From: Edwin Gay <gaye@delphi.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: TG: "Uh-Oh" (Magic Trans)
Date: Mon, 21 Nov 94 18:15:58 -0500
Organization: Delphi (info@delphi.com email, 800-695-4005 voice)

"Uh-Oh"                               
by Heather T.  Vester

Not knowing she was being followed was half of the fun of stalking her.  Watching her
every movement, her special, sensuous walk as she made her way down the busy street.  The
way the smile played across her face as the heads of every guy she passed turned
 to take in her sumptuous beauty.  Even the way her long silky dark hair moved in the
light breeze made him hot.  He got an erotic thrill just looking at her form fitting
skirt move when she walked, the way her short leather jacket hugged her curves, and t
he sound of her heels on the pavement.
All of her 22 naive years had not prepared her for what he was about to do to her.  They
had not warned her that there are other things bad besides lost love, rape and death.  As
he followed her he could feel the power building.  The yearning for what coul
d never be, becoming overwhelming.  But still he stalked her, biding his time.
She turned a corner, out of his view but he did not quicken his pace.  He was not
worried.  After all, he had prepared long and hard for what he intended to do.  He
studied ancient manuscripts in occult libraries, apprenticed himself to the best sorcerers
he could find, and worked for the most advanced scientists and doctors of our times.
He had carefully researched, studied and screened every possible candidate for this
event, but the irony is that he had just stumbled across Her in a club just two short
weeks ago.  But he was sure she was the one.  She was right.  She was the ideal.
She was a tart, to be sure, but she was a healthy one.  She smoked only every once in a
while, aerobicized regularly and ate healthy.  She had no steady boy friend, no family
and she was fun.  She worked as a executive secretary so she made a decent salary
  She looked great in clothes, which she had plenty of, and looked great out of clothes,
too.
The down side of the whole operation was that she would be left dazed and confused and
most likely end up in a mental ward suffering from what the doctors would surly call a
reality problem.  But he could ease that situation when and if it arose by being t
he one who committed her.
At last she came to a stop in front of her building and as she searched her purse for the
keys he silently came up behind her and quitely began to mouth the incantation.  She
turned to look but by then it was too late.  The spell was beginning to work.  Sh
e just stood there against her will, waiting for it to begin or stop or whatever.  Any
passerby would have thought that they were a couple in love as they stared deeply into
each other's eyes.
The pure white thaumaturgic energy was building in his soul and she sensed it the way an
animal knows when a snake is about to strike.  But there was nothing she could do about
it.
To say she would be surprised by the end result was an understatement.
He reached into his pocket and threw the ancient dust over her as he finished the spell. 
Two bright blue-white bolts of pure energy shot out of his eyes into hers and then it was
over.  The silence of violence began to recede as the sounds of the city flo
wed back into the void.
She felt no different.  He felt no different.  Didn't it work?  They stared at each other
for a brief instant before he panicked and fled, running away down the sidewalk.
"How could it have failed?"  he asked himself.  "After all the preparation, all the work,
all the effort?"  He continued running back they way he had come.  He did not notice all
the looks he was getting.  He didn't notice the cop who reached out and grabb
ed him.
"Whoa, whoa there,"  officer Mankowitz said in an Irish accent.  "What seems to be the
problem, Miss?"
He didn't know what to say.  He couldn't tell him that he had just tried to magically
borrow a beautiful female and turn her into his sex slave, but it didn't work.  He
couldn't tell him that he was running from his intended victim, who would surely be sum
moning the police even as he stood there with Officer Mankowitz.
The officer held him a bit too tightly, he thought.  "Is there something wrong, Miss?"
"Miss?"  he asked a bit confused?
"Ms.?"  asked the officer as he rolled his eyes.  He hated this whole women's thing.
"Ms.?"  he repeated.
The officer led him to a bus stop bench and sat him down.  "Now take a minute to collect
yourself, ma'am, and then tell me what's wrong."
