What would you do if you got a text that promised you a hundred thousand dollars if you signed up to be the subject in a research project?
Shauna
“Honey, did you get this advertisement? I got it sent to me in a text…I wonder if it is legit,” my wife looks at me and hands me her phone. I take it and read what looks like pure spam to me…
RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY:
Healthy married, heterosexual males between 18 and 21 are eligible to sign up for a research project and make up to $100,000.00, if accepted and follow through with the entire project. Respond to this text with ‘interested’ to learn more.
I look at my wife, Cindy, and say, “That looks like some sort of spam to me…it will probably put some sort of virus on your phone if you respond.” She shakes her head and says, “No, that is if you click on a link or download an attachment. The worst that can happen if I respond is let them know that the number is valid and get put on some ‘active’ spam list… I don’t know why it came to me, since I am female, though, but it can’t hurt to find out more for you, right?”
I shake my head and say, “I don’t think anything good will come of it, but it is your phone…and account. Do whatever you think is right…” I watch as she responds with ‘interested’ and…nothing happens. We both laugh and go out to our favorite restaurant for supper. We just finish up and are leaving when Cindy’s phone rings…
She answers, even though she does not know the number; she drives me crazy that way… “Hello, this is Cindy, who is this,” she asks. She is silent as someone on the other end speaks to her. She says, “Yes, I am married…to Raymond. How did you…?” She falls silent for a bit while the other person speaks, then says, “I see. Well, yes…that sounds…interesting… I will have to discuss it with my husband…” There is more talk from the other end, then Cindy says, “OK. I will have a decision ready in an hour when you call back…sure…” And she hangs up.
I look at her and she pulls me back into the restaurant and to a secluded table in the bar. She orders me another beer and a wine for herself. Once we are served, she looks at me and says, “The project is legitimate. At least I am pretty sure it is. I can’t see any angle at this point that would lead me to believe otherwise. They sent me the text because it is imperative that I am OK with it, too… Go figure; I guess we will find out more later—if we decide to accept the offer.”
I take a sip of the beer; I am actually fairly full from supper. I look at her and say, “I still think this is crazy! We don’t know anything about this…they may be luring into some trap to brutally murder us and steal our organs, for all I know…or sell us into slavery…or…” Cindy holds up her hands and laughs as she says, “OK, OK…I get it! You are uncomfortable with this. All I am saying is that it can’t hurt to listen to the details of their offer…”
An hour later her phone rings. She looks at me and I nod, still REALLY uncomfortable with this—but she has worn me down. She answers the call and listens a few seconds and says, “We are at Gregory’s at 44th and Brandert… OK, we will wait.” She hangs up and says, “They will be here in ten minutes to talk to us…”
Ten minutes later, a drop-dead gorgeous blonde woman walks into the bar with a very pretty red-head young lady. They see us and walk right over—like they know it is us. The blonde says, “Cindy? Raymond? I am Dr. Crick and this is Angela, my assistant. May we sit?” Cindy nods and I just stare. Ashley, our waitress takes their order and, once they are served, Dr. Crick says, “I know you have tons of questions. Let me start by saying that this is a legitimate experimental project. We are government funded and have lots of private donors. It is a genetics experiment—to find out more about the human genome. The reimbursement offer of up to $100,000.00 is legitimate—and will be paid out over about a year IF you follow through with the whole experiment. You can obviously quit at any time, but then you forfeit the corresponding portion of that money. The subject must be a male for this experiment. We prefer a young, healthy male for obvious genetic reasons. We targeted a married male in a heterosexual relationship, because, typically, the woman in the relationship sees more light into the prospects of the end-game. Also, we know that young, married couples generally can use the money—so, between the two, there is a greater chance that the subject will see the experiment through to the end. Our demographic research identified you as a prime candidate couple, hence the offer.”
She sits back and takes a sip of the whiskey that she ordered. All of a sudden, that whiskey sounds really good and I signal Ashley for one for me… Cindy is already hooked, I can tell. She is asking a million questions when Ashley brings my whiskey. Dr. Crick answers a few, “Well, we are researching aspects of the X-chromosome. As you may know, the Y-chromosome, the one makes a male, well male, is basically a ‘broken’ X-chromosome. In the experiment, we basically ‘fix’ the broken chromosome—and attempt to induce it to express itself, piece by piece. This means that the male subject may exhibit more and more…female characteristics…as the experiment goes on. That is why we want the wife to be completely on-board with this, as well as the subject. And, before you ask, we will test to make sure that you are not transgendered, Raymond. If you are, you will not be eligible. We don’t want someone that desires to be a woman. Our contracts are pretty air-tight, but we don’t want a law-suit filed because the experiment did not result in feminization. There is a pretty large chance that it won’t… It is easier to write the contract to bar a law-suit for things that exhibit themselves than those that don’t… I am afraid that is how our lawyers insist we do it…”
I take a large gulp of the whiskey. Cindy is not scared off yet. I start to sweat a bit, knowing she is going to push me to accept the offer… Easy for her to say—she won’t be the guinea pig; but a hundred grand is nothing to sneeze at… I sigh and say, “You say there is a ‘large’ chance there won’t be any…female developments…can you talk about that a bit more?” She nods and says, “Well, assuming the splice takes, you will be genetically female after the first step of the process—after we fix your Y-chromosome and make it an X. That is actually not that difficult. The hard part is to get the gene to express itself in the manner we need. Over time, you would start showing some signs of your new genetic makeup, but you would not ‘turn into a woman’, since you have already developed as a male… The later stages of the experiment would be to ‘turn back the clock’, so to speak, on some of your male characteristics and get the female ones to exhibit. There is about a 90% chance that it won’t work on you at this stage…”
I take another gulp of the whiskey and signal Ashley to bring another…I signal that it should be a double… I look at the doctor and say, “I am not saying that I am agreeing to anything, although I guess you pegged Cindy’s reaction correctly, she wants me to, I can tell. Anyway, assuming I do say ‘yes’, and nothing exhibits itself—I still get the money?” She nods and says, “Well, you both get the money… You have to both sign the agreement. But, yes, at this stage we can still learn as much by something not happening as we can if it does…”
Despite the copious amounts of whiskey that I had imbibed the night before, I barely sleep. Cindy is all for ‘us’ signing the contract. She spent hours telling me how much she wouldn’t care if I looked a little feminine. The more she talked about it and the more I thought about the odds of nothing happening, the more convinced I became. I have never really been a betting man—but when I did bet on something, I never won anything…even when the odds were much better than these…
I finally get up. It is 4:30 a.m. and there is just no hope of sleeping. Cindy is peacefully asleep; I look over at our wedding picture on her nightstand. Dr. Crick’s research had been right. We have been married a little less than a year and we need the money…neither of us went to college and the jobs we do have are not the best. I pick up my phone and send a text to the number that Angela had given me. I simply say, “OK.”
