“My name is Leslie. I’m a geneticist, and a good one. I had secretly worked for years on developing a virus that would swap every y chromosome in a male body with an x chromosome. Everyone in the genetics field had said that it was impossible, but that impossibility was what drove me to try and succeed. I had successfully made the gender swap with male rats. Then with several male chimpanzees, since they share 98.7% of their genetic material with humans. The transformations were complete, in that the males became fully female. The question was of whom to experiment with among humans. I figured that I could try it out on someone who deserved to be a woman instead of a man, and black instead of white.”

“His name was Gene. It was a well-kept secret that Gene was the head of a white supremacist cult, but I had found out through a disaffected cult member. The beautiful thing was that Gene was trying to improve his Arian lineage through gene therapy. He was very proud and a sociopath. I was friends with a beautiful woman from Ethiopia, Amara. Ethiopian women have long been regarded as some of the most beautiful in Africa, with their distinct blend of African and Middle Eastern features. When I confided in Amara as to the purpose of using her x chromosomes, she was of course delighted. We went out for dinner the night before Gene was to come in for his treatment. Amara and I went to an Ethiopian restaurant.”

“Amara and I sat together in a booth at Dewit’s Ethiopian Restaurant. I ordered Doro Wot, a spicy chicken stew with a hard-boiled egg, and Amara ordered Shiro Wot, a flavorful, thick chickpea stew. Amara said, “Thank you so much, Leslie, for telling me what you are going to do with my genome.” I replied, ”I knew that you would be thrilled to know it. Anyway, it was too good for me to keep the secret all to myself.” We both sipped an Ethiopian honey wine, known as Tej. I said, “Amara, the biggest problem that I face is this thing coming back on me. Gene is going to figure out who did this to him. The key thing is for me to be absent when Genevieve comes looking for me. The incubation period is 12 hours to three days.” ”

“I said, “The sad thing is that Genevieve will totally forget what I have done to her within a week’s time. It is furthermore disheartening that I won’t be around to watch what she does when the changes begin to occur. His male prowess and his bigotry are going to totally be annihilated.” Amara replied, “ You could have your hair cut, styled, and died, and wear your glasses instead of your contacts. Surely you could figure out a way to be around her and see how her new body affects her thinking.” I said, “I will take off work for a week and live on the street near her house. I can live out of my car for a week and keep close tabs on her.” Amara said, “You really think you can do that?” I replied, “I will have to if I’m going to witness her change.” ”

“A virus is frequently used in gene therapy as a type of "vector" or delivery vehicle to carry genes into cells, though they are modified to remove their ability to cause disease. I put the vector into an intravenous solution. I had not yet changed my appearance when Gene came in for his gene therapy. He came in at 9:00 am. By 9:15 I had started the IV. It would take three hours to administer the long-term therapeutic IV. He was jovial and told off-color jokes whenever I was around. I thought, “Yeah, you deserve every bit of what you are in for.” When he left, he asked how long before the changes would show. I answered him, and he left. I finished out the day, made sure that everything was in order for my absence, and left to see my stylist.”

“It was almost two days to the hour when I saw Genevieve come out of her house. She was in a state of panic. Her skin was a light brown, her face was starting to look softer, her bosom was starting to swell, and her hips and buttocks were growing. I decided to risk talking to her. I got out of the van which I had rented. I walked up to her and said, “What’s wrong, miss?” She snarled, “I am not a miss. I am a God-damned man!” I said, "You don’t look like a man. Let’s go inside and talk in the privacy of your home.” She turned and went back inside, and I followed. I said, “My name is Jennifer.” He said, “My name is fucked-up Gene.”

“I said, “What is going on, Gene?” She said, “I went into a clinic two days ago to get some gene therapy. I swear that I am going to kill that gene therapist, Leslie. She has screwed me royally.” I said, “In what way has she screwed you?” She answered, “I was a white man, and now I am becoming a dark-skinned female ******!” I said, “You aren’t black yet, Gene.” She growled, “I sure as hell am getting darker by the minute! And these breasts keep growing. I need to go change into my sweats. These clothes are getting way too tight.” With that, she got up from her chair and went upstairs. When she returned, she was in tears. “Why is this shit happening to me? I’ve never cried in my life!” I did my best to console her. Inside I was laughing.”

“She was getting close to being completely a woman. All her facial hair had disappeared, and she was a very attractive African American. Her breasts, even though somewhat concealed by the sweatshirt, had to be either an D or E cup size. She sat there and shook and sobbed. “What am I going to do? If my friends find me like this, they might just kill me! I can’t go to any more meetings. I can’t lead them. I am ruined!” She ran her delicate hands through her curly black hair. “I hate this! I hate what I have become! I had best kill myself. I can’t live like this.” I said, “Gene, you need to calm down. I will help you to adjust. I’ll even go with you to buy a new wardrobe.” I was thoroughly enjoying myself. This man had gotten what he deserved.”

“I held her hand. “Gene, you need to think about calling yourself something else besides Gene. What about Genevieve?” She looked at me like I had lost my mind. “You’ve got to be fucking me!” I said, “You have got to face the fact that you are now very much a woman, and a gorgeous woman at that. Come into the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror.” She followed me to the half-bath. When she saw her reflection, she put her hands to her face and began to sob again. I thought, “This is too good.” She cried out, “Please shoot me and put me out of my misery! I’ll show you where my handgun is.” I said, “Nothing doing. You’re talking nonsense.” I thought to myself, “How on earth are we going to make it for a week?” I shook my head.”

“I slept in Genevieve’s spare bedroom after I had tucked her in for the night. We had agreed that we would go shopping in the morning. I told her that we would go to her bank in the morning and withdraw $500 from the ATM machine. The credit card wouldn’t work, because they would notice it was in her husband’s name and would ask for ID. We went shopping for clothes. It turned out that she was 38DD/E, 24-inch waist, and 36-inch hips. She had been 5’-10” tall, but now she was 5’-4”. We were able to buy her quite a bit, shopping at thrift stores. Genevieve was really distraught about being a black woman and the thought that her cult men would show up or call at any time. She had a distinctive African accent, and there was no hiding it.”

“The following morning, Genevieve said, “I can’t believe I’ve got a pussy. I miss my cock.” I said, “You’ll get used to it.” At around 10 am, her cell phone rang. It was Patrick, asking Gene where he’d been. When he heard Genevieve’s voice, he said, “Where the fuck is Gene? Who are you? You sound like an African ****** woman! I’m coming right over!” Genevieve hung up and was in a panic. “What am I going to do when he gets here? He’s going to bring Norman with him! They will kill me!” I said, “Don’t panic. I will answer the door.” Fifteen minutes later the doorbell rang. I answered the door. Patrick pushed the door open and came into the living room. “Where the fuck is Gene? Who are you?” I said, “I’m his new slut.” His eyes got wide.”

“Norman followed Patrick into the room. He and Patrick were looking all around. “I’m going upstairs.” I said, “You can’t do that!” He retorted, “Why the fuck not?” I answered, “It’s not your house!” He exclaimed, “I’m going up there!” He bounded up the steps two at a time. In moments I heard, “Who the hell are you?” He dragged Genevieve back downstairs. There was terror on her face. With fire in his eyes, he asked me, “Who the hell is this?” I answered, “This is Gene’s new sex slave.” His eyes got as big as saucers. “The hell you say!” I said, “Yeah, and you’d better leave his goods undamaged!” He responded, “You had better tell Gene that we don’t think much of his choice. He can go fuck himself!” I said, “That’s absurd!” The door slammed.”

“Genevieve sat down and sobbed. “T-t-this is not going to end well. I’m in a shit house!” I said, “Genevieve, everything is going to be alright.” With that we left the house. I took Genevieve to the DMV to see a friend of mine. I explained everything to her. “I can’t just issue her a driver’s license. I need the proper paperwork.” I said, “Look, you’re the manager. You can make this work. A half hour later we left the DMV with Genevieve’s driver’s license in hand. We went to the bank and withdrew $1,000 from the ATM, which was the max she could withdraw. “You need to leave the house and the phone. You can withdraw another thousand dollars tomorrow, and another the next day. You need to start from scratch.” We took her new wardrobe and left.”

“She did want to pay me a visit at the clinic. I told her, “No guns!” She acquiesced. When we got to the clinic, Genevieve went up to the check-in counter. The receptionist said, “Oh, I’m so sorry, but Leslie is out on vacation this week.” Genevieve was pissed. “I so wanted to ream her out for what she did to me. It’s just not fair! She totally wrecks my life, and I just have to suck it up, without getting to tell her what I think of her.” I said, “Genevieve, maybe you can tell her next week what you think of her. She’ll be back then, and you can give her your piece of mind.” She shrugged her shoulders, “Maybe she is the sort that will just shrug it off and tell me to go fuck myself.” I said, “Maybe you’re right. That would be a real let down for you.” ”

By the end of a week, Genevieve was a new woman. She didn’t remember her former name or way of life. I had to walk her through getting new immigrant status, finding an apartment, and eventually getting a job. She had enough to live on for a year with Gene’s bank account, withdrawing a $1,000 every week. He had quite a nest egg, having been the leader of a cult. I built a business around my patent for sex change gene therapy. I helped mtf and ftm transgenders make transition for a reasonable price of $10,000. I quickly became a multi-millionaire and eventually a billionaire, with some wise investments. My gene pool was made up of pretty women and handsome men, who got their kicks out of seeing others in their own image.

Warning: there is some sexual violence in this story, as well as explicit mention of female body parts.

My Brilliant Idea

I have been frustrated for decades with not being able to bring myself to see a psychiatrist who deals in gender dysphoria. It is not that I couldn’t have passed the psychological testing for mental stability, the testing for true gender dysphoria, and living a year in women’s clothing. I know that I could have done all that. However, I could not bring myself to hurt my wife, children, or friends by my actions. They did not understand gender dysphoria. All I could do was secretly console myself with crossdressing.

Enough time has passed that it is no longer possible for me to consider estrogen treatment or gender affirming surgery, or sex reassignment surgery as I have long known it. I am 68 years old, and my body is starting to fail me in a number of ways.

However, it struck me about 18 months ago, that with today’s current technology, there might be a way for me to experience being inside a young woman’s body, without going through transition. It might not be wholly ethical, morally acceptable, but I believed that it could be done, if I could just talk to the right people. I needed a human biologist and a nanotechnologist, at the very least. Funding was not my concern at that moment. I needed to see if what I imagined was a possibility.

After doing a little searching online, I concluded that the best place to find both of these people would be in a pharmaceutical company. There is a company in the city in which I live, but how to contact them was a dilemma for me. However, after a bit more searching online I found the name of a dedicated biomedical and mechanical engineer who had research experience in nanotechnology, who was an employee at the local pharmaceutical company. There was just one catch. The person was a female, and might not take too kindly to my idea.

Nevertheless, I looked at the website where her name came up. From her photo, she looked to be in her late 20s or early 30s. All I had to do was join the professional network to which she belonged and I would be able to obtain her contact info. I did so and got her phone number and email address. Now, I just needed to figure out what was the correct approach to contacting her.

I finally settled on giving her a phone call. I thought that late afternoon, between 4 and 5 pm, might work best. I settled on 4:30 pm. I made the call, and she answered.

“Hello, (she gave the name of the company), this is Michelle.”

“Hi Michelle, I found your contact info through your website and professional network. I have an idea about an application of nanotech in the medical field. I’m not a human biologist, nor a nanotechnologist, but I thought you might be interested in hearing my idea and seeing if there is any merit to it.” There was a brief pause, and I thought, “Oh, no! I’ve said the wrong thing!”

But Michelle answered, “I would be delighted to hear the idea that you have. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, excuse me. My name is Chris Sanders.”

I then asked Michelle, “Could we discuss my proposal over lunch. I don’t think it would take very long to present my idea.”

“I think that would be great. There’s a bistro across the street, Endroit Calme, meaning Quiet Spot. They serve excellent French cuisine at a reasonable price.”

“I know the place. Would tomorrow at 11:45 am work for you? That way we can beat the lunch crowd.”

“That sounds fine, Mr. Sanders.”

“Oh, you can just call me Chris. I’ll see you then, and it will be my treat.”

“Thank you, I look forward to meeting you.”

I spent the night fretting. I didn’t sleep very much, but I was used to it. It is one of the hazards of getting older. I tried to think how best to present my thoughts without offending her. I finally drifted off to sleep around 2 am.

Because I had seen her photo online, I had no trouble recognizing Michelle. We shook hands and exchanged greetings, then went inside to order. We took a few moments to look at the entrees. Michelle ordered ratatouille with ruby snapper. I got steak tartare and French onion soup. Since it was a warm Spring day, we went outside to one of the tables there.

As we began to eat, I started to talk. “Michelle, in order for this idea to make any sense, you need to know that I am a male to female transgender. Please keep this in confidence, since I don’t want it getting back to my wife and children.”

“Oh, no problem, Chris. What is your feminine name?”

“I’ll tell you, but please don’t call me by that name here.”

“No, of course not.”

“It’s Crystal. Anyway, my idea is to somehow implant nanobots in a female and nanobots in myself, such that she would be sending and I would be receiving and living vicariously through her. I know that sounds crazy, and maybe even immoral, but I am getting old and have maybe twenty years left to live.”

Michelle toyed with her food for a moment, and then she looked up and directly into my eyes. “Chris, that is not a crazy idea at all. You would need to have the consent of the sender, but I think that we could maybe get this to work, and it might even have a great market, given the fact that so many are struggling with their birth gender. But there are several hurdles that need to be surmounted.”

“Such as?”

“There is the problem of how to get the bots to the right locations. Another obstacle is how to send and receive. And perhaps the most challenging issue is how to get the sensory info translated into a digital format. I’m sure there are other hurdles, but those are the three that come to mind right away.”

“Oh, those both sound like insurmountable obstacles.”

“Not necessarily. I just need to figure out how to send two of the bots to the optic nerves for sight. Another to the somatosensory system, a ridge of the cortex called the postcentral gyrus, found in the parietal lobe of the brain, for touch and feeling. Another to the cochlear nucleus in the brainstem, for hearing. Another to the insular cortex, for taste. And two bots to the two olfactory bulbs, just above each nasal cavity, for smell. That’s just for item one.” She smiled.

“This just sounds impossible, Michelle.” I’m sure that she could read the despair in my voice and face.

“No, Chris, not if I take it one piece at a time.”

“I’m not sure how to pay you for this without my wife finding out about it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m intrigued by this concept of yours.”

“How long do you think it would take to develop and implement?”

“Oh, given the fact that I’d be working on it during my off hours, I suspect at least a year, if not two.”

“I’ll be 69 or 70 by then!”

“Chris, your age won’t matter one bit. But you have to understand, this could not be 24/7 for you. It could only be for two, at most three, hours at a time. You have to use the bathroom, eat, move about, sleep, et cetera. And you would have to be lying down, because with someone else’s sensory input flooding you, you couldn’t navigate. And the device would need to be on a timer, because you couldn’t stop it otherwise.”

“Wow, Michelle! You are really thinking about this.”

“Of course I am. I want to help you.”

Then I said, “Of course, I want to be one of the test subjects.”

“Well, of course. You realize that we’d be breaking all kinds of rules and laws.”

“Yes, I realize that. But who would the female test subject be? What woman is going to agree to having an old man observe her while undressed?”

“Why, me, silly.”

“You? You’d be willing to do that for me? You don’t even know me! I might be some kind of pervert.”

“I highly doubt that! I’ve learned a lot about you during this past hour, Chris. You’re compassionate, kind, gentle, caring, creative, and imaginative. Let me toss this around a bit and let’s talk again in a month or so.” With that we finished our lunchtime together.

The Trial Run

It took a year and a half, and we talked at least once a month, if not more. We went out to lunch again, this time at a Greek restaurant. I had a lamb dish, but I don’t recall what Michelle had. She started by explaining that the nanobots could be stirred into a glass of water, such as was in front of us at this meal. She also asked me for my cell phone, and loaded an app onto it by scanning a code.

