Maiden Voyage, Part Four
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When Nikki said that it would be a full time commitment, she wasn't kidding. Every morning at 8:00 she'd awaken me with a light breakfast. After I'd showered and cleaned up, Nikki and I would spend one to two hours on makeup and hair.

"Less is more," she kept telling me. "I know you think you'll need a lot to look like a woman, but trust me, just a bit of rouge and some eyeliner, and you'll look like the belle of the ball."

"Gee, thanks," I'd sarcastically complain.

"None of that, Andrea. You agreed to be a woman for the next two weeks, and real women don't whine about being pretty."

My hair was too short to do a lot with, but Nikki insisted we'd have more to work with by the time the two weeks were over. After I'd prettied myself up, Nikki would help me select my outfits for the day.

I say outfits, because society women never wear just one dress a day. You need special clothes for lounging, for exercising, for cocktails, for dinner, for dancing. Since I'd never really had a lot of clothes of my own, changing three or four times a day was a new and stressful experience. Nikki refused to relent until I could competently select an outfit for any occasion, and accessorize.

By this time it would be time for lunch. We'd never just grab a sandwich. Instead Nikki would serve me a formal luncheon, and give me pointers as to what spoon to use, how to sit, how to nibble at me food, how to make conversation. I once asked her why she never had the crew serve the food.

"Because, sweetie, we can't let them know what's going on. Only Duke and I know the true situation. If the wrong person found out--it could be bad."

The rest of the day was spent in deportment lessons. Walking (I must have walked around the deck of the ship a thousand times before we reached Europe), speaking (it was not hard to get my voice to match Andrea's husky one; Nikki coached me and had me sounding more feminine within three days), and dancing (Nikki led, and was quite adept at assuming the man's role). I was also forced to exercise (in a humiliating leotard) so that my unaccustomed three meals a day wouldn't give me an unladylike gut. All my workouts were cardiovascular, Nikki didn't want me to develop muscles.

The evenings were free, so long as I stayed in feminine persona. I took advantage of the time by watching DVD's, reading, or looking at the ocean. As for Duke, I almost never saw him.

After a day at sea Nikki cornered me in my room. "Trent is flying out tomorrow."

"Who?"

"Duke's helicopter pilot. He's bringing in some last-minute supplies."

"Oh."

"Anyway, it's the last contact with land until Europe. Is there anything you'd like him to bring?"

"Like what?"

"Like anything. Special food, movies, clothes?"

There was an idea I'd been toying with. "Promise not to laugh?"

"Of course, honey."

"I'd like some textbooks. Some basic high school history, math and science."

Nikki's face asked the question she didn't dare ask. I answered.

"Because I've got about a fifth grade education. If I'm going to pass myself off as Duke's wife, I should at least have some basic knowledge."

"Education's a great thing. I'd be happy to help you."

When the helicopter landed the next day, it was our last contact with land until Spain. I was rather impressed with the landing. Trent, the pilot, personally brought me the textbooks I'd asked for, as well as an embarrassing selection of books for crossdressers. These were wrapped in brown paper, and I hoped Trent didn't know what they contained.

He seemed like a nice guy and I wanted to ask him about his job as a pilot, but as soon as he saw Nikki, that was it. After she signed for a couple of packages, the pair immediately disappeared below decks for several hours. It wasn't hard to guess what was going on. Later that afternoon, Trent flew off.

The voyage sank into dull routine. I became quite the expert at dressing myself, applying makeup, and doing my hair. Nikki needed to help me less and less. After ten days on the sea she stopped coming to my room in the morning, trusting me to get ready on my own.

Looking like a girl was one thing, but acting like one was something else. While Nikki insisted I was doing fine, I was not so convinced. On the other hand, I was excited about my studies. Maybe I'd get a high school equivalency when I got back. Maybe I'd even think about college.

After the sixteenth day of our voyage, we were informed that we'd hit land in a day or so.

Nikki and I were playing tennis on the deck. I found I enjoyed the game, despite the fact that I'd lost three balls over the side already. Of course, we were decked out in matching white tennis sweaters and skirts.

"So Andrea?"

I shouldered my racquet. "Decision time?"

She nodded.

"What's the schedule for Spain?"

"Formal dinner with a local magnate, then a tour of the countryside. You'll be there five days."

"And after that?"

