It's Hard to be a Man

	Patrick yawned as he knocked on the door of Abigail's shop. The
painkillers he had taken earlier had controlled his headache well
enough, but they had also made him so drowsy he could barely stay awake,
let alone keep his male form.

	Abigail quickly appeared and let him in. "Why are you walking
around as a woman?" she asked.

	"I've had a terrible day," Patrick replied wearily. "Have you
made any progress?"

	"Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be. All we need is a pretext to
get close enough to your ex-girlfriend so I can scan her."

	"Yeah, but what can we use?"

	"Simple. We use this." Abigail pulled a tatty pile of paper from
a plastic bag.

	"What's that? An ancient book from the time of these Irish
witches Amanda is supposed to be a reincarnation of?"

	"No!" Abigail said crossly, "It's my novel."

	"Your...novel." Patrick looked at Abigail closely. She seemed to
be totally serious. How was this going to help them?

	"Here," she said offering it to Patrick, "have a look."

	Patrick carefully took the bundle and opened it to a page at
random.

		'Lord Buckinghamshire's manly physique set Florence's
	bosom heaving. She considered herself thrice damned for being
	forcibly betrothed to the loathsome Count Boothby when this
	stunningly handsome man was as yet unattached.'

	Patrick frowned and looked at Abigail. "Amanda isn't the sort of
girl who'd be interested in slushy romance books."

	Abigail sighed, "Don't be so dense. Amanda works as an editor at
Rothermann Press, doesn't she?"

	Patrick nodded. He had known she worked at a publishing house,
but he had neither known nor really cared what her actual job was.

	"So," Abigail continued, "I've booked an appointment for us to
see her tomorrow and attempt to sell my book to her company. I had to
pull a few strings to get the appointment. Usually, unsold authoresses
like me just have to submit their books and hope someone gets round to
reading it."

	Patrick looked dubiously at the manuscript. "Do you really think
they'll buy this?"

	"Well, I wouldn't mind, but I think it's highly unlikely. They
don't print this sort of book, unfortunately. I might get luckily, but
the important thing is meeting Amanda and for that I'll need your help."

	Patrick remembered the last time he had seen Amanda and
shuddered. "You don't need me to find her, just go to her office and
they'll tell you where she is."

	"That's not the problem," she replied. "It's going to take me
several minutes to do a thorough psychic scan and during that time I
can't concentrate on anything else. Like talking, for instance."

	"So you want me to pretend to sell the book while you just sit
there? You've forgotten that she's seen me. I frightened her half to
death when I transformed in front of her. If she sees me again she'll
have a screaming fit!"

	"Relax, I have an idea that'll work." Abigail replied.

	"What's that then?"

	"You'll see. We'll see her tomorrow afternoon, so you'll have to
take some time off from your job. You're going as my agent, so you'll
need to read my book."

	"That thing?" moaned Patrick. "Do I have to?"

	"Yes. You do."

	"Can't you get someone else to go with you?" Patrick asked. He
hated the idea of actually walking around in public as a woman.

	"I could, but then I'd have to tell them about you. I'm not
about to start lying to my friends, even for you."

	Impersonating an agent would only take an hour or so and it was
better than someone else finding out about his curse. "Alright, I'll do
it."

	Patrick followed Abigail upstairs and settled down on her couch
to read her book. He quickly found himself growing very sleepy, mostly
due to Abigail's novel rather than the painkillers. It was so boring! He
thought that he might appreciate it more since he was in female form and
women preferred romance fiction. He tried to flick through it to get an
idea of the plot, but the book was stuffed with various lords and ladies
with rather stupid long winded names.

	His eyelids got heavier and heavier. Patrick soon lost the battle
and was fast asleep.

	He was snoring softly as Abigail returned. "Oh, thank you very
much," she commented, slightly annoyed. She considered waking him up,
but he had looked so exhausted. She left Patrick sleeping on the couch
only to return moments later with a blanket. She carefully took her book
from where it had fallen in his lap and spread the blanket over him.