He sat and noticed for the first time that he was wearing a tight skirt, dark silky
stockings and black high heels.  His eyes opened wide with the discovery.  He looked at
himself and saw the body of his victim.  He felt the magnificent full breasts and th
e alluring tiny waist.  "Oh no!"  he exclaimed, "Something's gone very wrong here.  It
didn't work."  He jumped up and turned around trying to see himself all over.
The policeman stared at her like she was a nut case.  "Now lady, take it easy.  I'll call
an ambulance.  You'll be O.K."
"I am O.K."  He replied angerly.  "I'm just not who you think I am...that is to say
that...  oh never mind."  He shook the officers hands off her and headed down the street,
walking with that sensuous little walk of hers despite himself.  That little smile
 of hers playing across her face as every head turned to check her out as she passed.
"Hey, Baby!!"  Some guy shouted out to him while thrusting his hips in and out in a lewd
manner.
"Hey!  Shut your fat face.  O.K.?"  He shouted back accompanied by an infamous hand
gesture.  He began to run, which only elicited more cat calls and whistles. He arrived at
his apartment building without anything more happening except a few wolf whistles
and dinner proposals from passing cars and one attempted grope.  He reached down to where
his coat pocket should have been, but wasn't.  "My coat...my keys."  He flopped down onto
his building's steps in a very un-ladylike manner and whined aloud in a clea
r feminine voice, "Now what am I supposed to do?"
Despair began creeping over him like a cloud of swarming locust approaching a corn field.
Like the shadow of the dirigible coming in for a landing.  Like a man trapped in a
woman's body against his will.
"How could things have gone so wrong?"  he moaned.  "What did I say or do that screwed
this whole thing up?  Why does this stuff always happen to me?"
A man in a suit walked up the steps, sat down beside her and put his hand on her exposed
thigh.  He sat very still.  The man smiled, gave her leg a squeeze.
The man found himself at the bottom of the steps with a bloody nose before he even saw
the punch coming.
"Is that creep bothering you, Miss?"  asked a 280 pound, 6' 2"  wall of flab, wearing a
polyester jump-suit (with matching white, patent leather belt and shoes).
He stood up, stared the anomaly in the eyes, and then, surprisingly, burst into tears and
ran away down the street.
She began to scream but the little greasy man ran away before her full strength could
give her voice the body it needed to be really piercing.  When something finally came out
it seemed rather odd to her.  It seemed rather husky for her.  It seemed like it
 was somebody else's scream.  Missing was the lovely high-pitched, high-volumn horror
movie scream.  Instead, it was more like a ...  a ...  more like a fish monger's wail.
She put her hands to her throat and mouth and was surprised to find a wiry, bristly mass
of hair there.  "My hands must be hallucinating,"  she thought to herself.  She felt
further, only to find that the mass of hair was in the shape of a full beard and m
oustache, close and uneven to be sure.  "Oh, my,"  she thought.  She felt futher still
and discovered that in place of her long black silky hair was very short, greasy tufts,
and a bald spot and she fainted dead away.
She didn't have time to notice the dirty baggy pants, the worn hi-top Keds or the
thread-bare, stained, green plaid Sports-Coat she was wearing.  She just quietly and
quickly passed out.  Her brain simply overloaded and then decided to shut down for a whil
e.  Time to figure this all out later.
Officer Mankowitz was walking his beat when he noticed the greasy little man crumpled on
the ground.  He poked him with his night stick.  "No bums on my beat, Pal.  Move on."
The man stirred, moaned, sat up, grabbed his face and passed out again.  Officer
Mankowitz dragged him to a sitting position against the steps of a building.  Slapping
the man's face, like they do in `B' movies, he said, "C'mon.  C'mon.  Wake up man.  Pull
 yourself together!"
