sunlight moved through the trees to the back of the apartment building, it fell first on the roof and then slowly moved its way down the wall until it found the window on the corner of the third floor. Seeping through the open blinds, it traveled across the floor, then up the bed, until it finally reached his eyes. Probing, flashing, searing into his eyes and then his mind, he faced the realization that a new day had dawned, and it was time to get up. Hiding from the sunlight, Joe Bates placed his arm over his face, and turned his head away, seeking the darkness. As he did, he became alert to the fact that something was different. His arm seemed smaller, it did not support his head as easily as usual, and his body did not press into the mattress as it had before. His buttocks felt huge, as though they were covered with padding. He rubbed his hand across his chest, and was surprised to feel bare, soft, bulging roundness, where there should have been thick chest hair. When he turned his head into the pillow, it seemed that the skin on his face was more sensitive to touch than usual. He felt his cheek, and was amazed to feel a smoothness and softness he knew was not his normal, early morning, scratchy beard growth. Was this a dream? Did someone shave his face while he was asleep? Surely, it was not his longtime girlfriend Linda, whom he had been with last night. They had been discussing marriage, and argued late into the night about his thoughts about discrimination and sexism. Had she stayed over, or gone home? He could not remember. The discussion had been pretty intense, but Linda really loved him, and was always quick to make up. He groggily tried to jump start his brain. There was no one there when he reached to the other side of the bed. He was alone. Rolling over on to his back, he trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, when he saw his hand. It looked tiny, with slender fingers which had an enhanced sense of touch. He pulled himself up. Sitting up straight, he looked into the mirror on the dresser. He looked in disbelief at what he saw looking back. Instead of his usual face and usual stubble, he saw another face. It was his face, to be sure, but different, with no morning stubble. His eyes and eyebrows were different too. His hair looked the same length, but it seemed softer, or finer. Looking more closely he noticed his face, too, was softer, more defined, smaller, maybe even feminine. He thought of his knee. Two days before, he had sprained it slightly while playing racquetball with his friend Jay. He moved his right leg, and yes, it still ached a little. It was still he, no matter what the mirror said. Startled, he shot straight up in bed, and as he did so, the sheet fell from his chest, exposing something which really threw him for a loop. Breasts. They looked like female breasts. His female breasts. Staring at disbelief at the image in the mirror, he raised his hand to his face to touch and feel, as if to prove that the person in the glass was him. Again, he ran his hand across his cheeks, feeling the softness, the lack of stubble, and then to his cheekbones, which seemed higher and more pronounced. As he looked, he realized that he felt different all over. The most noticeable difference was that he felt much smaller, or maybe every thing else seemed bigger. To be sure, there were other differences too. It felt like his butt was huge, compared to his upper torso. The center of gravity of his body had, some how, shifted lower. In curiosity, his hand ran down his neck to his chest, to those breasts, which he cupped and felt with his small hands. His fingers moved to the large nipples. His fingers could feel, and he could sense them hardening as he touched them. With that pleasant sensation, he also felt a reaction in his groin, a sensation he did not recognize, a warmth and tightening that was not at all normal. "What next?" he thought. He quickly placed his hand beneath the sheets to check. It moved down a smooth, flat stomach to feel for his cock. His pubic hair seemed finer than usual, but he was not exactly prepared for what he found next. His penis was not there. His scrotum and testicles were gone too. Instead, his probing fingers felt a warm, soft slit, with moist fleshy folds, which reacted to his gentle stroking by opening slightly. He was not unfamiliar with what he was touching, but found it difficult to accept that he now possessed what seemed to be labia, a clitoris, and a vagina; a pussy. Totally confused, he explored his body, feeling new sensations. The unfamiliar softness and shape of his chest, a strange tightening of his pelvic muscles, and the uncomfortable sensation of wetness in his crotch. He ran his sensitive fingers over the unfamiliar contours, and then swept them over all the curves, bumps, and creases that his hands and slim fingers could reach. As he did so he began to slip back to sleep, and into a languorous state of semi-dreaming. Soon, the clock radio jolted him back into the present. "Work," he thought. "Time for work. A weird dream was all it was. Just a dream, but at least it was an interesting dream." Convinced that was what it was, he cast the sheets aside and swung his legs over the edge the bed. Stepping out, his legs, which now barely touched the floor as he sat on the edge of bed, tangled up in his pajama bottoms, which somehow had slid