	"There's no sense in disturbing you," Abigail said out loud,
"Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

		*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

	Patrick yawned and stretched. As he slowly woke up he realized he
wasn't in his own bed. He sat up from the couch and looked blearily
around him. This was Abigail's apartment. He hadn't recognized it in
daylight.

	He stood up and stretched. It felt good not to have pain ripping
through his head. It was almost worth staying in his female body to
avoid that. He felt a little stiff from sleeping on the couch, but
otherwise he felt okay.

	He checked his watch. It was only fifteen minutes till he was
due at work. That wouldn't be a problem as his office was only just
around the corner. He didn't have a change of clothes, but that was a
minor problem.

	A small kitchen led off the side of the room and Patrick went
looking for something to eat. Abigail didn't have any bacon, or any kind
of meat. Typical, Patrick thought, she has to be a vegetarian. He
finally found some breakfast cereals.

	He was just finishing off a bowl of Cheerios when Abigail got
up. She appeared in the kitchen wearing a dressing gown. "Morning," she
said, "I hope you don't mind me not waking you up last night."

	"No problem. I needed the rest," Patrick replied. "The last few
days have been really stressful."

	"I can imagine. To be honest, I'm surprised to see you're still
female."

	Patrick shrugged and brushed back a strand of his long hair.
"Every second I stay female means one more second I can stay male later
on. Talking of which, I better get off to work."

	"Not so fast!" Abigail said. "I need you today, remember?"

	"I have to get to work. I'm behind as it is."

	"I'm doing this for your benefit," Abigail reminded him.
"Anyway, you won't be able to fully concentrate on your job until you
stop transforming."

	Patrick nodded, "Alright." She was right, though it would cause
him problems from his bosses as he really was needed at this critical
time. He pulled his mobile phone from his jacket pocket and dialed his
office. As he waited for someone to answer he concentrated on his throat
until his familiar Adam's Apple had returned. He told the receptionist
that he was going to be off ill again that day.

	As he hung up he saw Abigail watching him with an amused
expression. "What?" he asked.

	"Sorry, it just sounds odd hearing a male voice coming from an
obviously female body."

	"Yeah, very funny," he replied, unamused.

	"Never mind, once today is over, I'm certain I'll know how to
cure you."

	"Okay, but I still don't like the idea of confronting Amanda as
a woman."

	"Listen, you'll be okay. I've got your clothes in here."

	"Clothes?" asked Patrick.

	"Yeah, you can't wear your suit, can you? I borrowed some stuff
from a friend of mind. She's about your size, but not quite as well
endowed as you."

	Abigail led him into her bedroom. She produced a bag and
unwrapped it. It was a woman's suit, dark navy in color with gold
colored buttons.

	Patrick picked it up to look at it closer. "This has a skirt!"

	Abigail winced, she had known this would be a problem. "It's all
she had. Unfortunately she doesn't have any pants that would go with
that. It's just for an hour so, Patrick. Anyway, there's no way anyone
will know who you really are."

	"Even so," Patrick protested, "it's still a skirt."

	Abigail rolled her eyes, "So what? Pretend you're going to a
Halloween party or something. Trust me."

	Patrick relented. It would be over soon and then Abigail would
have enough information to get rid of the curse. For now he'd have to
endure this indignity.

	"Alright, but only for as long as absolutely necessary."

	"Great," she pulled out another bag. "Here's the underwear." She
threw the bag to him.

	"Underwear?" He opened the bag and pulled out a small mass of
slippery silk lingerie. "No way! I'm not wearing these!"

	"What have you got on now? Boxers? Do you have any idea of how
that'll look under your skirt? Everyone will be staring at your ass."
Though they'll probably be doing that anyway, she thought. "And you need
the bra to keep your chest under control."

	Patrick looked back down at the underwear. It would only be for
an hour or two. No-one would be able to tell he wasn't really a woman.
Anyway, some of this stuff looked quite nice.