My phone rings almost instantly. I jump and almost drop it before I answer. It is Angela, she gives me the details of where to come for ‘some tests’—they will need us both…
At eight thirty, after we both call in sick (Dr. Crick said she would give us a statement), I park the car in the visitor’s parking lot of a huge complex. We go in and let the receptionist know who we are. She has us sign in and gives a visitor’s badge, then has us escorted to a conference room in a laboratory building across the complex. Dr. Crick and Angela are there waiting for us.
Angela draws a ton of blood from both of us. Then she has us go the restroom with several cups. We are to both give a urine sample. I am to also give them a semen sample… It doesn’t take Cindy long to have me filling the cup—in spite of me being really nervous at all of this…
After handing in the cups, Angela has me sit in front of a computer to take some ‘psych’ tests. There are all kinds of questions about my preferences, math skills, spatial recognition—just a bunch of weird stuff…
At ten o’clock, we are all gathered back in the conference room and Dr. Crick smiles at us and says, “Congratulations, you are a fully eligible couple. Should we go over the final details and get the contract signed?” Cindy nods enthusiastically. I take a deep breath and say, “Ummm…sure; I guess. We have come this far…” Dr. Crick nods and says, “First, the blood and urine samples show that you are both healthy, which is great. Your semen sample, Raymond, is also AOK.” She looks at some more papers and then at me and says, “Your psych evals also came out fine for our purposes. It seems that, in actuality, you meet the definition of ‘feminine male’. This is good for you. That means that if you do wind up with some…female genetic expression…it won’t be so tough on you as if you were a hard and fast ‘definite male’….”
My head is swimming. I have no idea what all of that means… Oh well—NOTHING is going to happen, so it will be OK! I just nod, like I know what she is talking about… Cindy giggles and says, “I always thought you had a strong feminine side…you are so…thoughtful…not at all like some of the guys I used to date…” I roll my eyes at her and Dr. Crick says, “So, here is the contract. Do you want to have a lawyer look it over? I can explain anything you want. It basically outlines the payment terms we have already discussed. It also outlines that you understand that the experiment can result in…changes…to your body, Raymond—and that neither of you can sue us for more money because of those…”
Cindy just reaches over and grabs the pen and signs. She hands it to me. I at least act like I glance through the contract. I have NO idea what ANY of this legalese means… I sigh…and sign my name. Another girl had come in the room as we signed; she notarizes the contract and Dr. Crick says, “OK, shall we get started right away, then?”
“OK, shall we get started right away, then?”
I pale as I hear those words, but nod. I say, “There is no sense putting it off, I guess. What do I have to do?” Dr. Crick says, “Well, we are still finalizing the last steps of the vaccine that we will give you. We must be sure that the appropriate sites on your Y-chromosome match up with the piece of the X-chromosome that we will splice on to repair it. Once we are sure, we will take you to an isolation unit and administer the vaccine. Basically, we use a harmless influenza virus to splice the chromosome—we have modified the virus so that it is not airborne, but, in theory, you could infect someone else with your bodily fluids, so you will have to be quarantined for three days. After that, you will no longer be infectious. The virus has a really short incubation period—about twelve hours. You will feel like you have a very mild case of the flu, which, of course, is true. You will have a very low-grade fever and some body aches…but it shouldn’t be anything major…”
An hour later, I am locked up in a Bio-Level IV isolation room—the kind that is designed for viruses like Ebola, and the like. There is a small spray bottle on the bedside table, like the ones that nasal sprays come in. Dr. Crick says over the speaker system, “Just squirt the bottle twice up each nostril.” I follow her instructions, very nervously, and throw the bottle into the garbage chute that leads straight to an incinerator…then there is nothing to do but wait.
A few minutes later, Cindy says over the speaker, “Sweetie, I am going to the bank to deposit this check. Dr. Crick just gave us the first $10,000, since you took the first step. She also gave me an excuse for your missed work at the bank that I will give them. She has you out for a week for the flu…” I smile weakly at her through the glass window and say into the speaker, “I am scared, Cin. Have we done the right thing? Not that it matters now…I am infected…” She smiles back to me and says, “I love you no matter what, Ray—you know that!” I nod and watch her leave. I sigh and turn on the tablet they gave me; I open up the Kindle app to look for something to read and sigh again. It is going to be a long three days.
The air lock hisses as the door opens and frees me of my confinement. The three days had not been as bad as I thought. I barely felt the effects of the virus at all. Once it was confirmed by a mouth swab that there was no more virus in my system, I was released. After I leave the room, Angela takes a load more blood and then Cindy takes me home to clean up. Then we go to Gregory’s for dinner.
After the food arrives, I look at Cindy and say, “Cin, I am still scared. Physically, I don’t feel any different—but intellectually, I know that I likely am different, now…” She just shushes me and says, “You will know for sure tomorrow. We have the first ten grand—for you just snorting that virus and spending three days in a room. That is not a bad wage… We will deal with whatever happens next; but, you know that I love you no matter what does, or more likely does not happen. Now eat…and we will go home and make up for three days of lost time… It may well take all night, though. I hope you got lots of rest in that room…” She giggles and has that impish look on her face that I so love.
The next morning, refreshed…and feeling good about myself after last night’s activities, I pull into GenX’s parking lot. Cindy had to go back to work, so it is just me. Since I now have a participant badge, I don’t have to sign in; I just go straight to Dr. Crick’s lab. She takes me to a section of the lab where there is a lot of equipment and monitors and things. She pulls up a picture on one monitor and says, “This was your Y-chromosome on Monday when we first pulled your blood. This is a comparison of one from another healthy male.” She pulls up a second picture and places them side by side. She says, “As you can see—it looks like a normal Y.” She then closes those pictures and pulls up a new one. She says, “This is your same chromosome from the blood sample pulled yesterday. And…this is a normal X-chromosome from a healthy female. As you can see, at least on the surface, they are a match. We ran your genetic code through our high-speed analyzer and it confirmed that you are now genetically a full female. Congratulations, the splice worked; welcome to the better genetic sex!” She smiles—I am not sure what to do—or say.
Finally, I ask, “OK, ummm…so what now?” She smiles even wider and says, “Now we wait a few days. The machinery says everything went fine. But to be sure, we built in a few biological cross-checks. We will know whether the genetic code is actually viable in a few days. Right now, we just need to be patient and wait. Just relax and come back in on Sunday and we will know more…”
The next few days go by slowly. I am still in a daze from those words, ”… it confirmed that you are now genetically a full female…” When I tell Cin, it does not seem to faze her at all… Me? I have nearly emptied an expensive bottle of whiskey since I heard those words. I keep staring at myself in the mirror but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. I just can’t figure out what Crick was talking about…what ‘biological cross-checks’…?
