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From: sapphire@mhv.net (Sapphire)
Subject: NEW TG: Patricia  ( 4/ 52 )
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Hi folks - A NEW multi-part Transgender story ! 
(Posted with written permission from the author!)

Enjoy!
Sapphire
Sapphire's Place TG Fiction Archive
Sapphire's Channel - Pointcast and Webcast TG Fiction
( http://www1.mhv.net/sapphire )

All the Warnings to Minors are in effect. There are parts that some
feel could corrupt your young minds.

----The Story Follows----------------------------------------
Chapter 4

 I closed the book and just lay my head back on the chair and
closed my eyes, well aware of my new face, the long hair, the
breasts on my chest and worst of all, the changes in my groin.  I
was now a woman, just like I had been reading about, could be
screwed, have the little spermatozoa in my vagina and swimming
like the little hero's they were to merge with the eggs in my
fallopian tubes.  And at that point I would be pregnant.  The
fertilized eggs would migrate to my uterus and start forming a new
little human in my belly, or more correctly, in my uterus.  And this
was an impossible thought.

     I went back to the book case and returned this book to its
place and  I picked out a book on hair care and styles and got up
and sat back down in the reading chair.  

     I opened the book and started reading.  I found it quite
interesting, both due to my natural curiosity and the fact that I was
now sporting about two feet of long hair down my back.  First I read
the Table of contents and then glanced through the index in the
back of the book.  Satisfied, I turned to the first page and started
in
and was soon lost in the care and styling of a woman's hair.

     Ten minutes later I was no longer reading and just sat back
in the chair with my eyes closes, contemplating this new facet of
my life.  Daydreaming about my Kathy, I started thinking of our
nights together, her lovely hair, her cute physical build with those
lovely voluptous and pert breasts and that place of sexual
satisfaction, her cunt.  I was smiling to myself as I remembered our
last night together, the touching, the loving, the kissing and finally
the culmination of the evening when we were merged as one.  With
the two of us, sex was a joy and we were both laughing, panting
and emoting with meaningless  words to each other as we
approached our mutual climax.  And as it aways had been, it was
beautiful.

     It was nearly as if it had just happened but then I realized
that my hands weren't on Kathy's breasts but my own and the hair
around my face wasn't Kathy's but again my own.  What had been
a wonderful dream had suddenly turned into a nightmare and I was
back to reality, my new feminine reality.

     I picked up the book and continued reading and about a
hour later, I had enough of hair.  I had read or skimmed through
nearly half of the 500 pages of the book, and glanced through the
rest.  But I was getting hungry and put the book back in the book
case and went to the kitchen for some food.

     A quick peanut butter  sandwich and a glass of milk was
lunch and then back to the study.  While I was eating I was thinking
about my studies of that morning. First was the book on female
physiology and that was rather a shock.  Then the book on hair
and I had discovered a lot of styling tips and instructions, various
braiding techniques, Chignons, French Twists, buns, and many
more elaborate styles that took intricate patterns of curlers to
accomplish, all were explained with detailed pictures and
instructions.  But the main thing I got was to shampoo frequently,
use a good conditioner, and brush twice daily.  The more brushing,
the more the natural oils of the scalp permeated the hair and made
it much more luxurious and beautiful.  And this all sounded like a
hell of a lot of bother to me and I wasn't too happy with this mane
of hair I had been given.  In fact I wasn't exactly pleased with the
entire body I had been given.

     After lunch, I was back into the study and decided that I had
enough of reading books about hair.  I went to the computer and
looked at the screen.  I noticed a icon that was labeled TV and
clicked on it.  Much to my surprise, I was suddenly connected to
cable TV with a little icon screen in the upper right hand corner.  I
clicked on CBS and a soap opera was on the screen.  Later I
learned it was "All  My Children".

     I flopped back in the chair and watched this show and two
others for the next two hours.  I have very rarely watched the
soaps, either the afternoon or the versions on evening television.  I
just didn't find them very interesting, that is, except for the many
young lovelies portrayed.  But this afternoon, I continued to enjoy
looking at the young girl actresses, but in addition, I found my self
examining their hair styles, their dress, their makeup and their
physical gestures quite closely.  Inadvertently, I was using them as
possible role models.  I studied the way they walked, the body
movements made, and the use of hand and arm gestures and
compared them to the male actors.  I had never realized that
woman were so much different from men in the way they moved. 
Women walked differently, sat differently, and stood differently
than men.  I didn't know if this was due to real genetic differences
or just assimilated from other females.  

