The next weekend I was back there, and there were a bunch more new garments to sort out, and we did those first. Mom, Grandma, and I were doing it again, though we reversed the sequence so I was measuring Grandma. And it was just like before, we got a variety of different ages, sizes, and looks. A few more women than men. The weird thing was I was finding I enjoyed the times I was a woman more than when I was a man.

So at the end of that, when I sat down at the computer to search for options, I left the gender blank. I put in age 16-20, figuring I wanted someone I could change into permanently once I was 18. Because I hadn’t chosen a gender, I couldn’t search on detailed sizes, only height and weight or the S-M-L sizes, and I put in S, M, L, excluding XS, XL, and the like. And I wanted a body that was attractive, but not so much so as to make that the sole reason to take the body, so I put in clothing that had been here for 1-3 years. And available for purchase; I knew the usual rental ones were off limits.

There were still hundreds of matches, and I found myself scrolling through pages of results. Ultimately, I picked seven of them to try on, 3 guys and 4 girls, spending ten minutes or so in each one. Some of them were kind of awkward due to the nudity. One guy came from a hat, but I managed to put my pants on, though I could not fasten them. Three of the girls had skirts, which at least meant their private parts weren’t exposed, but their breasts were. The last had a bra, and Mom showed me a tricky way of putting on a bra: fasten the hooks in front of me, then slide it around, and put my arms through the straps and my boobs in the cups when they were aligned. I changed into the girl as soon as the hooks were fastened, so the fact that it was way too tight on my boy body wasn’t an issue.

None of them seemed right to me, though, so I changed back and Mom and I went home. Mom had a talk with me afterward.

“I noticed you were including girls’ bodies in your search. Do you think you want to become a girl?”

“I don’t know, Mom. But I was a girl or woman lots of times during our try-on sessions, and in general I liked the feel of girl bodies. I am not sure I like it enough to want to change over after growing up as a boy, but I do want to consider it.”

“Well, there are some things you need to know about being a girl or woman. I should say woman, since it seemed like you were looking at ones that would pass for 18.”

And what followed was a lot like the sex talk, but there was simply... more to it. Guys worried about getting their girl pregnant. Girls had to maintain the equipment associated with pregnancy all the time while avoiding getting pregnant and there was surprisingly much to it. But she didn’t discourage me from being a girl; rather, she encouraged it. She told me not to be afraid to try that if that was what I really wanted.

“The next time we go there, I want you to pick a girl’s body to take home overnight. It doesn’t matter if you think it’s not right for the long term, as long as you think it’ll be tolerable for a day. We’ll go buy a set of clothes from the thrift shop, come back and get the body, and you can switch back to your body the next afternoon. I want you to experience being a girl for more than just the few minutes you do at the Clothes Hole. To be outside as a girl, at home, eating, sleeping, using the bathroom, showering, everything you do in a day. When it’s done, I promise you you’ll know, and you’ll either only want to look at girls for your next body, or only at boys.”

“OK, Mom. That sounds good.”

So a week later I was indeed only looking at girls for this overnight trial. After choosing a girl on the computer, I got to choose more detailed clothing sizes. I had been every cup size from A to F while testing the newly arrived clothes, and while D cup breasts and larger might be what guys looked for, I thought they were too much for me, and I narrowed the sizes down to B and C cup. I didn’t want to be too small, either. I eliminated the small size category, leaving it with medium and large, and a height range of 5-foot-4 to 5-foot-9. And with these more targeted choices I took off the limits on how long the clothes had been here. This came up with 70 choices, and I picked 10 out of those and tried each one on.

There were some dresses in this batch, so while wearing those I felt less exposed, and for the ones who only had a bra, a shoe, or the like, I slipped the largest of those dresses on over the body after leaving the circle, just so I wouldn’t feel so naked. I ended up choosing a 5-foot-7 C-cup whose garment was the bra half of a bikini. This was another one Mom showed me how to put on; though it covered the breasts like a bra, it didn’t go on anything like one.

I got back into my own clothes, and Mom and I walked to the thrift store two blocks away with a printout of this girl’s sizes. Ultimately I decided on a blue dress, and we found a suitable bra. They didn’t sell second-hand panties; they were deemed unsanitary. But they understood a lot of the purchases were for trying out bodies, and I was able to buy a single pair of new panties in her size from what was meant to be a Hanes multipack. A pair of sandals meant I didn’t need socks, and the weather was warm enough I didn’t need anything else.