“You’ll use your phone to control the bots. I will have my phone near me at all times, so you can experience me anytime that you want.” She took out two little vials and emptied one into each of our glasses. “Let us drink to each other’s good health.”

“To your good health!” We raised our glasses to salute each other, and then drank down the contents.

She gave me a bit more instruction. “You use the app to set the start time and the end time. Make sure that you’re lying down before the start time and that the phone is nearby, in the same room.”

I’m sure that I looked a little sheepish when I asked her this question. I may have even gotten a little red in the face. “Michelle, I feel awkward asking this, but what time do you usually get up in the morning and what time do you shower and dress?”

She grinned. “You don’t need to feel embarrassed. I get up at 6 am and shower right away. I suppose that I get dressed at around 6:30.”

“Okay, I will set my phone to start at 5:55 and end at 8:30 after you’ve gotten to the office.”

“Sounds fine, Chris.” And then she leaned forward and spoke softly. “Enjoy being a pretty young woman, Crystal.” And then she winked at me. Her blonde curls shook as she giggled.

“Will I remember what happens, or will it be like a dream that I forget upon waking?”

She smiled demurely and said, “You will remember everything that you did, Chris.” Now I smiled and winked at her.

Before I laid down for the night, I pulled up the app and set the date and times for tomorrow morning. It would not seem unusual to my wife that I would sleep until 8:30. I woke several times during the night, and when I woke up at 5:13 am, I did not allow myself to go back to sleep. I kept an eye on my alarm clock and, when it got to be 5:53, I turned on my back and closed my eyes. Soon I heard her gentle breathing. It was several minutes before I heard her alarm go off. She was lying on her side and I saw what she saw when she opened her eyes. She reached over to shut the alarm off and it felt like my arm did the reaching. I felt long hair about my face, and felt my breasts jostle as I rose to a sitting position on the side of the bed. My hands touched smooth thighs. I got up.

Michelle walked around the end of the bed, and I was feeling my breasts bounce slightly as I walked to the light on the dresser and turned it on. She picked up her phone, then opened a drawer and I selected a pair of panties and a bra. Then I walked to the bathroom, turned on the light, and turned to face the mirror. I was confronted by the beautiful face of Michelle. I was looking right into her eyes, my eyes.

She smiled, I smiled, and she said, “Good morning, Crystal. Enjoy yourself.”

I could see my breasts through the thin material of her negligee. I removed it over my head, and I got a good look in the mirror of my shapely breasts and firm nipples. My waist was slender, my hips full. I turned to lift the lid of the toilet and then I turned to face the door and sit down on the seat. It was very strange to not have to touch or hold anything as I went pee. She turned to grab some toilet paper and I dabbed myself dry. I stood up and opened the shower door and turned on the water.

It was all a bit strange, and took some getting used to, but I did not initiate any of the movements, nor could I direct my eyes. But Michelle had a feel for what would give me the most pleasure in this experience. She started singing a song as I entered the shower and felt the warm water on my skin. Her voice sounded different, and then I realized that I was hearing my voice through my head. I grabbed the bar of soap from a shelf and began to run it over my chest until the lather was thick. Michelle brought my hands up to caress my breasts. I think they were either a size D or E cup, just the right size. She then brought my hands down to gently wash her labia, the lips of my vagina. She allowed me to wash and feel her entire body. I felt complete and clean. My outside finally matched my inside. But emotionally I felt just awful. I couldn’t explain it when I should be feeling on top of the world.

We dried ourselves off, and put on our panties. It was nice to not feel a bulge there, but a smooth curve down between my ample thighs. We straightened up and gazed once more into the mirror at the quite gorgeous young lady that we were. We smiled again, with a twinkle in our eyes.

Michelle said, “You look very nice, Crystal.”

We turned the bra upside down, fastened the back strap in front, rotated it, pulled the cups up to enclose my breasts, and then pulled the straps up onto my shoulders. We walked back to the bedroom with the phone. I caught another glimpse of myself in an oval mirror on the closet door. I really did look good.

I opened another dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of nude pantyhose. I sat down on the bed and gathered one of the hose up and slipped in my toes. My toenails, fingernails, and skin were all smooth, so there was no snagging of the hose, as I had all too frequently done when I was crossdressing in my youth. I pulled the hose up about my waist, looking down to admire my shapely legs. Then Michelle went to the closet and selected a slip and a cobalt blue dress for me to put on. There were slits on the sides to give tantalizing views of my thighs, and a conservative neckline to show just the beginning of my cleavage. We slipped on a pair of matching blue shoes with medium heels. According to Michelle, I was 5’-4” and weighed 120 pounds. I had always wanted to be this short, for my male body height was 6’-0”.

“Crystal, we’ll go get a bite to eat and then put on your makeup and jewelry.”

Grabbing the phone, we went down to the kitchen and fixed a toasted bagel with strawberry cream cheese and had a cup of coffee with cream and sugar. We went back upstairs to brush our teeth. Then we sat down at a polished wood bureau with an oval mirror behind. On top of a floral embroidered linen there were all manner of cosmetics, as well as perfume bottles, soft hairbrushes, and a hand mirror for checking behind. I applied foundation sparingly, lip liner, a soft pink lipstick, rouge, eyeliner, a dark blue eyeshadow with white highlight above, and mascara. Michelle picked up a hairbrush and I brushed my curly golden blonde hair. Like an angelic halo it circled and framed my face.

Finally, I put on a gold chain necklace, gold stud earrings with a diamond in each, a slender gold watch, a couple of rings, one gold and one silver. Michelle looked once more in the oval mirror and I thought to myself, “You are one good lookin’ girl, Crystal.” We got up from the upholstered bureau bench and grabbed a clutch purse, putting the cell phone into it as we walked toward the stairs. I opened the garage door and pushed the button for the garage door opener. Michelle had a red Sebring convertible. I opened the car door and turned my back to the seat, sat down, and swung both legs into the car. I was amazed how far up the seat was and yet I was perfectly comfortable with the settings. The roof was down and as I backed out into the morning sunlight, I leaned over, opened the glove compartment, and grabbed a pair of stylish sunglasses. I enjoyed that drive into work, with the wind blowing my shoulder length hair, and I admired my pink fingernails on the steering wheel. But, again, my emotions were just raunchy, like nothing before.

I enjoyed the walk from the car to the office building. I could feel my hips swaying and my arms swinging. My deportment and gestures were really those of a vibrant young lady. I could feel the weight of my breasts, and a slight bounce, even with the bra on. I also loved the feel of my dress about my legs. I was ecstatic. Once I got in the office, I was greeting people right and left. I’m glad that Michelle knew their names. We went to get a cup of coffee and talked to one of her fellow employees at the coffee machine. Then we went and caught up on her emails. She was kind enough to look down and I got to see that small bit of cleavage and my shimmering legs below my hemline. It was then that the program broke off. It was 8:30.

I was a bit dejected at my first trip having so abruptly ended. And yet I was elated at having experienced living in a female body, and such a beautiful one at that. But there was something that still troubled me about my emotions. I felt really down.

I called Michelle at 11:30 am, just before lunch. She picked up right away.

“Michelle, it was fantastic! I had long imagined what it would be like, but it far surpassed anything that I could dream up.”

“That’s great, Crystal! I’m glad to hear that.”

“But there is one thing that bothered me.”

“What’s that, Crystal? I can’t even hazard a guess.”

“I’ve felt emotions that I’ve never felt before. You didn’t arrange for me to get your thoughts, did you?”

“No, not at all. That’s not even possible, yet. I’m going through my monthly cycle. I suspect that what you felt was my glum feelings.”

“How can that be?”

“Well, in the insular cortex, where taste senses occur, there is the possibility of experiencing visceral and emotional states. That is, you can feel what I’m feeling.”

“That must be it. The feelings were just awful. I don’t know how you deal with those emotions each month.”

“You get used to them after a while.”

“Thanks a bunch, Michelle. You can’t imagine what you’ve done for me.” With that I hung up. I couldn’t wait until the next morning, but I had to. Though I wasn’t looking forward to the bad feelings.

Truly Becoming One

The next morning, I was awake at shortly after 5 am again. I lay there in high expectations. I couldn’t imagine how I could keep doing this each morning, for I felt sure that I would never tire of feeling like a real girl, a real woman. It was pretty much a repeat of the previous morning, though this time I had to deal with the physical effects of going through a period. That was not pleasant, but I quickly got over it once we were in the shower again. This time we wore a cream colored knit pullover and a green skirt. It was a bit shorter than the dress. I also wore tan pantyhose this time. The shoes were green, the eyeshadow was green, and the lipstick was a Christmas or Poinsettia red, almost matching the color of the sports car. Again, Michelle remembered to take her phone with her to every room and to work.

But this morning would be a totally different morning. As we were getting out of the car in the parking garage, an unshaven and filthy looking man accosted us. He threatened us with a knife and he got us to lie down in the dark in front of the car, where he proceeded to rip our clothes off us, grope us, and then penetrate us. His violent treatment of us hurt really bad, not just physically, but emotionally. I could feel the awful feelings of panic, disgust, horror, denial that this could be happening, shock, et cetera. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, he was gone and we were left completely devastated and not knowing what to do. We wanted to go to the police, but feelings of shame kept us from calling for help. But then I/we heard a woman talking and we called out to her for help. She immediately called 911 and both paramedics and police showed up.

Before they arrived, the woman assured Michelle/me that she would return in just a few moments, she wanted to get an afghan for me/us before help arrived. The man she had been talking with did not come near, but stayed well away. She assured me/us that a woman police officer would be answering the call. Thankfully the paramedic who first came to me was a woman also. Then it was 8:30 again. I felt awful, but I was afraid to call Michelle. I was also afraid not to, not wanting to leave her alone, but I felt that the less contact she had with men right now would be best. It was an awful day as I relived those horrible moments again and again.

During that day and ensuing days, I felt dirty and defiled. I did not have any desire to use the device in the days following the assault. I texted Michelle that I had ceased to use the nanobots, and that she was free to call me only when she was good and ready. There was no rush, no pressure to talk now or ever.

She called me on the fourth day. When I heard her voice, I just kept quiet and let her talk.

“Crystal, I need to talk with you. You are the one person who knows how I feel and what I experienced. Are you there?”

“I’m here, Michelle. I don’t need to talk, unless you want me to. I’m here to listen.”

“I appreciate that, Crystal, but I need to hear you verbalize what we’re both feeling right now. Can you do that for me?"

“I’ll try, Michelle. You stop me if you need to.” Then I began to recount to her the awful, tormented, feelings that I had been dealing with for the past four days.

After a while, she spoke again. “Oh, Crystal, you really do understand, and you’re so sensitive and compassionate for me. Thank you. Can you come over to my house for a while, if you’re up to it?”

“Sure, Michelle. What is your home address?” She gave it to me, then I told my wife that I needed to get out of the house for a bit, like going to the used bookstore for a while. Then I drove to Michelle’s place and gently knocked on the door.

She opened the door. I had to ask her, “I don’t trigger you, being in a man’s body?”

“No, because I know that you understand what I’m feeling, exactly what I’ve been through. You’ve been through it yourself. You’re a woman inside. You were raped like I was. Please come in.”

Once the front door was closed, she led me by the hand to her couch. “Please hold me, Crystal, and speak words of comfort to me.”

I slowly put my arm around her shoulders and held her close. “I’m here, Michelle, and I won’t ever leave you. Do not be afraid.” We just sat together in silence for a while.

After a while, I spoke. “Michelle, I don’t know how long you’re able to take off work, but I’m here for you and will try to help you however I can.”

“I had to have a D&C done. I need to recover both physically and emotionally. My employer told me to take a week or two, or whatever time I need before coming back. But I need to return to work soon. I can’t be alone with my thoughts. I need to be doing something to distract myself. I think you understand.”

“I do. I’ve had to distract myself as well by keeping busy.”

“Crystal, I know this may not make sense, but I need you to be inside me as much as you can for a while. I need to know that you are with me. I know that you don’t lust after me, like some men do. I know that I am safe with you, and I need you near me.” I assured her that I would do and be whatever she needed me to be.

In the days that followed, I used the nanobots to be close to her, but it wasn’t so much about my feeling what it was like to be inside a female body. It was more that I felt the need to nurture and care for this young woman who had been hurt so bad.

On the telephone, one day after work, I told her, “Michelle, you can talk to yourself, even whisper, and I will be here to listen and understand.”

“Thank you, Crystal. You are a part of me, much more than I ever thought you could be or would be.”

For several days, I feigned being sick, so that I could stay in bed more and be with her. I would never go more than three hours, but I would take restroom breaks, eat and drink, and just get my head together, and then I would return to her. Now, more than ever, I felt one with her, not just in body, but also in mind and spirit.

Michelle and I became one, and I was with her much more than she knew. I don’t know quite how to end this story, but it was never the same from day to day. I was still close to my wife, and it was not like I was having an affair. Far from it. I was just being a friend to someone who needed me. Michelle told me one day that she wished she could be a lesbian. She wanted to be held and nurtured by a woman. I was not threatened by that. I understood and actually encouraged her in that. Sometimes I would be with her in those times of intimacy with her partner. Here, I had to reassure myself that I was still being true to my wife, that I was a one woman man for her. It got challenging sometimes, but, again, I was just being a good friend to someone I had come to love dearly. And that is how I came to be as close to being a woman myself as I possibly could. I don’t think I need to share more. What I have told you is enough. I am as close to being complete as I can be, without having to go through transition. I wish you well.

My name was Alex. I was twenty-five years old and working on my doctorate in aerospace technology. While on campus, I met an exceptional young woman, Janice, who was also working on her doctorate. But she couldn’t tell me much about what she and her colleagues were intensely researching. All that I could gather was that it had to do with matters esoteric and mysterious. Janice’s charmingly good looks hid well her dizzying intellect. I felt that I was out of her league, and yet she took a keen interest in me, my work, and my life. I can’t deny that I was drawn to her intellectually, socially, and sexually, but I tried to hide my male-to-female attraction. We dated for about a month and then she inexplicably took me to see her project.

Janice took me to the science building. It was a massive three-story building. It was much larger than the aerospace and aeronautics building that I worked in. We had just come from a concert at the musical hall; we had enjoyed Beethoven’s fifth and ninth symphonies. Janice was dressed in a lovely black formal gown. She took me to the third floor and to one of the metaphysics labs. Inside were two sarcophagi-shaped vessels that were reclined at about 80 degrees. Dozens of cables and tubes were connected to each of the vessels. Janice said, “Alex, please step into the left-hand vessel and lay your head on the cushion.” I said, “What’s the purpose of this?” She replied, “You are going to read my mind.” I said, “You’ve got to be joking.”

Janice had a solemn look on her face. “You’re not joking.” She said, “I’m absolutely serious, Alex.” I got into the sarcophagus that she had indicated. She was at a control panel, making some adjustments to the settings. Then she climbed into the other vessel and laid her head back. She said, “It will only be about 30 seconds and the device will begin. You may black out temporarily, but you’ll regain consciousness, and then I want you to tell me what you feel and think.” Two bands drew across my arms and chest and across my knees. “Why am I being restrained?” She laughed and said, “You’ll see, Alex, you’ll see.” All of a sudden I could hear the machine whirring and humming. My vision blurred and then I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I said, “Janice, I’m …” I stopped speaking. My voice was different. My voice was feminine. I moved my head and felt curls on the sides of my face. I suddenly realized that my eyelashes were thick. I looked down at myself and saw the tops of two breasts. I was in a black formal dress. “Janice,” I screamed, “What have you done to me?” A man’s voice said, “Calm down, Janice, you’re okay. I’m Alex now. The device is not a mind reading machine, but rather a mind and soul swapping device. Your mind and soul are now in what used to be my body. But it is your body now.” He chuckled. Then he got out of his sarcophagus and came to stand in front of me. “My dear Janice, you had better get used to being a woman. You are a woman.”