     Thinking about this, I guessed that part of the difference was
due to their physical builds, part due to their different sexual
orientation, and most due to environmental influences, that is
having female role models and assimilating the mannerisms and
gestures from the mothers, teachers, and girl friends.  And if this
was true, my life would be very difficult as a woman.  I now had the
physical build of a woman, but my mental sexual orientation was
definitely male and I had undoubtedly always emulated various
males in my life.

     And this two hours of TV also reminded me that although
men frowned, smiled and laughed, women did the same plus
giggled and cried a lot.  The crying I suspected was due your
environmental upbringing and emphasis on emotional control
imposed on men since they were very young.  And the giggling in
woman was very similar to the chuckling of men, mainly a matter of
vocal cord pitch.  Women giggled and men chuckled but it was
probably just two gender related words for the same behavior.

     In the first show I watched, I saw a girl with long hair, similar
to the hair I how had and thinking of the hair care I had read about
that morning, I went to the bath, picked up hair brush, and went
back to my chair in the study and sat their brushing out my hair as I
watched the soaps.  While I knew that hair had to be artificially
attached to my scalp, actually a permanent wig, it felt like it had
grown from my head.
     Leaving the TV and going back to the bathroom, I looked
through the drawers under the sink and found a small hand mirror
with normal reflections on one side and magnified reflections on
the other.  Upon careful examination, I discovered a very fine mesh
of fibers covering my entire head like a cap, and my natural hair
and evidently been used to secure it to my head and the long hair
was emanating from this fine mesh.  One puzzle solved at least.

     Back at the computer, I clicked out of the TV mode and was
back in the normal windows mode.  It was funny, I had always been
so busy in my life, and here I was just sitting here, wondering what
to do.  In fact I was bored but had no plan ahead of me to occupy
my time.  Mainly I was discouraged and irate with the direction my
life had taken.  I was a normal heterosexual male with the hair,
face and features, the body and sexual organs of a female.  In fact
the only male vestige left was my mind and attendant thought
processes.

     My mind drifted back to this morning when I decided to plan
my future and then realized that I had no future because I didn't
have a past.  Well, I would just assume I had a past and then what
would I do.  I considered the possibility of resuming my engineering
career, but I couldn't imagine my self working as a female, dressed
and acting as a woman.  With this mental impasse, I wondered if I
could still pass as a male.  I decided to try and find out how much
of my old physical looks I could recapture. 

     I got out of the chair and went back to the bathroom and
started looking though all the drawers and cupboards.  There I
found some nail polish remover, a drawer full of hair paraphernalia,
and finally a six inch wide ace bandage.  I removed my jersey and
then my bra, and wound the ace bandage around my breasts as
tight as I could and fastened the elastic contrivance with the little
brass fasteners.  This was somewhat uncomfortable, but not
painful and I was pleased to see my chest was much reduced in
size.  I went to the closet and found a large button down shirt, cut
for a female, but much like the shirts men wore and put it on.  I
looked in the mirror and was gratified to hardly notice the slight
bulges of my breasts.   I removed the studs from my ears and then
the polish from my finger nails and toe nails, but I still had that
long
hair which was anything but masculine.  
     I parted the hair on my right side and brushed it out, then
pulled it behind my head into pony tail and fastened it with a cloth
coated rubber band I found in the one of the drawers.  Taking the
pony tail in hand and winding it up into a large ball, I fastened it
to
the back of my head with some hairpins.  At least from the front, it
looked like a more normal male hair cut.

     Pulling open the closed closet door, I looked at myself in the
full length mirror and nearly started crying.  Instead of a voluptuous
woman, I now looked like a flat chested woman, but a woman all
the same.  I hadn't accomplished anything.  And I tried speaking in
the lowest voice I could manage and it still sounded quite feminine. 
I had the face, build, and voice of a girl and I couldn't disguise it.

And to my male eyes and mind, I looked like a pubescent young
girl, lovely, just slightly less well endowed.