So we walked back with a bag of clothes, and I went home in that girl’s body.

Dad knew I was going there today planning to come home in a girl’s body, and he was impressed with my pick when we came home.

“Wow, Danny, I like your choice! On the tall side for a girl but not too tall, not fat but not too skinny either. And you know the guys go for the big boobs, but now that you’ve had a chance to wear them yourself, you must realize big boobs can be a pain. The ones you have are a nice size.”

“Yes, Dad, that is pretty much what I was going for.”

“If I had had a daughter, I would be proud to have had one that came out looking like you do now,” he said, but the way he said it suggested he wasn’t proud at all, but he felt duty-bound to support me in my choices.

“Thanks,” I said, ignoring the message I inferred from the tone in his voice.

Mom surprised me next. She came into the room with a small purse I had seen her use, and handed it to me.

“Put your wallet in here, go to the bathroom if you need to, and be ready to go out.”

No indication of where we were going out, but it wasn’t like I had anything else to wear. I took the offered purse and looked in it.

“What’s all this?”

“I don’t expect you to use the makeup, but it will look normal if you carry some. The tampon is just in case your period starts. Don’t worry; I can go to the restroom with you if you need to use it.”

I added my wallet to the already half-full purse as directed, and went to the bathroom.

“Now,” I thought to myself, “How’s this going to work in a dress?”

I ultimately decided to lift the dress up to sit the way I would avoid sitting on my shirt tail as a boy, and of course pull the panties down. I only peed a little, but who knew when I was next going to get the opportunity. I didn’t even know where we were going!

I wiped and reassembled my clothing, and it turned out Mom took us to the mall in the big city. Dad went too, and we all walked together as a family. We didn’t buy anything, but Mom enjoyed taking me into the women’s clothing stores and suggesting things she thought would look good on me. And I didn’t really argue with her. While a couple of her choices were more revealing than I was thinking of, if I did become a girl full-time I’d have to buy a whole new wardrobe, and that would mean a trip like this where we were buying the things Mom suggested. So I had to seriously consider them, even though it was years before I’d need the clothes for real.

We ate dinner and then went to see a movie together. And I felt completely comfortable through the night, as if I’d been a girl all along. I had stopped to go to the bathroom again, just to pee, before the movie started.

We came straight home after the movie and I went to pee again as soon as we got there. And this time was different. This time, I saw red in the bowl and I knew what that meant. “Mom!” I shouted.

A moment later she was at the bathroom door. “Danny, are you alright?”

“Mom, it’s my period.”

She came inside with me now. “Oh, honey, I warned you about this, but I know the warning cannot match the reality.”

I stood and showed her the bowl.

“Yes, that’s definitely your period. Are your panties stained?”

They had fallen to the floor completely and I picked them up and examined them. “Looks like just one small drop.”

She washed the panties out in the sink until the red mark was almost invisible, and hung them up on the shower rod using those small hooks on a hanger that I never usually used for anything.

“You can put these back on in the morning. Just use tampons until we turn the body back in.”

She left for a moment, and came back with some tampons, undoubtedly from the supply in the master bathroom. She showed me where she put most of them in the closet, holding on to one. This was the main bathroom for the house, but since Mom and Dad almost always used the master bath attached to their bedroom, effectively it was my bathroom. They made me clean it, and most of the things here were mine, so there weren’t normally feminine products stored here. Guess that’s changing!

“I know I explained it before, but this is another thing where the explanation can’t compare with the actual use. I want you to do it so you can get the experience, but I will guide you. Sit back down on the toilet like you were going to pee, but slide forward a little and lean back.”

I did so.

“If you bend your head and neck forward and look down, you should be able to see your parts clearly.”

“OK, I see them.”

“Use your fingers to pull your slit open, and you can see the parts inside better.”

I’d gotten some girl anatomy lessons already, but this one was clearly going to be more intimate. I followed the instructions.

“Now you want to look at the hole at the very bottom. That’s your vagina. That’s where the tampon needs to go.”

I arranged my hands differently, one hand below the entire slit holding the bottom part open, and the other with a finger pointing at and almost touching my vagina.

“Yes, there. Now take this.”

She handed me the tampon.