I recoiled in horror. “Janice … Alex, why have you done this to me? How can this device possibly do this? When are you going to give my body back to me?” Alex said, “Janice, Janice, you are full of questions, aren’t you. I have done this because I’ve always wanted to be a man. I could not possibly explain to your simple mind how this device works. It took our team of scientists and meta physicists decades to develop this device; in fact, I am a third-generation team member. As to giving your body back, it is your body no longer, and I am never swapping places with you again. Get used to the body you are in.” I started crying. “Oh, Janice, you’re going to ruin your mascara. Stop crying.” I said through my tears, “I hate you! I hate you!”

Alex went to the clutch purse that he had laid down on a counter and withdrew a small revolver. He pointed it at me. “I am going to release you now, but don’t resort to any violence. You are to stay calm. I am going to take over your previous life. I’m smart enough to take up where you left off. I may have to plead a mild case of amnesia, with respect to the names of my family, friends, and colleagues, but I’ve gained enough knowledge of your life these past four weeks that it should be fairly smooth sailing. You on the other hand, don’t know enough about me. You didn’t ask nearly enough questions. Life for you is going to start as a complete amnesiac. You’re going to have to go to the police and ask them to help you find out who you are.”

Alex released me and I got to my feet, a bit wobbly on the high heels I was wearing. “I’m going to the police and bringing them here.” He said, “Janice, no one will believe you. Even my colleagues will think you’ve lost your mind. The entire team is too dedicated for one of us to do something like this. They will never believe that I betrayed them and the project. We wanted to do a beta test first, with people swapping places for a few hours to perform diagnostic tests. The project was not considered far enough along to do what I have just done. It was always considered as a test to be done between two willing subjects of the same gender. It never entered anyone’s mind to swap genders.” I said, “Surely someone will believe my story, surely.”

Well, Alex took me outside the building and left me standing on the street corner. It was somewhere around midnight. I took the phone out of my clutch purse and started looking up phone numbers. I recognized Samantha as someone that Janice had mentioned as a good friend. I dialed her number. “Hello, Janice, why are you calling me this late?” I said, “Samantha, Alex and I had an argument, and he left me on the street corner in front of the science building. Can you come pick me up?” Samantha said, “I can’t believe he would do that to you. I’ll be there in about ten to fifteen minutes.” When she picked me up, I said to her, “Samantha, you’re going to find this hard to believe, but I am Alex inside Janice’s body.” She laughed at me.

“Samantha, I am not joking. Janice and her colleagues developed a mind and soul transfer machine. She told me that she wanted to be a man. She tricked me by telling me that the device was going to help me read her mind. I swear it’s the truth.” She gave me a quick glance. “You look serious, and I’ve never seen the kind of desperate expression that’s on your face.” “Yes, I am very desperate.” “How do I know that you’re really Alex? There is no way for you to convince me.” “I know there is not any way to prove it to you, but tell me, why would I be acting this way if I was really Janice?” She replied, “I don’t know. It does seem very strange behavior for you.” I said, “You’re damn right! How am I going to get out of this horrible mess?”

Samantha gave me some of her pajamas when we got to her place. She could tell that I was too upset to spend the night by myself. When I took the formal gown off, I stood and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I was definitely in a woman’s body. I took the bra and panties off and stood looking some more. I brought my hands up to my breasts and felt them, hefted them. They had to be at least a size E; they were so generous. I reached down to feel my vagina. I gently opened the lips with two fingers. I felt the moistness inside. I figured that I was 5’-4” tall, remembering that Janice had come up to my mouth. I put the pajamas on and slipped into bed. I lay on my side, my breasts together, my curls profuse. I hugged myself and cried.

In the morning, I got up and had coffee and a bagel with Samantha. We talked for several minutes and then she said, “I can stay home from work today and help you back to the science building. I’ll even go in with you to talk to Janice’s colleagues. I’ll swear to them that you are a totally different person, and that as Janice’s best friend, I know that you are someone else inside her body.” “I’ll go take a shower and then we can go to the university.” When I went into the bathroom, I saw that my mascara had smeared. I went pee and then dabbed myself with some toilet paper. It was so strange to go without using my hands. I showered and my body felt so foreign to me, but I lathered and washed my hair. I cried as I considered the meeting.

Samantha let me wear some of her panties. I put on my bra, fumbling with it until I figured it out. She had laid out some pants and a blouse. The blouse was a tad bit tight, but okay. I told Samantha of my fears of meeting with Janice’s colleagues. She said, “Everything is going to be alright, you’ll see.” We drove to the science building, parked, and made our way up to the third floor. I had to peer through several lab doors until I found the correct place. I spoke to the oldest man in the lab. He gathered together the entire team, a total of eleven people, six men and five women. They listened to my story and to Samantha as well. They expressed their doubts, but the women especially noted the difference in my vocabulary and expressions.

Finally, the team leader, the man I had spoken to first, said, “If you are Alex and not Janice, there is nothing that we can do to help you. We are pretty sure that we cannot change you back into yourself, because Alex or Janice will not willingly do it, if what you say is true about his or her wanting to be a man. We do not force anyone to undergo the procedure. He or she would also be reticent to admit that he or she had done this, just because there would be significant fines and dismissal from the research group for violating his or her oath and contractual agreement. Besides, a court of law would not believe our capability to make a gender swap. We also don’t know if a person can go through a swap more than once. We’re hesitant to try.” I cried.

Samantha and I went out to lunch after the meeting. She had a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, while I had a Reuben sandwich. “Samantha, thank you for trying to help me. I really appreciate it.” “You’re welcome, Janice, or I mean Alex.” “Oh, you might as well call me Janice. It looks like that’s who I’m going to be from here on out.” She said, “I just wish there was something that we could do to get back at Alex.” I nodded my agreement. “But we don’t know how to turn him into a pig or something nasty.” I said, “Yeah, I think a pig or a snake would be really suitable, leaving him to wallow in the mud or slither on his belly in the dust.” Do you know any witches that could cast a spell on him?” “No, I don’t know any witches, Janice.”

Then Samantha said, “You wouldn’t know this, but Janice and I were lesbian lovers.” I said, “No, I had no idea. How was it that she dated me, or did she force herself to do so, because of what she wanted?” “No, she was bisexual. Say, would you want to be my lover, Janice?” I said, “Sure, why not? I’m still a man inside and am drawn to you anyway.” She replied, “Oh, Janice, that is so funny. But maybe being a woman on the outside, you will begin to feel like a woman on the inside. I’m not sure how that might work.” I said, “You’re going to need to show me how to move like a woman and talk like a woman. You also need to show me how to put on a bra properly, and how to apply my makeup.” She nodded and said, “I’d be glad to, Janice.”

That night, as I lay in bed, I thought more about Alex. Suddenly, the thought came to me that Alex maybe was someone like me, who had been tricked into using the machine. But surely that was not possible, because how would he or she have known how to collaborate with the rest of the team? I then began to wonder how the initial team, the first generation, had gotten the idea for such a machine, or how they had figured out how to transfer the mind and the soul of a person into another person, and even how to do the swap of two persons. I then thought about being a woman the rest of my life. Maybe I would start to think differently, to think like a woman. I thought, I think I would like that. With that thought, I fell asleep.

It was the next night, after Samantha had gotten home from work, and we had had dinner, that we went into her bedroom and made love to each other. First, we undressed each other. Then we embraced and hugged each other for several minutes. Then we French kissed. Samantha then showed me how to use jelly to gently rub her clitoris, and, after fifteen minutes or so, to bring her to climax, to an orgasm. Then she helped me to reach climax as well. Afterward, we just lay in bed, looking into each other’s eyes, and drinking in the wonderful relationship that we had begun. For Samantha, it was similar to loving the original Janice, but she could identify subtle differences. We stroked each other’s cheeks and smiled.

I looked for a good job in the aerospace industry. That was what I knew most about. Yeah, I didn’t have my doctorate, but I knew enough about aeronautics that I could be conversant with a prospective employer. I knew that it would be hard without proof of my bachelor’s and master’s degrees, but not impossible. I finally found a job with a big company, as I demonstrated my knowledge in conversation with my interviewer. It meant having to relocate, but Samantha was willing to do that for me. Together we made enough to do some fun things together, like taking a cruise and going on European tours. We even went to China, Japan, and Thailand. What I enjoyed was not only the scenery, but also the amazing food.

On a trip to Norway, I met this amazing guy, Joshua, or Josh. I was amazed at myself that I would be drawn to a man. I thought, “I am thinking and feeling more like a woman. I think this guy is handsome and manly. He’s my kind of man.” We weren’t able to see each other very much, due to the brevity of the cruise, but we agreed to stay in touch with each other back in the states. I asked Samantha if she was threatened or offended by my having such a relationship. She smiled and said that she was fine with it. Josh and I kept tryst with each other and met in places like LA, Chicago, and New York. I let him penetrate me, sometimes as much as three times in a night, bringing me to an orgasm each time. I liked his sucking on my nipples.

I became so accustomed to being a woman, that I almost forgot what it was like to be a man. Samantha helped me to expand my circle of friends, both male and female. But there was no doubt in my mind, being with other women was the most enjoyable. Even in mixed company, I would gravitate towards the women. We talked about anything and everything. We laughed and cried together. So, what if my mascara smeared? I am now in my early thirties, and I am already thinking about how to grow old gracefully. I know that I will not always have a youthful appearance, but I would always feel clean, whole, and complete. I didn’t miss my old self at all. Womanhood was something to cherish and celebrate. I would always be Janice.

Hi, my name was Trevor. I was an eighteen-year-old boy, just out of high school. I had never felt at ease with myself; I mean with my gender. I felt like I was a girl inside and would only be content with being a girl on the outside. I wanted my outside to match my inside, but I was scared to go through the process of what is called “transition”. I felt like I had missed my opportunity. But then, one day, I saw an advertisement for a website called TransformU.com, and I was intrigued by the byline: “Wish you were someone else? We can help you be who you really want to be.” I went to their website, and everything seemed promising, but the catch was the price. It was $10,000 for the kit, and you had to self-administer an injection of nanobots.

The other thing that was troubling was that there was no recourse if you didn’t like the results. There was no money-back-guarantee. It seemed like a lot of money with no assurance of satisfaction. The website talked about the technology and gave the assurance that there would be no deleterious effects from the nanobots, but that seemed small comfort. I read and re-read the website explanation of the product and the process. The other disturbing thing was that there were no testimonials as to how good the product was. But finally, I filled out the online formwork, describing exactly what I was looking for, and then gave my credit card information. I also signed the waiving of my right to sue them in the event of dissatisfaction.

I sat and thought about what I had just done. I lived with my parents. How would I explain this to them. It would also take me a couple years to pay off this debt. At least I had a job that would enable me to pay off each month, so that I would not be paying any interest. How would I explain my change in gender to the license bureau, to Social Security, to my credit card company, to my family and friends? How was I going to afford buying a whole new wardrobe? Nobody was going to believe me. I had not gone to a gender clinic or seen a psychiatrist. I had no papers showing that I had transitioned from a male to a female. But there was rebellion inside of me. I had been a boy too long. I was going to go through with this no matter what.

It was Wednesday when I placed the order. The website said that the injector would come on Saturday. That would be a good day, because my parents would be out of town on their anniversary, doing some fun things together. My older brother would be working, and my younger sister would be at her girlfriend’s place for a birthday party and a sleepover. I went to bed that night thinking about what it would be like to be in a girl’s body. Could it really happen? Had I spent my money wisely? Would all my hopes and dreams come true? I tried to imagine what a female version of me would look like. I got out of bed and found a website that would convert a scanned photo to the opposite gender for free. I sat gazing at the image for an hour.

Three days later, a small box came in the mail. The injector was fairly straight forward. All that was required was to rub the injection site with alcohol, pinch either the flesh of one’s abdomen or thigh, and press the injector against one’s skin. I finally worked up my courage to make the injection. It was pretty much painless. The literature said that it would take about an hour for the transformation to be complete. At first, there were no symptoms, but then I began to sweat and was nauseated. The literature had said nothing of this. I went and got my phone, just in case I needed to call 911, but I was pretty sure they would not be able to help me. I went to the upstairs bathroom and disrobed. I looked at the body that I hated, awaiting change.

For the first ten minutes there was no noticeable change. But then it seemed like my hair was gradually growing longer and my face was slowly morphing. My facial hair was disappearing. My shoulders were not so broad and the muscle mass in my arms was shrinking. My male genitals were shrinking. My height was decreasing. My breasts were growing. My waist was getting smaller, and my thighs and hips were growing. My nipples and areolae were enlarging. My blonde hair was down to below my ears now. My nose was a bit smaller, and my lips were fuller. My male genitals were gone, and a vertical line was forming in my groin. My face was definitely feminine now and my hair was down to my shoulders. I was definitely becoming a girl.

By the end of an hour, my vagina was complete. My breasts were full. I was guessing my cup size was D. My hair was wavy and reached down to the top of my breasts. My face was similar to the image that I had obtained on the computer, only prettier. I estimated that I was now 5’-3” or 5’-4” tall. My fingernails were long and tapered. I gingerly used my right index and middle finger to probe my vagina. I gently parted my labia and felt for my clitoris. It was moist. I felt my buttocks, and they were full and round. I sat down on the toilet seat and looked at my calves. They were shapely. My legs were covered with light blonde hair, and I had hair under my arms. I told myself, “I need to shave.” My brother would be home soon. Time to get dressed.

I went to my room and put on undershorts, loathing the fact that I had to put on boys’ clothing for the time being. I pulled on socks and then grabbed a pair of jeans. They were tight around my hips and buttocks, but I was able to zip up the pants. I couldn’t refer to them as “my” pants. The waist was really loose, but I cinched the belt tight. I then had to roll the pants legs up. I then pulled on a sweatshirt and pulled the sleeves up on my arms. I pulled my hair loose. I then grabbed a pair of tennis shoes, but they were way too large. I went into my sister’s room and found that her shoes fit me just fine. I wondered about her clothes, but I thought, “My breasts are much too large for her clothes.” It was time to go talk to my brother, Lucas.

I had heard him come in while I was putting on Amanda’s shoes. I went down the stairs, through the living room and dining room, into the kitchen. Lucas was busy getting something out of the fridge. I said, “Hi, Lucas.” It was the first time that I had spoken, and the sound of my female voice surprised me. He spun around and said, “Who are you?” “I used to be your brother, Trevor. I’m now Trisha.” He exclaimed, “Oh my God! That’s not possible. Get real. Who are you really?” I replied, “Lucas, I’m for real. I used an injection of nanobots prepared by a company called TransformU. I need you to help me go to the store and buy some girls’ clothes that fit me.” He said, “Trisha, you’re gonna have to prove to me that you used to be my brother.”

“Okay,” I said, “Do you remember the time that I stole your pocketknife and lost it down the storm drain?” He said, “Yeah, keep going.” I said, “When I was five I took your photo album and cut the photos all to pieces and pasted them to your bedroom wall.” He smiled, “Okay, how do I know you aren’t some girl from high school, dressed up in Trev’s clothes, and he told you those stories to fool me?” He suddenly ran upstairs and looked through all the rooms and closets. He sauntered back downstairs and said, “Trisha, if you are really my brother turned into a female, whisper something in my ear.” I went up to him, and he bent down a little, and I shouted in his ear, “Now you know!” He looked at me in horror. “Oh my God, you’re for real.”

I was afraid to drive. I was shorter, and my legs weren’t as long, and I didn’t trust my mastery of this new body. And what if I was stopped by a cop? So, Lucas drove me to the big box store. I bought panties, bras, jeans, skirts, blouses, a dress, mid-height heels, pantyhose, tennis shoes, socks, and some pajamas. Lucas went with me but blushed a little as I perused the more intimate pieces of clothing. When we got home I went to the bathroom to shave my legs and underarms. I then got dressed up in hose, a skirt, and a blouse that showed off my cleavage. I went to Lucas’ bedroom and said, “Hey dude, let’s go see a movie.” He took me to a horror movie, and I squeezed his hand all through the flick. Something had changed in me.