     I unbuttoned my shirt and removed the Ace bandage as it
was really quite uncomfortable and starting to hurt just slightly.  I
buttoned up my shirt and went back into the living room and
flopped on the couch, again with my breasts bouncing with each
movement I made.

     I decided that the option of trying to appear as man was
dead.  The Sinway Institute had really done a job on me and I
appeared to be stuck with it.  This was a mind numbing thought,
one that nearly took me into a mental panic.  And I was thinking of
Kathy, thoughts of her had been in the back of my mind all day, but
I had suppressed them, but now they came forth.  The vision of her
face and body floated out of the ether and dithered through my
brain.  I was nearly lustful for her, she was so beautiful and sexy. 
And her personality was just delightful as was her intellect.  It
seemed just yesterday that we had been making love in our bed at
the ski lodge, and to me, it literally was yesterday, in spite of the
intervening months when I had been unconscious.  Her hair, her
lovely face, voluptuous breasts, and her wonderful cunt, they were
all part of my memory of Kathy.  And now, she was lost to me, she
wouldn't acknowledge me or even recognize me, and if by chance
she did, she would abhor the thing I had become.  

     I felt big tears on my cheeks again and to my abhorrence, I
realized that more than my body had been changed but my
emotions and even part of my mind had taken on some female
aspects.  Just two or three times since I was five or six had I felt
tears on my cheeks and today, it had already happened twice.  It
must be those damn female hormones and I was determined to
fight it.

     But if Kathy was no longer in my future, what else could
there be?  No normal straight girl would be even slightly interested
in me and Kathy was a very normal girl.  That left lesbian girls and
men, and I didn't have a very positive feeling about lesbian girls
and held absolutely no sexual interest in men.  In fact the idea of
being with a man was quite repulsive.  Was I to be condemned to a
sexless and celibate life, secretly loving and cherishing girls but
incapable of even expressing my feelings, let alone physically
reacting to these feelings?

     I looked down at my chest and saw the outline of my
breasts.  I unbuttoned the first three buttons and pulled aside my
shirt and just stared at those mounds of flesh protruding from my
chest.  I took both my hands and cupped one in each palm and felt
their bulk and weight.  They felt soft, smooth and firm and the
nipples were much more pronounced.  I started flicking first one,
then the other and then both of them and felt the same delightful
feelings I had as a man, but even more intensive.  The nipples got
harder and the areolas started to crinkle up and get tight the more I
titillated them.  And I felt inner stirrings in my body also, mainly
down in my groin but also little shivers enveloped my entire body. 
This was different and unequivocally delightful.  I considered
zipping down my jeans and trying a similar tactic on my vagina, but
didn't as I didn't really think I wanted to know what this would
elicit. 
I was a man, at least mentally, and I didn't want to comprehend the
fact that my body not only appeared female, but reacted in a
normal sexual manner as a female.

     Somewhat reluctantly, I removed my hands from my breasts
and buttoned up my shirt.  The feelings I had experienced,
definitely sexual, were disconcerting at the least.  I didn't like my
body and I surely didn't want it to react like it was obviously meant
to react to physical manipulation.  This knowledge just pushed me
one step closer to the female and one step away from the
masculine,  

     I got up off the couch and went to the computer.  I noticed
the time on the little clock face indicated it was after four in the
afternoon.  With out thinking, I reached up to my head to scratch it,
felt the mass of hair pinned at the crown of my head and was again
reminded of my sex.  I had always liked long hair on girls and had
sort of liked the feeling of the hair on my face and shoulders.  I
pulled out the hair pins and removed the rubber band and let all
the hair fall down over my body again.  So far in this transition,
about the only thing I liked was the feel of the hair on my bare skin,
and it wasn't even my hair but nothing but a mechanically secured
wig.  But somehow it made me want to accept my new status, just a
little.  I had a hair fetish as a man and now I had the hair.  I was
running my fingers through the long locks while I was deciding
what I would do, or more exactly, deciding what I would tell Mr.
Richard Culler in the letter I was going to send to him.

     I brought up Work Perfect, set the margins, the tabs, and the
font, and started in  the letter.


Mr. Richard Culler
Culler, Inc.

