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From: sapphire@mhv.net (Sapphire)
Subject: NEW TG: Patricia  ( 5/ 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 5

  May 1993
          Day Two

Patricia, Not Pat
     Wednesday, May 5th
   
     I awoke the next morning with the sun in my eyes, slightly
disoriented with the dream I vaguely recalled.  I tried to bring it
into focus and this seemed much  easier than normal.  In the dream, I
had become a girl, all due to a plot by my girl friend's envious
admirer.  It all seemed very vivid and real to me, but thank god, it
was just a dream.  In fact it was too idiotic to really take
seriously, me, a girl.  But the dream was very graphic and I was
experiencing chills just recalling this nightmare.

     From habit, I reached for my balls to give them a good
morning scratch and discovered the reality of my dream.  I
remembered yesterday and knew what had happened and what I
had become.  A Damn Fucking Female!  Then as an after thought,
I amended to a 'Damn Female'.  No way was I going to fuck any
one.

     Dropping back down on my back, instinctively brushing the
hair back from my face  and pulling the covers up over my head, I
tried to relax.  Just lying there and not moving, I didn't feel any
different that I always had, but I knew deep down that I had been
changed beyond logical belief.  I was well aware that this wasn't a
dream, although I desperately wished it were.  Caving in to cold
realism, I started thinking about the future and what I would  with
this new body.

     I slowly put my hands on my new breasts.  They were full
and firm.  I then reluctantly checked my groin, hoping against all
hope that something would be there.  Well, something was there,
but it wasn't what I wanted to find.  I touched the lips of an
opening,
my new vulva, and was soon satisfied that I and indeed lost my
penis and scrotum and had a vagina and labia as replacement. 
Pulling my fingers up a half inch I found my clitoris and titillated
it
and was both surprised and slightly pleased to feel the sexual
sensation this action elicited.  But this shouldn't have been too
surprising to me as I knew that the clitoris had evolved from the
remnant of my penis, much changed and much reduced, but still
quite sensitive.
 
     I got out of bed and went into the bath, each step being a
constant reminder of my new body.  The long hair tickling my back,
the rearrangement of my body weight and the  void between my
legs, all made me very aware of my changed physique.  I stood
before the mirror and examined myself from head to waist, the limit
of my vision in the bathroom mirror.  And of course the first thing I
noticed was my face and hair, the latter in a disheveled mess.

     First my face, features that bore not the slightest
resemblance to my "real" face.  It was as if I was looking at a
complete stranger, a very pretty stranger of the opposite sex.  The
most striking characteristics were the full pink lips, the very light,
hairless and pale pink complexion and the large round eyes under
the long bangs of hair on my forehead.  And the hair over my ears
and cheeks framed the entire countenance in a very feminine
manner.

     Just yesterday, I thought of my self as a man, but today, I
was completely different.  I was a very beautiful girl, in fact I
started
to get sexed up just looking at myself in the mirror.  I looked down
at my body and saw that my breasts were full, protruding and firm,
my waist was narrow, and below that sensitive pubic mound, my
thighs expanded just enough to look quite girlish but not like a fat
slut.   My legs were long and slim and both my hands and feet
looked quite feminine.  My whole damn body looked and felt very
feminine.  Hell, I was very feminine.

     This was bizarre, a  masculine mind in a feminine body. 
And the mind was tantalized by the image of my own body?  And I
couldn't make love with myself as man to woman which was
frustrating, very frustrating.  As a man, I wanted to screw that
creature in the mirror, but although my mind was of one nature,  my
body was of another and never again would I be able to make love
with a woman.  This was an exceedingly depressing thought and I
was having a very difficult time comprehending this essential verity.

     A shower seemed in order, something normal to calm me
down.  Decision made,  I hunted around and conveniently found
shampoo, conditioner, soap, wash cloths and towels.  I turned on
the shower and feeling the water, I adjusted the controls and after
a bit of fussing, got the temperature to my liking, at least for a
start.

