Vegas and Beyond

  VEGAS!

  Something was wrong. No, this was Las Vegas and I could see the Strip a couple blocks away. The cars driving by were modern so it wasn’t as if I had shifted into the past or future. It was me. I felt strange.

  My shirt was too tight (I am not pumped and wear close-fitting shirts) as were my jeans around my hips. But my belt and shoes were too loose.

  I felt my pants pockets and found my drivers license and the cash, then turned and kept turning! I had a weight on my chest that threw me off balance like when I carried my kids in a belly-pack.

  I felt them and… breasts! Crap! I had breasts and from the sensations, they were real! I reached down and felt.. nothing. My penis was gone along with my balls and I began to panic! The only thing that saved me was that I was still drunk. But that meant that my thinking was fuzzy. I needed a mirror.. fast!

  Walking was a nightmare. Aside from having half a bottle of cheap wine inside me, my body was different. Every step threw my wider hips out which caused me to almost fall down. I’d recover and repeat the act with the next step. My center of gravity was lower and my thigh-bones were changed to fit into wider hips and I needed to relearn how to walk. And my breasts bounced with every step, also throwing me off. It was like that time my pregnant wife told me to fill a backpack with water bottles, strap it backwards so the backpack was over my belly and walk. Exactly like that, but after a block, my back began to ache.

  Ok, the jiggling felt nice. By the time I reached the street, I could walk without falling down and entered the first casino I could find. “Where’s the restroom?” I asked someone, then shivered as I heard my new voice.

  “Over there, behind that wall, miss.” The guy said, not even giving me a second stare.

  Miss? I had been trying to avoid that word but if someone else saw it… I almost entered the man’s but as I was reaching for the door, some guy exited and stared at me, then said, “Wrong door, lady!” as he pointed to my left.

  Ok, I took a deep breath, straining my shirt and feeling the buttons separate, and entered the ladies room.

  It was nice, much nicer than the men’s. There was a large mirror over a wall-table where some women were resting their purses and redoing their make-up. The toilets all had stalls and obviously, no urinals. A couple women gave me a look that said ‘I’m better than you’ then continued on as if I belonged there.

  Time to take inventory. The Air Force has a lot of great schools on leadership and dealing with problems. Don’t panic is among the best. If people are shooting at you and the base is being bombed, panic caused people to die so learn to stay calm and work out a plan!

  One: I had something that felt like breasts under my shirt.

  Two: I was missing something very important between my legs.

  Three: two men called me ‘miss’ and ‘lady’.

  Four: entering a woman’s bathroom did not result in screams and arrest.

  I entered a stall, closed the door and stood there for more than a minute as I slowed my breathing. Then I unfastened my belt and pants and slid my jeans to the floor. Then, I hesitated, took another deep breath, felt funny how my shirt tightened every time I did that, and lowered my too bulky underpants.

  Nope! He was gone!

  I collapsed on the toilet and almost cried. I liked my penis! All the guy things like sex and writing in the snow and peeing standing up.. gone.

  It took more minutes before I could explore. Yup! That was a real vagina with a real clit that I could feel but not see from that angle. I couldn’t see much in that stall but I’ve shoved my fingers into enough to know what one was like. I repressed the urge to masturbate. But I repressed the urge only because I was afraid I’d not stop.

  I undid my shirt and saw my breasts from an unusual angle. I had seen enough from ahead and occasionally below but never from above.

  They were more than a handful, maybe a c? Firm and pointed and spread with a large valley between. I played a moment, pushing them together with my biceps and hands realizing that there was no sag and my nipples were hard and erect and ached when I touched them. Sag? I was in my 40’s and had a rack of a girl in her twenties? Of course, they were new and so gravity and jogging hadn’t had a chance to stretch the skin and meat!

  I forced myself to stop and looked over the rest of the anatomy.

  Pubes were very lush! Not trimmed, not sparse, but a forest of hair that merged in with the hair on my legs. It took me a moment to realize that when the thing shifted me to Vegas and changed me into a girl, it just did the change. My hairy legs and crotch remained hairy. And aside from one time in the 70’s, I had never seen an unshaved woman.

  I pulled my pants up, tightened the belt to my narrower waist and checked my shoes that were too large. Well, I wasn’t ever a large man and my pants were the same size so I hadn’t lost much height though my shoes were now too large. I pulled them off and stuffed the toes with toilet paper to get them to fit better then laced them tight. Note: bending over like this makes my breasts get in the way. I had to move my chest around my legs so my thighs were between the breasts as I tied my shoes.

  I stood, buttoned my shirt and taking another deep breath, left the stall for the sink.

  It was evening so most of the women there were in dresses and make-up so looked down on my jeans and shirt. I glanced into the mirror and … Ok, I looked like a dyke! A middle-ages dyke so I was the same age as before but I still looked like myself. In the movies, Goodbye Charlie and Switch, the guy who becomes a girl becomes a young hot chick. That wasn’t me!

  My hair wasn’t as short as I hadn’t been able to afford a decent haircut. But it was short, barely covering my ears, same length as yesterday. My arms were still hairy but not as coarse. And my face still looked the same, almost. More like a softer version of me, like a female twin. I wasn’t beautiful, but neither was I ugly… I was simply a softer version of myself. I washed my hands and killed time until I was alone then undid my shirt and stared at my chest. Nice! I wasn’t changed into a sexpot, just a female version of a guy in his 40’s. Same general size and shape, same hair.. as if I were my twin sister.

  So, the UFO thing shifted space and me. It brought me to Vegas because my WILL drove me here. BUT, I had been thinking that women were more intuitive and would do better here so it made me a girl. That means that I can change back! When I go home, I think about being myself and I should change back. This was beginning to change from a nightmare to a fun time.

  I rolled my sleeves down to hide my hairy arms even thought the hair was fine and pale, then undid my shirt and pulled it up to tie it between and under my breasts. Better. I raked my hair back and forth with my fingers until I had something that looked almost feminine and practiced smiling. I wasn’t a sexpot but I’d do me. Tall, almost curvy, decent chest. I would even say .. pretty.

  I took another deep breath, noting how my shirt moved and made an adjustment and then left the ladies room.