He called for the ambulance after the man came to again, grabbed his face and passed out
once more.  "What do you expect when you drink for a living,"  was all he could say as
the ambulance pulled away.  "It's a shame."  He shook his head and continued his
 beat.


Part 2

He tromped back to where he had last seen his intended victim.  The scene of the crime. 
"This time I'll do it right!  This time I'll show her who's wearing the pants!"
When he got there she was nowhere to be found.  He knocked on the door and pushed the
button next to her name, but no one answered.  He stood there in a huff, ready to kick in
the door.
"Oh Shirly, did you forget your keys again?"  squealed a hugh girl of 25 or so.  She
waddled up the steps with a familiar `Zipping' that stockings, squeezed too tightly
together, make, and took her keys out of her bright orange and white poka-dot bag.  "I
swear, if we wern't such good friends...,"  she trailed off as she opened the door.
He stood there, not quite sure who this large woman with the stringy auburn hair sticking
out in all directions from under a plastic red hat was addressing.
"Well, come on, little Miss Forgetful,"  she said in a sing-sony voice as she poked him
in the chest with her finger.
He stepped into the lobby.  She continued up a flight of stairs to a door marked `2-G',
took out a credit card and ran it quickly down the crack between the door and frame.  The
door swung open.  "Don't leave home without it,"  she giggled a very petite gi
ggle.  The large woman gave him a quick hug and a kiss, turned and waddled away, making
that `zipping' sound again and saying, "Don't thank me.  Thank you...for letting me help
you."  And in a very good Paul Harvey imitation she added, "Have a good day!"
She came to, once again, in the ambulance.  A man in a white suit was bent over her.  She
tried to push him away but found that her arms were fastened to the gurney by the belts
holding her in.
She panicked and thrashed about.  The man in the white suit told her to calm down and
then gave her a shot which made her feel that all was right in the universe.
She was not happy, and she wasn't unhappy either.  She was just O.K.  The ride to the
hospital was just O.K. too.  She thought about the beard and hair for a brief second and
decided that it was O.K. too.  "Everything is beautiful,"  she said to the man in
 the white suit.
"Yeah, pal.  Beautiful,"  was his reply.
She giggled and tried to scratch her nose, which she couldn't reach, which made her
giggle more.  The man in the white suit ignored her and went back to reading his Archie
comic book.  She saw that and burst out laughing.  "Everything wasn't so much beauti
ful as silly,"  she thought. Once in the hospital, she figured that this is where she
should be.  After all, if she had a beard it was either here or the circus, and if she
didn't have the beard then it was either here or the nut house.  Either way, it was
 the place to be.  And all things considered, everything was still beautiful.
The emergency room doctor was quite attractive she thought.  He had a tan, chiseled look
to his powerful body.  Dark hair pulled back into a pony-tail or power tail as they were
being called now, and an ear ring in his right ear.  He looked like he played
a lot of tennis and basketball with a close knit bunch of college pals, followed with
beers at somebody's house, whose wife whipped up real healthy snacks for them as they sat
oozing comradely and watching the ball-game.
"What's this scum-bucket's problem?"  he asked the nurse in Brooklyn-ese.
"Don't know, keeps passing out,"  she replied perfunctorily.
His G.Q. face swam into her view as he shone a flashlight into her eyes.
"Hi there,"  she purred in her most sexy voice.
He ran to the phone in the tiny apartment, decorated in clothing strewn here, there and
everywhere and punctuated by Pier One furniture.  As he listened to the dial tone he
wondered who to call?  What could he say to whom to get him out of this?
A knock on the door followed by, "Am I interrupting here?"  He turned to see a guy
wearing a leather bomber jacket, sunglasses, tailored wool pants with pleats, a silk
shirt and a cocky smile on his face, leaning in the door way.  He stepped into the room,
 closing the door behind him and sweeping her into his powerful arms in one graceful move.
"Both bachelorette parties canceled tonight, baby, so I'm all yours."  He stepped back
and began a series of hip-gyrations, as he slid his coat off in time to a different
drummer.  "And I'm dancing for you alone tonight...Baby."