“There’s a flap on one side you can grab and rip the package open.”

I did so and removed the tampon, and tossed the wrapper in the wastebasket.

“Now you can see the plunger end, which has a little bit of string hanging out, and the business end that goes inside you. Before you start, make sure it’s ready. The string should hang out the end of the plunger, and this one does, but if it didn’t, you’d shake it to get it out, or pull at it if there was only a tiny bit. And the tampon should be firmly against the other end, but not so far that it protrudes.”

“Is this not right, then?”

“No, it isn’t right. Push the plunger in a little until the tampon just reaches the slits at the other end.”

I did that.

“Yes, that’s good. Now, holding onto the outer tube and not the plunger, put that end into your vagina, and slide it in gently. If it doesn’t go in easily, you don’t have it at the right angle.”

I adjusted it until I felt it going inside me.

“Keep going until there’s just a finger’s width of the outer tube outside your body. Yes, like that. Now hold the outer tube between your index and middle fingers. Put your thumb on the end of the plunger, and while holding tight on the other part, push the plunger in. You should feel the tampon going up inside you.”

It was a strange feeling. I am not sure what I expected it to feel like, but it didn’t seem sexual at all, despite the fact that this involved the most sexual part of my anatomy.

“Good. Now pull the tubes out. The string will go through them but remain hanging out of your body.”

And just like that, I had a tampon inside me. Inside a body part I didn’t wake up with this morning.

“The applicator goes in the trash.”

I tossed it in on top of the wrapper.

“Now wear that to bed, and in the morning, when you come in here to pee and shower, take the tampon out first by pulling on the string. If it hurts, you’re pulling too hard. Adjust the angle you’re pulling at and maybe the position of your body. You’ll find a position that works. It’s possible it will feel dry and scratchy since you are just starting your period. Put the used tampon in the trash, never in the toilet. If it’s messy, you can wrap it in toilet paper or in the wrapper from the next tampon. Once you are done with everything on your morning visit to the bathroom, put in a fresh tampon. If the one you took out was not sopping wet, then you can probably wear the new one until we turn in the body after lunch.”

Mom gave me a few other pointers, including not wearing my bra to bed.

“Wait. I’m nor supposed to wear the dress to avoid rumpling it, not supposed to wear the bra to avoid leaving marks on my body, and my only panties are drying. So I sleep in the nude?”

“Hang on.”

She left, and came back a bit later with one of her nightgowns.

“Wear this tonight and return it to me after you get your clothes back on in the morning.

Although it was hard to ignore it in the first couple minutes, I soon forgot the tampon was there, and my main worry about going to bed was what position was best. Lying on my stomach with my boobs pressed out flat wasn’t very comfortable, but I managed a position on my side and I was soon asleep.

I had to pee when I woke up, and then I remembered the tampon was inside me. I couldn’t feel it, but the string was there. I pulled and felt it sliding. It seemed to slide longer than it should. The applicator was only about 2 inches long and half an inch of that was outside my body, so it should only be an inch and a half inside me. It felt like I was tugging on it for about 6 inches, but finally the main part of the tampon came out. At no point did the removal hurt, and getting it out actually felt good. Was that a sexual feeling, or just relief at having the thing out of me?

The tampon was damp and stained red all over, but not dripping. I put it in the trash, peed and wiped, removed the nightgown, and grabbed a towel. The panties hanging on the shower rod were dry, and I set them aside and took my shower.

Showering a woman’s body was an experience. I am pretty sure some of the feelings I felt were sexual. They were much more intense than what I felt when I got the tampon out, but I felt them all over my genital region, on my boobs, and in some other random places. Did guys get feelings like that when they were fully grown? Since my guy body was only 13, I wasn’t sure all the sexual sensations had fully developed. Guess I’d watch for them.

I dried off, again noting my skin was more sensitive than in my boy body. I also realized I needed to dry my hair with the hair dryer I rarely used, due to the length of the hair. Next I grabbed one of the other tampons and repeated the procedure from last night. The relieved feeling I realized now I had felt ever since getting the other one out went away, so I know that was relief at having it out. She told me there were pads I could wear that didn’t go inside my body, but I think she was making me use tampons on purpose just to experience this part of being a woman. There are definitely some pluses and minuses.

I put my only set of girl clothes back on, and went down and joined my family for breakfast.

