The next week is a mix of frustration and…more frustration for me. I tried a number of different ruses to get back in the surgical area to see if could really identify the person as Ben Staden. I am no spy—not really… My nerves don’t hold out when I try to sneak in. I try a cover story to get back in—that I had forgotten something in my room. The charge nurse tells me that it had been thoroughly cleaned and there had been nothing left behind.

I fight with myself on what to do. I am not certain that it was Staden… I can’t blow my cover to try and get a message out on that uncertain glance alone… I know they know everything I send out; they control all information going in and out of this place, since they are off the official grid and we have to send everything through their system…where it is manually transcribed to a system ON the grid… Even a coded message is too risky on such little info…

I stew on it some more and decide to wait some more. I am sure I can come up with something better…

Cindy has also been really testy since my surgery. She is really mad that I let them do something so drastic and permanent to me. I, of course, play my ‘role’ and that just frustrates her even more—because she still thinks that I am only doing this for my ‘role’. She still gasps every time she sees me… The swelling from the surgery is all gone now, and the bruising is to the point that some good makeup covers it up decently. I actually look pretty stunning—or at least I think so.

I could easily pass as a woman right now…with what has happened alone. I still wonder that the big deal is all about on the ‘experimental’ piece that I signed up for. So far, it has all been rather conventional… I am musing about that and trying to figure out how to smooth Cindy’s ruffled feathers—she had stormed off after our last ‘discussion’ about my really going through with ‘this whole thing’—when I get a page to go back to Angi’s station at the beauty salon.

I shrug off my black mood and go to see what is up. Angi exclaims her approval when she sees the new me, “Gwen! You look absolutely stunning! We have two things to work on today—well, actually three, I guess. First, I want to touch up your roots. Then I am going to do your nails and start showing how to take care of them yourself. You may well likely continue to have them professionally done in the future, but a girl needs to know how to do emergency repairs—at the very least. Then I am going to show you how to emphasize your new facial features… Your makeup right now is fine…I am going to show you how to make it stunningly perfect.”

While my roots are ‘cooking’, she shapes and repaints my nails, showing me step by step what she is doing. She tells me that I will actually practice it all later, in another session. She finishes up my hair, giving it a quick trim while she is at it. Then she starts showing me different makeup techniques for my new facial features and has me practice them to perfection. When I am done, I have everything down—from colors to day time versus night time looks… I am particularly fond of my new ‘butterfly’ eyelashes… Now, if I could only get them to be fuller and longer without extensions or false eyelashes…

I am admiring my fluttering lashes when Angi says, “Dr. Ginger is waiting for you now, Gwen. Good luck. Your experimental phase is about to begin!”

I am sitting in Dr. Ginger’s office—waiting. After a few minutes, Cindy comes in and gasps when she sees me; but she seems to quickly recover…better than before, anyway…

Dr. Ginger seems to notice Cindy’s reaction, though. She looks at me and says, “You are looking very lovely, Gwen.” She looks at Cindy and asks, “Cindy, you seem to still be struggling with your wife’s progress?”

Cindy gasps again (and so do I—I am not used to being called her ‘wife’—it is the first time anyone has called me that…) She says, “Yes, I am still struggling with all of this.”

Dr. Ginger nods and asks, “So, is it the fact that Gwen is becoming Gwen? Is it the fact that you now have a wife instead of a husband? Are you having trouble loving the new Gwen…or trouble loving another woman? Or…both?”

Cindy says, “Yeah…those are the same questions we deal with in group… I still love the core ‘person’ that is underneath the outer ‘Gwen’. I am just having trouble dealing with the new packaging. To be honest—I don’t know HOW to deal with having a wife. I have never considered myself bisexual—let alone a lesbian… I am really struggling with that…with losing the relationship I had with my husband. I am struggling with the fact that he…she…is doing this at all…would even want to…”

Dr. Ginger nods and says, “Believe it or not, Cindy, you are making progress. It is good that you know what your inner struggles and the questions are. We can help you find the answers. But tell me… Are you willing to do whatever it takes to love ‘Gwen’—the full package? If so—we can help. The rest is…well, icing. We can help you there, as well…if you are willing to have an open mind…” She looks at me and says, “And that goes for both of you.”

I nod as Cindy looks pensive. Finally, she says, “Yes, I think I am… I just don’t know how to get there.”

Dr. Ginger nods and says, “Good. I will set some things up for you. The important thing is that you have to start seeing Gwen as ‘Gwen’—your wife. Start actively engaging in helping her learn her new role as a woman—and as your wife. Start being happy for her—compliment her when she looks good; just like you would have when you thought your husband looked good. It is still the same relationship, believe it or not…”

She looks a little stunned and frightened…but there is a new determination in her eyes. She looks at me and says, “You look very pretty, Gwen. I love the makeup… Maybe you can show me how to get that look?”