Dear Richard,

     I received your letter this morning and was both relieved to
find out what and why I had been changed from male to female and
was also quite infuriated over the reasons you stated for this
change in my life.  Having ones sex changed, at least in my mind,
is the equivalent of assassination.  I just might have been much
better off dead than alive in this female body.   My female physique 
is definitely at odds with my male mentality.  I am left with nothing
to define myself, no self esteem, no sense of self, no plans, no
future and no past.   Literally no reason to continue living.

     I will admit, you have won, at least you have taken me out of
the picture with Kathy, but you still must win her yourself and I
can't
believe you have a chance with this lovely moral girl who considers
lying about her weight as a grievous sin.  She couldn't possibly be
taken in by such an amoral person as yourself, but that is your fate,
not mine anymore.

     But the above is not the reason for the letter.  More to the
point, how long am I to be a prisoner in this apartment?  And why
are you keeping me confined?  I can do you no harm so why am I
your captive?  Oh, I could go to the police and tell them what you
did to my body, but I would probably just end up  in a insane
asylum within moments.  I can't even remember ever being finger
printed and you probably had my finger prints altered along with
the rest of my body.  The very best I could do was tell my story to a
grocery store tabloid and they would just love to print it, but I
would
be the feature and you, just a name, and it would probably follow
me the rest of my life with no real fall out on you.  No, I am at your
mercy.

     At because of this reality, I am besieging you for help.  You
may have heard my comment to the Sinway Institute on the video
tapes that I have no future because I have no past.  No cash and
no checking account that I could use as I couldn't prove
identification as Patrick Browning.  No car or a driver's license to
drive with one.  Not employment record, no birth certificate,  no
Social Security number, no college records, and in fact, no proof
that I even exist.  

     I could of course, get into Internet, hack my way into some
data bases and manufacture a past for me, but it would be pretty
dubious and wouldn't stand up to a serious challenge.  No, I need
help from either Sinway or you and you seem to be more attuned to
the devious ways of life and can probably accomplish more in
fifteen minutes that Sinway could in two years.  I will give you that.

Although you are an immoral and despicable man, you have talent
and method.
     And I assume the million dollar bequest you have
supposedly settled on me is also a scam.  Well, no problem as I
don't want what isn't mine.  I can take care of my self if given a
chance and that chance is a verifiable past.

     I can never forgive you for what you did to my body and I will
always be a sexual oddity, a male mind and in female body.  But
that is done and neither of us can reverse it.  I will just have to
live
with this change, as much as I abhor it.  But I need a past and you
can provide it if you want.  Please do it for me.  I implore you.

     And release me from this apartment also.  I can't hurt you
and I need to go out in public with my new persona.  Kidnaping is a
federal crime and murder is only a state crime.  You have
eschewed the minor for the major.  And in Michigan they have no
death penalty, but the U.S. Government can ask for death in the
event of a kidnaping.  And I have not only been kidnaped for three
months, I have been mutilated also.  This won't do you much good
in court to be guilty of kidnaping with mutilation.  And on second
thought, I bet I could prove it.  I will just crash the Sinway
database,
get my records and that should be all it  should take.  

     You start working on my past and I will start trying to crash
the Sinway database.  I hope you finish your task before I
accomplish mine.

               Regards,

               Pat


     Well, now I suddenly had a reason for existence.  I would
crash the Sinway Institute's database and find everything I could
about my confinement and multiple operations.  I first searched the
computers memory banks and discovered that this computer was
an intrinsic part of the Culler, Inc. net which had a direct link with
the Sinway Institutes computer net via Internet.  Devious people
sometimes do stupid things and giving me a computer that had
nearly a direct link with the hospital that had performed the surgery
was one of the dumbest things I had ever encountered.  But even
the best laid plans have flaws.  I  immediately linked into the
Sinway computer and was asked for a Password.  I tried Richard,
Culler, Richie, Dickie, Rculler, and about every other combination I
could think of with Richard's name.  Then I decided to try his social
security number, but when I accessed the Culler personnel files, I
of course needed another password.  Again I tried all the
combinations of Richard's name and then thought, "Kathy".  He
claims to be in love with her and he just might have used her name
as a password.  I typed in "Kathy" and was immediately admitted to
the personnel database.  I quickly found Richards record, noted his
SSN and his birthday, address and anything else that would be
prominent in his memory, and switched back to the Sinway
computer.  First I tried the same password, "Kathy" and it worked
here also.  This was almost too easy.

