It's Hard to be a Man Patrick wearily walked back into his apartment. It was barely a couple of hours past noon, but he could easily say this was already the worst day of his life. He felt his body start to change and he had to concentrate for a moment to stop it. Perhaps the worst thing about his situation was that he had no idea what to do now. The only person he could think was responsible clearly had no knowledge of it. He wasn't that hungry, but he fixed a small lunch for himself anyway. As he ate it, he looked out the window at the street below. Somewhere out there was the person responsible for his strange affliction, but he could do nothing until she contacted him. He had a terrible headache from his hangover, and from having to concentrate every couple of minutes to stop himself changing. He groaned as he saw the package that had arrived that morning. Patrick had an important meeting at work next day and he had planned to spend Sunday getting up to speed. Well, it wasn't going to be fun, but he needed something to take his mind off his hopeless position. He couldn't afford to let his job go to hell, even if the rest of his life was wrecked. Eventually he'd find out who was responsible for his transformations and he'd force them to stop it. This wouldn't be forever. It couldn't be forever. He spent his entire adult life climbing the corporate ladder and he couldn't let his career fail now. Patrick sat down and opened the parcel. Inside were several dozen documents that he needed to be up to date on by the meeting the next day. He found it nearly impossible to concentrate on them. Partly because of the worry gnawing at the back of his mind, and partly due to having to fight down each attempted transformation. Finally, he threw down the document and leaned back in the chair. Why me? he asked himself as he stared at the ceiling. What have I done to deserve this? He felt his body start to shift yet again and this time he let it. His shirt had already lost a couple of buttons from the last time he had transformed. Even so, it grew tight around his chest as his soft breasts inflated. His jeans felt way too tight, and he reached down to release them. The waistband was loose. It was his wide hips that were causing the problem. With a little difficulty, he managed to pull the jeans off. He sat back down wearing just his boxers and shirt. Patrick knew he was stuck with this hateful feminine body if he wanted to be able to concentrate on the documents. He picked up the folder he had been reading and tried to concentrate. It was difficult at first; the strange feeling of his body distracted him. Slowly, however, he was drawn into the document. He had always had a flair for marketing. It was this ability that had got him as far as it had. He headed a marketing team at the Ross-Shimura Corporation and took home a good deal of money. Over the next hour he made his way through all the documents. Already, he was getting ideas on how to organize the campaign. He became so wrapped up in the files, that he only remembered he was in a female body when he reached up to scratch his head. His hand brushed the long hair on his head and he instantly remembered his condition. He got up and went back to the bedroom. He spent many long minutes observing his face in the mirror, observing every small detail. He did, in fact, make a very beautiful woman. Someone who he would definitely try to sleep with if he ever met. That could never happen, of course. Also, he would have to take care that he never lost control again. He shuddered when he remembered the fantasy he had had in the shower. He still couldn't believe he had fantasized about having sex with a man. Despite all that, his gloom was lifting a little. He had got over the initial shock and the knowledge that he could turn himself male at any time helped. Patrick wondered what it would be like to go out in his female form. He'd have to wear more than the boxer shorts he had on now. Amanda's clothes! He had completely forgotten about them in the horror of the morning. During the early days of their relationship, Amanda would often stay over the weekend at his apartment. Patrick disliked her doing that, because it meant he couldn't go out looking for one night stands if he wanted to. He disliked the idea of ever settling down with just one woman. He knew he'd be climbing the walls inside of a week if that ever happened. So he had slowly persuaded Amanda not to stay there at weekends. While she had been staying at his place she would often leave a small stash of her clothes. That way she could go straight to Patrick's apartment from her workplace without bothering to pack a suitcase. The idea of actually wearing her clothes unsettled him a little, but he reassured himself that it was only a little fun. It's not like he was some sort of transvestite, after all, since he was female at that moment. He pulled the clothes out of the drawer and sorted them out on the bed. In all, there were three sets of underwear, a light, cotton dress, a tight leather skirt and a top that was barely more than a bra. Amanda loved night-clubs and he always felt she dressed provocatively for them. It was one of the thing that attracted Patrick to her in the first place. He pushed off his boxers and selected the first bit of her clothes to try on. He picked up one of the panties at random. It was the usual lace and silk type that women wore. Should he really be doing this? He didn't want to encourage his more feminine side after the incident in the shower. Surely it didn't matter that much? Anyway, he could always change back before he got carried away again. This time he'd be ready for it. Carefully, he stepped into the panties and pulled them up his shapely, smooth legs. The cool fabric fitted snugly around his strange new