On Sunday, Cindy and I both go to the lab where Dr. Crick and Angela are both waiting. Dr. Crick takes me to an exam table with a bright light and carefully combs through my hair, using a magnifying glass. Then she uses an ophthalmoscope on my eyes. She nods and says, “These were where the first signs would show. You see, we snuck in a couple of genetic replacement splices on top of the add-on X-splice—just to see if everything was working. By the way, the piece of X-chromosome you received was from me… We are now related, in a way… Anyway, if you look really closely at the roots of your hair, you will see that they are not your former dull dark brown, but my beautiful light blonde. Your eyes are also changing color…within a couple of weeks, they will no longer be that boring hazel, but my beautiful bright blue. This is full confirmation that the splice worked and is genetically viable. Oh, before I forget, here is a lock of my hair—I suggest you go ahead and have yours bleached to match this color, since it is now your color, as well.”
My head is swimming again. She did it—she really changed me genetically…this is proof… I didn’t believe she could—not really… I am SO SCREWED! Cindy takes the envelope with the lock of hair and places it in her purse. She seems a little stunned, but not overly concerned that my hair and eye color is now going to be radically different.
Dr. Crick looks at us and says, “Decision time. Do we take the next step—for five thousand…or do we stop here?” Cindy says before I can say a word, “I vote we continue.” I shake my head and say, “This is a lot to take in…I didn’t really think this much was realistically possible… Before I say anything, I would like to know what that next step is…?”
Dr. Crick nods and says, “That is sensible. I will give you a couple of shots that should ‘reboot’ your endocrine system, so to speak. If it works, and there is no guarantee it will, it should realign your bodily functions to your new genetic makeup.” I look at her and have no idea what she just said. She smiles at my blank look and says, “Think of it like rebooting a computer after installing some new software. We just want to see if we can get parts of your new genes to ‘come on’…” I sigh and ask, “And what can I expect to happen?” She shakes her head and says, “That is really hard to say. We don’t know if anything will happen. This has never been done before…”
I sigh again and say, “OK, go ahead…” She takes a couple of syringes and gives me a couple of shots. Once she is done, she says, “You will likely feel a little nauseous after a bit—that much is pretty certain. It is because of the shots themselves, not because of the potential reboot. One of those shots is a special enzyme called ‘aromatase’—it converts androgens into estrogens… You will basically experience something like morning sickness as your body is emptied of androgens and filled with estrogens. If the reboot doesn’t work, then you will just continue producing androgens like before and when the aromatase has been eliminated from your system it will no longer be converted.” I look at her and ask, “And if the ‘reboot’ does work?” She smiles and says, “Well, then your body will readjust and start producing estrogen instead of androgens… It is all pretty theoretical, though. There is a large betting pool on whether it will work or not—would you like in on it? No—I guess I better take that offer back; it would be unethical…”
I roll my eyes and already start feeling a little hot and queasy to my stomach. I ask, “What else did you give me? I feel hot and queasy to my stomach already.” She says, “That is just the large dose of estrogen that I gave you to jump-start the process… If we are going to get your new genes to express themselves, we need to get your body adjusted correctly. Make sense?” I groan and say, “You could have told me this before I OK’ed the shots.” She asks, “Well, actually I did. I can’t help that you did not understand what I was saying—although, that should get better with time, too.” I blink and wonder what THAT means, but she continues, “Anyway, would it have made a difference? You would have quit if you had understood this step better?” I shake my head and say, “I don’t know…I really just don’t know…”
Cindy takes me home—I just don’t feel like driving. I feel sick, literally because of the effects of the shots—and because of what I imagine happening to me… I look at Cindy as she drives and say, “Cin, Hon, if what she said means what I think it means, then I am in real trouble…I mean…female hormones…that is going to…” I fall silent. Cindy reaches over and takes my hand and says, “That is going to make you a very special person—one that I will still love very much. Sweetie, I know this is hard on you, but I love you SO much for going through with this for us. And it is like she said, the effects of that transformertase stuff will eventually wear off…and the hormones she gave you will, too. Then it is more than likely that you will just go back to making your regular…andy…testymones… Well, you know, your regular male hormones…” I roll my eyes, not convinced and stay quiet the rest of the ride home.
I don’t sleep again that night. Partially from worry, and partially from throwing up. By morning, I am feeling better—at least my stomach is. I am still worried, but don’t have time to dwell on it—I have to go back to work today. Thankfully, the mundane customer service tasks of my banking job DO keep my mind off the worries and the day goes by fairly quickly—as does the rest of the week.
I am not due back at the lab until Monday, so I am looking forward to a quiet weekend with Cindy. My only problem is…well, I start having more and more trouble getting my little dude up—even when she gives me that impish grin that has never failed before. And…my nipples are touchy… Every time she rubs them in bed, I want to scream… So, when Monday does roll around, I am actually looking forward to the lab visit to find out what my ‘reboot’ status is—but I am dreading the visit, at the same time.