     I searched the records and found mine under my given
name, Browning, Patrick James.  I downloaded everything to my C:
Drive and then went after the financial records.  However, the
computer didn't recognize or acknowledge my name so I tried
some short cuts and hit on my first attempt, "BrowPatr", a very
common way of addressing files is using the first few letters of the
last name and the first few of the first.  And these records were a
treasure as far as I was concerned because they mentioned Culler
by name, both his personal name and his company's name.  I then
attempted to crash the financial records of the institute itself, but
this time I was stopped.  I needed both an ID and a password, and
my chance of hitting that combination was like one in a billion. 
Well, it didn't really matter as I had enough that I thought I could
hang Richard Culler and completely discredit the Institute.  Or at
least enough to scare the hell out of either of them.

     I lingered over the chronological record of my various
surgeries and was surprised to learn that I had been delivered to
the clinic at six in the morning of February 18th and within hours I
was well on my way to becoming female.  That first morning my
penis, scrotum and balls were removed and the preliminary
construction of the vagina, labia  majus, labia minus, mons pubis 
and clitoris.  At this time my urethra was rerouted and terminated
between the clitoris and vagina.  This was all described in medical
jargon and it took me quite a while to actually determine what was
done to me that first day.  But it was a fairly complete sex change
of my external genitalia which I experienced that first morning and
afternoon after my capture.  By nightfall, after completion of this
first day's surgery, I was already essentially, completely female. 
What a tremendous difference ten hours can make in ones life.

     I was wondering if this rather invasive surgical procedures
were meant to forestall any chance of my reneging on my contract. 
At that moment I was quite the sexual freak, the body and
musculature of a normal young man with the exterior sexual
configuration of a female.  My fate had been permanently sealed
on that Thursday morning last  February.

     I was also given rather massive amounts of progesterone
and estrogen which were administered that first day and every day
for the next eight weeks.  Successive surgical procedures were
performed on me about every other day for the next four weeks. 
Surgery was done on my chest, hands, my feet, three procedures
on my vocal cords and five procedures on my face.  And between
the surgery on my hands and feet and the surgery on my face, all
my facial hair, in fact nearly all my hair between my face and my
toes  was removed by electrolysis.  The only exceptions were the
hairs on my groin, in my arm pits, about half of the hair on my arms
and legs, and the hair on my neck.  The neck hair was transplanted
to my scalp using a technique called micro incision. And all during
this time I was given continual doses of narcotics to keep me
unconscious and even subjected to hypnotism, both as a method of
rendering me unconscious and also laying post hypnotic
suggestions about my conduct upon awakening.

     Under hypnosis it was continually and repeatedly
emphasized that I was female and had always wanted to be
female. I was told that I would take the name of Patricia Jennifer
Browning, would love my long hair, glory in my breasts, and feel no
loss but a sense of purity by the substitution of female genitalia for
my old male organs.  I was emersed with ideas to make me just
love female dress, facial makeup and hair styles.  Then finally,
there was the truly impossible suggestions that I would learn to
desire men, make love with men and even birth and nurture their
offspring.  These ideas were repeated over and over and over for
over five weeks.

     I thought, "None of these seemed to have taken much of a
hold on my brain, except possibly, the love of the long hair.  And I
already had a predilection toward this anyway."

     It was on March 18th that the female organs became
available, and that day I was under the knife for fourteen hours.  A
full complement of female organs were implanted in my body and
attached to the recently constructed vagina.  I received an implant
of ovaries, fallopian tubes, a uterus and the other allied organs with
which woman were naturally endowed.  I was now fully a female
with no vestige of the male left in my body.

     And in early April, the final procedure was performed. 
Liposuction was done to my stomach and the excess fat deposited
in my derriere and the breasts that had been  slowly forming with
the massive doses of female hormones.