"On to Greece. Leisurely pace, we'll sail around the islands for about a month."

"I guess I'll do Spain."

"It's a start. Can I tell you something, Andrea?"

"What?"

"I've enjoyed having you along. Much more than your sister. You're fun to hang out with."

I giggled nervously. "So are you."

"Maybe you'll let me take you shopping some night when we hit land."

I almost answered sarcastically, but decided it would be cruel. "I'd like that."

That night, dressed in a bulky sweater and jeans, I stood on the railing, watching the moon over the ocean. What a weird month. In less than thirty days I'd gone from a homeless young man to a rich young bride. It was like an evil version of 'Pretty Woman.'

"Hello." I turned and looked. It was Duke. I hadn't seen him in over a week.

"Hello."

"You're looking well, Andrea."

"So are you." That was a lie. Lines creased Duke's face and his normally immaculate clothes seemed slovenly.

"Nikki tells me you'll be joining me in Spain."

"Yeah. Duke, I--"

"Yes?"

"Nothing."

"Andrea." Duke looked me in the eye for the first time since he realized I was a man. "Thank you. I never told you that. Thank you. You've really saved me."

"It's for the money, Duke, nothing more."

"I know. But I wish it didn't have to be this way. For either of us."

"Well, like Nikki says, maybe we should make the best of it."

Duke touched my face and for a horrible moment I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead he just looked at me.
"You look so much like your sister." He then turned and left, leaving me alone on deck.

***

Two weeks later I lay sunbathing on a semi-private Greek island. The Mediterranean sun had bronzed my body and further freckled my shoulders. The only movement I'd made in two hours was to flip over for an even tan. My chic one-piece swimsuit did a good job of covering my male parts, (especially the women's bathing trunks I wore). I'd never been this relaxed in all my life.

Spain, I had to admit, had been enjoyable. After docking across from Gibralter, we left the ship and continued across land, meeting back up with the boat in Barcelona. To tell you the truth, I'd been happy to hit land. Of course, it meant becoming Andrea full time, but I was sick of the dull monotony of the ocean.

The first night we attended a party given by a local hidalgo (the Spanish equivalent of an English lord). This party was much less stressful than the one in Miami. No one spoke English as a first language, so no one forced conversation, other than polite introductions and small talk. I had to dance with several strange men, but there were much more gentlemanly than their Floridian equivalents. With the help of Nikki I was becoming a rather enthusiastic, if not talented, dancer.

For the next week and a half we toured the Spanish countryside. Duke was a considerate guide, keeping us away from major cities. Still, I was always amazed at how often we were photographed. Duke had been right, if I'd walked away from the ship after our wedding, the press would have found me out in two days.

During our time in Spain something strange happened between Duke and I. We became friends. It was stilted at first, both of us resenting the fact we had essentially become involved in a homosexual marriage. But after so much time alone together (no one ever wants to intrude themselves on a newlywed couple), we couldn't help but talk. And I discovered my new husband was a nice guy.

He did come from old money, but not as much as I'd expected. Most of his fortune he'd earned himself; apparently he'd made some shrewd investments with a trust fund, compounded by the invention of some simple but popular computer programs. I admired a man who made his own way.

Duke was also a fascinating man. He'd traveled a lot, had adventures, and was a fine storyteller. I found I could listen to him for hours. As for my own stories, he never asked, and I never told. No one wants to hear about his wife's days as a young man.

By the time we embarked for Greece, Duke and I were no longer awkward around each other. Still, I'd return to my room at night with a feeling of emptiness. We were a sham; in less than a year I'd never see Duke again. It was for the best.

Another incident happened at an exclusive resort town on the coast. Nikki had dragged me to go shopping with her at an exclusive department store. Now, shopping for dresses did not excite me, not even with free access to Duke's credit cards. Still, I knew it thrilled Nikki and it gave me pleasure to buy things for her.

Nikki was berating me for not buying anything when it happened.

"I don't see why you're being so difficult, Andrea. You have to dress like a woman, you might as well pick out something you like."

"There's nothing here I like," I said with a pout. Nikki had picked up some things for me, but aside from a couple of neat suitcases, I'd not made a single purchase.

"We're not leaving until you choose something."

