Chapter 15

"I'm not going to call myself Henrietta," I complained loudly. "Henrietta is the name you give a chicken."

"Fine, you come up with the back story then." Trish sighed, snuggling against me with a smile.

No, we hadn't. Not really. We still slept together, and we kissed, and there had been a little touching, but when we started getting right down to it, I had frozen. Panic, nerves, I don't know, but Trish had understood, and been there to hold me through the shakes, and the apologies that constantly spilled forth whenever it happened.

"Wish it was just as easy as going in and saying that my parents were lazy hippies who didn't bother getting a birth certificate." I suggested.

"Yeah, try about fifty years ago. You know, back when your taste in music was current," Trish teased, taking the opportunity to give me a full on hug.

It had been only about a week since the momentous event had happened. Even now I imagined I was beginning to see the slight beginnings of a bump on Trish's belly, and the thought of the time pressure that we were all under began to loom. The absence of the disembodied houseguests seemed doubly dramatic, taking away the unreality of the situation, and leaving us with nothing but the hurdles of modern life. I hadn't even left the house, in the vain hope that somehow the situation would reverse itself.

"Come on, it's better than the 'tragic fire that destroyed my records'," Julie chimed in, spinning a pencil in her hand. She had taken it upon herself to take notes on our plans and so far had crossed out or scribbled over at least ten different ideas.

"Ok, so what about ... OOOH, I got it! A Cult!" Trish shouted the idea with a huge smile creasing her face.

"A cult?" I asked, not quite certain where she was going with this.

"Yeah, in Utah, they've got these ... well, mom always called em cults. Anyway there are these fundie groups that totally keep women like they were slaves. They have no ID, or anything, except what their husbands allow. Oh, and they get married like when they're sixteen..."

"I know exactly zero about Utah." I pointed out.

"We just say you ESCAPED from one, and have no ID or anything, and since you don't..."

"This is getting too complicated. I vote Henry here gets over her Virgin Mary routine and we see if it changes her back." Julie joked.

"You volunteering? I thought you were only gay for me!" Trish pouted.

"I guess I like brunettes with big boobs." Julie punctuated the statement by sticking her tongue out at Trish.

"I ... I'm not quite ready..." I sighed. The thought was there, and I admit that I still desired both of the women. All three of the women in the house, to be totally honest, but Courtney had been more and more aloof as the days wore on.

"Don't tell me turning into a girl turned you straight ... wait, in your case wouldn't that be gay?" Trish continued to joke. She had seemed to find the experience of my transformation to be humorous. She and Julie had still crawled into bed with me to ward off the chill, and the affection in the relationship was still there, but the sheer delight at the situation seemed to cause her no end of merriment.

"Why don't we start with just a fake ID or something?" I conceded. That had been the discussion at hand, and returning to it seemed prudent.

"I know a guy at school. Which comes back to the point of you needing a name, Henry." Julie argued. "So, you don't want to be named after a chicken. You want Eimear?"

"No, that's ... She's not even here anymore, so that makes no sense." I tried to think of all the women's names I knew that appealed. Not one stood out to me and screamed "this is your name."

"It's odd enough that people wouldn't think it was a fake." Trish suggested, "A common enough name on an ID and everybody assumes it's a fake. A weird name and people think hey, weird name, and don't think about the ID."

"Ok, ok, Eimear," I nodded. It was weird, simple, and I had kinda gotten used to Lesley calling me that. "I'm keeping my last name though."

"I thought we were going to Hyphenate." Trish pouted, sticking her lower lip out at me and lowering her gaze in a classic "Puppy-dog" expression.

"According to my pregnancy test, get in line, sister." Julie tapped her pencil down on the pad, before spinning it upwards and catching it expertly.

"Hey, can we make me a legal person first before you two start arguing about who gets to be a bride? I know for a fact neither one of you is going to be wearing white."

The twin calls of "you bitch" led to a general laugh, which echoed in the space of the living room.