I go over and hug her and say, “Of course, Sweetheart! I am sure Angi can give us some pointers for you, as well!”

Dr. Ginger nods her approval. After we finish hugging, I wipe a tear from my eye—careful not to smear my mascara and sit back down.

Dr. Ginger looks at me and says, “OK, Gwen. We are going to start the tech phase now. I wanted to wait until we had pre-shaped you a bit. We could have done this without that, but it would take longer.” She gets up and picks up a large syringe full of an iridescent blue-green ‘liquid’. It looks more like mercury—swirling and moving in the syringe. It almost looks alive.

I give her a skeptical look as Dr. Ginger comes over and takes my hand.

She pats it and puts a tourniquet on my arm. Then she place a catheter into a large vein and quickly tapes it down. She wordlessly takes the syringe and hooks it up to the catheter, which has a very large caliber needle. She pushes on the plunger and the thick, viscous ‘liquid’ slowly starts crawling up the catheter’s tube and then…into my vein…

I start to feel hot.

Dr. Ginger finishes injecting the last of the ‘liquid’ into me, which takes several long minutes, before she speaks. She removes the catheter, places a cotton swab on the spot where it had been inserted and indicates that I should put pressure on it. As she tightly tapes the cotton ball down, she says, “I am sure you are wondering what I just did. You are likely a bit frightened. You also likely feel really hot right now—maybe a bit nauseous…or like you have ants crawling in your veins…”

I nod. I am sweating by now. I do feel a little nauseous. I want to jump up and run off, though. It DOES feel like I have ants crawling through me. It is crazy. I stop myself from screaming, but say loudly, “Yes! Make it stop! What have you done?”

Cindy looks at me in alarm. She starts to come over to me.

Dr. Ginger holds her back and says, “The sensation will stop in a couple of minutes. I just injected you with experimental nanobots. Aside from wanting to wait until after your reconstructive surgery, we had to program and generate them which takes a lot of time. We got the samples we needed from your reconstructive surgery. Don’t worry. It is like I told you when you signed up—these are basically production units. We are only awaiting final approval from corporate to use them full scale. We just need your results to complete the clinical trial—which has been completely successful over the past twenty-four runs. You are number twenty-five.”

I nod as the sensation subsides—still ready to bolt like a frightened rabbit.

She continues, “Now, I told you this is phase one of our experimental program. These nanobots will reform your bones into a fully female structure. We have been unsuccessful creating nanos that work correctly on the soft tissues. The last trial was not pretty…” She looks pensive and shakes her head—a horrified look on her face.

She pulls herself together and says, “It will be a slow process. Restructuring the bones has to be a slow process, by definition. By already doing some of the work, surgically, we have given you several months head-start. The process will be complete before you leave here, though…”

I am in my ‘deportment’ class. Currently I am the only attendee. Alexis, my teacher welcomes me with a slight hug and a kiss to each cheek—the traditional French greeting. I follow suit, since I know that is what she expects.

She says, “Welcome, Gwen. You are the only student today, since everyone else has either graduated—or isn’t ready yet. You should have some company in a couple of weeks, though.”

And we go through the endless exercises of walking, sitting, holding my hands correctly…all of those feminine gestures and mannerisms that I never developed growing up as a ‘guy’…

After two grueling hours, she declares the session over. I hug her and bid her goodbye. I can’t help but notice that I am holding my posture more upright, my shoulders back and chest out, my hands held at a more feminine angle and my elbows close to my body as my arms swing while walking… And all without having to really think about doing it too much. Of course, my homework is to maintain all of this—to ingrain it into me…do it completely without thought.

I go to our suite from there. Cindy is not there. Dr. Ginger had kept her back when I left after getting…the shot. That floods the memory of that event back into my mind. Deportment class had distracted me completely from thinking about it.

I sit and think about how I feel… Physically…there is a slight itch in certain areas of my body…especially my feet and hands… Other than that, I feel OK… Mentally…I am scared… Who wants to have little robots in their body doing things to you that you have no idea about… I shudder…and Cindy walks in…

I look at her and she has a…dreamy…look on her face… I go over and hug her.

She hugs me back and says in a dreamy, sort of distracted, voice, “Hi Gwen. How was your class?” Before I can respond, she continues, “Dr. Ginger signed me up for some special therapy sessions…and I don’t really remember the last couple of hours…but I feel…good…”