down from his waist to his thighs. Catching himself against the dresser, he looked down and saw that his dream had not ended, and his body was still different. He new it was impossible, but to his quickly clearing vision, it almost appeared that he had uh... a... woman's body. He reached down to pull up his pajamas, whose legs now were long enough to almost cover his feet, as he stumbled out of the bedroom for some coffee to get his overloaded brain engaged. Looking down, he realized that although a guy could walk around in his apartment without a shirt, a guy with a chest like he had now, could not. He grabbed a tee-shirt and pulled it over his head, and covered his protruding breasts. As he walked across the living room toward the kitchen, his brain registered the differences it was experiencing, and started to make the necessary adjustments for the shorter stride and wider hips. Everything seemed so much larger. The kitchen counter was higher than his waist. To get a cup from the upper shelf, he had to stand on a chair. His conscious mind continued to race ahead, thinking less about what had happened to him and more about what he was going to do about it. The first issue to be addressed, he thought, was work. He figured he could not go to work looking like this, but he could call in. Had his voice changed too? He spoke aloud; it seemed the same. He could not tell for sure. Pouring a cup of coffee, he began to review the problems he faced. If he had indeed changed, then his job was a problem. He could not report to his job looking like this, like a woman. There were women at work, but none were engineers, and besides, his peers knew him as a man anyway. He could hardly walk in with this new size and shape, and just say, "Hi, guys! Look what I sprouted last night!" He did not think his present body shape would let him pass as a man, but he figured his mind would not let him pass as a woman either. He would probably have to try that, though, since he was quickly running out of options. He had just read in Playboy about some woman who had passed as a man for years. Maybe he could do that, but for now he realized that he was going to have to deal with the immediate problem of looking like a woman. Then he sensed another immediate concern. He had to urinate. "Strange," he thought to himself, "it looks so different, but it feels almost the same." He hopped quickly into the adjoining bathroom, and as he did, he felt his breasts bounce uncomfortably. He cupped them with his hands, and stopped when he reached the toilet. The seat was still up from the last time he used it. As he reached into his pajamas, to stand, aim his penis at the bowl, and pee, he realized that he could not do that, at least he could not figure out a practical way. Irritated, he lowered the seat, pulled down the pajama bottoms and sat. As he relaxed, the urine started to flow, and he felt yet another difference. The pee did not come out in a tight stream like normal, but seemed to come out as a heavier flow, and it seemed to him it emerged from near his anal opening. He finished quickly, and started to get up, but realized that his crotch was still rather wet. He took some tissue and carefully wiped his unfamiliar genitalia. "This will take some getting used to," he thought. He flushed, pulled his pajama bottoms back up, and went back to the bedroom. His pajama bottoms did not fit, and, judging by the looks of the tee-shirt and how it clung to his breasts, he was going to have get something he could wear in public. That meant he had to go shopping. If he was going to go shopping, he would need money, and since all of his credit cards were in his name, he was concerned as to whether he would be able to use them. With a name like Joe, it might be possible to use that name in public, while pretending to be a woman, but it said Joel on his card, and that did not look like a woman's name. Identification was the next issue: his driver's license, insurance, the basic IDs used during a normal course of a day. This predicament could not be permanent, and he was sure it could not be, but if he had to act like a woman, then he was going to have to think about his job. Well, he may have somehow misplaced his balls, but he still had his engineering skills. At least he thought he did. His brain seemed the same as always. If he could work out a way to get back to his job, he figured, he could still do it. He would work out that problem after getting some ID. Besides, he still had some money in the bank which would last a little while, at least till he could get this identity thing worked out. Writing checks might be a problem if his handwriting had changed. He tested it with a pencil and his notebook. His small hand caused it to be a little different, but he figured it would get by, and besides, an automatic teller did not look at that anyway. What was he forgetting? Suddenly, he realized. Linda! Linda would be expecting him to call tonight. If he did not, she would probably call him, since they usually went out to eat on Friday evenings. What would she think... What would she do if... No, WHEN she saw him looking like this? He put his concern about his relationship with Linda aside, knowing that it presented an insurmountable problem for now, and then he remembered Jay. Jay was a lawyer, very bright and skillful. Jay was his best friend. Jay would know how