Tranford Wives Pt. 01

The architect looked vaguely familiar, though I didn't know the name.

"I'm David," he said. "We met at that Christian Summer Camp."

"Oh," I said neutrally. That camp was not something I wished to remember. We had both been eighteen, which was a good while ago. I had the feeling he was going to give me a message I might not want to hear. But business is business.

"Is it just yourself then? Any wife or...er...partner?" he asked.

"No. And you?"

"No, no-one."

"Anyway," he continued, "I only ask because you might want to move. You might be nearly full-time for some years. I don't want a big company, but one man who might call in some others would be ideal, and we do need an electrician. You did say you were fully certified and registered?"

Yes I was, and I agreed to look.

We sorted out a time and he drove me there. It was a place called Tranford, and as it was Summer there would be plenty of time to look over the site before it got dark. He had agreed to pay me for the time even if I turned the job down.

"By the way," he said in the car, "do you know why my parents sent me to that camp? It was a flowered shirt! That's all, really. And being interested in art, and saying I admired Michelangelo's statue of David convinced them I was going to be a homosexual, so we got that de-programming by that stupid fucking American."

I didn't really want to be reminded of the horrible experience, nor the rift it had created between me and my parents, but he carried on.

"You know, I wasn't gay, but that fucking well persuaded me to try it when I was at university! It was OK, and I've got some gay friends now, but really I prefer women."

I guess my silence was answer enough so he said nothing for a while.

"Anyway, as I explained, it's an old industrial site which has been restored, and we're making a sort of village there, some of it self-build, with couples doing what they can, but tradesmen like yourself doing the skilled stuff. The first batch of houses are occupied, but we are beginning on the second phase, which will include some business premises, flats and sheltered housing for the elderly."

When we got arrived, there were about twenty houses, middle class detached of different but compatible designs. There was also a pub, the only old building, and some sort of functional one. To one side there was a security fence, some derelict land and another security fence where there were signs of construction work.

"It's a bit of a detour, but we've set things up so that the construction does not interfere with the first residents. When the second phase is done, then the area in between will be mostly park, with a connecting road, of course."

We went to the site office, he showed me the plans, and we also had a walk around. It looked good.

"One of the first things to be completed will be a low-rise block of flats to be used by some of the self-builders while working on their houses, and I thought you could have one, if you wished, so that you're on site. Meanwhile there is a temporary possibility in the area I showed you. If you decide to join us, then you could start as soon as you've dealt with your present contracts, and where you're living now."

I said I was renting, so moving would not be a problem, but obviously I would have to think about it.

"Of course. Why don't we have a meal at the pub, then I'll run you home?"

We drove back, going slowly by the houses. There were several cars on the drives, obviously commuters back from work. A car pulled in ahead of us and a man in a suit got out. Out of the house came a woman with an apron, presumably from the kitchen, who kissed him. They both waved at David.

Further down an older woman in a flowered dress and a straw hat was working in the garden. She also waved, as did a couple, a man and a woman in casual clothes, walking towards the pub. It looked idyllic.

The waitress was very pleasant and the food was good English pub style. It gradually filled up, mainly with couples, but also two middle-aged women. Everyone knew everyone else, of course, and there was a lot of kissing as newcomers greeted others.

There was something I couldn't quite put my finger on. It all just seemed too perfect to be true.

When we finished, he said "Come to my office for coffee," and we left, waving to the others.

The functional building was to be a community centre, but he was using it as his office both for this project and other work. There were drawings on boards. There was also a caretaker's flat where he slept.

"I can get another bed if you're prepared to bunk up, or one of us can move in with someone with a spare bedroom. They've all got en-suite facilities."

I said that sounded fine.

"Before you do, I think you should understand a bit more about our community. Did you notice anything about the people?"

"They looked very smart," I said, "especially the women. Nice clothes."

"Did you notice any particularly pretty ones, the waitress, for example?"

"She was nice enough," I said gallantly.

