Erotic Transformation Flow
Page [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 ]
The house was so feminine in its way. Colette had lived there without men for nearly three years. All the decorations were feminine, where there were plants in pots, and flowers in almost every room. After so long in the trenches, though, I found such a feminine decor so enchanting. There was a scent of cologne and talcum powder throughout the house. I so loved to be there. Such pleasant conversation with Colette, and sometimes Marie. The music, art and stories. I forgot the war when I was there. Perhaps she was lonely too. There was that last night, or so it proved to be. After Colette had played the piano, and I had sang. She had joked before about the way my voice had not really broke. I still sang a little too high for a man. My voice was a joke all over the camp, but I did not care about that then, for I so enjoyed singing with Colette. Then we sat in the salon, drinking coffee. Colette then said to me, in the conversation that last evening: `You know, Antoine, and don't take this the wrong way, it might have been better for you if you were a woman. You don't seem to be the kind of person that can live easily in the world as men have to nowadays.' I had never thought about this before. But before I could ask her why she said it, Marie entered saying that Madamoiselle had a surprise visitor: Colonel MacGregor, my Commanding Officer. We both knew that there would be trouble if I was seen at her home, for a common soldier may not associate with a lady of breeding, so Colette spirited me away. She had Marie take me down the back stairs to the kitchen, and I slipped out of the kitchen door without the Colonel seeing me, and then round the back of the house, avoiding the officer's driver. I walked home, wondering about what she had said. Of course I had never thought of myself as anything other than a man. And often felt ashamed when I was accused of not acting in a manly way: I was clearly no soldier, and was often afraid that I would show cowardice in the face of the enemy one day, and be court-martialled and shot for it. But it was far from my mind to be anything other than a man. As a child I had usually got on better with girls than boys. But I had never thought much about lady-friends. Nor did I think much of the whores that often hung about garrisons. Some other soldiers had noticed my lack of interest, and hinted that I may be some kind of nancy-boy. This I certainly thought not. But the idea Colette had given me about being a woman. That both filled me with horror, and got my imagination. Of course it was impossible, even if I wanted it, I told myself. But I could not stop myself thinking about it all the way back to camp. I was seeing myself in long skirts, with long hair, and sitting primly in a drawing room. I would be sewing, or playing the piano. Of course this idea was awful to me. I was, after all, a man. And I was certainly no pansy. But there was such an air of peace around this idea. I found myself thinking about it even as I lay awake in my tent that night.I tried to dismiss it.
Page [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 ]
[ Back to Transgender Fiction ]
Copyright © Transformation 2006
0.343739032745