“This looks like my usual breakfast,” I commented, “But some of the food tastes different. Stronger flavors. Did you do something different?”

“No, it’s the same breakfast you usually get. It’s probably your body. Women in general have stronger senses of taste and smell, and that’s probably causing what you are sensing. More sensitive sense of touch, too. Did you notice that in the shower?”

“Yes, I did, actually. Good to know I wasn’t imagining things.”

Interestingly, I noted privately, I could no longer feel the tampon inside me. Once I got it in, it seemed like I stopped feeling it, though the entire time it was out, I felt a sort of relieved sensation that it was not there.

After breakfast, Mom suggested a walk, just me and her. I figured that she wanted to talk about girl stuff, but that was only partly right.

“Dad is an outsider. He didn’t grow up here. He didn’t get introduced to the concept of changing bodies through the Clothes Hole until after we met. He understands it’s a big part of our culture here, but as far as he’s concerned, it’s useful for immortality and nothing else. So if his praise of your body choice seemed a little disingenuous, that’s why.”

“Oh, yeah, I noticed that his ‘If I had had a daughter’ sounded like he wasn’t willing to accept that. But at least for today and possibly forever after I turn 18, he will have one.”

“He’s not going to stand in the way of your wishes, but at the same time, he wishes you wouldn’t go girl.”

“So why did you marry an outsider?”

“Because these days, the majority of family members prefer to be female. Most of them have had chances to go both ways, and a century ago most of them went male because of discrimination against women, and we married outside women into the family. Now it’s the other way around, women have rights, and just comparing the bodies, people prefer female ones. So there simply aren’t enough men within the family. Maybe in the next generation, a lesbian relationship would be fine, and we have family members who do that now, but it causes too many difficulties for me.”

“You know, I haven’t even really thought about that. If I go girl, does that mean I will marry a guy? I don’t think I’ve quite got a clear picture of who I am interested in sexually.”

“And that’s fine. You will figure it out, perhaps soon. Even if you find a female body you would really like to have, you can change your mind later. If you decide to stay a guy, you might even convince a person you like who’s determined to go female to take the female body you liked, so you can still appreciate that body from the outside. One thing you can do is masturbate. Try it as a girl and as a guy. Figure out what you like better. It’s not the same as sex, but in terms of figuring out what you like, it works. I know we told you don’t rush into sex, but when you are taking the long view, asking yourself who you want to marry, sex is definitely a part of it.”

“So you mean that after this walk I should masturbate today while I am still in this body?”

“Yes. And you can use your fingers, especially on your clitoris, but because the insertion is an important part of sex as a woman, you may want a dildo or vibrator to help you.”

She explained those, though I had a fair idea already, and then I found that she had walked us to the sex shop, which at my young age had always been off limits to me. But I realized the body I was in today did not look 13, and Mom and I walked in without being questioned.

“The dildo will better simulate actual sex, but the vibration of the vibrator can provide better sexual pleasure. And the kind I got you can be inserted in the vagina or used externally on the clitoris, the vaginal lips, or wherever it gives you pleasure. But you absolutely cannot let Dad see that you have these. If you keep them in the bathroom, store them away in the closet behind something so he won’t see them by accident if he uses it. In your bedroom, just make sure they aren’t visible.”

The vibrator needed batteries, but Mom bought those too. So after that, we walked back the way we came, me carrying the plain brown bag with my new toys. When we got home, Mom quickly ushered Dad off to their bedroom. To have sex? Dunno, but if she wanted to give me time to masturbate as a girl, there was no better way. I went into the bathroom, set the lock on the door, stripped and hung up my clothes, and sat on the toilet and explored my new sexuality. I removed the tampon so I could insert my toys.

It was quite good. One obvious difference is there was no definite stopping point, unlike as a boy when I came and then I needed to build up a bit before I could do it again. It just kept building up to higher and higher levels of intensity, and eventually I was panting with the pleasure and decided that was probably a good place to stop. I’d sweated enough that I needed to wash that off, a sponge bath to add to my earlier shower. And put in a new tampon.

I went back to my room at that point and thought about the whole experience. Did I like the idea of a man putting his dick into me, and squirting his come up inside me? Well, most of the time he won’t get the come inside me. We’d be using condoms. Would he keep going long enough for me to experience a stronger sensation as a woman than I got as a man?