     I stepped into the full brunt of water streaming out of the
shower head and immediately put my head under the water and felt
my hair streaming down around my body.  I opened my eyes, which
had been shut from the force of the water, and found that I was
blinded by my bangs falling into my eyes.  I pulled the hair away
from my eyes, straightened up and turned around, feeling the water
on my back and over my shoulders.  Some of my long hair was
coming over my shoulders and falling across my chest, no, really
my breasts and the balance was streaming down my back.  It sort
of felt like I was taking a shower with a T-Shirt on.  But it felt
just
great and I gloried in the feeling of the hot steamy water falling
over my body.  And it did feel somewhat normal to my befuddled
brain.
     Picking up a washcloth, I inundated it with soap and starting
scrubbing my body, first my face and neck, then my shoulders and
underarm's and then my breasts.   For some reason I was
surprised to find these growths felt just like the rest of my body. 
They seemed so alien to my mentality but felt so normal on my
body.  I soaped these cancerous growths  and watched the water
wash the soap off, feeling the water hitting and liking the this feel
of
the water pelting down, like thousands of little fingers massaging
the flesh of these new additions to my physique.  It felt quite nice
and just slightly sensual.

     In the pubic area, I was also wondering about this orifice. 
As a male, I had always soaped my genitals and usually the inside
of my anus.   I soaped the wash cloth and gently tried to clean the
inside the vulva and then down inside of my new vagina.  With my
fingers, I spread the soap as much as possible and then tried to
rinse if off.  I was going to be a clean girl if I was going to be a
girl. 
Then I picked up the washcloth and started on my hips, derriere,
thighs and legs.  Finally my feet and in between my toes.  I couldn't
quite get over how smooth and curvaceous my legs were.  They
had definitely taken a slightly different shape than that of my recent
manhood.  They were at once both fuller and slimmer.  I wasn't
really sure which.  It seemed that there was a slight layer of fatty
tissue over the bony parts and some of the muscle was gone.  In
retrospect, my entire body could be described this way.  Sort of
less and more at the same time.

     I rinsed off and decided I would try and wash all this new
hair.  I picked up the bottle of shampoo and poured a rather large
portion out in my hand and slapped it on my head.  I started to
scrubbing it in, like I did with the much shorter hair with which I
was
accustomed.  Finding that first, I was making a hell of a mess on
my head and second, I would need a lot more shampoo.  I picked
up the plastic bottle and poured a large pool of shampoo in my
hand and transferred it to my head and started working the suds
through the entire mass of hair.   As a man with my relatively short
hair, this would have  taken  just a second, but now it was a major
undertaking.  The difference between three and forty inches of hair
was impressive.

     Eventually I was satisfied and stood under the shower letting
the hair rinse itself, resulting in a cascade of water and hair around
my nude body.  I picked up as much of my hair in my hands as I
could conveniently handle and wrung it out, then let the water hit it
again.  Getting all the suds out was quite a bother and I just stood
there for about four or five minutes, letting the water stream down
over my head and somewhat mesmerized by  the feel of my wet
hair caressing my body.  This was a new feeling and I was
surprised that I was enjoying it.  But in spite of my self, I was.
     I picked up the plastic bottle of conditioner and poured a
healthy dose on top of my head, repeating the moments with the
shampoo and thoroughly distributed the conditioner to all of the
hair.  Again I stood there, but this time I turned around and let the
water hit my breasts with my hair hanging down my back.  Wet, the
hair came nearly half way down my back.  Letting the conditioner
work for a couple of minutes, I put my head back under the shower
and tried to rinse it all out.  Hell, this had extended my bath time
by
about ten minutes, the water was cooling off, and I would have to
spend additional time combing and brushing my long locks out. 
Seriously thought was given to cutting it all off or at least trim it
down to a more manageable style.  I could be bald and would still
look and be very female.

     I finally turned off the water, stepped out of the tub, and
grabbed some towels.  I started drying my hair, and after I had
toweled it off, I wound the towel around my hair like I had seen girls
do in the movies and on TV.  This seemed a bit stupid to me as I
knew I was just play acting at the female role, but it did keep the
hair up out of my face while I dried the rest of my body.  Besides, I
had needed another towel for my body, as the first was quite damp
just from the hair.

     Tossing the damp towels in to the clothes hamper by the
side of the tub, I went and stood in front of the mirror, alternately
admiring the woman I had become and then mourning for the man I
had been.  Noticing the tangled mess of hair hanging down around
my body I decided the hell with it and went into the kitchen hunting
for a pair of sissors to cut off this unmanageable mass of hair.

     Back in the bath with sissors in my hand,  I looked in the
drawer and picked up a comb, a normal comb, and started pulling
that through my hair to strighten it for cutting.   It was pure
torture. 
Then looking again, I found a bigger comb, one that had very large
tines with big separations between each of them.  I started pulling
this through my hair and found it much more conducive to
straightening that long stuff out, especially if I held the hair
firmly in
my grasp close to my head.  This greatly relived the pull on my
head and was much less painful.