"No, there were no really pretty ones, just smart and nice enough. That's because most of them are men, or used to be."

I was rather taken aback.

"You mean...?"

"Yes, transgender to one extent or another. Men who would prefer to be women and are now happy being women openly in our little community. More than half have been fully converted, some of the others are transitioning."

He made the coffee, while I took it in.

CHAPTER 2

He gave me more details

"I was making my way as an architect, when I was approached by some students I had known at university. They had got together with a group of transgender people and decided they could make a start and get others to fill in the idea. I liked them and some others they introduced me to, and thought it would be an exciting project."

"The first phase was half of what you see. These were fairly well-off middle-class couples who could afford to have a house of this standard, and I employed a regular builder to make them. By the time we had the first few built we had got more interested and were able to manage the finance for the rest. We also started thinking about expansion."

"All the inhabitants so far have been couples: a man and woman who fell in love, and wanted to live together like husband and wife. One of them was born male, but they're just ordinary couples. That's apart from the two older women you saw. The taller one is the husband, but they live together like sisters."

"These couples also had enough money, of course and the women are mostly fairly convincing. What some people call passing as a woman."

"Of course, the big bonus is removing the fear of being out and about and socialising. But I gather the extra step of being a wife openly has been something wonderful for many of them."

"You're right about the nice clothes, of course.

"Anyway, we wanted to expand it to women who were not so fortunate. Those with less money, for a start. Our barman and waitress for example. They couldn't have afforded to buy the pub, and it doesn't really pay enough, so we support it. We think it will work when the community is larger. The waitress had only been dressing at home, and she loves serving people in her outfit now."

"So we are hoping to make a more diverse community. Trans men will be welcome of course, and some younger unattached ones to find their feet in their new life. There should be some employment available in small businesses. Several couples actually have one or both running a business via the internet, so more is quite possible, as there will be a full fibre connection to every building. There are people who want to be women but could not easily pass. They should be able to live here and have jobs and relationships."

"We want to cater for older people. There are quite a lot of older men who would really like to live in women's clothes. Though they have not had any treatment, they find it comforting. So there will be wheelchair-accessible bungalows. We are in discussion with a care home for a unit where male residents can wear dresses and makeup, which seems such a small kindness."

I was overwhelmed and rather touched. Then the feeling got spoiled, because he reminded me of that camp.

"What do you think? Could you work alongside these people, or does knowing put you off? I thought because of what I heard you praying, you might be sympathetic. Or is it too painful?"

It was painful. Bloody painful. He had heard me praying! It came back with shocking clarity.

"Oh Lord, please make me a girl. I don't want to be a homosexual. I just want to be an ordinary woman. I'll do anything you ask me. Please, Lord!"

I wasn't a homosexual. I had not had impure thoughts about men as the supposed de-programmer kept telling us. I just had beautiful thoughts about being a woman. A nice kind woman. I did not have to be pretty, not even to have sex. I would do good works all the time, and wear nice dresses, but not too much, so as not to be proud, just pleasant in others' eyes. I had wanted it so much.

Instead I had got four weeks of being shouted at and being made to say I was sorry for things I had never even thought of, never mind done. He had repeatedly shown us gay porn magazines. We all learned what he wanted us to say, and complied just to get the torture over. We confessed they were tempting at the beginning and were revolted by them at the end. I was given a certificate saying I had been cured, along with lasting anger and resentment at him and my parents. It wasn't long before I left home and was miserable alone, but at least without their going on about things.

Effectively I coped by blocking out everything to do with sex, and concentrating on work. I had become a good electrician, and by working long hours had made good money, though I had no real way of enjoying it. My friendships were shallow, just good neighbour stuff. I watched documentaries on TV and sometimes sport, but could not get involved. Snooker was soothing. Nothing about people and relationships. I switched over when programmes about things like dancing came on: women showing off nice clothes. It was just automatic, to avoid thinking about what I really wanted.

I wasn't exactly happy (but who is?) but I was OK, until I had been reminded.

