Gene Therapy

“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.