     From early March until my release from the clinic, each day I
wasn't scheduled for surgery, I was given physical therapy, both
manual manipulation by physical therapists and artificially by being
strapped to various exercise machines and automatically exercised
from four to six hours each day.  I had been fed a very limited diet
intravenously, my weight had dropped to less than 120 pounds but
then was brought up a bit and by the end of my stay at the clinic,
my weight was at 135 pounds, forty-five pounds less than my
weight when I arrived.  And physically, I was in superb shape. 

     It was on April 21st when a man came in and started on my
head, he first fitted a fine mesh over my scalp and then pulled up
each individual hair on my head up through this mesh. Also
attached to this mesh, was the long hair I now had flowing down
from my head.  The mesh was secured with about a hundred little
knots of my natural hair tied to the filaments of the mesh.  Then my
legs and arm pits were shaven, my eyebrows plucked, and my ears
pierced and fitted with ear studs.  That was about it until the day of
my release when my finger nails and toe nails were manicured and
polished, legs and underarms shaven, hair brushed out, and I was
dressed in a flimsy silken shorty nightgown.  

     Upon my release from the clinic, I was a complete female,
both physically and genetically, but not mentally.  But the clinic
staff had great hopes that the hypnotic suggestions would have a
pronounced effect on my mental processes.

     I was placed in an ambulance and Richard took command
and had me deposited in the apartment he had prepared.  An
apartment wired for both video and sound with the results being
first passed to his network and then on to the clinic.

     Well, I now knew what had happened to me and it was fairly
convincing.  Any hope I had of returning to my male essence was
now dispelled.  I was stuck with this female body for my eternity. 
But at least I now had the evidence to either blackmail or prosecute
Richard Culler.

     I then went back to the Culler, Inc. net and tried his
password on his financial records.  Admitted, I was sort of scared
of getting caught and just downloaded everything in his files and I
could peruse it later.  

     Signing out of the LAN, I first compressed the entire file and
saved it to floppies, and then printed out the entire file.  It was
over
125 pages of printing and took about an hour or better to
accomplish this.  

     I took the disks and the printouts and hid them in the closet. 
Not they couldn't be found quite easily, especially with the video's
on me all the time, but Richard couldn't know what I was doing, and
I made sure the camera's didn't record the fact that I was hiding
anything.  In fact, I took off my shirt and threw it on the table on
top
of the papers, and then, later, picked up the entire heap, jersey,
bra and papers and carried them back to the bedroom.  As I was
nude from the waist up, I thought that any man watching, would be
more apt to be admiring my tits than observing what I was really
doing.  Hell, it was less than one day of this new sex and already I
was using this to my advantage.

     In the bedroom I finished undressing and again examined
my nude body in the full length mirror on the back of the closet
door.  As a male I was both intrigued by and attracted to the vision
in the mirror,  but realizing it was an image of my own body, I felt
only anger and sadness at the mutilation done to my male
physique.  But the hell with it.  I couldn't reverse this change and I
must learn to accept it.  I may hate it, I may hate myself because of
it, but I had to live with it.  

     I went into the bathroom. picked up my hair brush and
started brushing my hair, I don't really know why, but it just seemed
something I must do before I went to bed.  I pulled the entire mass
of hair over my left shoulder and slowly stroked it from the top of
my head to the ends of the locks.  And with each stroke of the
brush, my hands would skim by my breasts, further emphasizing
my new feminine gender.  And maybe the hypnosis was working a
little.  If I blanked my mind and didn't think of my real male gender,
these breasts were sort of big, lovely, and sensitive.

     It was after ten in the evening when I was finished, and I
was tired and ready for bed. I first  considered going to bed nude,
but then decided that I would at least try to live like a female.  I
found the drawer with the nightgowns and pajamas and picked out
a short frilly one, much like the one I was wearing when I awoke
this morning, and slipped it over my head.  I pulled my hair out from
the neck and got into my bed.  I turned out the lights and just lay
their thinking about my day and my new existence, hating this
change to my life.

     I was relishing the effect I would have on Richard Culler
when he learned that I now had proof of my kidnaping and
subsequent mutilation, but I couldn't let him know until I could get
the documents and disks out of this apartment and in a safe place. 
In fact, my life might already be in danger because of my casual
taunt at him in my letter.  That wasn't too wise.

     I lay their thinking about this when all of a sudden the sun
was shinning in my room.  It was a new day and I had slept the
night through.



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