New church.

My family was never what you might call religious. I mean, we owned a bible which my mom would even try to read every now and then, and we would make an appearance at one local congregation or another around Christmas or Easter, but that was about as far as things went.

You can imagine my surprise, then, when I came home after my Freshman year at college to discover that my parents and younger siblings had become totally obsessed with a local church while I was away! It was a new congregation that had popped up a few months earlier. It was small but quickly growing and didn't seem to be a part of any recognizable denomination.

I went along to a few services with my family to try to see what the fuss was all about, and honestly, I didn't get it. The pastor was one-hell of a speaker, don't get me wrong, but the actual substance of his sermons was a bit... off. I was no theologian, so I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I got the impression the religion he was proferring wasn't entirely inline with anything mainstream.

I decided I was done with the church. If my family wanted to keep going, I wished them the best, but I just didn't feel it. When I told them that, the insisted I go one last time and meet with the pastor myself. In the interest of familial harmony, I agreed to their terms.
When I met with the pastor, it was just the two of us in my office. Rather than try to convince me that his faith was true and all that, he just asked me to allow him to give me a blessing. I agreed, not seeing the harm in it. As he laid his hands on my head, though, I felt a strange power running through my body. As the pastor spoke his prayer in a language I didn't understand and couldn't place, my body transformed into that of a young woman!
I was shocked, of course, but somehow my new body felt... right, I suppose, for lack of a better term. I felt like I'd always been a woman, even though I knew that wasn't the case, and even found myself naturally behaving like a shy, soft-spoken girl!
I was also surprised to find that my family was unphased by their son and brother emerging from the pastor's office as a woman. On the way home, Dad explained to me that as a woman it was no longer my place to concern myself with the particulars of the faith. And, of course, I am forbidden to wear any pants and go outside without pantyhose. He'd find a good young man for me to marry from the congregation, and he'd be the spiritual head of our new family. While there was a small part of my mind that was still reeling at what had just happened to me, I found what Dad was saying to be acceptable, and even comforting! I actually wanted to marry a man and let him be in charge and to support him as best I could in that role!
Of course, I have a lot to learn from mom and the other women at church about cooking and cleaning and all sorts of other womanly duties if I'm going to be ready for that when the time comes. But I still have time, and hopefully when my wedding day finally comes I'm be ready to be the best wife I can.

Future pastor's wife.

I was always a fairly religious guy growing up. It made sense considering my circumstances. I grew up in a small town where everybody attended the same church. My parents were very devout, as were most of the other folks in town. The church was basically an ever-present force in my life, and one that always at least appeared to be working towards the good.

When I got older, I began to consider becoming a pastor myself. We'd had the same pastor at our church the whole time I was growing up, and the man was quite the role model for me. He was an amazing public speaker and gave the best sermons! He was really kind and friendly, but also could really lay down the law when he had to. And, let's be frank here, the ability to perform miracles was pretty cool!

Yea, the pastor could perform miracles. And I'm not talking parlor tricks here. I'd imagine you'd like an example? Well, I suppose a good one is the one he performed when I came to him expressing interest in becoming a pastor myself.

When I told the man about my desire to become a clergyman, he smiled and told me that was a very admirable ambition. Admirable, but perhaps misplaced. The man explained to me that his line of work required a certain kind of man. He needed to be faithful and kind, traits which I had, but I apparently lacked the leadership qualities and charisma the role demanded.

Still, the man wasn't going to crush my dream without providing me with a new one. He told me that the role he thought I would truly excel in wouldn't be that of a pastor, but rather that of a pastor's wife!

That's when he performed the miracle. He put his hands on my head, and at once my body began to change. Where once stood a lanky young man, there soon was a beautiful woman. The new me!

It was more than a little strange, suddenly transforming into a woman. In truth, I'm still not entirely used to my new body and still not entirely used to wear only modest dresses and skirts with pantyhose (but you understand, I am, as a virtuous Christian lady, will never put on pants and I will never outside with bare legs!) . I am, however, growing accustomed to the new goal the pastor set for me. A young man recently moved to town intending to apprentice under the pastor, and he has the makings to be as great of one as his master. And I have to admit, the idea of being at that man's side appeals to me. I may still not be entirely used to my new body, but I really am looking forward to one day being that man's wife and the mother of his children! I just hope that I'll be able to help him accomplish his mission as a pastor.