"Seriously though, He ... Eimear?" Julie checked herself as she spoke my name. When I nodded in assent, she continued, "Well, we have got to get you out of those sweats. You can't just look like every day is wash day."

I didn't feel that was completely fair, since I had changed clothes at least twice. True, both times it was into sweats, and I hadn't been sleeping nude anymore, but what did they expect me to do.

It turns out that when you are flat broke but need clothes fast; you shop at the thrift store. All three girls in the house coerced me into it, Courtney joining in for the pleasure of the ride, and for the fact that she loved shopping.

"You get to feel all the fabrics," She explained. "It's something I can't afford to do very often."

Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to drive. The last thing we needed was to try to explain to a Highway Patrol officer why I was differently hair colored, ten years older and male on my driver's license. It was then that I discovered that I really hated seatbelts for the first time in my life. It squeezed, then bunched up into my armpit very uncomfortably. After five minutes of adjustment, I still couldn't find a way to make it work, and the arguments of my traveling companions finally convinced me to just grit my teeth and bear it.

Once we finally arrived, I felt like a prop in a grown up version of Barbie. So many different clothes were flung at me that I quickly lost track of what I was trying on and what color it was. All I did manage to keep straight was what was comfortable and what wasn't. Occasionally one of the items that I clearly recalled labeling as "Uncomfortable" ended up in the keep pile, but before I would have time to object I would be ushered off to changing cubicle with yet another armload of fabric.

I kept expecting to be looked at with curiosity or outright hostility, but the anticipated reactions never came. Perhaps it was because of the company I was with, but I was so busy with buttons, zippers and hooks that I scarcely felt any eyes on me at all. It was only when it was time to check out that I felt any nerves.

The bill took the last of my money. I knew I needed clothes, but even at bargain prices I had to borrow an additional five bucks from Trish to cover the cost. I felt nervous then, realizing that I had spent the last money that I could expect to see coming in for quite some time. I was now totally dependent on the women in my house, and the feeling was quite shocking to my sensibilities.

"I've GOT it!" Courtney announced as we drove home, with the purchases securely tucked away in the trunk of my car. "Why are you guys planning to do all the work when there's stuff in place?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, fighting with the seatbelt once again. Now it was pushing me to the left, hard.

"Women's shelters. You don't have to be in one, but they have all the stuff you need in place. We take you in and claim you're trying to get out of a bad relationship..." Courtney smiled confidently. "Don't know why you guys didn't think of that first. They are used to women who have to run in the middle of the night with nothing."

"And you don't have to go in, because you're already staying with friends," Trish seized upon the idea, slapping the steering wheel with one hand. "We just need to stick to a story where ... Oh god, it could be Henry who left!"

The idea shocked me, but in a way it made total sense. If I was willing to smear myself in that way, it wasn't like I would be showing up to defend myself. Henry, in a relationship with three girls. He up and leaves one night, leaving a mountain of debt and four totally dependent women who now rely on each other.

"I ... well, if we're going to..." The idea seemed awful to me but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. "I ... think we better make sure that I'm not going to change back before we do that."

"So ... how do you propose we do that?" Julie asked, her voice dropping into a sultry tone. "I thought you didn't want to."

"I..." I sighed, contemplating the inevitable. I wanted to, I truly did. I loved Trish and Julie. I just was still scared about the idea of really, truly having sex as a woman. "You do get why I'm nervous about it."

"Baby, If I didn't get it, I wouldn't have waited." Trish reassured me.

"Can you three ... do I really have to hear this?" Courtney asked, sinking heavily into her seat. "It's not like I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jealous?" Julie elbowed her partner in the back seat.

"Yeah, a bit. To be frankly honest." Courtney retorted. "I mean, I had one image of what you three ... well, I know what you three do, and it's..." She trailed off, turning her gaze towards the window.

There was an awkward silence in the car which continued for a few minutes.

"Move your hand." Courtney's voice from the back seat was sudden. "Not like that, I meant..."