     As a man my hair had been three to six inches long.  I
grasped a goodly hank of hair and pulled it out and was about to
cut it to about five inches when I had second thoughts.  Oh what
the hell, I would live with this long hair for the moment.  I just
couldn't bring myself to cut it off.  I laid the sissors down and
continued with the brushing.

     I finally discovered that by pulling the hair around over my
chest and working from the bottom, I could make some headway
with the this mass of unruly hair.    After about ten minutes, I was
actually bringing the comb from the crown of my head all the way to
the ends.  I then got a brush and started really brushing the hair. 
The brush had very stiff bristles which were also somewhat widely
separated.  Another five minutes passed and I was ready to call it
quits.  This would have to suffice as I again considered cutting off
this inordinate amount of long hair.

     Realizing the lack of logic in my thoughts, I suddenly hated
Richard, not for the change of my body from male to female,  but
giving me so much long hair with the attendant problems.

     Why had Richard done this to me, on top of making me into
a girl, he had given me a mop of completely unmanageable hair. 
However, when I examined myself in the mirror, I sort of liked what
I saw.  A very pretty girl with long damp hair falling down her back
and over her breasts, the hair starting to dry and glimmer in the
light.  I tossed my head in the sexy manner that some girls
seemingly did unconsciously.   My hair flew out and part of it fell
down over my shoulder.  I tried it again, hoping to make the hair fall
back down my back and partially succeeded.  It did look very sexy,
but again, I had seen girls with very short hair look quite sexy also.

And why did I care about looking sexy.  I wasn't after a man.  Or a
woman for that matter.  But it would be a shame to cut it off, I
decided.  I pulled the hair remaining on my chest and pushed it
back over my shoulder and grabbing the hair at the nape of the
neck, gave it a couple of my flicks with the brush and dropped it all
down my back.

     I had an interesting thought, I was just thinking that the
worse thing about this metamorphose was the long hair, when if
fact, it was just a small part of the total irreversible and
nightmarish
sex change.  Damn it, was I already starting to think with the
emotional lack of logic of a giddy female?  I certainly hoped not.

     Now what?  Here I was nude and clean, standing in front of
the mirror, somewhat admiring myself and wondering what I would
do.  And looking at that strange but quite delightful face in the
mirror, I was thinking that a little lipstick on the lips would
further
enhance it's appeal.  Then realizing that it was my face I was
observing, I shelved that thought.  I went into the bedroom and
opened the dresser drawer and picked a pair of panties.  The
panties were more of a gesture than real covering, and consisted
of just two trapezoidal pieces of cloth joined at the short base.  I
stepped into these and considered whether to wear a brassiere.  I
remembered yesterday and my breasts just bouncing around with
every movement and opted for a bra.  I picked through them and
discovered a great variety.  Some were just little slips of things
that
would barely cover my new breasts.  The other extreme were
nearly complete breast plate, going from the very top of my breasts
to nearly my stomach.  I chose one in between.  Just a bra that
would cover the breasts and hold them in place.

     I slipped my arms through the arm straps, fitted the pockets
over my breasts, and again attempted to fasten the hooks blindly
behind my back.  My hair was in the way, but after a few moments,
I  succeeded in fastening this contraption.  I couldn't really believe
that woman put up with the inconvenience of fastening the majority
of their clothing behind their back.  It must be fashion or something
equally as inconsequential.  It seemed stupid to me, but so did the
little pointed shoes women wore.  But most women also seemed to
put up with these inconveniences.

     Pulling my hair back, I walked to the mirror and looked at my
reflection.  The addition of this lingerie made me look even more
feminine than when I was nude or at least more provocative to my
male mind.  The long hair surrounding the rather pretty face, the
slim neck above the full breasts was just the start.  Letting my eyes
survey the rest of my body, I again admired my narrow waist above
the scantily clad torso with the full hips, round little ass and then
the lovely legs.  I was a piece!  But the image that sort of shook me
up, was the look of my breasts strapped into the bra and the little
bit of panty covering what were obviously the sexual organs of a
female.  And now in the second day after my conversion to the
female, I still couldn't quite believe my own eyes.