crotch. He looked at the panties in the mirror. They fitted well and looked good on him. He ran his hand over his silk covered bottom. They felt much finer than his boxer shorts. Patrick turned to the bra, but quickly rejected it. He knew what outfit he wanted to try. He picked up the short, black leather skirt. It was almost indecently short. He stepped into it and managed to work it up around his hips. Patrick had trouble doing it up, until he realized that a woman's waistline was higher than a man's. He pulled the skirt up some more and managed to do it up. It fitted him like a second skin and accentuated the curve of his hips. It restricted his movement a little. He knew he'd have to careful how he sat with it on, so that he didn't expose himself to the world. He rejected the bra and went straight for the white top. It also proved difficult to get on. Doing the clasp up at the back wasn't something he was used to. Also the top was designed for someone with a smaller bust than his. He found he had a strange pride in being better endowed than his ex-girlfriend. Finally, he managed it and turned to see what he looked like. He definitely needed a larger top. This one was a bit too small. Amanda was a B cup, that meant he had to be up in the C or D size. He thought that the way his breasts were squeezed into the top made him look like a hooker. He started striking provocative poses and blowing kisses to the mirror. "I'm one sexy broad," he declared out loud. This was the first time he had really listened to his female voice. It sounded as sexy as the rest of him looked. It was only then he realized he was getting turned on by his own image. He walked back into the main room and flicked on the TV. He tried to sit as he normally did, with his legs wide apart. He quickly found his skirt wouldn't let him do that. He finally got comfortable by curling his legs under him. He flipped through the channels until he came to some trashy TV movie. He didn't care about the plot, but he found himself watching a scene with a man and a woman set on a beach. Both were wearing skimpy swimming costumes that left little to the imagination. Patrick had to admit she was very good looking, and the man wasn't bad either. In fact, it looked like he was hung like a horse. As he watched the TV program, Patrick started to daydream. He imagined himself on that beach, looking up at the masculine hunk of a man in front of him. The couple kissed and Patrick felt envious as the woman ran her hands over the man's body. He wondered what it would be like to wrap himself around that muscular body and be impaled on that large manhood. His hands drifted to his breasts almost of their own volition and started to rub his nipples through his top. A warm liquid sensation spread through his crotch. As he rubbed his hard, aching nipples, Patrick's fantasy grew. He imagined that he was the man's girlfriend. He could almost feel the man's strong hands caressing him, and then holding him down as they made rough and passionate love. Patrick was almost at the point of orgasm just from stroking his breasts. He was imagining what it would feel like to be penetrated when he finally realized what he was thinking. "No!" he shouted in a voice thick with fear and lust. He leapt off the couch and concentrated on his male self with all his willpower. He was so close to his climax at this point that it was set off mearly by his cock rubbing against his skirt as it grew. His orgasm was so powerful that he almost keeled over as he pumped his seed into his panties. He collapsed onto the couch until he had got his breath back. Patrick was painfully aware of how easily he had lost control again. If he was going to survive this, he'd have to learn to control himself when female. He got to his feet and went to the bathroom. The female clothes looked absurd on his male frame. He pulled them off as quickly as possible. His panties were sticky with his cum and his female juices. He threw them away in disgust. As he cleaned himself off he felt really disgusted. Why couldn't he control himself as a female? Was it because he wasn't used to the female body and emotions? Or was it some aspect of the curse that had transformed him? Patrick was certain that whichever woman from his past was responsible for this wouldn't wait long before making herself known to him. Once he knew who was responsible, he could start to fight back. All he had to do was keep control of himself and wait. For the rest of the day, Patrick made sure he stayed male. He wouldn't give in, he couldn't give in. The alternative, succumbing to life as a woman, was too hideous to contemplate. His hangover slowly cleared up, but his headache got steadily worse. He went to bed far earlier than he normally did. For the first time in a long while he spent a weekend night alone. Patrick was exhausted from the trauma of the day and he soon fell fast asleep. He woke up feeling refreshed and relaxed when his alarm clock sounded the next morning. Normally, he felt tense every Monday morning. It was only when he reached over to switch the alarm clock off that he felt his breasts shift on his chest. In an instant he was wide awake. All at once, the memory of the horrific events of the previous day flooded back. He couldn't even go to sleep without his body rebelling and changing! He lay on his back in the bed. He could call in sick, but he knew that wasn't an option. If he didn't get out of the apartment and do something soon, he'd go insane. Besides, he had an important meeting that day. There was no way he was going to let it defeat him. He wouldn't give his tormentor that satisfaction. Patrick got up. He was all too aware of his wide hips swivelling and his breasts bouncing as he walked. He spent several minutes in his female form. As long as he was careful