I was about to whine when something caught my eye. It was a mannequin in a window display. It was decked out in a black dress with scarlet trim. The outfit had a very Latin feel to it; it was the kind of outfit a woman would wear while clacking castanets with a rose in her teeth.

"Do you like that?" asked Nikki, thrilled.

"Yes." I don't know why I said it. To this day, I don't know why the gown enthralled me so much. But I knew that this was the dress I wanted to buy.

Nikki took me by the hand, and in halting Spanish arranged for a private dressing room. She helped me disrobe and soon I was frocked.

"What do you think?"

"Oh, Andrea, you look darling. You'll need some heels to go with that, of course. And if you'd let me pierce your ears-"

"Now it's not like I enjoy this," I protested.

Nikki looked at me severely. "You know, you don't have to act macho around me. If you like the dress, just say so."

I looked at my reflection. The poofy sleeves, the plunging back, the frilly underskirt. "I'm a little blonde to pass for Spanish, but I don't look bad, do I?"

Nikki knew not to lay it on too thick. "When your hair grows a bit, you can wear it up. You'll look great."

I wore the outfit, heels and all, back to the ship. Duke didn't say anything when he saw me, but I knew he was watching me as I walked away.

***

And that's how, weeks later, I found myself basking on the shores of the Aegean Sea. Duke had rented a chic little bungalow, which we had all to ourselves (except for the caterers who brought our meal, the guy who cleaned the pool, and the twice-weekly cleaning woman). Duke didn't seem to mind sleeping in the tiny guest room.

Nikki rented a place down the shore and spent a lot of time with us. In fact, those two weeks in Greece were the first time I truly enjoyed myself since the wedding. The three of us would swim, play volleyball, and play in the sand. I began to enjoy the surf more and think less about my feminine tan lines. Our semi privacy allowed me to let my guard down, though not enough to lapse back to manhood.

One night Duke, Nikki and I were up late, eating popcorn and playing Monopoly at the kitchen table. We were laughing at a story Nikki was telling. And suddenly, without warning, I began crying.

I tried to hold it in. Honest I did. But the tears just started flowing.

"What's wrong, Andrea?" Nikki asked in horror.

"I'm sorry. It's just...it just hit me. You two are the only friends I've ever really had. You guys are like family. I've never had that."

Nikki, of course, started bawling and hugging me. Duke, on the other hand, got up and stood in the kitchen door. I assumed he was backing away from the emotional scene in disgust. When I heard him sniffle, however, I knew he too had been touched. I smiled at the memory.

The noonday sun beat down on me, and I knew I had to go back to the house before I burned. As I sat up, I noticed with bemusement that both my breasts were on the right side. It was hard to find a pair of falsies I could wear with my swimsuit; they often slipped about.

The beach was empty, and I tried to readjust myself. My booby only slid further down. Eventually I simply partially removed my swimsuit and falsies, reapplied everything, and suited back up.

***

Two days later the excrement hit the fan. I had gone out for a morning dip, only to return to find Duke and Nikki intently reading a newspaper. It was unusual for Nikki to come over this early, so I bent over the paper.

It wasn't a newspaper, really. It was a tabloid magazine. I couldn't read the Greek headline, but the picture on the cover was clear. Me, on the beach. With my top pulled down. And my flat, male chest exposed to the world.

My hands shot to my mouth in horror. "Oh God," I wailed. "Duke, I didn't know!"

Duke irritably shook his head. "This is a private beach. I should have known those jackals from the press might sneak a photographer in."

I clutched at my longish hair. "What are we going to do?"

Duke looked at me and seemed to age about twenty years. "We're screwed. There's nothing we can do."

I spent the next four hours alone in my room, sitting on the floor, my knees clasped under my chin. We were sunk. The wedding, the dresses, the trip across the Atlantic, pretending to be Andrea...one slip on my part and it was all wasted time. The worst part was, I had hurt Duke. No one knew who Andrew Jones was. But Duke...this was going to humiliate a man who I'd become close to.

There was a knock at the door and Nikki came in, carrying two rum drinks. She offered me one.

"No thanks."

"Better take it. You're going to need it."

I took a gulp. "How bad is it?"

"Some vulture out of Chicago took the picture. Sold it to the wire services. No one's had the nerve to say it, but the picture speaks for itself: Duke Greyson's wife is a man."

"Shit."