"No you didn't." Julie replied, and I glanced back over my shoulder to see Julie stroking her hand up and down the length of Courtney's jean-clad leg.

"Ok, I'm not going to lie, that feels good. But it would get too ... this would just get weird." Courtney objected, but made no move to either push Julie's hand away or move her leg.

"Oh oh ... gotta know, what are they doing?" Trish glanced at me, and noticed my curious expression.

"Just ... ok, Julie, you have exactly an hour to stop doing that." Courtney sighed.

There was an unspoken tension that continued as we pulled into the driveway of our house. Julie and Courtney continued to stand close to each other, occasionally sharing a touch, or a stroke of the hand. It was sweet really, not threatening to me, since Julie had my trust. I knew she wasn't going to hurt Courtney, no matter what the end response was.

"You know what you need? Fashion show!" Trish cheered as we set the last of the bags down in the bedroom.

"You just saw me in these!" I complained. I had changed back into the comfort of sweats and t-shirt, and had no intention of going through the whole process again.

"Just a little? C'mon baby..." Trish puckered her lips in a quick blown kiss to me. "For me?"

"Oh, I totally want to see that dress again." Julie joined in, grabbing Courtney's hand before she could depart. "And YOU, are going to see this."

Courtney seemed almost about to object, when she seemed to think better of it, and instead gave a brief smile and assenting nod. She took a seat on my bed, and leaned backwards with her hands behind her.

"Ok, what do you want to see first?" I sighed, realizing I had been outvoted by three to one.

Of course the first thing they picked was the sun dress. I hadn't even wanted to try it on in the store, but Julie had insisted it was just my color. I ended up changing into it in the bathroom, but I didn't take off the sports bra or my jockey shorts. I just wasn't ready yet to slip into the underwear Trish had bought me despite my protests. The pattern of the dress was floral, which I admit contrasted with the black of the bra, but I had no intention of doing a pirouette to show it off.

Which is of course the very first direction they gave me to do when I returned to the room.

Back and forth I strode to the bathroom, the clothing selections becoming more and more bold, until finally I was standing in front of my onlookers in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt which exposed my midriff. No bra of course, since Trish had appropriated it with the flimsy excuse of it needing to be washed.

"You are going to have to shave your legs if you want to pull that off," Julie remarked as I stood there feeling very exposed indeed.

"Aww, she looks cute." Trish argued, standing up to walk around me with the eye of someone inspecting livestock.

"I swear, next you girls are going to be holding up numbers." I grumbled, to be immediately rewarded by a slap on the ass from Trish.

"And you have got to lose the jockey shorts too. I can see em poking out the leg." Trish chuckled, sliding her fingers to tug at the spot where the jockey shorts emerged from under the shorts.

"I feel like a side of meat..." I again argued, appealing to the other two women sitting on the bed.

"Models don't talk." Courtney silenced me with a wave of her hand. "Models look bored."

"I'm not a..." I began, before Julie chimed in.

"I just wonder how you look without it all on..." Julie's voice was oozing pure sex as she said it.

"Ok, Show's over." I held up both of my hands quickly, causing my breasts to jiggle slightly under the thin t-shirt. The sensation was pleasurable, admittedly, and I wanted to get some more clothes on before I began to show more physical effects of the attention.

"Uh-uh..." Trish moved up closely behind me, her hands coming around to intertwine around my belly. "Now, we find out if you're going to change back."

The thought sent a chill through my spine as I felt Trish's lips descending onto the juncture of my shoulder and neck from behind.

"I don't know ... I mean, should we..." I glanced at Julie and Courtney, who were still sitting on the bed, but much closer now. Julie's hand was playing up and down the leg of Courtney's jeans as the two of them watched Julie and me.

"Hell yes we should..." Trish's mouth came down with harder pressure, her teeth nipping at my exposed skin in an affectionate nibble. "Right now."

"But Courtney..." I objected, looking at Courtney with a pleading look. Surely she would object, and save me from the ravages of...