about what he thought about, he could stop himself getting lost in a feminine fantasy, like he had twice before. He shifted back to his male self and quickly got himself ready for work. The almost-familiar pressure of the change filled him every few minutes, but he was able to fight it down with ease. His problems started when he had to concentrate on doing something other than just staying male. As he was driving into the city down the crowded streets he realized he wasn't going to be able to spend enough time stopping himself from changing and control the car. Unable to give his full attention to his body, Patrick felt his legs starting to change. The pedals of the car seemed to grow slightly further away from him. He felt the strange pulling sensation in his crotch as he turned female. He couldn't let himself change here. What if someone saw him? By now he could feel his shirt starting to grow tight. Patrick concentrated on keeping his head and chest male. Yes! It was working! By concentrating on a smaller part of his body he could keep that male and drive at the same time. His hands were more slender than his normal male ones and each finger was topped with a long fingernail. That didn't matter, no-one could see that. As long as he could keep his head and chest male, no-one would suspect anything. Even so, Patrick was exhausted by the time he arrived at work. His earlier optimism was dissipating. Was he going to have to apply this effort every moment of his life, just to stay male? His shoe fell off his foot as he got out of his car. He hastily turned himself totally male and put his shoe back on. Most of his staff had already made it into the office ahead of him that morning. Patrick headed straight into his personal office with a strong coffee. He was going to need to keep his wits about him today. He looked out through the glass partition, that separated his office from the main working area, at his team getting organized. They would throw together their first impressions for the new campaign and then they would present them to Patrick's boss in the afternoon. Patrick hated working that way, but that was the way his boss liked to do things. To get the honest first opinions, he would say. Hank was trying it on with Susan again. Patrick had to smile at his perseverance. Hank was Patrick's best friend in the office and the two shared the same insatiable taste for women. Hank was a tall, dark haired man. He had a hard muscular physique from long hours in the gym. Susan was a smaller, but fiery, black woman. Susan was giving Hank the usual ice-cold brush off. Patrick had told him on a dozen occasions that he was never going to get anywhere with her. Hank had just replied that Patrick was jealous and had his own designs on her. The two other people who worked directly under Patrick were concentrating on the product they were going to have to design a campaign for. Albert was in his fifties and while he was good at his job, Patrick found him utterly dull. Ian was in his early twenties and showed excellent potential. Patrick thought he didn't put himself forward enough, though, and he tended to be too quiet. Patrick took a back seat during the brainstorming session in the morning. Usually, he led from the front, but he was too preoccupied with keeping his problem under tight control. The product they were working on was a palmtop computer. The brief was to give it a wider appeal than just the business user. By lunch they had produced a few initial ideas. Susan went off with Albert and Ian for lunch, pointedly ignoring a lewd offer made by Hank. "You're never going to get her that way, you know." Patrick told him. "I'm wearing her down," Hank replied confidently. "Soon she'll be begging me for it." "Yeah, right." "You were quiet today. Is anything up?" "No, no. Just a late night." Patrick said. "Oh, I see? Amanda, is it?" Patrick paused to fight down another transforming surge. "No, I dumped her the other day. She was getting annoying." "Do you want to get a beer?" Hank asked. "Not really, I still haven't recovered from yesterday." That much was true. "I'll go for a walk and clear my head before we meet Jennings later." Hank shrugged, "Okay." Patrick watched him go. In many ways, Hank was his closest friend, but Patrick could never share his problem with him. Hank just wouldn't be able to cope with it. Patrick wasn't too sure he could cope with it either. He left the office building and put on his sunglasses. His headache was getting worse again. He promised himself that he'd go home as soon as the meeting was over. He hadn't gone out for some fresh air. There wasn't much of that in the middle of the city, anyway. There was, however, one small little shop he had passed a thousand times, but had never dreamed of entering. It was a long shot, but it could provide him with all the answers he needed. It was a shop dealing with New Age and occult books and assorted bits and pieces. Patrick looked at the peeling sign, which read 'The Third Eye'. He had half a mind to just give up on the shop there and then. How could this place provide anything useful? Despite his misgivings, he entered the shop. It might seem to be gibberish for the gullible, but the fact of the matter was that something had been done to him. It was either a technology far in advance of anything he had ever heard of, or magic. Patrick looked at the books on the shelf, feeling really out of place in his suit and tie. "Can I help you?" said a woman behind him. Patrick turned to see a ginger haired woman in her forties dressed in a hippie style outfit. "Ummm...no, I'm just looking." "I can sense the duality in you," she told him. "I'm psychic, you see." she explained. "Uh huh," said Patrick sceptically. "You are looking for something specific, aren't you?" "I'm looking for