"What?"  he asked.  It was all his brain could come up with at the moment.  "What."
"Darryl's going to give you his special show tonight, honey."  He gyrated lewdly then
`Ponyed' across the room to imaginary music, kicking his loafers into the air for
punctuation.  Half kissing, half singing, Darryl croaked "I'm you're looooove machine, b
aby, and I'm gonna love you alllll night looong..."
Darryl danced the circumference of the room switching from the Pony to the Mashed Potato
to several other 60's and 70's dances before he noticed that he was alone.  He danced
into the bedroom, the bathroom, then slid back out into the living room in his be
st Saturday Night Fever/John Travolta impersonation before he realized that she had
walked out on him.  He stopped dancing.  "Bitch,"  he said under his breath, then began
to dance his way over to the refrigerator for some beer and chips...
The Doctor had proceeded with the examination.  So far he had ruled out every emergency
room treatable problem.
The effects of the drug the ambulance attendant had given her had almost dissipated
completely and she was thinking hard about what ailment she could fake to keep the
handsome doctor's attention.
"Do you think you can stand?"  he asked, interrupting her reverie.
She hopped off the table and stood as alluringly as possible before him.  "Something else
I can do for you, maybe...Doctor?"  she purred as she subtly wriggled her hips.
A little bit of something sparked behind his eyes.  "Ummm,"  he said salisciously.  A
beat then he cleared his throat, "Put this on and we'll send you up for X-rays
or...something."  He smiled, lingering in the doorway before leaving her alone with her
tho
ughts.
"He's really dreamy,"  she thought as she distractedly unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it
on the examination table.  "I could fall in love with him..."  she opinioned out loud,
hopping up and down while she slid her loafers off.  "I wonder if he's married
or single?"  She asked herself as she wriggled out of her greasy baggy pants.
All at once she realized that her breasts were missing and she now had what she suspected
to be, but was afraid to confirm, a penis hiding in her underwear.
In a nanosecond, it all came flooding back to her.  The greasy little man staring at her
and running away, the beard, the hair...
The Doctor was sipping coffee from his favorite lavender mug which read, `An emergency on
your part does not necessarily constitute an emergency on my part', when he heard the
scream followed by a crash.
He rushed over to number 3, the examination area it had come from, to discover her laying
on the floor, unconscious again.
"Yeah, that's what Mankowitz said she kept doing,"  said the ambulance driver, taking
another bite of his banana as he looked over the Doctor's shoulder.
He hailed a cab muttering something about "Fucking weirdos".  Upon arriving at the
intended destination and discovering he had no money in her purse the cab driver
generously offered to accept sex in exchange for the fare.
He only looked a tad guilty when he closed the door to the cab and disappeared into the
sidewalk hustle and bustle, leaving the cab driver dazed and with a slowly swelling
black-eye.
"Dees Amerikan vemen chour ave spunk,"  he mused admiringly.  "But I lub deem.  I chourly
do lub deem."
He hurried towards the library with her sexy walk and that killer little smile playing
against his wishes across her face.  "Got to be an answer,"  he thought, "Got to be."
A wolf whistle and two "Huba-Huba's"  were hurled at her when he passed a crowd of
college guys.  She turned and flipped them off without breaking her sexy walk or losing
that little smile.
He pulled a pile of old books from the Sorcery and Arcane Knowledge section of the
library before finding a secluded table to begin frantically searching for `The Answer'.
Waking up again with that hunk-o-Doctor in her face was reassuring.  After all, he was
still incredibly cute.  But then, yet again, the whole reason she was here came back to
her and she began to scream.
Young Doctor Tom tried to calm her down.  Slowly what she was screaming sunk into his
consciousness.  "I'm not crazy!  I swear I'm not a man!  You've got to believe me!  Some
greasy little creep stole my body...I think!!  You've got to help me!!!  My God w
hat is happening to me?!"