Late that night we talked about how we were going to break the news to Mom, Dad, and Amanda. We stood in the kitchen. I had my arms crossed underneath my breasts. I kept seeing him look at my cleavage. I had to wonder, “Is my brother lusting for me?” I said, “Lucas, you can vouch for me, tell them that you’re fully convinced, but they need to go through the same process you did. What troubles me is how I’m going to go into work on Monday. They are not going to believe me.” “There’s no possibility of your changing back into Trev?” I said, “Not a chance, bro. They said the process was irreversible, because you can’t mix female bots with male bots. It would be disastrous.” “Well, there’s no doubt you’ve got some major hurdles to jump.”

Amanda was the first to get home on Sunday. She believed Lucas and me. She said, “Trisha, I’ve always wanted a sister, now I finally have one, but I will also miss Trevor … I’ll miss him a lot.” The hardest part was when Mom and Dad came home in the late afternoon. They didn’t believe Lucas or me. They had to hear far more from me, things that no one else would know, and that I’d be too embarrassed to tell any girlfriend to pull a prank on them. Finally, the two of them believed. “Oh, Trevor, how could you? We had no idea that you struggled with gender dysphoria. We’d have tried to help you.” I replied, “Oh no, you would not have helped me become a girl.” “Look at what a mess you’re in. What will you do about your job? Your identity?”

They had me there. I definitely had not thought far enough ahead. Well, I had, but I had rebelliously turned my head and looked the other way. Then I thought of something. Maybe the nanobots had not changed my fingerprints. I remembered that my Mom had told me that she had me fingerprinted as a child for missing child identification. On Monday I had Mom call my employer to say that I was sick. I finally got up the nerve to drive myself to the police station. I asked them to fingerprint me and tell me who I was. I said that it was part of my summer school assignment. They didn’t know that I had graduated. They fingerprinted me, and when they made the match, they gave me the result in absolute wonder. How was Trevor now Trisha?

I went into work on Tuesday and knocked on my employer’s door. “Hi, Mr. Alexander.” He looked up from his work. “Do I know you?” I said, “Yes, but last Friday I was Trevor Sanders. Today I am Trisha Sanders.” He got the most quizzical look on his face. “But that’s not possible. What kind of joke is this?” I said, “It’s no joke, Mr. Alexander. Please call the police and ask them when they fingerprinted Trisha, who’s name came up? He did that, and, when he got their answer, he said, “Thank you,” and hung up. When he looked at me, his expression was priceless. “How on earth?” I then explained about my using TransformU. He finally agreed to let me continue working for him. Of course, it took a bit of explanation for my coworkers.

I used the same approach with the DMV when I went to get my license. I had to show them the website for TransformU. I had a long talk with the branch manager, and she finally agreed to issue me a new driver’s license with “Trisha Sanders”, “female”, beside my photo. Getting Social Security and my credit card company to agree to recognize me was a little more difficult. I had to hire an attorney to get me recognized as Trisha Sanders. That increased the monthly payment on my credit card, but hey. Getting extended family and friends to recognize me was almost impossible, but I got there with most of them. After all of that, life was almost a breeze. I could finally start getting back to normal, well sort of. Life’s actually quite different.

I now hang out with other girls. That is what is so exciting about being a girl, is having girlfriends. We could not drink alcohol just yet, but we drank coffee and mocha and cappuccino. We talked about so many good things. We laughed and we cried together. One of the girls, Michelle, and I became bosom buddies. There were times that we went over to her apartment, and we soon discover the joy of being lesbians and ecstasy at bringing each other to a climax. We talked about boys. Michelle was staunchly a lesbian. I was maybe bisexual. I moved in with her. My family was sad to see me go. It was time to move on. I still visited them.

My first encounter with a boy was a guy named Matt. He and I went on several dates and then he invited me to his apartment. He had wine there, so I imbibed, and had too much. He made love to me, and I did not resist. He must have penetrated me. I did not have periods, but several weeks after our intercourse, I found myself nauseous. I finally went and had myself tested. I was pregnant. How could this be? I contacted TransformU, and they acknowledged that they sometimes included an ovum. An ovum typically exists for only 12 to 24 hours, but they had discovered a way to preserve it inside a nanobot. I was pissed. How dare they do this to me! I thought about a D and C, but then I thought, “Why not have a baby?” I was a girl.

I won’t drag you through all the ins and outs of my pregnancy. My morning sickness lasted for a couple of months. I was at about five months when I started feeling the baby kicking. What a strange sensation to have someone living inside you. I opted to go with a natural childbirth. I knew that there would be some pain, but I thought, “Why not have a baby naturally?” So, I had a few false starts with Braxton-Hicks contractions, but, hey, why not have a few practice runs to the hospital? Finally, the day came, actually night, when I went to the hospital for real. Labor was a bit rough, but nothing to complain about. I was blessed with a baby girl, who I named Michelle after my bosom buddy. She had blonde hair just like me.

I was surprised, but my nanobot breasts actually produced milk. My breasts were a size E for a time. That was a really strange experience, having a baby sucking on my nipples. My daughter is now a precocious four-year-old. Whatever possessed me to write out my experience with TransformU for you to read? I don’t know. I guess I just wanted someone to know what a delightful experience it has been. Oh, it is unbelievable and incredible, and I had a few rough spots, but I would still do it all over again. Should you try TransformU? Only if you are willing to go through an uncomfortable hour of transition and have people doubt your real identity and go through the challenging process of getting your identity changed. But it is worth the trouble.

One more thing. I need to tell you about Amanda and me. We would get together regularly for a bite to eat. One day, Amanda confided in me that she was uncomfortable with her gender. She was now a senior in high school, almost the age when I transitioned. She asked me, “What should I do?” I said, “You could take the route I took, but it’s expensive, you don’t have a good paying job yet, and there is all the trouble getting people to believe you. It’s almost worth it to go the usual road of transitioning, which involves hormonal treatment and surgery. I think you should have a heart-to-heart talk with Mom and Dad. “But you turned out so good.” “Maybe our parents would help you. Just remember to get fingerprinted first.” She smiled.

My name was Chris. I had been the youngest of four boys. My older brothers were all away at college. My parents were divorced, and I was living with my mother. It was on my eighteenth birthday that my mother and I went out to dinner. Toward the end of the meal, Mom said, “Chris, this is your last day as a boy, because tomorrow you will be my daughter.” I laughed and said, “Mom, get real, I will always be your son, and nothing will ever change that.” She smiled, “I have always wanted a daughter, and from tomorrow you will be known as Crystal.” I frowned. “Mom, you have carried this joke far enough. I will always be Chris to you.” She rested her chin on her folded hands. “This is my birthday present to you, to be my cherished girl.”

That night I replayed our conversation over and over again. I was greatly troubled by what I remembered of my mother’s words. I could not go to sleep. She had not acted like she was joking but seemed entirely too serious. I could make no sense of it. Why would she act that way? She had even gone so far as to give me the name Crystal. I wondered if I needed to talk to my father and tell him that his ex-wife had slipped a cog. I couldn’t see myself betraying her that way, but I couldn’t imagine how to resolve the matter on my own. She just wouldn’t joke around like this. It was not her way. I finally was able to settle down and drift off to sleep. My last thoughts were that things would look better in the morning. Somehow it would be okay.

When the alarm went off, I reached to hit the snooze button, but I stopped short. There was long hair over my eyes. I brought my left hand to my face and felt long nails touch my skin. I immediately sat upright in bed and then noticed an unfamiliar weight on my chest. I brought my hands up and felt round full breasts. Suddenly I was really scared. What was wrong with me? Was I still dreaming? I lowered my hands to my crotch and came to the awful realization that my male equipment was gone. I lay my hands on my thighs, and they were smooth, not a bit of hair on them. I started trembling and tears began to blur my vision. I got out of bed and went to the full-length mirror that was on my closet door. A teenage girl stared back at me.

Instantly, I felt ashamed to be staring at a semi-naked girl. All she had on was my boxer shorts. Suddenly, I remembered the conversation that my mother and I had had the previous evening at the restaurant. I got very angry. I needed to get downstairs before she left for work. I fumbled in my closet and found my fuzzy bathrobe. I pulled it on and tightened the belt around my waist. I rushed out of my bedroom, down the hall, and almost tumbled down the stairs in my haste to find my mother. I found her in the kitchen. She looked up at me and smiled. It gave me the creeps. “M-Mom …” I stopped suddenly, because the voice coming out of my mouth was definitely female. “Mom, what have you done to me? Change me back into a boy, now!”

My mother continued to smile. “Crystal, I can’t change you back. The charm and the incantation only work one way. They were designed by a Middle Ages enchantress to change a boy into a girl. And you are a very, very authentic girl. I finally have the daughter that I’ve wanted for so long.” “Mom, how could you do this to me? I don’t want to be a girl! I’m a boy!” She smiled again. “Not any longer, Crystal. Besides, deep inside you have wanted to be a girl.” “What?” I exclaimed. “When you were a little boy, you would dress up in my jewelry and makeup. I even let your hair grow long. I helped you with your makeup, and you told me, ‘Mommy, I’m as pretty as you now.’ You loved playing dolls with the girls next door. That was the real you.”

I said, “Mom, I don’t remember any of that! Please, change me back!” She shook her head. “No, Crystal, I have already told you. It’s a done deal. There is no way to reverse the enchantment. Besides, I like you just the way you are, and you will soon like yourself this way as well. You are not just a girl physiologically, but you are a girl in terms of your emotions and thoughts.” I began to cry again. She stood up and put her arms around me. I suddenly realized that I was several inches shorter than I had been as a boy. I pushed my self away and said, “Mom, how are we going to explain this to Dad and the boys? How are we going to explain this to all our friends?” She looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got this.”

My Mom took the day off, and we went shopping for clothes for me. She also took me to get my ears pierced, and my hair styled. That night I wore panties, a pushup bra, pantyhose, a short skirt, a low-neck blouse, jewelry, and mid-height heels. We went out to dinner again, this time as mother and daughter. “You really look smashing. You are turning the heads of all the men in this place.” I blushed. I looked down at my cleavage and my thighs, still not believing that I was a real girl. “Mom, there is no way that I’m suddenly going to turn back into a boy and be a guy in girl’s clothes?” My Mom shook her head, “Not a chance, my dear Crystal. You are forever a girl. Relax and enjoy yourself this evening. I love looking at you, my dearest.”

That night as I went to sleep, I was dressed in a sheer negligee. As I rolled onto my side, I felt my breasts touch each other. I hugged myself and smiled. Maybe I would enjoy being a girl. I had enjoyed myself very much, talking to Mom about girl things. She told me that I would go through my menstrual cycle each month, and that, because of the estrogen, I would have mood swings and perhaps even some depression. We talked about many other things that only a mother and daughter can share. We talked about men, boys, women, girls, food, drink, music, art, fashions, feelings, hopes, dreams, and much more. “Crystal, you will enjoy being a girl, so much better than being a guy. There is a closeness that only girls can know.”

The next morning, I undressed in the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and went pee. It was such a strange feeling to go to the bathroom hands free. I gathered some tissue, as Mom had told me to do, and dabbed myself dry. Then I got in the shower after letting the water warm up. As I lathered my body, I took time to explore myself. I gently probed my vagina with my index and middle finger, careful not to scratch myself with my fingernails. I opened my labia and carefully found my clitoris right where my mother had said it would be. It was so strange to be without my male equipment. I felt my ample breasts. Mom had said that I was a size C, which was generous for my 5’-4” frame. I felt my smooth calves, thighs, hips and buttocks.

As I dried off after the shower, I took time to admire my lovely face. I had hazel eyes that had just a tinge of green in them. My face was smooth, with very fine light hair above my upper lip. When I smiled, I had generous cheeks and beautiful dimples. My nose was not too large; a tad bit smaller than I had had when I was a boy. My eyelashes were not very long, but I knew that mascara would help with that. I looked forward to Mom showing me how to apply my makeup. Yesterday we had bought lip liner, lipstick, foundation, rouge, eyeliner, mascara, and eyeshadow. I had a beautiful face to work with. I pouted a bit and then put on a seductive look and knew that I could melt the heart of any guy. Why was I thinking this way, I wondered.

I had graduated from high school just a week before, so I didn’t have any classes to attend, which was good. I spent the day looking at family photos and wondering how Mom intended to handle our situation. When she got home around 5:30, I asked her about it. “Crystal, dear, you and I are going to go through an identity change. A friend of mine works for the US Marshals’ Witness Protection Service and she has figured out a way to relocate us and give us new identities. You will be able to keep your first name.” But I protested, “Mom, that means that I’ll never see my family or friends again! I can’t do that!” “Hush now, Crystal, you will do this if you love me. Besides, your loved ones would never believe that you used to be Chris.”

“Mom, tell me again how you changed me into a girl. I don’t really understand what happened.” My Mom said, “Sweetheart, your great-grandmother on my side of the family gave me the charm and the incantation. It had been passed down through the centuries. As I understand it, several of our ancestors have used it.” At this point she brought a small ornate box out of a kitchen cupboard. From it she took out a two-inch figurine that was a boy on one side and a girl on the other. They looked so lifelike. Then she took out a piece of vellum on which was written the incantation of which she had spoken. She untied the thin leather cord and unrolled the ancient parchment. On it were written the following words in Middle English:

If thee wanÞ bihofþe changæ thy boī bihofþe ain girl
then thee musÞ speak hẹ̄rte wordſ in th' moonlighÞ

Ich am readī bihofþe uttē̆r uncǒu wordſ
bihofþe changæ mīn boī intī ain dear girl
hæ shalt nōn-ọ̄ther longē̆r bæ hæ
hæ shalt becomæ wellā̆ pretty
malæ flesh shalt bæ femalæ flesh
turn hider figuræ rounede a'd rounede

Ich wish mīn boī bæ ain girl
maī hæ bæ shæ f'revē̆r
maī malæ bæ femalæ singallīce
maī shæ nē̆verte bæ changede backeth
maī hē̆r figuræ bæ pretty
maī hē̆r beautī ensnaræ men

After reading it, I said, “Mom, I can understand most of the words. I get the gist of it. How did you know how to pronounce the words?” She said, “I found a Middle English scholar and asked him how to pronounce the words that I could not pronounce. I bound him to silence concerning the content of the incantation. He vowed never to speak a word of it to anyone. It had no effect when I said the words because I was not turning the figurine around and around as I read the incantation. I had written the words out phonetically so I could pronounce them properly.” I shook my head, “Mom, this is all quite remarkable. May I keep this in case I have a boy that I want to be a girl?” Mom said, “Yes, sweetheart, and here is the phonetic translation.”

After we had been relocated and had new identities, my Mom came into my room and sat down on my bed. She said, “Crystal, come here for a minute.” I sat down beside her. “I want to tell you some things about your sexuality. “ She proceeded to tell me how to masturbate as a girl, assuming that I had done so as a boy. She instructed me in the use of jelly, that I was to gently rub my clitoris with, and bring myself to a climax. She also told me that I could have sex with a boy as long as I was on the pill, and what to do if I ever became pregnant. She also told me that I could have a girlfriend if I wanted. She told me that she had had a lesbian lover. Then she said that I could also chose to be bisexual if that suited me better.

I applied for financial assistance to go to college. I wanted to be an interior designer. I was accepted and I stayed at home because the college was in town. That made Mom happy. I met a young man in school, and I really liked him. At his apartment we made love, and he penetrated me three times in one evening, bringing me to a climax each time. He sucked on my nipples, which I also enjoyed very much. I also found that I was drawn to a young girl in my class. She and I undressed each other and made out in her apartment. We hugged and kissed and brought each other to climax. While I considered myself to be bisexual, I found that I was much more comfortable with my girlfriend than with my boyfriend. I just was.

One day Mom and I went out for lunch between my classes. While we ate, Mom said, “Crystal, dear, I didn’t tell you the whole story about the figurine and the incantation. My great-grandmother found out that my mother, her granddaughter, wanted a girl instead of a boy. I was born a boy. My father abandoned us, and so my mother felt free to tell her grandmother of her heart’s desire. Her grandmother came to her house and said the incantation over me when I was just a boy of five. I remember just enough of being a boy. I waited until you were eighteen, because my husband and I were still married, and I knew that he would strenuously object to my turning you into a girl. I hated that you had such memories of being a boy.