something on physical transformations. Do you have anything like that?" "Let's see," she bustled past him and plucked three books, seemingly at random, from the shelves. "This should be a good start," she told him. "If you need anything specific, you come back and let me know, okay?" "Yeah, sure." He bought the books and got out of the shop. He didn't want to be seen carrying books on magic by his colleagues, especially Hank, so he dropped them in his car before heading back to the office. He took the few seconds on the elevator to try and relax. His headache was getting almost unbearable from the concentration necessary to stay male. His team was waiting for him and together they went to a meeting room to present their ideas. Patrick wasn't helped by the fact that his boss, Mr Jennings, was several minutes late. His headache was worsening and he knew he couldn't hold on much longer. As he waited, he relaxed control over the lower half of his body. Almost immediately, his shoes seemed to grow in size as his feet became daintier. His trousers grew tight as his hips widened. When Jennings finally arrived, he stood to shake the man's hand. He sat down again and was relived to see that no-one seemed to have noticed his more curvier form. He started outlining his team's ideas. Normally, he liked to lead from the front and do most of the talking. Patrick knew that this time he'd have to hold back and let the rest of his team take the strain. Patrick had to concentrate on what he was saying and he was aware that he was losing control over his body as he did so. "Susan's idea for the SG-4300 is to aim it at the teenage market. There is already a large market for cheaper, simpler gadgets and we feel the upper end of this market could be exploited." Without warning his voice cracked, and he said 'exploited' in a far higher tone than he wanted to. He cleared his throat and apologized, blaming a cough he had. He finished summarizing the plans and let each member of his team explain their plans in detail. They were rather surprized by his move, as Patrick usually monopolized meetings and they were luckily to get a word in. They soon recovered and began explaining their ideas. Patrick was in real pain now, and could barely keep his distress hidden. Somehow, he managed to keep a calm look on his face until each team member had put forward their ideas. Jennings nodded approvingly, "I think Susan's and Ian's ideas have the most potential and I'd like you to develop those for the time being. I..." Jennings stopped and frowned at Patrick. What's he looking at? thought Patrick. Then he felt his growing breasts push against his shirt and he realized what was happening. He quickly used all his willpower to reduce his breasts back down to their normal male size. Jennings blinked and rubbed his eyes. Then he seemed to dismiss what he had seen and carry on with his speech. Patrick glanced around at his team, but they had all been looking at Jennings, except for Ian, and hadn't seen anything. Ian didn't look alarmed, so Patrick knew that no-one but his boss had seen anything odd. The meeting was over. With his last bit of mental energy he was able to fully restore his male shape. Even so, as he walked with his boss to the elevator, he could feel his control slipping. His feet were feeling looser in his shoes and his body was taking on a curvier shape. "Are you feeling alright?" Jennings asked. "Just a little cough, I think," Patrick explained, "I'll be fine." Jennings could see that, whatever it was, it was more than just a cold. He was privately pleased by Patrick's commitment to his job, despite being obviously ill. As soon as Jennings was gone, Patrick almost ran to the washroom and locked himself in a cubicle. He remembered to undo some of the buttons on his shirt as he transformed. He sat on the toilet in his female form and gripped his throbbing head. For several long minutes he sat there as his headache started to very slowly recede. "Patrick? Are you okay?" It was Hank! Patrick checked his watch. He had been in the toilet for over fifteen minutes! He tried to shift back to his male self, so he could speak, but his headache was still so strong that he couldn't concentrate enough. He pitched his voice low and said "Yeah, I'll be fine." He tried to make his voice sound as masculine as possible, but he still sounded like a girl trying a funny voice. "Okay," Hank said, sounding uncertain. Patrick ignored his headache and concentrated on getting himself back in his male form. He was rewarded as his male form reappeared. He did up his shirt and staggered out of the washroom. "Man!" Hank remarked, "you look bad!" "I feel it." Patrick replied. "I'm going home for the day. Make sure you get started on the designs." "Don't worry about that, you get home and lay off the booze for a while." Patrick managed to get back to his car before he lost control over his form again. He had no hope of maintaining any part of his male body now. He just hoped that he wouldn't be pulled over by the cops while driving as a woman. His headache was so bad, that he could barely concentrate enough to drive. He drove slowly, and carefully, home. The severe headache helped to distract him from his curvy, feminine body. Patrick made it home without incident and soon he was back in the safety of his apartment. He walked wearily into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He looked at the blonde bombshell in the mirror wearing an ill-fitting man's suit. He couldn't even go one whole day without losing control. His headache would take hours to go down. Patrick knew he'd have to spend the rest of the day as a woman if wanted to have any hope of surviving the next day. Even then, his chances were slim. Patrick despaired. What was he going to do now? He couldn't survive like this!