“How are you feeling, Raymond,” Dr. Click asks as Angela finishes drawing more blood. I shrug and say, “Well, I am no longer nauseous, or hot and flushed, like I was. But, I am having trouble…performing…you know…with Cindy…” I gently touch my sore nipples and say, “And my nipples are really sensitive… Does that mean…?” Dr. Crick shrugs and says, “That could just all be a temporary result of the high dose of estrogen I gave you. It was a depot injection, designed to last five days. That shot will be out of your system by now, though. As will the aromatase I gave you. If you still have high levels of estrogen in your system, then it confirms that your reboot was effective. You do need to understand that that does not mean that you somehow suddenly have ovaries. Your testicles and other organs in your body are fully capable of producing estrogens… Oh, and I also want you to understand that the hormones themselves are not my primary goal; rather the overall status of your body is…how your system ‘sees’ itself—the hormones are the result of that. I think your body seeing itself in the correct way will be key in turning on some of the genes that I want to…and also to see if I can rewrite your body’s developmental history on some things…”
Angela comes in a few minutes later with a tablet. Dr. Crick scrolls through a couple of screens and whistles slowly. She looks at me and says, “Well, that answers that… You have the same levels of estrogens as a young girl in full puberty…one that is in a hurry to develop… You have definitely been ‘rebooted’…” I feel my face flush and I feel hot. I look at her with a sudden thought and ask, “So, if it is not the hormones you want, then we can reset my hormones back?” She shakes her head and says, “No; that would defeat the reboot…” I sigh and say, “Then can I just take male hormones…?” She shakes her head again and says, “I am afraid that would not be good either… While the hormones were not my primary goal in the reboot, they are important for what I want to accomplish. A few months of them won’t do anything permanent or have long-term effects… So, if you change your mind before the end of the contract, anything the hormones have changed should be reversible…”
I feel myself get even redder as I flush more. I look down at my chest and say, “So, I…I…I…am going to…” She nods and says, “Develop breasts? Yes, among other normal estrogen-induced changes. I am sure your wife will be a helpful resource for you in explaining those changes… One of the other reasons we wanted a heterosexual married male…”
She pauses a minute and then looks at me and asks, “I know this will sound like a strange off-topic question, but how are you in math?” I shrug and say, “I work in a bank…I am not bad with business math, I guess. I am no genius, if that is what you are asking—especially with the advanced stuff.” She says, “I have a book here that a friend has developed. It is college algebra. Can you do me a favor and see if you can understand it? If not, don’t worry, I am just curious if someone that has no background can follow it… As a favor to my friend…” I shrug and say, “I will take a look, but I have no doubt that I won’t understand a thing…”
As I gather my things and am getting ready to go to the bank for the rest of the day, she says, “I want you to let your body adjust to these new changes. I will not be doing anything else for at least four to eight weeks. I do want you to come by and let Angela pull blood once a week to monitor things, though. And if you feel ‘off’… Well, I mean something that Cindy thinks is off…then make sure and come see me…”
Cindy is berating me, “Why didn’t you tell me they were hurting--silly?” I shrug and say, “I was hoping it was just a passing phase…and it is…really embarrassing!” Cindy playfully slaps my arm and says, “Don’t ever be embarrassed to tell me something. Now, let me look…” She lifts my shirt and carefully touches my nipples. She says, “Yes, your nipples are very enlarged. I hadn’t really paid that much attention to their size when I was playing with them…just their reaction.” She giggles and carefully rubs the area around them; it is tender there, too, but not as bad. She says, “And you have breast buds developing under them… I remember that time well…” She looks pensive for a minute or two and then says, “Your appointment with the hair stylist is in thirty minutes…that will probably take a couple of hours for the bleaching and cut… Then we will just have to go shopping at the mall… Don’t worry, Hon. I can help with this. The soreness in the nipples doesn’t usually last long too long, especially if we remove anything irritating them, but your growing breasts will likely be tender for a while.”
Two and half hours later, we emerge from the hair salon. I am still shocked at having light blonde hair… She barely trimmed any off, and the way she has it styled seems a bit on the feminine side to me, even though she said it was an ‘androgynous’ cut… Cindy says, “Stop worrying. It is different, yes. But it looks fine. And no, it does not look girly—you are just not used to your hair being blonde. We will both get used to it soon enough…”
Cin then takes me to the mall and we go into one of the department stores…and straight to the women’s lingerie section. I start to protest, but she says, “Shh! Just be quiet! No one is going to pay any attention—IF you don’t make a scene…” She picks out several really soft, silky undershirt-like things with tiny shoulder straps that she calls ‘camisoles’. She pays and then takes me out into the mall. She hands me the bag and pushes me towards the closest men’s room. She says, “Go in there and put one of these on under your shirt and see if it doesn’t help… Those men’s shirts of yours are so darned rough, it is no wonder your nipples are irritated…”
I blush but do as she says. Once I get the camisole on, I sigh in relief. It feels wonderful…almost erotic on my nipples. What is happening to me? I fight the urge to stroke my nipples through the silku material and hurry to put my regular shirt back on over it. I hurry and meet Cin back outside. I smile at her and say, “You are right, this does feel much better…but…now they are sticking out…” She giggles and says, “Yes, you will have to look out for headlights. Soon, you will probably need a bra, anyway, and that will help with that…” I pale and say, “Do you think? How will I hide THAT? How can you take this so lightly?” She giggles again and says, “One thing at a time, Sweetie… And it is natural for a girl to grow breasts…” I groan, “But, I am not a girl…I mean…well, you know what I mean… This is so confusing…” She just smiles and hugs me…
Sure enough, my nipples quickly lose their soreness once my shirt stop irritating them; but then they get even more sensitive… The camisoles are much nicer touching my nipples than my shirts, but they keep my nipples near permanently erect…and they are now much bigger than normal…about the size of small pencil erasers… I have to wear loose shirts just to hide them from where they stick out… Cindy thinks it is great. She gets a huge kick out of teasing them in bed…My little guy down below is not too excitable these days, but my nipples more than make up for his lack of enthusiasm. She drives me near crazy when she sucks on them.
There is a flurry of other changes happening to me that I struggle with over the next weeks. You know how that plain girl in school goes on summer vacation in grade school and comes back…well, a girl after the summer? Well, I sort of feel that way. My eyes are now a bright blue, no longer the hazel they were… It is still a shock to see myself in the mirror—especially combined with my now longish light-blonde hair…
Also, after the first two weeks, my nipples seem to have thankfully stopped growing, but they are now the size of large pencil erasers…and still really sensitive… One night, when Cin is sucking on them, one of the few ways to get my little guy to sort of wake up, I actually have an orgasm from her sucking alone—and what an orgasm it is! That starts a whole new playbook of games for Cin… She is so good at it, I ask her one night why. She blushes and says, “You know I told you when we first hooked up that I had recently broken off a wonderful three-year relationship… Well, I never told you that was with my…girlfriend… I am, well, I am deep down bisexual, I guess…but I am monogamous and totally committed to you, Sweetie!” I say, “And you are just telling me this now?” She just gives me an impish grin and starts sucking on my nipples; I moan and stop worrying about that piece of news…for now…
Cindy was also right about my breasts growing. It becomes a never-ending source of embarrassment for me. Finally, on Saturday, after another week has passed, Cindy says, “Hon, it is time…you need to get measured for a bra… Your breasts are more noticeable without one than they ever will be with one…trust me…all that bouncing does not go unnoticed. And they will feel better with some support…we just need to get that bouncing around under control… You must be at least an A-cup, by now…most girls would already have been in a training bra at your stage.”
I almost scream at her, “No! I can’t…I just can’t… I am going to tell Dr. Crick that I am done! This is just too much…” And I sit down and cry—something I have never done in my adult life… Cindy puts her arms around me in a hug and says, “Sweetie, hormones are hell. Trust me, us girls now all about that… You will feel better after we get you in a bra. Then we can talk about what to do about the rest from there.” I sniffle and wipe my nose on a tissue that she hands me. I say more quietly, “It is horrible, it is getting to be too much… I don’t even have real body hair anymore…just a fine fuzz… I can’t take this! I can’t…” I start crying again…
An hour later, after Cindy has calmed me down, we are at the mall and Cindy is pulling me towards Victoria’s Secret… I stop cold and plant my feet when I see where she is going. I feel tears well up in my eyes again and say, “No, Cindy. I am not going in there to be fitted for a bra… I would die of embarrassment.” Cindy looks at me sternly and says, “Stop being such a whiney baby. I know that the hormones are really messing with you right now, but you need to man up… It is just a bra…you need it… It is important to be properly measured and VS has the best bras… Now, suck it up and stop blubbering. Let’s go!” I look at her, shocked. I am pissed at her tone…and her words sting…but, they have the intended effect—almost like a slap in the face. I take a shaky breath and follow her in.