I couldn’t decide. But one thing I decided was that I was comparing apples to oranges. I needed to try masturbation not as my usual body but as an 18-year-old man to properly compare with what I had just done as a woman. Maybe I could be a man next weekend, and then alternate. Dad would like it better that I was at least considering staying male, but I wasn’t going to let that sway me.

Pretty soon I heard Mom and Dad coming out of their room. We all got together for lunch, and then Mom and I went back over to the Clothes Hole to get me changed back.

“OK, Dan, one last thing before you change back,” Mom told me.

“What’s that?”

“Go to the bathroom here and take out your tampon. If you don’t, it’ll just get pushed out onto the floor.”

It was a little easier that time, but it still seemed like it had gone farther up inside me than it should have. But I changed back to my usual body with no difficulty after that. And that was all we did there. No more trying on other things, no more side-trips to stores, just there and back.

Over the following week, I tried to masturbate every evening and think about how this felt and how doing it as a girl had. Was this going to get better as I got older? Mom told me that when I was fully grown my erection would be as big as the dildo was. It was nowhere near that big now. It still felt good, but would it feel better as it got bigger? That is what I’m going to find out next weekend.

Pretty soon, Saturday was here, and it was time to try on random clothes that came through the hole before I got try my choices.

When we got down to the small items, at one point I picked up a pair of pantyhose. Grandma, who was sizing me, asked if I had ever put on pantyhose before.

“No.”

“Well, if you are going to be a girl, at least some of the time, it’s good that you learn.”

“Is there a trick?”

“Not really, it’s just difficult. Bunch up most of the legs and put both feet in like putting on socks, and at that point you should be in the female body. Then you pull them up and you have to keep pulling, and you have to take turns between pulling from the top and stretching out the part already on your legs. They’re very tight; if it feels like they are a size too small, they’re probably just right, but be careful not to rip them. Always pull at the loosest part. Eventually, the part at the top should be snugly against your crotch, like panties.”

“All right. I’ll give it a try.”

I stripped off my clothes and hung them up like normal, bunched up one leg of the pantyhose and put my foot into it, and set that foot down and prepared to do the other one. Suddenly, I felt heavy and unsteady, and in a lot of pain. I fell over forward and ended up kneeling in front of the curtain.

Grandma was yelling, “No! No! No!” and she ran to me and pulled me back into the curtain. I missed exactly what she did, but a moment later I found myself in my normal body with my shirt around my neck.

“What happened?” I asked.

“The woman whose pantyhose those were was in the process of giving birth.”

“Oh. That’s what that was!”

“The only way I could see to stop it was get you out of that body. If it had gone much further, it would have been too late. Remember the rule about the tampon?”

“Yeah.”

“If you had pushed the head out, it would have been too much. When you changed back, the whole baby, cord, and placenta would have all been pushed out of you.”

“I’m guessing that would have hurt like He- ... Heck.”

“Pretty much. We get clothes from pregnant women sometimes - it’s always possible that an article of clothing belongs to someone who is already pregnant but not showing, and it’s one of the few moneyback guarantees we offer to the paying customers. If your body turns out to be pregnant and you don’t want the baby, you can come back and we’ll change you into your original body for a full refund, or any other body we have for free. Of course, some people keep the babies. And some of the clothes belong to obviously pregnant women, and we get couples who can’t have children for some reason who ask for such a body.”

“But those are not giving birth at the time they change, right?”

“Right. We only ever had one other woman in labor that the clothes changed somebody to, and we were renting that out - have your baby and return to your original body that day. One woman had second thoughts about the pain of the birth, and wanted us to change her back. She was running down here, grabbed any garment off a rack and put it over her head even though we yelled at her not to do that, but by the time she got into the circle the head had come out. She had chosen a man’s shirt, and with no corresponding orifice in the man, the change rejected the baby as foreign matter, the same way it would for the tampon. We eventually got her changed into her original body, but she told us she felt excruciating pain as the baby was practically launched from her body.”

“So she survived. Good.”

“The baby did too, actually.”

“What would have happened if the garment she had picked up had belonged to a woman?”

“We never tested that scenario, because we did not want to run risky tests involving birth and changes, but we had women who changed with a tampon in into another woman, and they still had the tampon in the other body, so I assume she would still have given birth to the baby, but at a normal speed.”