	Nice on a sexy girl, perhaps, but this was the first time he had
ever considered what he'd look like in them.

	"Okay, let's get this over with." Patrick said reluctantly to
Abigail.

	"Good. Do you want a hand?"

	"No," Patrick replied quickly. "I'll be fine."

	"You're sure?" Abigail almost said 'we're all girls here,' but
managed to stop herself just in time.

	"I'm sure. I'll call if I need you."

	Abigail nodded and left the room.

	Patrick emptied the lingerie on the bed. Where did he start? He
stripped off his male clothes that he had been wearing from the day
before. Right, what first? He picked out the panties from the pile and
chose a plain pink silk pair. He got them on the wrong way round on his
first attempt and cursed as he pulled them off.

	He put them on the right way round and pulled them up around his
hips. They fit snugly, very snugly in fact. He ran a finger over the
small, silk-covered mound and shivered at the erotic thrill that ran
through him. He pulled his hand away as he recognized the dangerous path
he was heading down. Now was not the time to lose it and start
masturbating again. He briefly considered giving himself back his male
genitals, but he decided they'd be too cramped inside the panties. He
could always bring them back if he started losing control later.

	Next came the bra. To his shame he knew he needed one. Abigail
hadn't been entirely sure what size he was, so she had got a range. He
picked one at random and tried to work out how to get it on. Over the
years he had got quite skilled in removing a bra in record time, but he
had never had to put one back on.

	He put his arms through the shoulder straps and then tried to
reach behind himself to do it up. His arms quickly started to ache as he
struggled to do the clasp up. Finally, he managed to do it, but was
faced with another problem. Neither of his breasts were in the cups of
the bra. He tried to pull the bra down over his breasts, but that
clearly wasn't going to work.

	He decided it was time to admit defeat. "Abigail, could you help
me?"

	"Okay!" she replied and opened the door. She looked at Patrick
and had to use all her control simply to stop smiling. He looked so cute
dressed only in a pair of panties and with his arms crossed in front of
his breasts. His delicate face was flushed and it wasn't difficult to
work out what the problem was. "Having problems with the bra?"

	"Yeah, I need a second elbow in each arm to do it up."

	"No problem, turn around and I'll do it for you." Patrick turned
away from her, but didn't take his arms from his breasts. Abigail
sighed, "If you don't unfold your arms I can't get this bra into
position."

	Reluctantly, Patrick did as he was told. Abigail straightened
the shoulder straps and got Patrick to hold the cups over his breasts as
she did the bra up. "Okay, turn around and we'll see how that fits."
Patrick turned around and she checked the bra's fit.

	It wasn't a perfect fit as it was slightly too small, but it was
good enough. When she looked up she was surprised to see his face was
even redder than before. "It seems to fit okay," she said. "How do they
feel?"

	Patrick's breasts felt like they were contained and cushioned
inside the smooth fabric. It was almost like they were being held in two
soft hands. "It feels really weird, but I'm comfortable."

	"Good, try the pantyhose next."

	She handed him the thin mesh of the tights. Patrick sat down on
the bed and started to pull it up his legs.

	"No, not like that." Abigail said. "They're not a pair of socks.
Bunch them up and then ease it up the leg."

	Patrick thought back to when he had watched his various
girlfriends dressing in the mornings. He tried to copy their motions and
the thin fabric glided up his smooth leg. He carefully put on the
pantyhose and then stood. They felt very odd on his legs. A small breeze
ran over him and his legs felt even more sensitive than before. It was if
the pantyhose heightened the feeling.

	Abigail nodded, "Easy one now; the blouse."

	Patrick walked over to her, but stopped when he heard the
familiar swishing sound of nylon clad leg against another. He was making
that noise! This was just too weird.

	He took the blouse from Abigail and pulled it on. It was good to
have a garment that was actually designed to accommodate his large bosom.
He had some trouble with the buttons as they were back to front compared
to his shirts. He smoothed it down over his body. It seemed to fit
fairly well.