"We estimate that in less than a week they'll crack the story. All about you, your sister, everything. Except in their version, they'll act like you and Duke wanted this to happen. That you were lovers. Duke will be branded a homosexual, and you'll be the new tabloid darling: the boy bride."

A tear streamed down my cheek. I finished the drink and started on Nikki's. Nikki gently touched my cheek. "Andrea, there may be a way out."

My eyes flew open. "How? Anything!"

"Well, we could convince the media the picture was faked. No one would touch a false picture, it would open them to lawsuits."

I laughed. "Of course! We'll just get a picture of me, a little Photoshopping, and viola!"

Nikki shook her head. "It won't work like that. It has to be a picture they take."

"Then we're back where we started. Any picture will show I don't have breasts."

"Unless, of course, you do have breasts."

"What do you mean?" It suddenly occurred to me. "Oh, no!"

"There's an Israeli surgeon..."

"No!"

"The procedure could be done in a day."

"So I could have breasts for the rest of my life? NO!"

"Calm down and listen. We'll leave for Israel tonight. Slip you into the hospital. Get you a boob job, maybe a butt implant. Give you a day to recover, cover your bruises with makeup, and parade you down a beach in something revealing. You get your picture taken, go back on the ship to recuperate, and when this is all over, you can have the implants removed."

"They can do that?"

"With a minimum of scarring. Duke is prepared to pay you handsomely."

I stood up. "This isn't about money. It's about my manhood. What's left of it. How am I supposed to deal with having a rack for a week?"

"Um, actually it would be for several months. Since we can't dodge the paparazzi, it would be best if you had noticeable cleavage for the rest of the  year."

"This is not happening."

"And that's not all. You'll need to take female hormones."

"What! I don't think so!"

"It's not as bad as you think!"

"Not as bad? And you nuts, Nikki?"

"Just a slight dose. They'll smooth your skin, make your hair silkier, prevent body and facial hair, and that's about it."

"What about my cock?"

"It might shrink a little." Nikki noticed my horrified expression. "Temporarily. You'll also experience breast development, but that really won't matter. The point is, when you stop taking them, all effects will disappear within a month or two."

"No."

"Then are you willing to play male bride for the tabloids? They'll find you wherever you go."

"It beats playing real bride."

"You sure you want to do that to yourself?"

"Yes." I turned and faced the wall, trying to end this insane conversation. Nikki came behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders.

"Are you sure you're willing to do that to Duke?"

***

"Honey? It's okay. It's all over." Through the fog of the anesthesia, it took me a moment to remember where I was. It slowly came back. The speeding trip to Tel Aviv. Sneaking out of the hotel at night. The kindly surgeon.

Duke knelt next to my private hospital bed. "It's going to be okay. You sleep now."

"Did they do it?" I mumbled.

Duke smiled thinly and gestured to my chest. My bandaged chest. I now had breasts.

I slept for a solid day, then prepared for my unveiling. While my tummy tuck and butt implants would require several weeks of healing, my implants could be shown to the world. Clothes would cover the incisions at the bottoms, and makeup would cover the bruising.

I stood in front of a mirror, willing myself to remove the bandages. 'It won't be that bad,' I told myself. 'I'll probably be able to cover them with thick clothes. It's no big deal.' I took the pair of surgical scissors and snipped the bandages.
Nope, I was wrong. They were a big deal. Two big deals. Two big, floppy, curvy breasts. Battered and bruised, they still were impressive.

My head swam. I had tits, boobs, hooters, knockers, breasts! C cups! I'd need to wear a bra! I could wear a bikini top! I realized with horror that once the hormones kicked in, my genitals would be the only male bits left of me.

Finally I got up the nerve to touch them. Smooth, soft, squishy. They bumped against each other in a most intriguing way. The nipples were brown and hard, when I touched them they grew more erect. Though my appendages were still sore to the touch, the contact with my nipples gave me a warm, almost sexy feeling.

Nikki knocked at the door and entered at my command. "How you feeling, kid?"

"Like the biggest she-male in the Mid East."

"How about the prettiest girl I've seen today?"

I shrugged, still examining myself. "Whatever."

"I brought some makeup and a change of clothes. Do you mind if we get started?"