     I put on the same tight fitting jeans and jersey that I had
worn yesterday, pulled my hair out from the inside of the jersey,
and again gave the hair a couple of stokes with the hair brush.  
With the jersey on my torso, I couldn't really feel the hair down my
back, but was very much aware of it encompassing my face and
brushing against my cheeks.  It was a somewhat sensuous feeling
and was a constant reminder of my new sex.  This was another of
those weird things that sometimes happened.  As a man, I
definitely had a hair fetish and now I had the hair and seemed to
glory with it.  In spite of this feminine physique I had acquired, I
was still very much mentally a male, but was experiencing some
kind of vicarious pleasure in brushing the long hair that I had
inherited with the unwanted female body.

     On the surface I hated being female, but something inside of
me wasn't all that displeased.  I had enjoyed the feeling of the hot
shower water washing my hair down across my breasts and just
now I had enjoyed brushing this same hair.

     Then to keep my self busy and to bring a little order into my
life as a prisoner of Richard's and a living experiment of the Sinway
Institute, I went to the computer and brought up Quattro and
starting making out a schedule I would try and follow for the next
few days.  I was a mixed up guy and needed some semblance of
order in my new life.  I just assumed that making a schedule would
help me with this unholy tranistion.

     7:00 am   Out of bed and into the shower.
     7:30      Breakfast and clean up around the apartment.
     8:30      Exercise (Optional)
     9:15      Get dressed for the day.
     9:30      Free for study or work.
        12:00       Lunch and noon news.
     1:00 pm   Free for study or work.
     5:00           Exercise (Optional)
     6:00      Supper, news and newspaper.
     7:00      Free time, reading,  TV, or what ever.
        11:00       Bed time.

     Even working with the computer, a task with which I was
quite familiar, my arms would brush against my boobs and then I
would feel the hair hanging down around my face, both eerily
reminding me of my new sex.  However the work with the computer
would kill my entire day and keep a sense of discipline about my
life.  I knew I wouldn't follow it slavishly, but it would be a
blueprint
to keep me going.  And I could change it anytime I wanted.

     Breakfast time was gone and besides I wasn't really hungry,
in spite of having skipped supper last night.  So I went into the
exercise room and decided to start off with about ten minutes on
the cross country skiing device.  Then maybe the rowing machine,
try the stationary bike and finally try playing with some of the
weights.  I spent the next forty five minutes working with this
equipment and got up a nice sweat in the process.  "Maybe, I
should change my schedule and do this before my bath, not after
it." , I thought.

     Then back to the computer, and I tackled the files from
Culler, Inc. and searched for anything that I could relate to my
kidnaping and consequent mutilation.  First I transferred the files to
a database, Paradox, and searched for any reference to the
Sinway Institute.  This was pay dirt on my first attempt.  I found
four
entries.  The first for $100,000 as a research grant to work on
"Sexual dysfunctions."  The second, the initial $1,000,000  as a
down payment for setting up the research project, and the third was
the $4,000,000 balance of the grant.  The last and most
incriminating was a check for  $543,487.34 as payment for medical
expenses for a P. Browning.  

     Then I slowly went through the balance of the checking
account, hoping for something that would relate to the kidnaping.  I
found three payments totaling $152,000 to a  Hightsma
Investigations.  The dates of the checks made it feasible that these
could have been payments for my abduction, and I made copies of
these entries and proceeded with my search through the financial
records.  

     Nothing more promising showed up, so I started searching
for information about Hightsma Investigations.  I checked the
database of the National Chamber of Commerce, the Michigan
Chamber of Commerce, the State of Michigan Commerce
Department, the Better Business Bureau of Michigan, Grand
Rapids, and all the surrounding suburbs and eventually found that
Bernie Hightsma, owner, had a record as felon for both fraud and
blackmail, had served two six month terms in the Michigan State
Penitentiary, and was loosely associated with the criminal
community of South West Michigan.  And the other officer's of his
corporation had equally unsavory pasts.  Hightsma Investigations
billed itself as a detective and security consultant and part of his
security advertisements consisted on how to avoid kidnaping and
ransom attempts.  And much to my surprise, I discovered that the
firm had an Internet address.  I attempted to crash his computer,
but no luck as no connection was available.  I could send mail but
couldn't crash his computer. I would have to catch the connection
sometime when he was logged on.  A slim chance, but a real one if
I had patience.

     By this time it was after noon and I was finally hungry.  I
made my self a grilled cheese sandwich, potato chips and a light
salad and celebrated with a beer.  And while I was drinking the
beer, I was surprise and amazed that although I had been smoking
over two packs of cigarettes a day before last February, I hadn't
even desired or thought of the need for one since I became aware
yesterday morning.  At least one good thing had come from my
conversion, I had kicked the cigarette habit.

