If it was meant to go round a neck, then it was not pliable enough for him to open it. He held the two orbs at each end. To start with, he thought he was imagining things, as the whole torc started warming up. However, just as his grandfather had discovered, after a few moments, it suddenly seemed to soften and became pliable.
It opened with no difficulty, so he wrapped it around his neck and released the orbs.
It closed slightly, just enough so it would not come off. It stayed warm. Unbeknown to him, it was now activated and aligning with his DNA.
He was about to try to take it off again, when he saw a large trunk at the end. It was a leather trunk, and seemed very old.
It was covered in dust, indicating that it hadn’t been opened or even moved for a long time.
The catches were stiff, but opened after a little sweat. Inside were several items, all covered in very thin paper.
Carefully, he investigated by taking out the first item and carefully peeking under the paper.
They were all items of women’s clothing. Most were evening dresses, carefully folded. As he investigated further, he found that the top six dresses were all held in an insert-tray that sat on the top part of the trunk, with other items possible kept below.
He lifted out the tray and found two compartments below. In one, were lady’s underwear, foundation garments and stockings. In the other, were ancient cosmetics: bottles, tubs and tubes. Most were dried up and useless, but then he saw a red, leather box, like a hat box. In it he discovered a long, blonde wig made out of human hair.
It was at this point he began to feel strange; not ill, or unwell, just very odd. He felt faintly dizzy, almost as if he was on the deck of a moving ship. He sat down on an old chair. It helped, a bit. Then the itches started; nothing serious, just a sort of tickly tingle. It started at the top of his head and seemed to travel down his head to his neck, across his shoulders and down his arms and torso. It stayed in his groin and abdomen for quite a while, almost becoming uncomfortable. Just as he began to panic, it moved on down his legs to his feet and then gradually disappeared.
He sat there for a moment, rather breathless and confused.
Was he allergic to the dust?
That was it; he was having an allergy attack. Connie Rogers, a friend at school, got terrible asthma whenever dust or grass pollen floated around, so it must be something like that.
He sat for a moment, feeling slightly better. The tingles had gone, the dizziness had passed. Idly he felt slight discomfort from his chest, as if his shirt was scratching, somehow. Without looking, he moved his right hand up to alleviate the feeling and then he stopped dead.
Without moving anything else, he looked down. He felt almost that his heart had stopped, for suddenly, there, on his chest was a perfectly formed pair of female breasts, pushing out his tee shirt like a couple of enthusiastic puppies. The nipples protruded, bringing the thin material to two points.
“Wha…?” he said, aloud. Then he clamped one hand over his mouth.
How had his voice changed?
Even to his ears, he sounded like a girl.
Then hardly daring to hope, he thrust his hand down the front of his jeans.
“Yes!” the girl shrieked. “Oh, my God; I’m a girl; I’m a girl; I’m a girl! Yes!”
In one unbelievable moment, she realised that all her dreams had come to fruition.
How?
Her hand immediately went to the torc at her neck. It was still warm, the same temperature as was she. It was a magic torc! No, it couldn’t be.
“There’s no such thing as magic; is there?” she asked the empty attic. Unsurprisingly, the attic didn’t reply. Placing her hands to the two orbs once more, she held them. The torc became pliable and she was able to remove it.
As soon as she felt the tingles start, she replaced the torc, so she remaining as a female.
“Okay,” she announced to the attic. “If it’s on, then I’m a girl, but if I take it off, I’m a boy again.”
How it worked was of no consequence to her. The single fact that it did was all she cared about.
She immediately stripped off her hated boy’s clothing and for an hour, she became a fashionable debutante wearing her grandmother’s clothes from the chest. Actually, they might even have been from the generation before that. She didn’t care, for she was in heaven for the first time in her life.
She had the body she had always wanted, and was able to be free for the first time ever.
Free?
She was hiding in an attic and knew that before long she would have to become the boy again.
That was not free, not by any stretch of the imagination.
No, this had to be planned and dealt with very carefully. There were too many people to upset and too much at stake. Done wrongly, she could be separated from the torc and doomed to a life of misery.
Reluctantly, she took off the clothes, and packed them all away as neatly as she could. She closed the trunk, and pushed it back to where she had found it.
She then left the attic, still wearing the torc.
Her first port of call was her aunt and uncle’s bedroom. For there she knew there was a three-door wardrobe, the doors of which were made of mirrors.
She stood, naked, in front of the mirror, marvelling at the miracle that had befallen her.
She then sat on the end of the bed opening her legs. Yes, it was a vagina. As far as she could see, and from the limited distance to which her probing fingers could reach, it was a vagina like so many others. It was sensitive, too, or at least one little button was.
For the first time in her hour and a quarter of existence, the girl who now called herself ‘Keira’ masturbated and experienced a multiple female orgasm.
She realised, without any doubt that her ambition was now to find a man who could fuck her brains out.
She smiled, as that thought was exceedingly dirty and base, and yet, at this precise moment, if a personable young man had walked into the room, she would have opened her legs and invited him in.
Breathless and not a little confused, Keira walked into the bathroom and sat on the bidet. Directing the spout towards her vagina, she played with herself in the water. She told herself she was washing the excess moisture away, but she had too much fun to justify that excuse.
Once cleaner and dry, she tried on some more contemporary clothing of her aunt’s, paying particular attention to the underwear. Then, feeling guilty, she undressed and replaced the clothes as best she could.
She then dressed in her old tee shirt and jeans, posing in the mirror. She was tempted to apply some makeup, but actually she didn’t need to. She looked feminine enough without any, particularly with her hair brushed out and down, instead of back.
Her breasts, although not enormous, were big enough and there was no doubt as to her shape. She had changed beyond all recognition; even her face was a feminine version of Kenneth. This wasn’t necessarily that much of a feat, as Kenneth was not exactly the most macho of young men in the first place. He did, however, have a rather prominent Adams Apple and a square chin. These had now vanished, almost instantly.
The realisation that she could not be like this all the time made her feel really melancholy.
“Just until I finish school!” she said aloud again, once more marvelling at the sound of her voice.
Downstairs, Compo barked, so she went to the window and looked out. A delivery van was on the drive and a young man in a baseball cap was walking to the back of the van.
Feeling brave and slightly excited, Keira walked downstairs and, after shutting Compo in the kitchen, was ready to open the door as soon as the door bell sounded.
“Hi; Mrs Baldwin?” the man asked. He wasn’t English; Polish probably, with an accent like that.
“No, she’s my aunt.”
“She lives here, right?”
Keira wished she was wearing something that exposed some cleavage, so she stretched slightly so her young but ample breasts pushed out the front of her shirt.