Erotic Transformation Flow

My story began in the worst of nightmares, but ended in my dreams coming true. It was in the trenches, in 1917, that I knew that I could not go on. As a man I was expected to fight, to win victory, or suffer death trying. I could never do any of that, and I did succeed in escaping.

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We had a lovely conversation all through, as he was seated next to me. He deliberately avoided talking about the war, which I was glad of, but talked mostly about his life at the training academy, where he had just finished. I did not tell him any more than the details Colette had furnished me with about Martinique. I did a lot of listening to his pleasant conversation. Then came the moment Colette had warned me about. Madame Monan and Madame Lachaille exchanged nods, and all the ladies rose to leave. I rose too, giving Emile a smile as I did. As I gathered my long, flowing skirts to go, I noticed him watching me, an appreciative look on his face. As was the custom at that point, the ladies went up to use the lavatory, and to attend to their toilet. I took my turn at the mirror, touching up the rouge on my face, titivating with my hair, and joining in the conversation that was already developing among the young women. Then we went down to the drawing room,where we went on with our conversation and gossip. We had left the men to their port and cigars, and their conversation about business, politics and the war.During this time Colette whispered to me to ask if I was all right. I told her I was. At first I had felt a little annoyed about being expected to leave before such `important' conversation went on. Then again, I soon realised that I did not really want to smoke, drink and talk about war. In fact this lively talk about dresses and young men was far more interesting to me. I joined the other young girls about the sofa in the drawing room.`You temptress, Antoinette,' Marguerite Lazaire called me as I sat down. `You have Emile Lachaille all over you. I am sure he is really smitten by you.' I played the role by saying that Emile was a very handsome young man, and that I enjoyed his conversation. I was speaking as if I were a real young girl, who would be really enamoured of such a young man. I was beginning to notice that I was actually feeling exactly like that. Francoise, Marguerite's elder sister, whispered in my ear that Emile had long been expected to marry Michelle. Was I going to take him from her? `No,' I said `I do not think so.' Shortly after the men came in to join us. Michelle succeeded in collaring Emile, and I needed not speak to him again that night. I joined in a conversation about music with Colette and Doctor Martin. Colette later played the piano, and the evening ended pleasantly. But it was the first of several evenings. I did not see Emile again for a while, for he had to rejoin his regiment a few days later, but all those people, especially those young girls, I saw a lot of those few weeks.

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