***

The next day the yellow press ran pictures of me shopping in Tel Aviv with Duke. I was wearing a skimpy halter-top that let everyone see my perky new friends. Someone with a telephoto lens had gotten a good shot of my cleavage and deemed it genuine. The reporter who had shot the picture of me in Greece had been fired. A publicity agent of Duke's had forced all papers who'd ran the picture to print a retraction or face a lawsuit.

I learned this through occasional conversations with Nikki. For most of the next three weeks I laid in my stateroom and convalesced. Nikki played nursemaid while we steamed through the Suez Canal, across the Red Sea, and around the Arabian Peninsula.

Duke visited me every day. We'd sit and talk, sometimes for hours. At first I was embarrassed about the reason for my becoming an invalid. But Duke never brought it up. Instead we just talked about whatever was on our mind. And I realized I truly liked this man. Not only was he was one of my few friends, he was becoming my best friend.

We steamed into the Indian Ocean exactly three months after we set sail. That was also the day the last of my bandages came off. That night, alone in my cabin and dressed only in panties, I looked at myself in the mirror, and compared myself to the man I'd been on the other side of the world.

My scraggly, matted hair was now long and silky. My unkempt face now knew treatments from daily moisturizers. I never went out without at least a little mascara and rouge. The odd thing was, I no longer wore makeup to keep myself from being noticed. I wore it TO be noticed. My ears were now pierced and my eyebrows plucked.

My arms and legs had lost all traces of muscles. The calluses on my hands had vanished; whether the results of my leisurely lifestyle or the female hormones, I couldn't tell.

After almost a month of being breasted, I still couldn't get used to the darn things. They blocked my view when I put on my shoes, they interfered with my tennis swing, and made most of my clothes too tight. It was painful not to wear a bra. The nipples, thanks to the hormones, became very sensitive. Playing with them in the shower became a guilty pleasure.

My newly flat stomach was source of both embarrassment and pride. I knew all I had to do was just eat extra deserts and I'd lose my cute belly. But for some reason I put myself on a strict diet. I didn't want to get a man's gut. Not yet.

Finally I removed my panties. My butt lift had given me a perky rear end, I no longer needed padding. As for my penis...well, it was still there. My daily dose of estrogen hadn't caused it to disappear, but it did seem a little smaller, a little softer.

I needed some fresh air, so I pulled back on my panties, as well as a long skirt and a pair of heels. I couldn't find a top I liked, so I slipped on my bikini top and walked above decks.

The few sailors I met smiled deferentially at me. I noted with annoyance that their eyes wandered towards my chest. I made my way to the railing and stared at the silent moonlit night. It was warm and humid with the smell of salt heavy in the air. I began to sweat.

I felt his presence before I heard him. Duke stood next to me, watching the sea. For ten minutes we stood there, silently.

"You look beautiful." Whenever Duke had complimented me before, he did it jocularly, as if he didn't want to be taken completely seriously. Now, he seemed dead earnest.

"Thank you, Duke."

"I mean that. Don't take this the wrong way, but you've become a lovely woman."

"That's the idea, I suppose." I paused. "Duke, can I ask you a personal question? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"You've done so much for me. Ask me anything."

"When I first met you, I had you pegged for just a mindless, rich asshole. Someone who was only interested, who only COULD be interested, in a woman's looks. But now that I know you, well, you're a pretty amazing guy. You're smart, funny, sophisticated..."

My hand was on the railing. Duke gently placed his heavy hand on mine. I didn't resist. I continued with my question.
"So why did you want to marry my sister? I've been over it in my head, I just can't imagine what you saw in her."

Duke sighed and released my hand. "I wish I knew, Andy. I guess I'd dated debutantes and society girls all my life. When I met your sister at a party I thought she was real. I thought she was interesting and fun. Love makes you blind I guess. I figured she'd teach me to have more fun, I'd teach her to fit into the high society she loved. Stupid."

"It's not stupid." I placed my hand on his. "Kind of romantic."

"That's why I feel like such a sucker. I almost wish..."

"Wish what, Duke?"

"It's silly." His shirt was soaked with sweat in the humid night.

"Tell me."

"I've enjoyed being with you. I wish that you were Andrea. I mean, I wish that you were a woman. I mean..."

I squeezed his hand. "You mean that we get along so well, that it's almost easy to pretend that we're not pretending."

Duke clasped my hand. With his other hand, he touched my cheek. For a long time we stared into each other's eyes. When he kissed me, I let him.

Continued