to handle ID and the bank. He might even know of a doctor who could help him with his physical problems, but could not think of anything like this, happening to anybody else. "At least nobody who admitted it," he thought. He reached over for the phone to talk to, and arrange an appointment with, Jay. He called his office, and Jay's secretary answered. As soon as he heard her voice, he knew he had a problem if he did not sound like himself, so he simply said hello and asked if Mr. Logan was in. Denise, Jay's secretary, said no, that he would be in court this morning. Joe asked if he could set up a meeting with him today. Denise asked if he was a client, and Joe got the bright idea of pretending to be his own secretary. He said he was calling for Joe Bates, and that Mr. Bates would like to have lunch with Mr. Logan, to discuss some business. Denise said Mr. Logan would be free for lunch, and suggested the health club where they both worked out regularly. Joe said no, the Beacher Restaurant would be better for Mr. Bates. (No kidding!) He sighed with relief as he hung up the phone. He had made the appointment. "This can be worked out," he thought. Jay could help him solve the identity and the money issues. Now for work. He called in, and identified himself as a nurse, and told the receptionist that Joel Bates had been admitted for a gastrointestinal problem and would be staying in the hospital for a few days for tests and possible surgery. He would not be in to work until next week at the earliest. "Who knows?" he thought. "It might be true." Remarkably, she did not ask which hospital so he did not have to lie about that. Feeling better for the first time since he awoke, Joe leaned back in the chair and reached for his coffee. As he did so, he realized that he was crossing his legs like a man, and placed his feet flat on the floor. Seeing him through the open window, anybody would have thought he was just another woman, maybe somebody's wife, sitting at a breakfast table drinking a cup of coffee, free of the everyday need to go off to work. In reality, his engineer's mind was again going through the schematic process of sorting and collecting data in order to establish a plan. He reached out and started to make a list of things he would need. By now, the realization had dawned that he had nothing to wear that would fit, and that he had to go shopping for clothes. He also concluded that he was going to look like an idiot while shopping. It also occurred to him that he was going to look even more ridiculous, since he had no idea how to dress like a woman, what sizes they wore in clothing, or what size he wore, for that matter. Worse yet, he was probably going to have to buy things like panties and brassieres. Now, he surely knew how to take stuff like that off a woman, but he had no idea how to buy, or even put those things on like a woman. Finishing the coffee, he walked back to the bedroom, and decided that he had better take a quick shower. While he stood under the hot water, quickly soaping and rinsing his unfamiliar body, he was almost afraid to look at it, thinking that if he would ignore it, the problems he was facing might simply go away as quickly as they came. He grinned a sarcastic grin, as it occurred to him that he did not have to shave this morning. After the brief shower, he went to the closet, and started looking for something to wear. His jockey shorts just did not seem to make it. He tried them on and found that even with the elastic in the waist they would not stay on his hips. "Damn!" he thought. "I need to wear underwear at least." Then he remembered a Christmas present from two years back. Carol was his girl then, and she had given him three pairs of men's bikini briefs which he had never worn because they were too snug fitting and uncomfortable. He found them in the back of one of his drawers. He slipped on the black ones. Although they had been tight before, they now fit pretty well. Of course, the "contoured pouch" crotch was now strangely baggy on him. Then he tried on a pair of jeans to see if a pair fit, and, needless to say, they did not. One pair, however, had just come back from the laundry and was tighter than the ones he had worn a few times before washing. Slipping them on, he hoped they had a chance of staying above his hips when he remembered his suspenders, the ones with clips. Putting them on, he was able to hold his jeans up with some feeling of confidence. He then reached down for his loafers. Sliding his small feet in, they felt like boats. This would not do, he knew, so he then pulled out some white socks and a pair of sneakers. They seemed too big, hell, they were too big, but at least they sort of fit with the extra absorbent socks on. Finally, he came to the shirt. He tried on a couple and found them too large, but at least they were not too tight. He did not have a bra, of course, but the embarrassing jiggles of his breasts when he moved made him decide to put a cotton sweatshirt over his shirt. He reached down to the night stand, took his large aviator's watch and put it on his thin wrist. It dangled loosely, almost large enough to go around his wrist twice. He eyed the time, as he put the watch in his pants pocket. He knew the mall would soon be open. He had to get over there and buy some clothes so that he could meet Jay for lunch, and start figuring things out.