“Mom, you did what you could and what you thought best. I have no regrets now. I am happy with being a girl. When I look back on my life as a boy, I have no longing to return to that gender. I am really content with being the female that you brought into existence. I am glad that I turned out as well as I did. I am also not insecure with my possibly being loved just for my good looks. If he or she doesn’t love me for who I really am, then that is their loss. I think that when you changed me into a girl, you were correct that I did not just change physiologically but changed in terms of my emotions and my thoughts. I really am a girl through and through, and I thank you for that. My life is so much richer for being a girl. I’ve no wish to go back.”

I never would have dreamed that I would want to become pregnant, but one day I came to the realization that I wanted to have a daughter of my own. I was twenty-six at the time. The guy that I was seeing at the time was handsome, intelligent, and kind, but I knew that if I got pregnant he would leave me. But I was content with the thought of being a single mom. I didn’t want anything but to have a daughter. I did get pregnant, and he did leave me. I found out through the ultrasound that the fetus was a male. I thought that I would try something. I used the figurine and the incantation while the infant was still in my womb. Six months later I gave birth to a beautiful little girl. Her name is Hannah, and she is now a precocious four.

There is never any thought as to how my life might have gone as a boy. I have no interest in that kind of speculation. I am so happy that my mother changed me into a girl. I can’t imagine a better life. I am so glad that my child is a girl. I will most likely give her the charm and the spell, so that she can be sure of having a daughter like my mother and me. I suppose that someday I will tell Hannah that she might have been a boy, but that she was much better off being a girl. Girls are so pretty, sensitive, and intelligent. I suppose that there would be a problem if there were no boys, but I am not going to worry about that. I just know that I am going to luxuriate in the fact that I and my daughter are girls, and hopefully all our descendants will be.

Hi, my name was Chris. I was the son of Gene, the white supremacist cult leader. Leslie gave him his just desserts in turning him into a black woman named Genevieve. See the story entitled “Gene Therapy”. You see he wasn’t just a racist but was a male chauvinist as well. So, his change from a white he into a black she was truly fitting. It was just sad that after a week as an Ethiopian woman, she totally forgot who she had been. Up until that point she was totally revolted by what she had become and was in absolute terror of being killed by her cult followers. I was forced to be in the cult by my father. It started when I was five years old and continued until I was ten years old and ended suddenly when Gene became Genevieve.

Gene was my handler. He programmed me. I became multiple as a result of his sexual abuse, his threats, both to me and to my mother and sister, his torture, both electric shocks and waterboarding. He learned the mind-splitting techniques, breaking me into parts or alters, from an institution that used MK Ultra. You would recognize the institute. They, among many institutions, had been chosen by an intelligence arm of the government to perfect what had once been known as Project Bluebird, then as Project Artichoke, and finally as MK Ultra or Mind Kinetics Ultra. I was programmed to not only be a sex machine for the cult, but to be a duplicate of my father to carry on the cult, and to be an assassin. I know that sounds unbelievable.

My father was of Scandinavian descent. He formed a Nordic white supremacist cult devoted to the fertility goddess, Frigga, who was the consort of Odin. It may seem strange that my father chose to be a follower of Frigga, being a male chauvinist, rather than being a follower of Odin. There are lots of things that I understand about my handler, but this one is a mystery to me. Odin is portrayed by Marvel Studios’ movies as being a decent guy, but he has a dark and malevolent side. A significant number of prison inmates across the USA are Odinists, and they aren’t drawn to him because of his charm. Frigga, his consort, was of the same ilk. Therefore, the cult rituals were a powerful mix of sex and violence, all too like horror movies.

I have parts or alters that hate my father and some that are loyal to him. But I definitely hated the men in the cult who also abused me, and I hated their bodies. I hated my own body because it was too much like theirs. I was female inside and, at the age of five, I erected a female idol in my heart that I worshipped. She was fashioned after the likeness of Frigga, as I had seen her in the cult ceremonies. There was another good reason why I was a girl inside. My mother had lost her first child, a daughter, and was not allowed to see or hold her during the four days that she lived. When I was born, my Mommy dressed me in girls’ clothes, let my hair grow long, and called me by my older sister’s name. We bonded in that formative way.

There were nine nights through the year that the cult would meet in a clearing on a wooded mountainside. Four were on the equinoxes and the solstices, one on All Hallowed Eve, and the other four between the five. My father would begin the ritual ceremonies by invoking the name of Frigga. She would appear as a naked woman, hovering above the flames of the firepit in the center of the clearing. Frigga, an exquisitely pretty woman, would speak mellifluous words, turning slowly to face each naked family grouping, all ten. Then she would turn the meeting over to my father and disappear. He in turn would elaborate on her words and then lead the assembly in an hours-long sex orgy, ending the late night or early morning with violence.

I spent four decades cross-dressing, dreaming of going through transition, always imagining myself as a lesbian. But I never saw a healthcare provider and a mental health professional with expertise in gender-affirming care. At eighteen I got married and had three children. I could not bring myself to do what would lead to our separation and divorce, hurting my wife and our children. I also feared the church leadership. I know it doesn’t make any sense that I would have anything to do with God after sexual and ritual abuse in the home, the church, and the cult. So, I eventually found myself at the age of 71, total frustrated, but still fantasizing about being a girl, a woman. Little did I know that my life was about to take a drastic turn.

When I was middle-aged, the suppressed memories of the abuse and the cult began to surface. I was in the process of seeing a counselor about my cross-dressing and fantasies, when the words just popped out of my mouth, without any forethought, “My father abused me!” That was the beginning of over two decades of suppressed memories coming back. It was eight years in that I finally broke off relations with my parents, because they would not admit that the sexual abuse had occurred. My father controlled my mother, so that she would not acknowledge anything. It was two months later that memories of the ritual abuse began to surface, and I had to contact the county sheriff. Nothing came of it. That was seventeen years ago.

Then about six months ago, I couldn’t sleep, so I finally got out of bed and went downstairs. I sat down in my rocking chair in the living room. The only light was coming from a kitchen nightlight. I said out loud, “If only I was young again, I would do it.” Suddenly, Frigga was standing in front of me, the same exquisite beauty that she had been in the clearing 61 years before. As then, she was naked, and a soft glow came from her body, so that she was completely visible. I said, “Are you Frigga?” She replied, “I am.” I asked, “Why are you here?” She said, “I have come in answer to your statement. I can bring it to pass, if you fall down and worship me.” I replied, “You mean that if I worship you, you will make me young again?” “No.”

“You say no. Does that mean you won’t make me young again?” She said, “No, I mean that I will both make you young again and make you a female.” I immediately remembered the command, “You shall have no other gods before Me.” I rationalized, “This isn’t a god, but rather a goddess.” The temptation was too great for me. I immediately left my chair and fell down at her feet, grasping her ankles. They were soft and warm. “Your heart’s desire is granted.” I suddenly felt long hair about my face and weight on my chest. I sat up and put my hands inside my bathrobe. There I cupped two ample breasts that had to be D in size. “Oh, thank you …” I stopped short. My voice was higher and feminine. I looked up at her. She smiled and vanished.

I instantly got up and went into the half bath. I switched on the light. There, staring back at me, was a young lady. She had to be eighteen or thereabouts. She was blonde with blue eyes and beautiful. But the look on her face reminded me of the smile I had seen on Frigga’s face, just before she vanished. She had had a smirk on her face. This girl staring back at me had the same expression. She smirked. I could feel the twist in my mouth. What was this all about? And suddenly I had the thought, “I’m a damned good assassin.” Oh no! I thought. But suddenly the memories of carrying out several hits came into my mind. I knew how to use a handgun with a silencer. I was horrified, but, at the same time, proud of my accomplishments.

I tried to divert my thinking. What was I going to tell Carolyn, my wife? What was I going to tell my children, grandchildren, and friends? How was I going to get a driver’s license, birth certificate, and social security number? Suddenly I had thoughts of exactly who to contact to get all these forms of ID made, including a passport. Then I came to the realization that Frigga would want this sort of violence out of me. It was the sort of thing that my father, Gene, had programmed me to do. Why I had never acted on it before, I couldn’t say. But the desire to make another kill was getting stronger. Suddenly the thought popped into my head to knock Carolyn off. I couldn’t follow through on that. I had to fight the urge. I had to get out of the house fast.

I went back upstairs and quietly got undressed in the dark. I hung up my bathrobe. Before grabbing my sweats, because I knew nothing would fit my new figure, I felt inside my shorts. Yes, my male equipment was gone and in its place was a vagina. I tried putting on my sweatpants, but the legs were several inches too long. I must be shorter than my 5’-9” in my former body. I rolled the cuffs up to my ankles. With what I thought were size D breasts, I would not fit in Carolyn’s bra, a size B. I found my sweatshirt and pulled it on. I had to pull my sleeves up. The thought to go get a knife was strong. I pushed it down. I tried Carolyn’s sneakers, and they fit loosely. I then got all the cash out of the safe. Then I quietly went out the front door.

It had to be 1 or 2 am. What was I going to do? It couldn’t be safe for a young woman, even a teenager, to be walking the streets in the middle of the night. Then it hit me. I knew martial arts, Muay Thai and Jiu-Jitsu. How on earth did this young girl know how to do so much? Then the thought came that I had been trained by a black ops paramilitary organization. The black ops program that I was a part of was called Crescent Moon. I headed out of the suburbs towards the shopping mall. It wouldn’t open for eight hours, but I could get a cup of coffee and a croissant at one of the 24-hour fast-food places. When the mall opened, I would get a bra, panties, a couple changes of clothes, and some shoes. Then I would head to Chicago.

Amber, that was my name, was on a mission. I was planning on going to Chicago, first, to meet with Mr. T to get new IDs, and second, to meet with Mr. M to obtain new weaponry. But before that I needed to contact New York so that they could wire me some money and also give me a new target. The location of the target would tell me which passports and visas I would need, if any. It would also tell me whether I needed to obtain the weapons here or abroad. I now knew that I was Amber Ambrose, and that I was 21, not 18. How was I going to keep myself from carrying out my next assignment? The inner drive was strong, and I could not tell if I had enough willpower to resist my inner urges. Why did I lay all this groundwork and not resist?

Once I got to Chicago by bus, I took a taxi to theWit Hilton Hotel. Once I was checked in, I went shopping for nice clothes, cosmetics, and luggage. My target was a Middle Eastern head of state who was standing in the way of progress for the little country. Instead of flying to Washington DC, I went to the consulate in Chicago. I was able to get my passport and tourist visa all in one day. I flew out of Chicago via New York’s JFK and arrived at my destination in Dubai of the UAE. I checked into the Hilton. I then contacted a certain advisor to Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed Al Nahyan, who was standing in the way of progress there. By way of introduction, I represented myself as an unofficial representative of the State Department. Yes, I was in.

Because of the tight security there, a handgun was out of the question. I opted instead for a poison-tipped hatpin that I carried on my person. It was everything that I could do to keep myself from actually killing this advisor. Instead, I represented the basic facts to him, albeit if he did not arrange the appearance of his own assassination, and quietly disappear, he would be assassinated. His own government had ordered the hit. He was quite upset, to say the least, but he took my words at face value, since I gave him very specific details. If he did not follow my instructions to the letter, I would be a very dead assassin, but thankfully he carried out his “assassination” perfectly, and I was free to live yet another day or two at the least.

I continued to live on the edge, denying myself the satisfaction of a hit, for several months, until, with the help of a target, I arranged my own death. With the aid of my own training and resourcefulness, I dropped off the grid and took up the profession of teaching martial arts. I was quite successful at it and lived very comfortably. I still had to sit firmly on top of my urges to kill, but I valued human life, and so it was not too hard. I found a soul mate in a girl my age, Laura. She and I became good lovers and began a wonderful life together. I still keep expecting another visit from Frigga, but so far she has not appeared. I can only imagine that she is not very happy with me for resisting the urges that she placed within me. My fingers are crossed.

Hi, my name was Robert, and my girlfriend’s name was Rachel. We were both 25 years old at the time this most extraordinary event occurred. We were both laying in bed, just beginning to make love. I said to Rachel, “Sometimes I wish that I could be you, just to know what it feels like to be a girl.” She smiled and said, “That’s interesting, because sometimes I wish the same thing. I mean, I wonder what it would be like to be you, just to know what it feels like to be a boy.” I thought out loud, “Rachel, what would happen if we both made our wish at the same time?” She said, “I don’t know, Robert, but I’m willing to make the wish with you right now.” We continued staring into each other’s eyes and suddenly we both were startled and gave a yell.

I was looking into my own face. I said, “Rachel, I …” I stopped abruptly. The voice that I was hearing was feminine. It sounded somewhat different than Rachel’s voice, because I was hearing it through my head. Rachel said, “I’m seeing my own face and I’m hearing your voice as I talk.” I moved my head slightly and felt the hair about my face. I brought my hands up to my chest and felt generous breasts, Rachel’s size E breasts. She lowered her hands and felt between her thighs. “Oh my God, I have a penis!” We were both in shock. “How can this possibly be?” we both asked. I said, “I suppose that I have a vagina.” And I reached down to my groin, and, sure enough, my male equipment was gone and in its place a smooth something.

We both laughed. I asked, “Are we both dreaming? Are we sharing a common delusion? This can’t be real.” Rachel felt her hairy chest. “This sure is strange, but I think it is real. We need to start calling each other by our proper names. “I am Robert, and you are Rachel.” I said, “Agreed. Why don’t we go ahead and have sex like we were planning to?” Robert agreed. “Yeah, I think that we should. This will be a new experience for both of us. But I’m not sure that I can become aroused by looking at a woman.” I said, “I think that you are correct. But let’s give it a try anyway. Maybe your body will become aroused in making love to me.” He said, “Okay, Rachel, I think you’ve got the right idea.” With that, we began to caress and fondle each other.

I played with Robert’s equipment, and soon his penis became stiff. “I think that you can enter me now, Robert.” He said, “With absolute pleasure.” He squeezed out some jelly and rubbed it on. And then he lay down on top of me. It was strange, laying on the bottom. He entered me, and it was really strange having something inside of me. He began to thrust, and our pelvises banged against each other. All too soon I felt him squirting me inside, his male organ pulsating. He groaned with pleasure. I said, “Robert, keep thrusting and bring me to a climax, to an orgasm. I want to know what that feels like.” He said, “With pleasure, my love.” He kept thrusting and, after about ten minutes, wave after wave of electric warmth washed over me.

As I lay basking in that warmth, Robert began to suck on my nipples. I said, “You know, this is all extremely pleasant and new. For some reason, I am suddenly wondering if my pill doesn’t work, are you okay with my having a baby?” Robert said, “Rachel, I am okay with your going off the pill, and we can make a baby of our own together.” I said, “That sounds really nice. I’ve often wondered what it is like to feel a baby kicking in one’s womb. It must be a really strange feeling.” He said, “I am willing to have you experience that, my darling. I was sort of looking forward to that before this change came upon us.” I replied, “Oh Robert, that is something I hadn’t thought of. I don’t want you to miss out on that.” “We may change back, who knows.”

We took a shower together. It was really strange to walk and feel breasts bouncing on my chest. I turned the water on. While we waited for the water to warm up, we both looked at ourselves in the mirror. “This is really strange,” I said, “I don’t know that I will ever get used to this.” Robert said, “You and me both.” All of a sudden, I realized how short I was next to Robert. He turned to me and wrapped his arms around me, and hugged me, resting his chin on my head. We got into the shower, and I said, “This is also going to be strange washing a new body.” We both lathered up and I felt my breasts, squeezed them, hefted them. I washed between my legs. It was also strange to have such a smooth body, to have no hair on my legs, face, chest.