“Do you still have the other woman-in-labor garment?”

“No. After 35 copies of that same baby were born we retired it to avoid putting too many of those into the gene pool. Wouldn’t want their children to unknowingly marry and effectively have kids with their half-brother or half-sister.”

“Did you confirm that different people changing into the same body have the same genes?”

“This was only a guess for a while, but with the widely available testing now available we confirmed it. Two unrelated people changed into the same body had 100% matching DNA. But I will save those pantyhose. There will be people who want a child now, who would pay good money to rent that body, and I will warn them that this body is really giving birth immediately.”

Mom and Grandma figured out how to enter that one into their system. It turned out they had a surveillance camera aimed right at the circle - which made a lot of sense; if somebody broke in here and stole a body, they’d need the photo to know what body to look for! In this case they used it to get a rough description of the woman giving birth to put in the file, and cropped a face from a frame of the video to use in place of the usually more detailed face photo.

Then we set up for the next rotation.

Grandma commented, “Don’t worry about that happening again. It could, but it has only happened two times in hundreds of thousands of garments.”

“I thought the numbers were only in the thirty thousands.”

“That’s only since we started the tracking system. We get roughly 30 garments a week, so about 1500 a year, and it was about 25 years ago that we got serious and started tracking everything using the computer database. Before that, the only sort of tracking that was done was to separate garments into young adult bodies we thought were desirable and everything else that we discarded, and we split them into male and female, white and other races. In older days there were fewer garments, but I still think the total is around 250,000.”

“And how many of those 1500 a year get used?”

“About 10% are undesirable for some reason, and about 1% are kept for rental, usually for about 5-10 years after which point if it was useful to have for rent the clothes may be worn out, and if it hasn’t been rented, say, 20 times in 5 years, we open it up to purchase. Another 10% of them get used by a family member, and maybe 5%, around 80 a year, get purchased. The reason our sessions have not been all at the same time is because I am scheduling you around other appointments. And yes, this means that almost 3/4 of the garments don’t get rejected right off but never get used. In the old days, they were throwing out that many right from the start. Garments that belonged to kids younger than about 15 or people older than about 25 were considered something nobody would ever choose, and got tossed right off the bat to keep the volume of stored clothes down. And other exceptions among the 10% we toss today were also discarded.”

We went through the rest of the clothes without incident, except that one garment was a baby’s onesie. Mom got that on her turn, and she “wore” it by putting it over one hand with two fingers extended down into the legs. I had to carry the baby to measure height and weight, and then rescue her from that situation by tossing her dress over the naked baby. We didn’t measure the baby in more detail than that, but I saw that they did keep it.

“We don’t expect somebody wants to turn into a baby, but with the documentation required from a young age, it may sometimes be necessary to produce the person one of the fake identities represents before the person is ready to adopt that identity. If that happens, we’ll have somebody use some of this saved clothing to produce a person of a given age. Since the person is actually an adult in a baby body, they can play along to whatever is necessary to satisfy the auditor or whoever is requiring this.”

Next I got my turn, and Grandma was surprised to see me looking at male bodies today.

“You give up on going female? I hope that birth thing didn’t scare you off. Birth is an intense experience but when you know it’s coming it is not as bad as what you experienced today. And you generally use birth control and only actually give birth to children when you plan it, when you really want a child, and so you feel it’s worth that pain.”

“No, but Mom said something that made me have some second thoughts. Specifically, I want to compare certain aspects of being a woman with being a man in ways that being a 13-year-old boy may not provide a valid comparison for.”

Grandma smirked in a way that told me she understood this was about sex without me having said the word. I guess it was an easy guess.

After another trip to the thrift store, I went home in a man who had probably the kind of body Dad hoped I was going to take when he first knew I was going to look at other bodies.

Using the bathroom that was almost exclusively mine, I masturbated to orgasm three times in this body, once shortly after I got home, once that evening, and once the next morning. I was disappointed. Although my erection was twice as big around and 50% longer than the one my 13-year-old body possessed, the sexual feeling was only slightly better. I definitely felt it better as a woman.

Now I realized this wasn’t the end of the story. Mom had explained that sexual feeling varies among individuals and I will want to try other bodies to confirm my comparison. But what I had experienced suggested women got it better, and Mom had essentially said as much.

I got changed back to my young body without incident.