     I was rather pleased with my attempts with the computer last
night and this morning and sat their smugly eating my lunch.  I felt
that I had enough to send Richard up for life and close down the
Sinway Institute.  I really didn't want to do either one, but it was
nice to know that I could if I desired.

     I got back on the computer, thinking that I would continue in
my search of dirt on the Culler, Inc. and Hightsma Investigations
when the computer informed me that I had one message.

     I opened my E-Mail and saw that I had one from Richard.  I
immediately read it.

     Patricia,
     I was very interested in you comments about your past.  But
don't worry, this is all taken care of and was planned before you
were even involved with the Sinway Institute.  I foresaw this
problem and have already obtained a new driver's license, new
birth certificate, altered your high school and college records, and
established your credit rating with credit cards, checking account,
and payment records.  Unfortunately, I can not give them to you in
till you prove that you are adapted to your new place in life as a
female and hold no grudge or ideas of retribution toward either
myself or my company.

     I am in no hurry and we have days, weeks, or even months
to let you get a hold of your new emotions.  Incidentally, yesterdays
plea to the Sinway Institute for a past was deleted from their tapes. 
I had promised them I would take care of these little tasks, which I
have, and saw no reason to burden them with your problems.    But
the rest of the tape I let go through, unedited, as I realize that you
are the crux of a crucial sexual experimentation with the Institute.

     However, it will be easier on both of us, or you and my staff,
if you confine your complaints to E-Mail and just limit your vocal
comments on the tape recorder to your feelings about your
metamorphosis into a female.  Understand?

     As far as your future, I plan on keeping you locked up in
your apartment for some indeterminable time, until you have
accepted your new role in life and are somewhat adjusted to it and
can fit in with society without causing a scene.    At this time I
will
give you your identification which you desire and enroll you in a
modeling school, a school that teaches you the finer things about
the female life style.  

     And your key to unlocking this door, is to try and act just a
little more like a girl.  I mean dressing, doing your hair, using
makeup, and in general, just acting like a girl instead of a man.  I
know this will be hard, but the more you try, the sooner you will be
freed from your confinement.  

     Oh, and by the way, I closed all the doors and windows to
the databases at Culler, Inc. and the Sinway, Institute.  No way can
you find anything of value now.  I admit, I had left it wide open, but
the gates are now completely closed.  Sorry, it was a good idea,
but you lost and I as usual, won.


                    Love and Affection, 

                    Richard Culler

     I kept the letter and wrote him a reply.

Richard, 

     I appreciate you care and interest in me and believe me, I
take it to heart.  In fact I am sure that Kathy would agree, as you
seem to love her so much.  You probably even used her name as a
password into the Sinway Institute's data base, but I really wouldn't
know now as it is probably changed.  And how would I ever get into
the Institutes data base anyway, as I don't even have a good clue
as to any network affiliation.  Maybe I could hire a detective
agency, say Acme Detective,  Stiller Security,  Hightsma
Investigations, or maybe Newsom Private Inquiries.  Maybe one of
these firms  could help me, but again, maybe they couldn't and are
probably very expensive.

     Well, you won and I lost, and that is the end of it.  But as far
as accepting my new fate, the fact that I am a woman and not a
man, that is a given.   Neither you or I can do anything to reverse
it,
and neither can the Sinway Institute.  So why make me prove
myself to you.  I know that I am now a female, and will be a female
for rest of my life.  I don't like it, but I have to accept it.
Sure, I
can live here for a day, a week, or a month and surprisingly, be
quite content.  You made sure of that by leaving me a very
respectable library and a computer with access to the world.    I
had been working eighty hour weeks at Herman Miller, and this
enforced sabbatical is much to my liking, at least mentally. 
(Physically, I hate what has happened to me and will most likely
never adjust to it.  But I can and will accept the inevitable.)

     So keep me here for a day, a week or a month or what ever. 
I am not ready to face the real world yet anyway.  Maybe I never
will and will just hibernate here for the rest of my life.  I really
have
very little to make me want to leave.  No sexual identification, at
least the male sex which I have spent my life living, so what the
hell.  If you let me out right now, I probably wouldn't go as I would
be too embarrassed to see a stranger, let along a friend in my new
guise.   So no problem, just keep me supplied with food and booze
and I will be as happy as a clam in it's shell for the immediate
duration.