Cin talks to a sales girl in the store, “Hi, Lee. This is my husband, Ray. He has developed a medical condition that is resulting in an extreme case of…err…man-boobs. He really needs some support. Can you measure him and recommend a good bra?” She looks at me and says, “You poor thing! Of course! Please…follow me.” She takes out a tape measure and takes several measurements. Then she says, “Yes, you really do need support. You are almost a B-cup! We have these T-shirt ‘Perfect Shape’ bras on sale—they will provide really good support for a good price; and they are not overly girly. I think one like this is your best bet…” She picks out one in black and hands it to me. She says, “Go in there with your wife. She can help you try it on…”
Cin goes into the dressing room with me. She has me take off my shirt and cami. Then she shows me how to hook the bra in the last hooks in front of body and spin it around so the cups are in front. When I have done that, she tells me to bend down at the waist and helps me get my hanging breasts into the bra and my arms into the straps. She says, “That makes sure your breasts are properly in the cups of the bra.” After I stand back up she tightens and adjusts the straps. It feels weird…but good at the same time… The support feels…wonderful… Cin says, “Yes, the underwire in this model is good for support…and the cups are sleek, so they will not show as much through your shirt…”
I put my T-shirt back on and…my breasts are really…visible… Not the bra…but my breasts… I say, “I can’t do this… Look at me…I look like I have…hooters…” Little do I know that this is a padded ‘push-up’ bra—the kind that VS is famous for. Cin says, “Yes, ummm…the bra enhances your…assets… That is what it is designed to do… That does not change the fact that you have to wear it…” I try and protest and she says, “Are you really going to tell me that it does not feel better with the support?” I am speechless for a moment, then I say, “Well, yes it does, but…” She breaks in and says, “Case closed.” She leads me out into the store and Lee says, “That looks great. It is a really popular bra. How many would you like and in what colors?” Cindy says, “We will take three—he is still growing. The black one he is wearing, a white one, and one in nude…”
Lee picks out the bras in my size and says, “As part of the sale, you can get the matching panties for only a dollar more each…” Cindy smiles and says, “Sounds great! We’ll take them!” I have a near heart attack at the total. When we leave, I say, “That first ten grand won’t last long if we spend it like that.” She laughs and says, “Believe me! You don’t want to skimp on your bras… I only got you three, since I am sure you will need bigger ones soon… The growing phase is expensive…now I understand why mom griped so much when mine were growing…” I give her a look that could kill and say, “And what is the deal with the panties?” She smiles and says, “Matching underwear is important. It makes you feel…well, pretty… I know that is not important to you…right now… But, let’s just say it makes you feel good. Give it a try… It was only three dollars more, in this case. And they are really nice panties…”
We go home from there and I pick up the math book that Dr. Crick had given me. I decide it is something that could take my mind off the bra I am wearing…at least for a few minutes until I will have to give up in frustration at the complex math. To my surprise, I easily comprehend the material. I complete all the chapters in the book in a little over an hour and take the practice exam at the end. I not only get a 100% right—it is simple… I look at Cin and ask, “What is going on? Take a look at this book and see if it makes sense to you. You and I are at about the same math level…” She looks at the book and throws it back at me after a couple of pages. She laughs and says, “You cheated, right? You looked at the answers? This is all Greek to me!”
I shake my head…and fight the urge to cry in frustration at not understanding what is going on. I feel tears start to run my face and grimace at Cindy. I just say, “Damned hormones.” She laughs and says, “I love you, Honey. Hormones and all!” Then, she gives me an impish grin and starts unhooking my bra…
Dr. Crick is looking at her tablet and I sit there waiting on the latest blood results. It has been six weeks since my ‘reboot’ and I am now a full B-cup, going on a C. There are other clear signs of the estrogen having its effect on my body. My areolae are huge… Well, Cindy and Dr. Crick say they are well within female limits. My body hair has diminished…actually, I barely have any. Most girls would love it; I hate it. I am getting much…softer… My hair, my skin, my body… I am starting to get curves where I shouldn’t… I am having to go to great lengths to hide all of this at work… ‘A bet lost’ to explain the hair… ‘Colored contacts’ to explain the eyes… ‘Stupid medication’…to help explain the…shift in body fat (making it ‘look’ like I am developing man-boobs)…
Crick finally looks up from the tablet and at me. She says, “OK, Ray. Your bloodwork looks fine. It has been stable over the last four weeks. You are still on the high end of estrogen levels for women; but the level is safe. It is clear that the estrogen is having its effect on your body—that is to be expected. I am happy to see that you have your emotions better under control—I remember how tough it was for me, too. Anyway, I think you are ready to take the next step, at least medically. Are you?
I look at her and don’t say a word. This is the defining moment… What do I answer? If I go forward, there is no sense ever even considering stopping after this… I think she knows that, too… I swallow. Cindy and I have had long discussions over the past several weeks. It was a huge surprise to find out that she is bi… It has also been a great comfort…knowing that these changes are not going to be a factor in our relationship. That does not make it any easier on how they affect me…
I look at her…hard and say, “I don’t know what the endgame really is here… But, I am not going to lose out on the rest of the money… Do your worst…” She smiles…it is a bit scary…then she says, “Well, any ‘endgame’ was clearly spelled out in the contract you signed… I will say this, though… I think that you should be thinking of your plan B—just in case these next steps work. The hormonal changes that you have experienced, so far, can largely be reversed with a hormone reversal. If, and I honestly say that it is a big if; IF these next steps work, they will not be, I repeat, they will not be reversible. So, I ask you again, Are you ready?”
I look at her… I am calm now… I look her clean in the eye…and say, “Yes, I am ready.” She nods and says, “OK. You have been advised. Come with me.” I follow her to new section of the lab—new to me, that is. She says, “We are beginning ‘Phase 2’, now. In this phase, your body is realigned to your new genetic makeup—your female makeup. During your developmental phase, with a Y-chromosome, some things don’t happen. Some of those are easily rectified with estrogen, like breast development. Some just need to be initiated; we will focus on those now. Others will have to first be reversed—then re-developed; those are ‘Phase 3’. Assuming we even get there.”