	Abigail was nodding, "Not bad. Okay, time for the skirt."

	Patrick swallowed nervously. A skirt was a very feminine
garment, and he felt more uncomfortable about it than any of the other
clothes. Abigail held it out for him to step into. He succumbed to the
inevitable and put one nylon clad leg into the skirt followed by the
other one. Abigail eased it up his legs and did the clasp up. Patrick
felt her zip up the skirt and then stand back. He felt a bit dizzy and
detached from the situation. Part of him still couldn't believe he was
doing this.

	"Just the jacket and the shoes and you're halfway there," she
said.

	He took the jacket and slipped it on. It was cut quite
differently from his male jackets and there was no way anyone could
confuse it with one.

	Abigail looked at him critically, "Not bad at all. Here, come
have a look." She led him over to the mirror and Patrick looked at his
image.

	His first thought was that Abigail was right. He didn't look bad
at all. In fact all he needed was to do his hair and get some make-up
and he could be some corporate businesswoman. He wondered absentmindedly
what Hank would make of this outfit. Hank preferred his women in tight
and revealing clothes, but Patrick knew his body would look good even in
a potato sack.

	Damn it! He was daydreaming about Hank again! He turned quickly
away from the mirror and shivered. He tried to ignore the arousal of his
body and hoped Abigail couldn't see that his nipples were erect.

	"Are you okay?" Abigail asked.

	"Yeah...no problem. This is just a bit too weird, you know?"

	"I understand. I've got some shoes that will probably fit you.
They only have two-inch heels, and they don't quite go with the suit,
but it's all I have."

	"Good! If they were any taller I'd probably snap both my
ankles." He turned and looked at his image in the mirror again. "This
isn't going to work. Amanda will recognize me in an instant."

	"Well, you wait till they're finished with you," Abigail said
with a smile.

	"They?" Patrick asked dubiously.

	"You're booked into a salon this morning, by the time you leave
even your own mother wouldn't recognize you."

	"She wouldn't know me now!" He felt angry. She could have least
have discussed this with him.

	"Sorry, but Amanda saw a long-haired, blonde woman. You'd be
surprised how different you'll look after a haircut."

	"We'll see, but if I'm not convinced I look different enough, we
call this off, okay?"

	"Alright," Abigail agreed. She picked up a pair of shoes from
the floor. "Try these on, and, if they fit, get used to walking in them.
While you're doing that I'll get dressed."

	Patrick took the shoes into the main room. They had thick heels
and they didn't really match the suit. They seemed far too small for
him, but he was surprised to find they were only slightly tight on his
feet.

	He sat on a chair and leaned over to do his shoes up. He was
conscious of his breasts pushing into his legs as he did so. At least
the bra was keeping them under control. However, the strange jiggling
feeling on his chest had been replaced by a soft, containing feeling. It
felt quite nice, actually.

	Patrick finished doing the shoes up and climbed to his feet. He
felt a little uneasy in his new shoes. He wasn't used to having even the
two-inch heel that was on the shoes. His toes were cramped, and the way
his feet were tilted in the shoes just increased his discomfort.

	He took slow, small steps at first. His feet wobbled a bit, but
he managed to keep control. After a few minutes he felt confident enough
to experiment a bit. He found that his stride was shorter because of the
skirt. It felt very strange to feel it brushing against his pantyhose.
Patrick tried to remember how women walked in high heel shoes. Usually
he would concentrate on their rolling hips rather than their feet, but
he was sure they placed each step in exactly in front of the other. Like
walking on a straight line.

	He tried that method and he could feel the change in his walk
immediately. Having to move the leg around and in front of the other one
introduced a pronounced wiggle to his walk. He could feel his hips
gyrating. Patrick wished he had a mirror to see if he had got it right.

	"Very good for a beginner," said Abigail behind him. "A little
exaggerated, but still a good effort."