"Shit! I'm sorry! For pity's sake, what can I do?" I became aware of his terrified face in front of me.

The coffee was spilled on the floor and I was sitting on the sofa sobbing so hard my throat hurt.

"I'll be OK," I managed to gasp, and he brought me a glass of water, which seemed to help.

I was aware of him making a phone call, and some people coming in. I vaguely realised they were the two older women, one of whom took my pulse and raised my eyelid.

"I think it's just shock. You reminded him of some past trauma, you say? He's coming round. How are you?"

"I'm a bit better," I said. "I'm sorry. It was a nasty experience long ago."

"Look," said David, "I don't think you should be alone for a while, and it might not be a good idea for you to share a bed with me. Sophie here is a trained nurse and they've got the spare room I told you about. I think you should stay over and I'll run you home in the morning, early enough for your first job."

I was taken to their home and checked again, then we had some tea. I didn't want to talk, and they respected that. They just made me think about jobs tomorrow. I realised I could postpone the morning one, so they phoned David to let him know where I needed to be in the afternoon.

I was actually feeling exhausted; emotionally drained, I suppose, so was glad of the suggestion to go to bed soon. They provided me with a new toothbrush, flannel and towel and some silk pyjamas, apologising that they were pink, then went downstairs.

I washed absentmindedly, and put on the pyjamas. It was a most luxurious feeling, and very comforting. I felt a bit like when I had stayed at grandma's when I was little, sort of safe in the bed.

I must have zonked out because the next thing I remember was a knock on the door and the smell of bacon.

"Good morning," said the other woman (whose name I did not remember or had not been told). "I hope you slept OK. Why don't you put on a dressing gown and come down for breakfast? Sophie thought a good fry-up might be the best treatment."

I was intending to get dressed, but saw my clothes were no longer on the chair. I took the frilly dressing gown and went to the bathroom then downstairs. I learned that the name of the woman cooking was Liz, and my shirt and underpants had been washed and dried overnight. She was a dressmaker who now provided feminine clothes for men over the internet, having started with her husband, who was now Sophie and had indeed been a male nurse, but helped with her business, which had also provided the contacts for many potential residents.

They were such nice people, and the fact that Sophie had a man's frame did not make her any less of a woman. Their clothes were so tasteful, and the thought that one of them was a man in a dress seemed so innocent.

There was a new toothbrush and a towel for me. I was told I could use Sophie's shaver, so I did, showered and got dressed. David must have been waiting because he was round almost immediately. I thanked Liz and Sophie, and we went to the car.

"Well?" he said.

"Count me in," I answered.

CHAPTER 3

It took me a couple of months to sort things out, by which time progress had been made on two buildings so that electrical work could begin. One was the flats and another was a combined house and office for David. He still had an office in town and some projects he was working on, so divided his time between there and Tranford.

It turned out that I did not have many possessions that I really needed, apart from my van and tools, so they were stored in a site cabin.

I stayed with Liz and Sophie and got know them better. They were about the same age as my parents, and had a daughter about my age. I worked and also got to know others in the community. They were generally middle-class professionals, apart from Maisie and Bill. Bill was a bricklayer by trade, so worked on the site but was building their own house in his spare time. Maisie was a painter, and they were living in a caravan until the flats became available. She also painted houses in the locality, so was not onsite every day.

Socializing and knowing the situation, I could no longer blank out the women and their clothes. I am not even sure why I hesitated. All of these men had become women, why couldn't I? Yes, I still wanted it, but I had suppressed it so much it was hard to admit, and thinking about it made me sad and angry again.

It was Maisie who said what everyone else was too polite to say. She was basically following me around one day. Once I had finished, she would patch in and paint.

She was in overalls of course, with her hair in a cap, but had basic makeup. She also had noticeable boobs, which she adjusted in her bra as she sat down.

"Best money I every spent, these," she remarked. "When are you going to get yours?"

"I don't know what you mean," I said, though I did.