She is busy loading an injection pistol (that has a long, huge caliber needle; it is really lethal-looking and intimidating) with the pale-pinkish fluid from a vial. She says, “I am sorry, this is going to be a bit painful—but, it will be worth eight thousand dollars to go through with it…” She looks at the gun and says, “Pretty pink, isn’t it? That is just a marker to make sure it is not mistakenly used for the wrong purpose.” She checks the label on the vial again and nods, then she comes over and says, “OK, Ray, lay down on your stomach on this table…” She jabs the needle into my lower back—into the spine, right where my pelvis joins my spine—and pulls the trigger. The fluid is pushed into me and I scream as it burns… She says, “Don’t move—stay absolutely still until I say it is OK…” I am not about to move—I am not really sure I can…
After several minutes, the burning pain is gone…replaced by an obnoxious tingling in my pelvic area. Crick says, “OK, I think it is safe to get you up now. Angela, help me sit him up…” Carefully, I am helped into a sitting position. Crick asks, “How do you feel?” I glare at her and say, “That hurt like hell!” She looks truly a bit sheepish and says, “I really am sorry; I surmised it would hurt some, but, since it has never been given to a human before, all I could do was judge by lab animal reactions. There really is not much I can do to lessen the pain, though—outside of knocking the subject out, and it is important to judge the reaction to prevent paralysis—so, that is not the best option, either… Anyway, how do you feel now?”
I still want to kill her, but say, “It tingles in my whole pelvic region…it is really annoying…like ants crawling over that area of my body.” She says, “That is actually a good sign—the serum seems to be working…initiating the osteoclasts and osteoblasts, as desired…” She looks at the screwed-up face I must be making and asks, “Well, let’s talk about something else for a minute. Did you ever get a chance to go through that algebra book?” I nod and she asks, “And?” I say, “I was really surprised. I thought I wouldn’t make it past a page or two. Cindy didn’t—and I consider us on the same math level. I finished the book in a little over an hour, made 100% on the practice exam, and didn’t break a sweat. It was easy-peasy… I have been meaning to ask about that…”
She smiles and says, “Well, before I say anything, I want to make sure that my friend’s…methods…are the reason for the result and not just a surprising propensity for algebra on your side… I will give you some trig and calculus books to try out… They are from my…friend…, as well. I can’t wait to hear about the results…”
I am squirming now; the tingling/itching in my pelvis is really annoying… She asks, “Is Cindy coming to pick you up?” I nod and say, “She should be here in a few minutes.” She says, “Good. I would not want you driving—jumping around like you are. That should stop in…well, in a couple of days… In the meantime, if I were you, I would be thinking about a girl’s name. I think you may need it if you continue. It seems you are responding admirably to the experiment.”
I really don’t know what to expect from this next round… Crick wouldn’t give me any indication. She just said, “Let’s wait and see, shall we?” So…am I surprised when a week later, after the ‘ants’ have left, that I have real trouble getting my jeans up over my hips? To be honest? YES! Cindy is as perplexed as I am. She takes out her tape measure and takes some measurements. Then she taps her chin in thought. Finally, she says, “It is almost like… Wait a minute…” She takes a few more measurements and then goes online. A few minutes later, she says, “Put on a pair of sweatpants. We need to go to the mall…” I just roll my eyes… It is never a good sign when she says that…
We arrive at the mall half an hour later and Cin takes me straight to a department store. She then drags me to the junior’s section (you know, the one for young women) and then to the designer jeans… She finds a pair of size six, tall jeans and picks them up. Of course they have all of the girly glitter and glitz and lace and stuff on them, but she just ignores my complaints and herds me towards a dressing room. I start to balk at the fact that it is a women’s dressing room, but she just pushes me into it. I am surprised that I have lost so much strength that she can that I am in a booth before I can really say anything…
She grins at me and says, “Don’t underestimate a girl that was center on the girls’ basketball team! Now, try these on. I want to see something…” I sigh and decide I may as well give in, since I am already in here… At least she came in with me and I don’t have to parade around outside… I take off my sweatpants and pull on the jeans. They fit perfectly! The curves cut into the jeans perfectly match mine… Cindy is a little flustered as she says, “Well…your hips are much wider than they used to be… You have the…correct…measurements for a girl…”
I sit there in my new girly, glitzy, lacy jeans—with the hips and waist that fit—and glare at Crick. She is absolutely radiant and giddy. She asks, “Do you know what this means? Do you? No…I guess not… It means that it worked! Your pelvis has been formed to female proportions. You see, a woman’s pelvis is wider than a man’s. It also has different tilts and angles… Yours is now a perfect female pelvis! This is awesome news! I honestly did not expect it to work! I am so excited!”
She is actually almost hyperventilating. Finally, she calms down…and seems to realize she forgot something. She looks at me coyly and asks as she loads another injection gun with another pinkish solution, “Did you get a chance to look at any of those new math books?” I roll my eyes and say, “Yeah…I find calculus as simple as basic addition. What is up with that?” She laughs and says, “Before I answer that, are you ready for the next step? It is worth twenty grand…”
I sigh and say, “That is not fair…you’re withholding information.” She says, “No, I am waiting on an answer from you…” I sigh again and say, “You know that I am not going to say no at this point.” She nods and says, “Lay down on your stomach… And, for goodness’ sake—DON’T MOVE!” I follow her instruction and feel her thrust the needle into my neck—at the base of my skull; into the occipital joint. I don’t scream this time—what is the point. It hurts like Hell—screaming won’t change that…
When Crick says it is OK, I carefully roll over and she and Angela help me sit up. This time the ‘ants’ are crawling ALL over my body…and they are fire ants… I nearly pass out from the pain—but focus on Crick. I do my best to ignore the pain and ask, “You were saying something about my new-found math skills?” Beads of sweat are forming on my brow from the pain. I continue to focus on Crick; I am close to passing out… I look at her and wait. She sighs and says, “You are about to pass out. That will be a mercy. The animals went crazy at this stage... I know you didn’t read your contract… If you had…well… Anyway, the experiment is funded by the government and private holdings… The government side, well…it is…military… Of course they have certain goals for their money… I had to…add in certain…characteristics to the spliced in genetic material… Oh, and welcome to Phase 3…”
And I pass out…
”Oh, and welcome to Phase 3…”
Those words haunt my dreams for a week… Cindy is completely comfortable with the fact that I am ‘a woman’ now… I am not so comfortable with that idea--nor am I really willing to admit that it is a fact… Although, it is getting harder and harder to refute…
If I just think about the major changes, to date, I have well-endowed, C+-cup breasts and my hips are inches wider than my narrow waist… That certainly screams ‘woman’. Cindy just passed her cosmetology exam and is now licensed to cut hair, among other ‘girly’ things. She has been using me as one of her practice ‘heads’ and, as a result, my light-blonde hair is now down to my shoulders… Not that that is inherently ‘woman’, I usually keep it in a low ponytail, but together with the other changes, it sure adds onto it. She has also been using some of her ‘products’ on my face, like moisturizer and stuff. I still have the stubble from my beard, but it grows really slowly now…and shaving really irritates my skin. That is the only reason I have let her…but my skin is getting smoother and softer, despite the now blonde, soft whiskers that are still there and her ‘products’ help soothe the irritation…
And now, ‘Phase 3’ is all about reversing my previously male attributes and turning them into female ones. It has been a week since Crick gave me that last treatment and it seems to be doing something. She had called it ‘Phase 3a’… She told me it focuses on the skeletal changes that happen during puberty…and, obviously, my feet are shrinking, since my shoes are now slightly too big… Not really by much, just maybe half a size, but who knows how far that will go? My wedding band is a little looser and my Adam’s apple seems smaller, too. Those are just the things I can see, though. It is driving me crazy not knowing what else is going on in my body. If the extent of the ‘fire ants’ after the treatment was any indication of where changes are occurring, then they are everywhere.