	Patrick jumped when he realized he was being watched. He turned
around, embarrassed. "I was just seeing if I...could walk that way."

	"You needn't worry. You're a natural." She checked her watch.
"Are you ready? If we don't go now we'll be late for the salon."

	"Okay," he replied. Patrick tried to keep the reluctance out of
his voice, but he didn't entirely succeed. He really didn't want to do
this. For the first time he'd be going out as a woman. If Abigail was
successful that day, though, this would also be the last time.

	He followed her down the narrow stairs and out into the alley.
It was still fairly early in the morning and there was no-one else
there. Even so, Patrick felt horribly exposed. The morning breeze rubbed
against his legs and went up his skirt.

	Abigail looked at him and obviously noticed his discomfort. "Are
you okay. You don't look that happy."

	"Of course I'm not happy! I'm standing outside where people can
see me in a skirt!"

	Abigail could have pointed out that no-one would see anything
odd about him in a skirt with that body, but decided that that wasn't
what Patrick wanted to hear right now. She led him down the alley to her
own car. It was nowhere near as expensive as his car that was still
parked outside her shop.

	It took a few tries to start the car and it didn't sound too
healthy when Abigail finally managed it. Patrick put on the seat belt
and tried to get comfortable. He hated the way the belt pressed between
his breasts.

	The journey to the salon took them about fifteen minutes. During
that time Patrick tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Several
times he saw men checking him out while waiting at traffic lights. The
thought that men were eyeing him up made him feel slightly excited and
made his skin crawl at the same time.

	Abigail was lucky to get a parking space only a block away from
the salon, but even that seemed too far for Patrick. He stood on the
sidewalk, feeling very self-conscious as Abigail locked her car up. Then
they set off for the salon. He was shaking with fear as they passed
other people. While he felt many eyes looking at him, no-one seemed to
find him out of place or ridiculous looking. At that moment he was
physically a woman. So there was no rational basis for his fear of his
true identity coming out, but he couldn't calm himself.

	After what seemed like endless hours they reached the salon.
Patrick was glad to get off the street and inside. He looked around as
Abigail booked them in. He cringed at the feminine styles of the salon.
This certainly wasn't a unisex hairdressers. This was one place his
masculine ego really didn't want to be.

	He was led over to one of the chairs as the hairdresser and
Abigail started discussing styles. As far as Patrick was concerned, they
might as well have been talking in a foreign language. The hairdresser
was a little disconcerted that it was Abigail who was doing all the
talking and not Patrick. He kept checking with Patrick, who simply
agreed with everything Abigail said.

	Abigail had settled on a radically different hairstyle that was
only shoulder length. Patrick understood the need to have something very
different, but even so he found himself sad that his long hair was being
so drastically cut.

	When the hairdresser was satisfied he turned the chair around
and tilted it back so he could wash and color it. Patrick closed his
eyes and relaxed as the hairdresser worked. Soon, he found himself under
a hairdryer.

	Abigail was already discussing with another woman what make-up
would work best with Patrick's face. They quickly agreed on a look and
the girl started applying make-up to Patrick's face.

	The girl worked quickly and professionally. Patrick found it
difficult to believe he was doing this. Sure, he had a good reason, but
even so, he was a man. He was sitting in a beauty salon getting pampered
like a woman and now he was getting his face made up. Just think of your
goal, he kept telling himself. He had to help Abigail or she couldn't
help him.

	"Well, ma'am." the girl said. It took Patrick several seconds to
realize she was talking to him. "What do you think?"

	Patrick sat up and looked at himself in the mirror. His mouth
dropped open in utter surprise. He had barely gotten used to his new
self, but now he saw a completely new stranger in the mirror.

	She had short reddish hair in curls and the natural beauty of
her face was heightened by the delicate use of make-up. He belatedly
noticed the look of shock on his face and snapped his mouth shut. God,
he was beautiful! A flawless goddess. He felt a delicious heat running
through his groin. If only Hank were here to see him...