"Come off it," she laughed. "It takes one to know one. You look at women the same as I did. You're not thinking of a shag like my Bill, bless him. You're fancying being them. I guess you've wanted to be a girl for ages. It's quite good you know. You should at least see if you like going around in dresses. Not on the building site, of course, but back in the houses and the pub. You'd be in no danger here. And if you didn't like it, you could stop wondering."

I said I would get back to work.

I guess Maisie must have said something, because a few days later when I got back from work to shower and change, there was a dress hanging in my room. I ignored it, and came down to dinner with Liz and Sophie in my usual clothes. They said nothing. We went to the pub for a bit, came back and watched the news on TV, and said good night.

I lay in bed in my cotton pyjamas. When my eyes had adjusted to the dark, the dress was visible, hanging in front of the wardrobe.

Eventually I gave in, got up and put it on. There was some padding at the front giving the impression of modest boobs. As I looked in the mirror that was it. My prayer had at last been answered. I just walked around for a while not really thinking, just feeling happy.

Finally I took it off, looked in the drawer and found the silken pyjamas. I dozed deliciously until there was a knock on the door. I had overslept, but fortunately was my own boss.

In came Liz with a cup of tea. I sat up and she saw my silk pyjamas.

"Oh, I see you've gone back to them. You're very welcome." She looked with an unspoken question.

"Thank you for the dress," I said. "I like it."

She gave a big smile.

"I'm so glad. Have a quick breakfast and we'll try it on again, so I can adjust to fit. I made it a little bit generous so it should be easy."

In silk pyjamas and a frilly dressing gown I had breakfast. She went out and came back.

"I've put some knickers and a slip on the bed. Think of it as a sort of vest. You can wear it when you need to be a bit warmer."

The knickers were satin with a bit of lace, but I could see they were cut for a man. They felt nice, as did the slip. I put the dress on, and went downstairs.

Very quickly she was pulling, making marks with chalk, putting in pins, standing back and looking, then taking them out again.

"Right. Off it comes, but careful because there's a couple of pins."

I took off the dress and went to change.

"Why don't you keep the undies on?" she called. So I did.

"Don't be too late tonight, dear. We'll see how you look then," she said, and kissed me on the doorstep, which she had never done before.

I got into my van and went to work.

I didn't say anything, but Maisie spotted the difference.

"Nice undies, love?" she said casually.

I was sort of embarrassed but realised I had no reason to be!

"Er yes," I said.

"That's the ticket. It was all I did for years, just a secret pleasure under my overalls. You wait till you get into bras!"

In a while I stopped thinking about it. But I was happy in my work.

CHAPTER 4

I don't like leaving a job half done. And with electricity and other people on site it can be dangerous, so I finished a section of wiring and tied off. So I wasn't early after all.

Generally, we mostly ate dinner at home, but went quite often to the pub in order to support it. Some of the others also drove away to other eating places occasionally. Tonight it was the pub. I was told to shower and change, with fresh underwear.

The dress fitted perfectly! I was so pleased, but that was only the start. I had shaved, but was told to go back and try harder. It took about half an hour to give me makeup and a wig.

"Your legs could do with a shave as well, but I think tights will do the trick." They did.

Sophie filed my nails and put on some clear nail varnish.

"Now," said Liz, "the final touch." And she sprayed me with some perfume.

"A lady's not dressed without perfume," she explained. "It's part of makeup. This is what we used with Sophie in the early days. Counteracts that male musk."

With my best trainers (well, the decent ones) I was taken out into the world.

"What shall we call you?" asked Sophie. "You know, a girl's name."

I had never given the matter any thought. Now my mind was blank.

"Sorry, I haven't a clue."

"Hmm, clue. How about Chloe?" said Liz. "We haven't got a Chloe."

I rather liked it.

The pub was quite full. (I suspect the bush telegraph may have been at work.)

"Hello everyone! Meet Chloe, our electrician!"

There were some cheers and clapping. It was so simple. All these years and now a bit of cloth was all it took!