We dried off and then went back to our bedroom. “This is going to be different, using different drawers and closets.” Robert said, “Yes, dear, it is not going to be so odd for me to wear pants, but wearing a skirt or dress is going to be quite different for you.” I suddenly had the thought, and said, “What if we change back to our old selves while we’re out in public?” He said, “You had maybe better wear pants for now.” Then I said, “If I change back into Robert, my big feet are going to be in small shoes, and my big body is going to rip these small clothes.” He laughed, “That would be a sight to see. Of course, I would be in clothes way to large for me. I’d look ridiculous too.” I said, “Robert, show me how to put this bra on. I don’t know how.”

It was a couple weeks later that we were drinking chai lattes at the local coffee shop. “Rachel,” Robert said, “would you be okay with our staying like we are? I know it’s been a bit of a struggle for both of us, getting used to our jobs and friends. But, I think we’re through the worst of it now, don’t you think?” I said, “Yes, I think you’re correct, Robert. I think that we are through the worst of it. It’s been rather embarrassing at times, to have to say that we’ve got a bit of amnesia and need to know a name or something about the job. But about your question. I think that I am beginning to like this life, and I don’t think that I want to go back to being Robert. I’m okay with staying as we are. I think we’ve gotten over the fear of suddenly changing.”

So, Robert and I remained as we were, him a male and me a female. We had to spend long hours getting to know our childhood, high school, and college memories intimately. We also had to get over the fear of our running into someone who was a long unseen friend or having a family member ask us about something in the past. We both got along just fine. I did eventually become pregnant with our mutual consent. Pregnancy is no laughing matter. Morning sickness was no fun. And I didn’t enjoy the back pain in my final months, but I did take delight in feeling life within me. Breastfeeding was certainly different and changing diapers was no fun. We now have two children, a boy, Sean, and a girl, Olivia. They are a great delight to the two of us.

Well, time passes all too quickly. Sean is a senior in high school and Olivia is a sophomore. I am now forty-four. I still have a somewhat youthful appearance, but I can see that middle age is here. Robert and I still go out on dates, and we still hold hands, and we still make love to one another. We’ve had a few heated arguments, but, for the most part, we see eye to eye. I am looking forward to our growing old together. I’m sure that there will be aches and pains, but I think our relationship is growing deeper and richer. Robert is a manly man, and I am a womanly woman. Sure, that’s not how we started out life together, but we’ve both taken to our respective roles like fish to water. And that’s the way that life should be, rich and full.

Hi, my name was Stanley. I was born a male, but from as early as I can remember I felt like a girl inside. I remember playing dolls with a girl, Nancy, next door, at the age of four. I remember playing dress-up with my sister, Janice, at the age of five. We wore Mommy’s jewelry, put on lipstick, and tried to walk in her high heels. When in first grade, I would play with the girls during recess, instead of with the boys. They called me “sissy” and “pansy”, because they considered me to be effeminate. I really started cross-dressing at the age of twelve after I watched a TV show, where a scantily clad and buxom female had a male voice. Immediately, I was fantasizing about being a girl. In secret, I dressed in my mother’s and sister’s clothes.

When in college, I majored in genetics. By then the human genome was mapped. I did my doctorate on the few species where the male could transition into a female. With Clownfish, the most dominant male in a group will become female, also changing to female if the dominant female dies. With Wrasse fish, including Bluehead Wrasse and Kobudai, dominant males change into females. Slipper Limpets, sea snails, can change from male to female when in physical contact with other males. Gobies, another fish, can switch back and forth between male and female based on social factors. Some species of frogs also change sex. Protandry is the change from male to female. That was my focus, instead of Protogyny, because I was male.

Extensive research showed that sex changes in fish and frogs could not be replicated in mammals, and that included humans. But I was not daunted by that. While I couldn’t take genetic material from fish or frogs to convert humans, I focused on creating a similar mechanism using the human genome. While the use of female hormones, namely estrogen, could be used to feminize most of the body, it could not change the genitalia. What I was searching for was a mechanism to completely transform a male human into a complete female. Working for a genetics lab in a pharmaceutical company, I worked on my spare time to perfect the mechanism. By age 25, I made a breakthrough with male mice, changing them to totally female.

Of course, I kept my discovery secret, particularly since I wanted to change myself from male to female. I knew that I was not a dominant male, but that did not stop me. I wanted sequential hermaphroditism and not bidirectional hermaphroditism. My wish was to only go one way, not switch back and forth between genders. Male humans naturally have estrogen, specifically estradiol, in their systems, though in much smaller quantities than in females. The estradiol is produced in the testes. The trick was to get the testes to produce more estradiol or estrogen and much less testosterone. Females also have small amounts of testosterone produced in the ovaries. I just had to install the mechanism to match that of protandry fish.

Protandry fish and frogs would absorb their male genitals and create female genitalia and ovaries, all through the production of less male hormones and more female hormones. I studied their systems rigorously and finally found the mechanism to make the switch in hormone levels for a male-to-female switch. A specific gene, cyp19a1a, plays a central role in making a protandry fish switch from male to female. This gene codes for the enzyme aromatase, which is critical for regulating the balance of sex hormones. Humans have the enzyme aromatase, so all I needed was to design a gene similar to cyp19a1a out of human genetic material. I did it four days prior to my 26th birthday. I’d inject the gene in four days.

I would need to inject the synthesized gene directly into both of my testicles. I knew that this would be extremely painful, so I anesthetized the region of my groin. I made the injections and then began the wait. The time it takes for a protandrous fish to change from male to female varies by species but can range from a few days to several months. So, I would need to be patient. Because of my job, I had been fingerprinted, so I knew that I could establish my identity once my transition was complete. I was inclined to think that my transformation would take several months. After a couple weeks I began to cry over the smallest things. After three months I began to notice the changes in my body. I smiled. I was gradually becoming female.

I had time to think about my new name. Ever since the age of twelve, I had used the name of Stacie, but I also liked the names Shirley, Suzanne, Sharon, Suzette, Stephanie, Samantha, and Sabrina. Why do so many transgender people chose a name that starts with the same letter as their previous name? I don’t know. One idea on the web is that people want to keep the same initials, but that thought had never entered my mind. Anyway, I chose the name Suzette, and since my middle name started with an R, I chose the name Renee. I practiced writing my signature. I still remembered the cursive writing that I had learned in elementary school. Some people’s signatures look like a scribble, but I wanted my name to be legible.

I needed to figure out how to explain my gradual change in appearance. I had thought that I needed to keep my discovery a secret, but I was beginning to have second thoughts. I would need to apply for a patent, but would that move be seen as breaking the non-compete clause in my contract. I looked online and found that typical non-compete clauses did not prevent one from filing for a patent. I looked for a reputable patent attorney. Maude helped me to fill out all the necessary documents. At 14 weeks my body was becoming noticeably feminine, so I made a request to see my supervisor, Darryl. When I went into his office, he looked up from his paper-strewn desk and suddenly got a puzzled expression on his face. “Are you Stanley?”

I sat down in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. “Hi Darryl, you can call me Suzette.” His jaw dropped. “You’re not kidding, are you? I see the change in your face. So, you’re transgendered? I didn’t think it could happen this fast.” I said, “Darryl, during my off hours I developed a gene to make protandry possible. About 14 weeks ago, I injected the synthesized gene into my testicles. I expect more changes in the coming months. I have hired a patent attorney. I do not believe I’m in violation of my non-compete clause.” He said, “No, Suzette, you are not in violation of your contract. But I thought that protandry was impossible for human beings.” I said, “Apparently not. My male genitals are shrinking, and I expect female ones to grow.”

He sat there and stared at me for several minutes, his right hand stroking his Van Dyke beard. He then asked, “How are you going to change your identity?” I replied, “I’m going to hire an attorney to help me. On the basis of my fingerprints as Stanley Robert Taylor, I can prove my identity. My new female name will be Suzette Renee Taylor. I should be able to get my driver’s license, Social Security number, bank account, credit card, and passport, all in my new name.” Darryl leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, and his chin resting on his fists. “You know, Suzette, you could be promoted in this company for such a groundbreaking discovery. Does this work for female-to-male transgenders?” I shook my head. “Why not? It should.”

I said, “I was rather short-sighted. I invented this gene to help me. I was rather selfish and self-centered, wasn’t I?” He nodded. “But I could easily design the gene to lower estradiol and increase testosterone. I will take out a patent on it too. But now that I think about it, I’m not only going to make a lot of transgender people happy, but I’m also going to make a lot of people in the healthcare industry mad.” He nodded again and said, “You’re correct, but I wouldn’t worry about it too much. New inventions are always affecting the market.” I smiled and nodded myself. “Thankfully, tomorrow is Saturday. I need to go buy a new wardrobe, shoes, and cosmetics. Darryl, on Monday can you announce my change?” He nodded and smiled.

That Friday night, I took another look at my body. My figure was definitely becoming more feminine. My calves, thighs, hips, and buttocks were more curvaceous. My waist was slender, and my breasts were a B cup size. My Adam’s apple was greatly reduced in size, and my face was definitely feminine. My skin was softer, and my hair was very fine and light. I didn’t need to shave my face, but I would shave my legs and under arms that evening. My hair was shoulder length and was a light brown. I would need to get it styled after shopping Saturday. I needed to remember to call the salon and make an appointment for 4:00 pm. The change that I was going through would not deal with my bones, so I would need surgery on my jawbone.

Saturday morning, I went to the mall when it opened at 10:00 am. I bought panties, bras, slips, camisoles, pantyhose, dresses, skirts, blouses, tank tops, slacks, shoes, jewelry, and makeup. I was still 5’-6” and so I got two- and three-inch heels. My appointment time at the salon was approaching quickly, when I finally concluded my shopping for the day. The stylist at the salon was named Janet. She did a superb job of putting waves in my hair. I thought that I looked very attractive, but I couldn’t wait to go home and dress, put on jewelry, and put on makeup. I had asked one of the girls at the lab if she would like to go out with me in the evening. Her name was Olivia. We had a super great time together at a Thai restaurant downtown.

Monday morning, Darryl gathered everyone in the department to make an announcement. I was dressed in a yellow, black, and red pinstripe plaid skirt and white blouse. I was part Scottish and liked to wear the clan tartan plaids. Darryl got everyone’s attention and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to introduce you to Suzette Taylor, formerly Stanley Taylor. She is transitioning by means of a protandry gene that she developed and is patenting. I expect you all to welcome her and show her the utmost courtesy. She is a highly valued member of our team. I present to you Miss Suzette Taylor.” Everyone clapped and there were smiles all around. I chatted with several small groups. My voice was sounding more feminine all the time.

After work, I stayed at the lab for an hour to make out a do list: 1) hire an attorney to help me with my identity, 2) take voice and deportment lessons, even though my voice was feminine, I needed to work on my vocabulary and intonation, 3) start work on the female-to-male gene for insertion into the ovaries. I realized that a longer needle and an ultrasound would be required to make the injection properly, 4) work out the details with this pharmaceutical firm on the production of these two synthetic genes, 5) receive regulatory approval, 6) engage in activities like sales representative outreach, targeted advertising, medical journal publications, and partnerships with healthcare organizations. This was quite a list of things to accomplish.

Anatomically a penis and a scrotum occupy a different region of the body than a vagina. At six months my male genitals were just above my developing vagina. At some point my urethra had to descend into my new vagina. There was a twenty-four-hour period where I couldn’t pee. I got very uncomfortable. Once my urethra was in its new position, and my ovaries had formed, then my male genitals were absorbed into my body. The other thing that happened at six months was that my breasts reached a C size cup. The only thing that remained was to have my jawline reshaped by a plastic surgeon. I scheduled the surgery and took two weeks off starting with the day of the procedure. This was one thing that I was not looking forward to.

Jaw surgery reshaping recovery takes about three to six months for a full functional recovery, though the initial discomfort and swelling typically subside in a few weeks and complete bone healing may take up to nine to twelve months. The first few days were the worst. I could not chew. I was on a liquid and pureed diet. Ten days after the surgery, the surgeon removed my stitches. He said that everything looked good. At the end of the two weeks, I found that I could cover up the black and blue skin with beard cover and foundation. My coworkers and Darryl thought that I looked great. My bruising completely disappeared by three weeks. I was happy that I could go light on the cosmetics. I was very pleased with the final result.

It took a year to see the first four items on my do list accomplished. Receiving regulatory approval was the hardest one. It typically takes six to 15 years for approval on gene therapy. But I shortened the time to three years by using various strategies, including more flexible and efficient review processes, greater international regulatory alignment, and innovative clinical trial designs. Marketing came after the approval. Marketing efforts for gene therapies are extensive but focus heavily on educating and engaging key stakeholders, including payers, providers, and patient advocacy groups. The transgender community was key in moving the schedule up, by their enthusiastic support and demand for the treatment to be available.

Five years is typically the minimum for gene therapy marketing, but we did it in two years. So, it took a total of five years, the three for regulatory approval and the two for marketing, to see my gene therapy in use. I have to say that Darryl was correct in his prognostication that I would move up in the firm. I was quickly made the supervisor of the lab, and Darryl didn’t seem to mind since he was given a cush position. My track from there on was always up. By the end of the five years, I was made the CEO of the company. As a patent holder I received royalties, payments made by the licensees for the legal right to use my gene therapy. I did not charge what I could have, because I wanted the transgenders to benefit. Still, I was a multi-millionaire.

I stopped growing at nine months. I didn’t go beyond a C size cup. I was attractive, and that was enough for me. Yeah, I could turn heads when I was all dolled up, but I really didn’t want attention from guys. I quickly determined that I was a lesbian. Do you remember Olivia? She and I decided to get married. We were great lovers. I had a nice place built for us. Nothing ostentatious or extravagant, but comfortable. I did want to get pregnant, so I had artificial insemination done, twice. We wound up with a boy and a girl. Perfect. But because I had the bone structure of a man, and my pelvis was too narrow, I had to have a Caesarean section done each time. Would I change anything in my life? Not a chance. I couldn’t imagine a better life.

I live on the outskirts of the city of Shanghai. My name was Jun, meaning “talented” or “handsome”. I had just turned eighteen and graduated from high school a couple weeks later. I was lying in bed one night, tossing and turning, because I was not at peace inside. Inside I was a girl, but I had been born a male. How was I ever going to be at peace? The Chinese government had banned the online sale of hormone replacement therapy drugs, and there were so many barriers in the healthcare system. I was at a loss as to how I could possibly transition.

At first I thought that my eyes were deceiving me, but there was a greenish glow at the foot of my bed. There was no denying it then. Gradually, a human form began to coalesce, and there was a beautiful young lady standing there, with a seductive look in her eyes. I sat up and said, “Who are you?” She said, “I am one of the huli jing, a fox spirit, known to you as a shape-shifter.” I said, “I thought that you were just a myth.” She smiled and looked down at herself for a moment. “Do I look like a myth to you?” I replied, “No, you look very real to me.” Then she said, “I am going to do you a favor, that is if you do a good deed for me.” I asked, “What kind of good deed do you want me to do, and what kind of favor will you do me?”

She smiled. “I want you to be a friend to Mrs. Ya Liang. She is a homeless person who lives in the park down the street. You will know her by a red scarf that she wears.” I asked, “How can I best be a friend to her?” She replied, “You’ll think of ways.” As for the favor that I will do for you, I will confer on you the ability to be a shape-shifter yourself. You want to be a girl, so I give you the power to be a girl whenever you want.” How will I be able to use that power?” She said, “All you have to do is think it and it will happen.” I asked, “What is your name?” She replied, “Mei,” and with that she vanished.

I lived with my parents in a high-rise apartment building. I had to think this through. How was I going to shape-shift with them around? I also needed girl’s clothes. I had a job, but I could not afford to buy a whole wardrobe and cosmetics, at least not just yet. First things first; I needed to go and find Mrs. Liang. I needed to befriend her. What was it that she needed? Food, clothes, shelter, all came to mind. What she probably needed most was friendship. Then the thought struck me, “She’d probably relate better to a girl.” I went to sleep after tossing and turning some more.