"Too bad,"  Dr. Tom thought.  "This little fella looked like he would have been a fun
roll in the hay type."
"Four CC's of valium.  Stat."
"No, no, no!  You've got to believe me.  You've got to believe me.  You see, I don't have
a beard!  I'm a really cute girl.  Men love me.  They whistle and buy me stuff and
everything,"  she said.
"Take it easy, Pal.  I'm gonna help you,"  Dr. Tom replied.
"Just get me outta here.  Just get me outta here.  Gotta think."
He injected her with the Valium and she immediately calmed down.


Part 3     

A couple of days later, Dr. Tom came to visit her.  "So how's my little buddy doing?"
"Fine."  She said.
"You still feel that you're in the wrong body?"  he asked.
She had been through this with a dozen hospital shrinks and M.D.s and knew the
uselessness of telling the truth.  "No,"  she flatly said.
"Good.  Good,"  he said a little awkwardly.  He smiled.
She smiled back a weak, mocking little smile on a face that was unaccustomed to it.
"So, you're going home today."
She took a deep breath and a long sigh, "Yeah".
"Fine, fine,"  he nodded stiffly.  A beat.  "Then, I guess I won't see you again?"
Her mental eyes opened wide with joy.  "He's interested in me,"  she smiled, "He's
interested!"  and then remembered that she was a guy he was interested in, and frowned.
"Oh,"  he said dejectedly.  Then he brightened and said, "I bet you look terrific in a
dress."
"Yeah, I did."
Each of them stared into a different corner of the room for a while before Dr. Tom said,
"You were really something in the E.R."
She looked at him wishing she was a woman again and that he wore his earring on the other
side.  "I guess so.  But I'm fine now.  I'm a man.  I like being a man.  You know, the
beer and ball-game stuff.  The macho guy stuff we all do...that sort of thing."
 
"Hey!  How `bout those Mets?"  Dr. Tom ventured, not knowing if it was Baseball,
Basketball or Football season.
""Yeah, the Mets,"  She replied, also not knowing what she was talking about.  "Four and
Oh in their field."
"Yeah, Four and Oh.  How about that?"  he replied.
"How about that,"  she echoed.
Dr. Tom stepped closer and in a quiet, conspiratorily manner said, "Listen, I'd love to
see you again, and if wearing dresses is what you're into, that's O.K. with me."
She stared at him thinking, "How sweet.  Too bad he's a fruit-loop."  And with resigned
remorse she added to her thoughts, "Why are they always fruit-loops?"
"Hey, thanks.  But I'm really a guy and I'm O.K. with that.  So if I could just get out
of here..."  she trailed off as his face registared the rejection.
"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me,"  he said.  He leaned over and
kissed her and then left.
She sat staring at the space he recently occupied frozen in time and space by the magical
kiss, but deeply stunned by the irony of it all.
In the few days of intense research he had finally found the problem with the
incantation.  It was a small error and one that most people would have made, he guessed,
and it was easily undone.  Now all he had to do was find her to undo it.
He had no idea where to start looking.  She had not returned to his or her apartments
yet, so waiting for her to come to him seemed to be out of the question.  He finally
decided to advertise.
            "Wanted.  Male body that does not belong to you.              Please phone
your home.  You know the number."
Waiting was the hardest part.  He didn't know what to do with himself.  If he went out he
would surely be accosted by any number of men yelling, whistling or putting their grimey
paws on his leg.
He never knew it was like this!  Sure, women were the bait, the meat on the hook, the
thing to be conquered, but now that he was one he hated the feeling of being the bait,
the meat on the hook, of being sought after to be conquered.  The only good thing t
o come out of it was the free stuff.  The meals at great restaurants.  The being
chauffered all over the place.  The constant attention;  Are you cold?  Are you too warm?