I pull myself away from staring at myself in the mirror as Cindy asks, “So have you thought about it?” I look at her, knowing what she means, but playing dumb. I ask, “Thought about what?” She sighs and says, “You know what! What do you want your new name to be? Raymond really isn’t very befitting anymore—even if you do try and hide your female assets. If you don’t decide soon, I am just going to start calling you Ramona, or something.” I sigh and say, “I really don’t care. It is not like I had a choice when my parents named me Raymond. So, you can call me whatever you think is right. I can’t guarantee that I will respond to it, though.” I smile a little to take the sting out, but I am serious—and she knows it. She sighs again and says, “Well, OK, I think I will go with Reyna, then. And you had better respond when I call you!” She gives me an impish grin as she says, “Or, I may just have to ignore you, too.” And she starts taking my shirt off…
The next four weeks are some of the strangest ones in my life. Growing breasts had been weird, but nothing like watching my body reshape itself. My feet are now four sizes smaller than they had been when I started this and are now a man’s five—I fit into Cindy’s woman’s size six and a halves perfectly (I had to borrow a pair of her sneakers once). My hands have shrunk to the corresponding size, as well—I will have to get a new wedding band. My shoulders have narrowed and my arms and legs are, along with my smaller hands, well…dainty, I guess is the best description. My Adam’s apple is completely gone…and my voice is changing…back to the higher pitch from my pre-pubescent days. My face has changed, too. My nose is smaller and my brow is much less prominent. My cheeks are higher and my chin is rounder and less pronounced. I am a couple of inches shorter; and my new pelvis gives me a woman’s posture. Cindy and I are now even at five foot eight inches. According to her measurements, I would fit into her size two clothing perfectly. So far, I have refused to try—even though, it is pretty obvious that I am not going to be able to realistically present as a male anymore…and I don’t have much that will fit.
I am getting tired of the arguments. Cindy is once again berating me, “Reyna, you can’t keep trying to hide the fact that you are a woman. It is too obvious. Let me first get you dressed correctly…then we can get you fully sorted out as the woman you are. See, like these nice pants with this blouse… It is not like I am asking you to wear a dress…yet…” I sigh…the ‘Reyna’ still annoys me, but, honestly, I am getting used to it. It is all she calls me anymore. I say, “If it will get you off of my back—give them here!” I take off my T-shirt and jeans (which are girl’s, by the way…just unembellished and too big at the moment) and slip on the blouse. It feels…nice. I struggle with the small buttons that are on the totally wrong side, but finally get it buttoned. Cindy stops me from going all the way up, “Leave the top two unbuttoned to show a bit of cleavage.” I pull on the pants—and they feel really nice, too. Much softer than my old guy stuff; just like the girl’s jeans. I struggle again with the backwards buttons, hooks, and zipper. She then hands me a pair of low-heeled shoes that go with the pants. I look at the heels, sigh, and slip them on my bare feet. Then I look at her and say, “There are no pockets in these pants. Where am I supposed to keep my stuff?” She hands me a purse and I groan.
I look at myself in the mirror and have to admit that I do look better…all I see is a woman looking back at me; not some woman trying to look like a guy like a few minutes ago. Cindy hugs me and says, “See? Doesn’t that look better? Now, we just need to polish you up. I have booked us spa-time for this morning. Prepare to be pampered!” I should have known that as soon as I gave in on putting on the clothes that it would not end there. But, deep down, I know she is right. I look pretty good right now…but, well, incomplete…
Five hours later, my skin has been waxed, buffed, and polished. My hair is trimmed into a full-female style; feathered and layered. My fingernails are extended, shaped and polished; my toenails painted a bright red. My eyebrows have been painfully shaped into feminine high arches. My face is lightly made up in what I am told is appropriate for day wear. On top of that, my ears are now pierced.
And then it is time to go to the lab…
Crick looks at me and smiles, “Well, Reyna, you look lovely. I see you have finally given in and accepted what you are.” I shake my head and say, “I have given in, yes…and it doesn’t feel completely…wrong…but it doesn’t feel completely right either… I just don’t know what to do… How do I explain this to the bank…my bosses and coworkers” She says, “The feeling part will come with time—I am sure. And I have a letter that you can give them at the bank explaining that you are transitioning and under my care. That should take care of that—and is not like they can’t have noticed.”
She smiles a little devilishly and then says, “Now, there are several things we need to do today. I have some tests that I need to do on you and some I want you take…and then, assuming you are still up for it, we will start Phase 3b.” I nod and say, “Look at me. Do you think I am going to quit now? I want the last of what you owe me.” She laughs and says, “Well, after today, you will have ninety percent of the total sum. Then there will just be one final step for the rest.”