The opportunity came the next morning as I was finishing breakfast … baozi (bow-dze), a Chinese steamed dumpling filled with pork or sweet red beans, and green tea. Mama and Baba kissed me goodbye as they headed out the door for work. I had several hours before I needed to be at work. I wished myself to be a girl and suddenly I was one. I rushed to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Staring back at me was a pretty girl about my Mama’s height. I went to my mother’s dresser and pulled out a bra and panties and got dressed in her clothes. Of course, I was taking note of my appearance and smiling inside and out. I rushed to the store to buy myself some clothes. I bought just enough to keep me dressed in my own clothes. Then I went back home, undressed, put Mama’s clothes away, turned back into a boy, and went to work.

The next day, after my parents had left for work, I changed back into Ai. That was the name that I had chosen for my female self. It means “love” and is a common name for girls. This time I took a little while to look at myself in the mirror. I had B size breasts, a narrow waist, a vagina, and a girlish figure. I smiled at myself. I got dressed and then went to the park. It was not hard to find Mrs. Liang. She was begging for money. I went up to her and introduced myself, “Hi Mrs. Liang, my name is Ai.” She immediately got a suspicious look on her face, “How do you know my name?” I said, “Someone told me about you. Let me take you to get some breakfast.” We found a street vendor with steaming hot baozi.

We sat down together on a park bench. She ate like she was really hungry. I talked while she ate. “Mrs. Liang, I would like to be your friend.” Again, she got that suspicious look. “Why do you want to get to know me? I’m a nobody.” I said, “I know what it is like to be lonely, and I know what it is like to not have many friends. Where are you from?” She said, “The countryside. I grew up working in the rice paddies.” I asked her, “How did you come to live in the city?” She replied, “My husband came to work here as a construction worker.” I continued asking questions until I had to leave. I went home and changed gender and clothes and went to work.

I continued living this way for several months … eat breakfast, say “goodbye” to my parents, change from Jun to Ai, go see Mrs. Liang, change from Ai to Jun, and go to work. I was tired of changing back and forth from boy to girl and girl to boy. I hated my male body and just wanted to live as Ai. Then, one day, the problem was solved for me. My mother wanted to surprise me with a present and she thought to hide it in one of my dresser drawers. Then she found my female clothes. Both Mama and Baba were waiting for me when I got home. Mama asked, “Jun, what are these?” She held up a bra and panties. “Is this some kind of fetish or are you a cross-dresser, a transvestite?” I shook my head, “No, I am Ai.” I suddenly changed into Ai. Both of them were startled. “What is this?” I sat down with them and told them of the huli jing, the shape-shifting spirit and of Mrs. Liang.

I ended by saying, “I want to become Ai full-time.” When they protested, I said, “I will sometimes change into Jun for your benefit, but Ai is who I really am.” Then I explained my discomfort with my birth gender. “I hope that you will accept me both as your son and as your daughter. However, I must be mostly your daughter, Ai.” They agreed to let me do this. “But how will you continue to work?” I replied, “I will go to part-time hours as Jun. I was hoping, Baba, that you could get me identity cards as Ai.” He nodded and said, “Ai, it will take some time and money, but it is doable.” I changed back into Jun for their sakes.

It was workable for me to spend two days a week as Jun, and five days a week as Ai, even on the weekends. Mama and Baba got used to it. I continued to be a friend to Mrs. Liang, taking her food and clothing, enabling her to take a shower once a week, which was a great improvement for her, and providing her shelter during the really cold days of winter. I would sleep on the floor as she slept in my bed. She even got to know my parents, which was a good thing. They also provided her food and companionship.

As Ai, I developed friendships with girls close to my age. I enjoyed the conversations that we would have over a cup of coffee or mocha. We talked about many different things. We laughed and sometimes we even cried together.

I did not limit my shape-shifting to just boy and girl. More than once, when I was in the bathtub, I would change into a mermaid. It was a strange sensation to flex the lower half of my body. I longed for the ability to swim in a lake. Occasionally, I would change into a fox in my bedroom, in honor of the fox spirit, the huli jing, who had given me my shape-shifting ability. I tried other animal forms but liked the mermaid most.
One weekend, I biked out of the city to a lake. After dark I undressed and hid my clothes under a bush. Then I waded out into the water and shape-shifted into a mermaid. I swam in the water and under the surface. I then discovered that I had gills on the sides of my neck, and I could stay underwater as long as I wanted. I judged my time by the movement of the stars, shape-shifted back into Ai, got dressed, and headed back into the city.

It was on the occasion of my nineteenth birthday that I met Chen, a twenty-year-old young man. He was a waiter in the restaurant where my parents had taken me. I was in the form of Ai, and I could tell that he was attracted to me. We began to date, and after a few months, we made love to each other in his apartment. It was an amazing thing when he penetrated me, and, after ejaculation, he brought me to a climax, an orgasm. I took great delight in the warmth and electricity that came in waves through my whole body.

But, as Jun, I met a girl named Lili. It was a little more challenging to maintain the relationship, since I was only Jun for two days per week. However, I managed, and we became lovers as well. One night we went to a hotel and made love to each other. Imagine my chagrin when seven weeks later she told me that she was pregnant. Now my life really became complicated. I could not abandon her. I finally did what I had done to my parents and showed her Ai. She was astounded and perplexed. “How will you provide for me? I don’t know whether to think of you as a guy or a gal. I guess I need to think of you as both. What are we going to do?” I told her that I would take care of her. I needed to tell Chen what was happening.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I had just changed from Ai to Jun. “I’ve gotten a young lady pregnant,” I said. “I don’t know what to do.” He looked at me, clearly disgusted, and shook his head. “Ai … I mean Jun, you have made your bed, so you need to sleep in it. You and I are through. I don’t want to see you anymore. I cannot make love to a girl, knowing that she is also a guy. That is sick.” I told him that I could understand. I needed to talk to my parents and tell them what I was facing.

I told them in the form of Jun, but then I shape-shifted to Ai. I wanted them to clearly understand the dilemma that I faced. “Jun … Ai, we clearly see your problem. We suggest that you have Lili move into the apartment with us. She will stay in your room.” I then needed to talk to Lili’s parents. They were shocked, to say the least, that I had gotten their daughter pregnant, but they were relieved to know that I was taking on the responsibility for their girl. They suggested that we get married. A government official from the Legal Affairs Bureau performed the marriage ceremony. Both our parents were in attendance. Neither of us had any siblings.

Lili and I went on a short honeymoon. We went to the province of Guangxi (Gwang-shi) where the tall mountains were that inspired the “mountain and water” paintings for many centuries. They are known as Shanshui and represent the harmony to be found in nature, and the yin and the yang.

I realized one day that the yin and yang, female and male forces respectively, were embodied in my shape-shifting nature. I told this to Lili one day and she took hold of it and owned it. She had no problem with my living most of the time as Ai. In fact, she found that she was bisexual and loved me as a woman. I continued to take care of Mrs. Liang.

One night, when Lili was asleep and I was awake, the huli jing, the shape-shifting spirit, appeared to me again. I asked, “What is your full name?” She replied, “ “Meili de nuren”, which means “beautiful woman”, but you can just call me “Meili”, meaning “beautiful” ”. I said, “Meili, why are you appearing to me a second time?” She said, “I want to commend you, Ai, on your kind dealings with Mrs. Liang and with Lili. You have done well. You will continue to do well, this I know from your true nature. I name you “Shanliang de yige”, “the kind one”. Farewell, my friend.” I said “Wait!” But she was gone again. I laid back down and thought about our all too short conversation. I had wanted to talk more with her; I had wanted to know of my future. But maybe that was not her place to tell me.

When our daughter was born, we called her Meili. When she was several months old, we left her with Mama and Baba for the night. The two of us rode our bikes out to the lake. There we shed our clothes in the cover of night, and I swam with Lili in my shape-shifted form of a mermaid. There was nothing that I hid from Lili. There were nights when I took the form of a white fluffy Persian cat and lay on her lap as she gently stroked my fur. I licked her hands, and when she held me up to her face, I licked her cheek. She laid down in bed and held me to her bosom, and I thought, “I have the best of lives possible. I could not ask for more.”

Footnote: For those of you who have read my story, “The Touch of an Angel”, the words for mother and father are the same in Arabic and Chinese … Mama and Baba.

My name was Jimmy. I was the youngest of four boys. The oldest was a freshman in college. The next two boys were a freshman and a junior in high school. It was two or three weeks after my twelfth birthday that I began to have bouts of crying. I could not understand it. I would cry for no reason at all. After a week of this, I went to my mother. “Mom, I can’t imagine what is going on with me. I am crying over the smallest things. What is wrong with me?” She smiled. “Jimmy, you are probably going through puberty. Testosterone is making you moody. It's no big deal.” I went to my father. “Son, I don’t remember crying when I was your age but trust your mother. She’s a pharmacist and ought to know what she’s talking about.” I still had doubts.

About three months later, my calves, thighs, hips, and buttocks, were starting to look feminine. But what really scared me was that my chest had two swelling mounds of flesh – breasts – and my nipples were tender. Even just as scary was that my face was starting to look like a girl’s face. Again, I went running to my mother. “Mom, what is wrong with me? I am starting to look like a girl! I don’t want to be a girl!” She said, “Jimmy, almost two percent of children have both male and female traits. They are called intersex children. Most intersex children are evident at birth, but some, like you, do not become apparent until puberty. You do not need to be scared. We will figure this out.” Thankfully, I had finished sixth grade two months before.

A week later, Mom and I went to see our family doctor. He examined me, then told my mother, “Kimberley, you appear to be correct in your analysis of the situation, but just to be sure, I want scans to be taken of Jimmy. I am ordering a CT scan at the hospital. A week and a half later, we met again in his office. He showed us the scan. “This shows that Jimmy has two ovaries. I recommend that you go to the gender clinic at the hospital. They will be able to help you decide what is best for Jimmy.” On the way home, Mom said, “Jimmy, given your appearance, I think we need to think seriously about having you transition into a girl. We will go to the gender clinic and see what they say.” I broke down in tears. “This can’t be happening to me!”

Two weeks later we met with the psychiatrist at the gender clinic. My father was with us. The psychiatrist looked at the CT scan. He turned to me, “Jimmy, I am recommending to you and your parents that you go through what we call gender reassignment surgery. You look like a girl, so you should live like a girl. You are too young to have what we call bottom surgery, where we change your male sex organs into female genitalia. I recommend that you wait until you are eighteen to have this done.” Again, I cried. “I don’t want to be a girl! I’m a boy! Please change me back into a boy!” The psychiatrist said, “Jimmy, it would be very difficult to change you into a boy. Give yourself time to think about this.” I was very dejected and distraught.

It was a week later that Mom came into my bedroom. She sat down on my bed and patted the place beside her. “Sit down here beside me, honey.” I sat down next to her. “Sweetheart, you need to stop fighting this. You look like a girl. Your voice is starting to sound like a girl. Except for your male genitalia, you are a girl. Please let me help you be a girl. Let’s go shopping today for girls’ clothes. You need to let your hair grow out to at least below your ears, if not shoulder length. And you and we need to start addressing you by a girl’s name. I suggest the name Jessica. Please do this for yourself and for us.” “Okay Mom. I will do this, but I am still not fully convinced that I am a girl forever. I still want to be a boy.” “Give this a chance and let’s see.”

We went to the mall and Mom helped me select girls’ clothes, even panties and bras. I still cringed inside. At least, I wasn’t crying. She even bought me make up. When we got home, she took some white material and made me what she called “gaffs”. “These will help you cover your maleness.” She then helped me get dressed up as a girl. She showed me the proper way to put on the gaff under my panties. She showed me the easiest way to put on my bra, which was to fasten the back in front, upside down and inside out, then to turn it 180 degrees and pull the cups up onto my breasts, and the straps onto my shoulders. She dressed me in a skirt and blouse and then helped me to apply makeup. A pretty girl looked back at me in the mirror.

That night, at the dinner table, Dad and my three brothers, Michael, Chris, and Matt, all stood up when I came to be seated. They were all smiling, not in mockery of me, but in appreciation. When they were seated, Dad said, “Jessica, you look very pretty this evening. I mean that.” Michael, spoke next, “Jessica, I think you look awesome.” Chris and Matt chimed in, “You’re cool!” I blushed at all of these compliments. “But my hair is so short.” Dad said, “You don’t need to mind that, a lot of girls wear their hair short these days. You are very attractive and feminine.” Mom added her two cents worth, “Jessica, you are every bit the girl that we hoped for in a daughter.” My brothers added, “… and a sister!” I really enjoyed dinner that night.

There was only a month left until classes started in junior high school. Mom decided for me to be homeschooled. She did not want me having to make special arrangements for the restroom and for gym class. She also invited several girls over to spend time with me. Their names were Ashley, Sarah, Amanda, and Stephanie. We talked for hours about many different things. One thing that they wanted to know about me was what it was like to be an intersex child. Mom had told them about me and had them swear to keep the matter a secret. I found that they were very sympathetic and empathetic too. They didn’t just want to know facts, but how I felt about everything. We laughed and we cried together. I was so glad to have friends.

Mom waited until after school started, then one Saturday morning she said, “Jessica, how about we go and get your ears pierced, and your nails done?” I said, “I think that I would like that.” The process of getting my ears pierced was not as painful as I imagined. It was like a quick pinch or sting, sort of like a shot at the doctor’s office, and it was sore only for a short time. They were tender for a couple of days, and then they felt fine. As for my fingernails, I went with a soft pink with small splashes of white on them. Mom asked me on the way home, “How are you feeling these days, Jessica?” I knew what she meant. “Mom, I think I am beginning to like being a girl, and I think that I feel more like a girl, except when I tuck myself into the gaff.”

She asked me about my last comment. “Jessica, do you feel that you would be more comfortable having the bottom surgery sooner than later?” I answered, “Mom, I think that my male parts take away from the feeling of being a girl. I think that I would like to transition sooner than later.” She replied, “You understand that there would be no turning back at that point. Even though turning yourself back into a boy would be difficult, it is still possible.” I thought for a few moments, and then I asked. “Mom, what is it like to have a vagina?” She thought for a moment and then said, “It is a clean feeling, a feeling of completeness and of wholeness. I’ve looked at your father, and I’ve thought, ‘I would never want that thing dangling between my thighs.’ A vagina is so much more than I can explain. He may think he’s conquered me, but I am in control.”

I answered my Mom’s question, “Kimberley, I think that I am convinced that a girl’s life is much better than a boy’s. What I have experienced in the past few weeks is much better than my whole life as a boy. I really enjoy the conversations with you, much more than I ever have with any guy. I feel like you are totally honest with me. We talk about anything and everything. I feel better about myself than I’ve ever felt before. I’m especially glad that you found some girlfriends for me. They are so much fun. Mom, I want to feel that cleanness, completeness, and wholeness that you talk about. I also want that sense of control. I want a vagina, Mom, not this thing that makes me feel like a freak.” “You’re not a freak, dear, just in transition.”

The next conversation that Mom and I had was about returning to the gender clinic. “Jessica, you need to tell the psychiatrist that you are very uncomfortable with your male genitalia. He needs to understand that you feel incomplete as a girl.” I said, “Mom, thank you for raising this subject. I am totally convinced that I will only be happy as a whole girl.” She replied, “I’m glad that you feel this way. Your doctor is going to push back, because in his mind it is imperative that you be an adult to make this decision. For him it is a liability matter. He’s afraid that you will come back with a lawsuit, because you were coerced into deciding at too young an age.” I answered, “Mom, trust me, I will help him to see what a big deal this is for me right now.”

We met with my psychiatrist a week later. I said, “Doctor, I am very uncomfortable with my male genitalia. I cannot wait until I am eighteen for the bottom surgery. I feel incomplete as a girl. You can’t begin to under-stand how much I detest this part of myself. I hate this last vestige of maleness. Please help me.” He said, “Jessica, I can’t tell you how much I would like to help you, but my hands are tied.” I replied, “I can’t continue living this way.” “Are you saying that you would do yourself harm?” “I am saying that I can’t stand to live this way any longer.” “If it is a matter of your safety, I could move your bottom surgery up to fifteen.” “That’s more than two-and-a-half years from now!” “Fourteen is the best that I can do for you.” I smiled.