Are you hungry?  Would you like to go to a movie?  To L.A.?  To San Francisco?  To N
ew Mexico?  To Vegas?  To Europe?
On second blush, he could get accustomed to being this sexy girl. The phone rang, he
lunged at it, "Hello?!"
"Hi.  This is Ted.  Remember?"
Ted?  Ted?  Who the hell was Ted?  "What do you want?"
"Dinner?"  he asked.
"Dinner?"
"A little dancing?  A little Champagne?  A little magic and...who knows what,"  he played
into the phone.
"I don't cook.  I don't dance.  And I sure as hell don't cook and dance for people I
don't know!"
"Hey Shirley.  Wake up.  It's me, Teddy.  You're boyfriend?  Remember?"
"Boyfriend?!  Where have you been if you're my boyfriend?  I don't have a boyfriend.  I
checked and double checked."  He shouted into the phone!
"I've been in Japan!  Remember me?!  I moved to Japan to work last year.  You said you'd
never forget me?"
"I did?"
"Yes, you did.  Hey, if you don't want to go out with me just say so, O.K.?."
"O.K.  I don't want to go out with you,"  and he hung up.  Ted?  Who the hell was Ted? 
She didn't have any boyfriends.
The phone rung again.  "Hello?"
"Hi.  Um, you don't know me but, ah, I got your number from your mother, and ah, she said
I should call you if I came to town,"  a very nervous voice was saying, "and, um, I'm
here in town and wanted to know if you, er, um, if I could, ah, that is, do you
want to get something to eat and maybe go to a club or something?"  He finished all at
once.
"Who are you?"  He asked somewhat incrediously.
"Fred...Fred Tidywater from Toledo, Ohio."
"Tidywater...Gee, um, I don't.  I mean, I've got to wash my hair and everything tonight. 
And, uh, my Aunt is sick?  And, um..."
He checked her stomach to see if he was hungry while making excuses.  Man, was he hungry!
He was starved.  And this nebbish was offering FOOD!  "Why not.  I can handle this
turkey, after all her mother set us up."  he thought.
"O.K.  Tidywater.  Pick me up at eight...Sure.  Yeah, see you at eight, O.K., but I gotta
be home early so none of that other stuff, O.K.?"
"Sure,"  He said somewhat gleefully confused, "Pick you up at eight."
"Bye."
"Wait!..."  Tidywater almost shouted.
"What!"  he barked.
"Where do you live?"
He ran into the bathroom and began to get ready for his meal, er..date.  He realized the
he was now more popular than he'd ever been before.
Also, that he smelled.  He hadn't bathed since this whole thing went wrong.  He jumped
into the shower, bathed, toweled off, and looked at her face in the steamy mirror.  "God,
she is beautiful,"  he said out loud.
He threw on some clothes, anything he could find actually: A pair of jeans and a shirt. 
Checked the mirror, decided that `Ted or Fred' deserved something a bit more provocative
than this if the food was going to be any good so he put on a red suede skirt,
 green and yellow plaid blouse, a blue belt, some purple stalkings and a worn pair of
multi-colored tennis shoes.  Thought about it a second and decided that the shoes just
didn't go with the outfit, so scrounged around until he found some heels (they were
 black).
He looked at himself in the mirror, couldn't quite figure out what wasn't right, but
generally liked what he saw and decided that she needed some kind of make-up.  After all
didn't they all wear make-up?
He found it all in the bathroom, and began to put it on.
At eight, straight up, Fred rang the bell.  "Hold your horses, I'm not ready yet!"  he
shouted into the intercom system.  "God!  Being a woman takes a lot longer that being a
man,"  he groused.
He struggled with the make-up and finally gave up.
Fred was a bit shocked when his date exited the building and jumped into his cab.  She
kinda of had a clown-like aura to her (make-up and all), but he decided it was better not
to say anything at this particular juncture.
"You look...uh...nice tonight..."  he said as the cab pulled out and disappeared into the
evening traffic...