     However, I don't understand the stupid move of cutting off
access to outside calls on the telephone.  With the computer, I can
contact nearly the entire world, including nearly every police
agency in the country.  But you have cut off my ability to call my
parents and sisters and let them know that I am still alive.  For a
man who was called the "boy financial genius" by the Wall Street
Journal, you don't seem to be very adept at kidnaping and
imprisonment.  And in fact if I really wanted out of this damn
apartment, it would be quite simple to hang a knotted sheet out the
window and crawl down the one story to the ground.  But as I said,
I have no immediate desire to meet the world.

     And Richard, I do sort of like the long hair.  It is really sexy.

It turns me on every time I brush it.  In fact, overall, I turn myself
on.  And this is the most frustrating thing about the entire ordeal.

                    Without Love and Affection,

                    Your girl captive,  Patricia

     I sent the E-Mail and just hoped that the first part had gotten
him to worry just a bit, but didn't turn on homicidal tenancies.  He
would guess that I had successfully crashed some of his data
banks, but couldn't know what I had really gotten.  This was stupid
of me, but I just couldn't resist it.  But I figured that with the
Institute
looking in on my every motion and sound, he couldn't just eliminate
me and try to edit it out of the tapes.  No, I was public property and
this made me feel just slightly safe.

     I decided that the Institute needed another comment or so. 
So I started.

"Comment to the Sinway Institute.  I am in the middle of my second
day as a female.  I still don't know why I agreed and I think I made
the wrong decision, but I am starting to adapt to both the physical
feeling of my new body and the mental inevitability of my living in
this sex.  I have to admit that I am starting to enjoy the long hair,
but then I have always had a hair fetish anyway.  My breasts are a
bother, but am also intrigued by them, especially when I titillate
them just a little.  But the essence of this change, the loss of my
penis and scrotum and the substitution of a vulva, vagina and
clitoris is still beyond my ability to really comprehend.  I mourn the
loss of my male manhood and take no joy in the addition of the
substitutes.  Hopefully, this will change as otherwise I will go
insane.  But I did volunteer and it has only been less than two
days. Maybe something will change in the near future.  Comment
Ended"

     Looking in the bookcases, I found some books on facial
makeup and physical hygiene and curled up on the couch in the
living room and started reading them, or at least leafing though the
pages and reading what interested me.  I had stayed away from the
mirror and so I wasn't reminded of my sex very frequently, but
coiling up on the couch, I felt my groin, my breasts and my hair
very salient, but tried to ignore these feelings and concentrated on
the books.  

     Lipsticks, eye shadow, eyebrow pencils, eyeliner, mascara,
and foundations were all alien to me.  I, of course, knew the words,
but I had never really realized what and how they were applied. 
That afternoon I learned.  It turned it that it was not a technique,
it
was an art.  And as an engineer by both training and inclination, I
wasn't much of an artist.  I would never be able to do it with any
degree of proficiency.  But as an engineer, I read and I learned,
and finally decided I could do at least an adequate job with
practice, if not a truly credible job.

     After two hours of reading about facial care and makeup, I
turned to the book on feminine hygiene.  It was quite descriptive
and I was totally immersed in the description of the feminine body
and the various ills and troubles that could occur.   And from what I
had read yesterday about the feminine body and what I had
learned about my operations from the Sinway records, I knew that I
had every one of those organs that were described.  And also, that
I was subject to each and every malfunction that could befall a
woman.  It was a sobering experience.  Men had no such worries,
menstrual disorders, breast cancer, vaginal yeast, vaginal
infections, osteoporosis, etc. etc.  It was discouraging to know that
I was now subject to all these disorders.  And it also made quite
plain the possibility of pregnancy.  This was the worst of all.  I was
a man and I couldn't even contemplate the idea of becoming
pregnant, but it turned out I could and probably would provided I
made it with some man.  Well that was something that wasn't going
to happen very soon, in fact ever.

     But this thought nearly made me laugh.  No way, no how,
would I ever sleep with a man.  Maybe with a woman, I supposed
as a lesbian, but I really could only imagine what they did together,
but never with a man.  I was thinking it would even be more
acceptable to do it with a man if I was still male, a horrible thought
but one that was more acceptable as doing it with a man as a
female.  

     But it was now after eight in the evening and I was hungry
again.  After a pork chop, fried rice, a salad and some canned
corn, I went to bed and watched TV the rest of the night.  After the
late night news, I turned off the TV and fell asleep.  It had been a
hard day and I needed the release.

* * *


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