On the way home, Mom said to me, “Sweetheart, you realize that you need to wait until the end of your sophomore year to become whole.” I said, “I know, Mom, but I didn’t get the feel that he would budge past fourteen. I think that I can live with this that long. We got four years taken off my wait.” She replied, “Jessica, as long as you are safe with this, then we’ll go with it.” “I am not suicidal, Mom. I’ll be okay.” “As long as you are sure.” We drove the rest of the way home in silence. As Mom parked the car in the garage, she said, “I hope that you will tell me if you have any desire to hurt yourself.” I replied, “Mom, if I begin to feel that way, I will let you know, honest.” She smiled, “You are such a sweet girl, Jessica. I love you very much.” I smiled.

The next year and a half passed fairly quickly. When I reached my fourteenth birthday, I said, “Mom, can we go ahead and schedule my bottom surgery?” She said, “Yes, dear, definitely.” We made an appointment to see my psychiatrist and the surgeon. They scheduled me for a month out, July fourth, Independence Day. I was assigned a room, and the surgeon came to see if there were any last-minute questions. Seeing none, he ushered my family out of the room. The nurses prepped me for surgery. I was wheeled down the corridor and taken into the elevator. I was then taken into the operating room. I said, “This is really a big deal for me.” The anesthesiologist said, “You have no adverse reactions to anesthesia?” I don’t recall much after that.

When I woke up in recovery, Mom was sitting beside my bed. She smiled. “Jessica, you are now complete. The surgeon said that everything went very well. You are now truly my daughter.” I smiled as well. “Mom, I am so happy. How soon can I go home?” “The doctor said that the catheter and packing can come out in three to four days. You should be able to pee after that.” “Good, I can’t wait to see what I look and feel like.” Dad and my brothers came in once I was moved back to my room. Dad had a bouquet of flowers for me and set them on the windowsill. “You know, Jessica, that daughters have their dad wrapped around their finger?” I said, “I intend to keep it that way, Dad. I expect to be treated like a royal princess. I get my way.”

When I got home, I found that my bedroom had been redecorated. It was a lovely shade of pink and there were flowered curtains and a matching bedspread with pink pillows and a pink bunny. “Oh, Mom and Dad, I just love it. Thank you!” We hugged and kissed each other. Then my Mom said, “Straight to bed, young lady, and I’ll bring you some hot tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.” I quickly complied and put my pillows so that I could sit up in bed. That was a good lunch, and I enjoyed the oyster crackers. Then I got up and went to the bathroom. It was rather foreign to me, going pee without the use of my hands. I dabbed myself dry with some toilet paper. Then I went back to bed and slept soundly until dinner was served.

The next day I put on a bikini swimsuit, got a lawn chair out of the garage, and laid out in the sun for a while. I was careful to put on some sunscreen lotion. I hoped to have a nice tan by the end of the summer. Since we had a high fence and no neighboring windows looked down on our back yard, I felt free to go topless. My Dad was at work, and my brothers were at school. Mom brought me out some sweetened iced tea with lemon. She had taken the day off to be with me. I then put on a terry cloth jacket, sat on the front porch and read a romance novel. She came out and joined me with some cheese and crackers. She said, “I think that you can go to public school this year. I think that you would enjoy being with more kids your age.” “Yes.”

The next morning, I took a shower. I explored my new vagina. I gently pushed my labia apart and felt for my clitoris, which Mom had told me about. I did feel clean, complete, and whole. Once I had washed my entire body and my hair, I got out and dried myself. I dried and combed my hair. Then I must have stood in front of the mirror for an hour. I could not believe how much of a change had come over my body with the addition of a vagina and the absence of that thing that used to hang between my thighs. It made my entire body look completely different. Mom had gotten my hair styled before the surgery and it too contributed to the feel of total newness and completeness. I felt so much more like a real girl. I was ecstatic and thrilled to pieces.

The summer flew by. The first day of classes was both thrilling and a bit scary. I didn’t know quite what to expect. All my teachers, men and women, were very kind to me. The girls introduced themselves to me, the guys were a bit stand-offish, at least for the first day or two. Then, some of them began to introduce them-selves. Many of them were quite handsome and charming. Joshua and Lucas were very athletic, and I soon found out that they were on the football team. About a week after school started, Lucas asked me if he could walk me home. I said, “Sure, I would like that.” He carried my books for me and did a good job of carrying on conversation with me. When he got me to my house, he asked about tomorrow. I said, “Sure.”

I typically wore jeans to school, like most of the other kids. But, on occasion, I would wear a skirt or a dress. Mom had allowed me to wear some tops with a modest neckline, just enough to show a little bit of cleavage. I really enjoyed being able to freshen up in the girls’ restroom. Usually, there was time for a little gossip as we tidied up our lipstick and checked our hair. Yasmin and I were great friends. Ashley, Sarah, Amanda, and Stephanie were still good friends, and they occasionally had me over for a sleepover. But Yasmin and I were bosom buddies. Once in a while Yasmin would have me over to her house and we soon became lovers. She would gently rub my clitoris with jelly and would bring me to a climax. I cherished her.

My freshman year went by quickly. Yasmin and I often went bike riding together. We typically wore shorts and sneakers, but occasionally we would wear our bikinis and sandals. We got quite a few looks from the guys and sometimes even whistles. One of the things that we enjoyed doing was going to the public pool to swim and sun ourselves. Again, we got quite a few looks and even some passes, though we always said, “No, thank you.” Once we had a couple of guys that wouldn’t leave us alone. We told them to bug off, but they wouldn’t listen. We surprised them with a spray of mase, which we kept on a stretch bracelet. That put a stop to their philandering. There were a couple of guys that we enjoyed talking with, David and James.

It was after my fifteenth birthday, that Mom came to talk with me. She closed my bedroom door and motioned for me to sit with her on my bed. “Jessica, I need to tell you something. I gave you Estrace to help you become a girl. I would crush the tablet and mix it with your breakfast each morning.” “Mom! You mean you changed me into a girl; I wasn’t an intersex child?” “Correct.” “But how could you do that? I didn’t ask to be a girl! What about the CT scan?” “I had an affair with our doctor, and he didn’t want me exposing him, he was married to a rich woman. He got a copy of a real intersex child with ovaries and put your name on it. The Estrace was easy. I created a false account for a man named “Frank” and put $40 in each month.”

“Mom, why could you do this to me? Why?” She replied, “Honey, I’ve always wanted a daughter, and with four boys, your father didn’t want to try for any more children. Besides, I might have had another son.” “So, you violated my rights for purely selfish reasons?” “Jessica, I admit that what I did was selfish and wrong. But you have enjoyed being a girl.” “You didn’t know that I would. I might have been very unhappy as a girl.” “But you aren’t, and I have the daughter that I have always wanted. Would you forgive me for the wrong that I did you?” “Mom, I forgive you. I can’t be angry or bitter about what you have done to me. I suppose that I am as much your child as I am my own person. I love you, Mom, and I really enjoy being a girl.” I smiled.

“Thank you, Jessica, for being so gracious and kind. The reason that I am telling you this is because sooner or later you will get another scan and either you or someone else will discover that you were a normal boy who had gender reassignment surgery. You need to represent yourself to your future husband as a trans-gender person. When you get your learners permit at sixteen, you will be identified as a female, but that status will not always be assured. You cannot have children, so at some point there will be exploration as to why. And I hope that you will keep secret my affair and what I have done to you.” I said, “Mom, of course I will keep this as our secret, but you have put a burden on me that I did not ask for.” “You’re right, I have.”

“Mom, you need to know that I have identified myself as a lesbian. Maybe you didn’t need to tell me what you have. I don’t know. But I am not going to marry a man. As you said, I cannot have any children, unless I adopt them, which I may do. Right now, I am in love with Yasmin. She is my true love.” Mom said, “That’s wonderful, Jessica. Do you think you will eventually get married to her?” “I don’t know yet, Mom.” “As to your possibly not needing to be told, I think it is best that you know the truth about yourself. You might have expected you could have children, possibly by artificial insemination, thinking that you had ovaries. I could not leave you with that false impression.” “I appreciate that, Mom. You truly have enriched my life.”

“Jessica, I will continue to give you Estrace as long as you are living with us. Thankfully your father does not keep the financial records for the family, but he leaves that to me. When you leave this home, to make your own home, I will still provide you with the estrogen. After a year or so, I will change “Frank” to “Francis” and provide a forged letter from a psychiatrist granting him status as a female. I already had to forge a letter to have on file for him to receive the Estrace in the first place. Does all this make sense to you?” “Yes, Mom, it makes perfect sense to me. When I leave home, I will get the Estrace from you each month and will faith-fully take the tablets each morning. I do not want to lose my feminine appearance. I will be faithful.”

When I finished high school, I did get married to Yasmin. We moved into an apartment together and I got a job as a waitress. I went to college at night to get a degree in accounting, with a focus on taxation, to help me be a tax preparer. It was not actually needed, but I wanted to have a firm understanding of accounting and tax law. Yasmin and I wanted to have two children, a boy and a girl, so we adopted through an agency that placed children of unwed mothers with loving parents. I continued to take the Estrace faithfully and consulted my mother on all health concerns. We are really good friends. I do not hold what she had done against her. I grow in my understanding of what a woman is and am glad my mother chose my gender.

I only wish that I could have been a little girl and had grown up with girlfriends and all that they had for me. That is the only void in my life, and all I know to do is fill my heart with the memories of Yasmin, my mother, and all the girlfriends that I have now, living my childhood vicariously through their childhood memories.

My name was Yusuf. I had just celebrated my eighteenth birthday. Life for me as a Muslim young man was complicated by the fact that I felt like a girl inside. Islam worldwide did not look kindly on those who wanted to change their gender. I lived in the Muslim quarter of the old city of Jerusalem. There was an old place in the quarter that was called the pool of Bethesda. It was discovered in the late 1800s and had been an archaeological dig ever since. I was quite familiar with the Quran, but there was a story about the pool that was found in the book of John, which Mohammed endorsed as part of the Injil. The Injil was given to the prophet by Isa, or Jesus. I had read the book of John and so was familiar with the story of the paralytic man.

There was a paralytic man who had not been able to walk for 28 years. He would lay by the pool of Bethesda waiting for an angel to touch the water. The belief was that whoever was first into the water, when the angel stirred it, would be healed. The paralyzed man could never get into the water fast enough to be first. So Isa made him well. Just as the book of John described, the pool had steps leading down into it and had five porticoes or colonnades surrounding it. It was said to be near the Sheep Gate, but now that entrance into the city is called the Lion’s Gate or St. Stephen’s gate. And now, the city of Jerusalem had unbelievably returned the archaeological dig back into the pool that it was originally intended to be. So, I went there.

I had the seemingly unreasonable hope that the angel might still touch the water, and that I might be first into the pool and be healed of my infirmity. Was not the irreconcilable conflict, of being a girl inside of a boy’s body, a sickness of sorts that needed to be healed? I dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt and took a towel to lie on. Muslim males are allowed to wear shorts if they cover the navel and extend to below the knee. There were many people there, maybe some who were wanting to be healed of their infirmity. I looked for a place to lie down right by the edge of the pool, but every spot around the perimeter was taken. Finally, someone moved. I spread my towel by the edge and took up my vigil, waiting for the angel to come.

Every two hours the pool was cleared for five minutes, maybe in belief that the angel might still come. I was still lying on the edge of the pool, watching it intently, when suddenly there was a disturbance on the surface of the water. I immediately rolled over the edge into the pool. Completely submerged, I felt a tingle all through my body and a warmth going from the top of my head down to my toes. When I surfaced, the lifeguard blew his whistle and called for me to get out of the pool. I felt strands of hair down the sides of my face. People near the edge of the pool gasped. One man said, “He went into the pool as a young man, but now he is a girl!” I treaded water in the 13-meter-deep pool. The lifeguard was telling me to get out now.

I kicked with my feet and, bringing my hands up to my chest, felt two round full breasts. I smiled. I swam to the steps. There were two steps, then a landing, three steps, then a landing, and finally four steps brought me out of the water. I could hear people murmuring. I heard one woman say, “She’s indecent!” Then I came to the realization that my breasts were showing through my wet tee-shirt. I quickly ran and snatched up my towel and put it over my shoulders to cover my breasts and nipples. I quickly made my way out of the pool area and headed for home. My pants were very tight due to enlarged thighs, hips, and buttocks. A number of people stopped me to tell me that I was indecent and should be ashamed, mostly women. Men gaped.

I was so glad to make it home, but as I passed the kitchen, my Mama saw me, and said, “Who are you? You are indecent! You should be ashamed of yourself! Get out of my house now!” And she drove me out of the house, snapping her towel at me. Out the front door, I turned and yelled at her retreating figure, “Mama, do you remember when I shoved beans up my nose as a little boy?” She turned and said, “Tell me more, child.” I spent ten to fifteen minutes recounting incidents from my childhood, that only she and I would know. “Oh, Yusuf, what has happened to you?” I related the incident at the pool of Bethesda. She shook her head. “My son, what have you done? This is most shameful. Your father will be very angry.” I said, “Call me Maryum.”

When my father got home, it took both Mama and me a half hour to convince him. And, yes, he became very angry with me. “Son, how could you do this to us? You know that changing your gender is looked down upon throughout the world by Muslims. Islam is not forgiving of such behavior.” I said, “Baba, I know. I have done wrong, but I am not going to change myself back. I don’t have the heart to do so.” He said, “You are no longer my son. I want you gone.” He looked at my clothes and said, “Those are the clothes of Yusuf. Mama, help her into decent clothes.” Mama took me upstairs and found me an abaya, a garment to cover myself, and a hajib, a head covering. “Your father is well connected. He knows how to get you new identity papers.”

That night at the dinner table, my Baba discussed the matter with Mama. “Yes, I can get him new identity papers as a girl named Maryum. I will even get him high school transcripts and a flight to the states. But he has got to get the visa and acceptance to a college in the US. He can stay until he gets accepted.” He didn’t look at me, nor I look at him, as I sat in a corner and quietly ate my bread. The next morning, I took a shower and examined myself more closely. I was a very attractive girl. Mama took me shopping at the bazaar. She bought me all the clothes that I needed. I could wear western style clothes as long as my shoulders were not bare and my skirt covered my knees. I could not wear makeup, since Islamic modesty forbid it.

A few weeks later, I was accepted by a university in Michigan. They even offered me financial assistance. My Mama went with me to the Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv. From there I had a flight to New York and then on to Michigan. We said a tearful goodbye and then I walked down the jetway to my flight. I found my seat and stowed my carry-on luggage in the bin above, then took my seat by the window. A few minutes later, a handsome young man, Matt, sat down beside me. He was an engineering student at a college in Maryland. We chatted for a while until the stewardess showed us pre-flight instructions. Then we taxied out to the runway and took off. We chatted for an hour and then I took a much-needed nap.

My life in Michigan was fairly smooth. I enjoyed being a young woman and I made quite a few girlfriends, and even some boyfriends. I even found a few people who spoke Arabic. I did quite well with English, and picked up a number of the idioms. There was a mosque in the city, and I went there on Fridays for the Jum’ah prayer. It was there that I met Ali. He was quite friendly, kind, and intelligent. We eventually talked about marriage, and I was willing to consider it as long as I would not be just a housewife. He wholeheartedly agreed and was even amenable to my having my own career as a paralegal. We got married when we both completed college after two years. Mama and I stayed in touch by mail. Baba had nothing to do with me.

Ali and I had two wonderful children, a boy named Ahmed and a girl named Aisha. Ahmed means “highly praised” and Aisha means “alive and well”. Having a child in one’s womb is a wonderful thing and I gave thanks to Allah for giving me the privilege of being a mother. I enjoyed having them suckle at my breasts, even though it hurt sometimes when they weren’t properly latched onto my nipples. I thoroughly enjoyed those times that Ali and I made love. He was quite passionate and yet gentle with me. I was very grateful for having fallen into that pool seven time zones away and gave thanks to the angel who had touched the water for me. I smiled at myself every time that I looked in the mirror, for I was the woman of my dreams.