The next hour is taken up with Angela and her taking various measurements of me and then taking full body scans. Then I have to take a bunch of computer-based tests again. More intelligence/IQ and psych tests—similar to the ones I had already taken months ago, at the beginning of all of this. After that she asks, “Are you ready for the next round?” I sigh and nod…and we go back over to the ‘treatment’ area where I lay down on the table again…
This time she just gives me three shots in the butt and one in the vein in my arm. They don’t particularly hurt—nothing like the ones she had given me in the spine… There are no ‘ants’ that start crawling all over me…just a slowly spreading…warm glow… She says, “OK then. As I explained before. The first part of Phase 3, the ‘a’ part, was to work on your skeletal and cartilage structure. This part, 3b, will fix up your soft tissues…put them where they belong in accordance with your repaired genes. To be completely honest, I have my doubts as to whether it will work at all. Each of the steps that we have taken are more and more complex. But, frankly, I never thought even Phase 2 would work. I am amazed at what we have accomplished, so far…and it will keep my funding going for sure…no matter the outcome of this…”
She reaches over and grabs a tablet from a nearby table. She scrolls through some screens and says, “You may be interested in knowing the results of the tests you took today. Your IQ wasn’t terrible at 127, which was your baseline when we started. Based on the test that you took today, your score is now 169. I believe it will go as high as 200 in the next month or so. That is what mine is…and you received the appropriate genes from me as a stipulation for a portion of the military funding I have been receiving—to prove I could do it. I will explain more about that when this is all over with… The other interesting thing is that your psych/gender score has moved you into the definite realm of ‘feminine’… A very masculine female, so far, but female none-the-less…”
I look at her and ask, “And what would cause that?” She just shrugs and grins as she says, “Oh, lots of things could have. But that is a good thing, right? I mean since you are a woman. So, tell me…how is your love life these days? Are you still OK with being married to a woman? Are you starting to look at men differently?” I look at her like she has grown horns… I am not so sure she doesn’t have any hidden under that blonde hair of hers… I just say, “Ewwwe! Have you completely lost it?” She just laughs and says, “See you in a week…”
I thought things were weird when my basic skeletal structure was changing. I was wrong—that was just the precursor to weird. Contrary to Crick’s ‘honest belief’, her treatment seems to be working…at least my insides feel like hot molten lava.
The first night after the treatment, I was in for a really rude shock. I was taking a hot bath, complete with the bubbles that Cin insisted I add in—don’t tell her, but I secretly loved them—anyway, I was taking a bath and got a really sharp…well…it wasn’t a cramp—it was more a pull in my groin. It felt like it was coming from inside me—somewhere in my abdomen…and it kept getting stronger…and stronger…and stronger. At one point, I thought it was going to pull me inside out… Then there was this feeling…like something popped—and instant relief. I just sort of lay there in the hot, bubbly water and tried to catch my breath for a few minutes—relieved the weird sensation was over. After I caught my breath, I reached down to massage the offended area…and my testicles were gone! I let out a little shriek of surprise and Cindy came running in. She had me stand up and she examined the area closer—sure enough, nothing but the empty sacks…
Then, a couple of days later my insides starting getting…hot. And now, they are in this molten lava stage. I don’t know how else to describe it; it is this slow, hot churning inside me. It doesn’t really hurt—but it doesn’t feel good either… And, no, my testicles have not shown back up; they seem to have pulled themselves up into me and started the ‘lava flow’ somehow…
I go back to see Crick after the week is up… I feel the same; like I am still full of hot lava. She expresses surprise—and delight—that my testicles are gone. She exclaims, “That is wonderful, Reyna! I never would have expected you to get this far.” I look at her and say, “Wonderful? Maybe for you. So, when does this lava in me cool down? It has been this way for days now—it is almost getting to where it feels…normal…” She says, come over to the exam table. I want to do some hi-res ultrasounds and see what is going on…”
She runs the little wand over me and the pictures start showing up on the monitor. She explains, “Well, there are what used to be your testicles—clearly in the position of ovaries, now. That is a good sign. The rest is…amorphous… I think we need to do some body scans in the MRI. Come along…”
An hour later, Crick is explaining the results of the MRI to me, “Well, the ultrasound was correct. You are sort of undefined inside right now. Based on the scans, your testicles really are ovaries…but, the rest is still in flux. We will just have to give it another week and see where you are at the point…” I roll my eyes and go to the bank.
Speaking of work—things there are going better than I thought. The bank has strict anti-discrimination and harassment policies and I was fairly quickly accepted as ‘transgendered’ and ‘under professional care’ by HR. I had never really made any friends with the guys—but, now the girls are starting to accept me ‘as one of them’ and are trying to include me in more and more of their ‘cliques’. On the one hand, it is really nice of them—on the other hand, I am starting to get really bored with the whole bank scene… What was once a fairly challenging job, now sort of makes me feel like a grad student in kindergarten.
What I don’t really notice, for some reason, is—even though I am fast ‘outgrowing’ the people at the bank—I am still very comfortable talking to Cindy…about anything… Of course, that is just me being in love, but…
Anyway, over the course of the next week, my insides start to ‘cool down’. The churning finally stops on the morning that I am to go back to see Crick. Cindy just happens to be off at the salon that day and goes to the lab with me. Minutes after we go in, Crick has me on the exam table and is running the ultrasound wand over me…
She points at blobs on the monitor and says, “Look here! These are your ovaries… And this…this is your uterus… This is amazing… Internally, you seem to have the proper female organs. Of course, that is hard to determine, since you still have your old male equipment externally… Let’s get some more scans, then we will just have to wait and see if you develop any more…”
Well…nothing happens for two weeks…other than it is obvious that I am getting smarter… Things that completely mystified me before, like those stupid mind games and puzzles, are now like child’s play. Sudoku? Pah! Chess? Well, if that computer is any good at all… Crossword puzzles, riddles, anything that I can find that should completely baffle me are all…simple… I am stunned…
Then, the night before I am supposed to go back to the lab, Cindy and I are playing with each other in bed. All of a sudden, Cin gasps, “Rey, you are wet down there… Let me see what is going on…” She turns on the bedside light and pulls the covers down. I can’t really see what she is looking at, since she and my boobs are in the way. After a minute, Cin says, “Rey, you…well…see for yourself.” She takes my hand and pulls me over to the full-length mirror. My penis is the size of an unshelled peanut—literally. And there is a slit forming—sort of around it… And it is all very damp. There is no doubt that I am ‘gaining’ a vagina…and losing a penis… And it is happening very quickly; my penis is already barely visible in the slit just in the minute or two I have been standing here…
Sex that night was…well, nothing short of amazing. My vagina had fully formed after another ten minutes…and was this hot, moist…needy…thing… It was like the minute it was done forming that I was this horny bitch in heat… Cindy was happy to ‘play’ though… I have no idea where she got the strap-on dildo from…or why she had it to begin with… But, after last night, I am much more understanding of girls wanting to feel guys (or something) in them… That had always seemed so gross to me before… Not now!
I get out of the shower and dry off. I do my hair and put on my makeup…I have gotten fairly decent at that…and get dressed. Cindy is coming with me to the lab again today. We leave the apartment and I shut the door and lock it. We get in the elevator and this guy gets in just as the doors are about to close. I find myself almost staring at him. He is hot! I can smell his musky scent…his muscles are big and hard…I picture his penis as big and hard…and entering me… I have to fight myself from jumping him and impaling myself on his (imagined) hard penis… I am hot and almost hyperventilating from desire. I can feel my own juices running down my leg…
*DING* The door opens… The guy leaves and Cindy pulls me out of the elevator—she says, “I saw you ogling that guy. You wanted him didn’t you?” I shake my head and she says, “Rey, you wanted him! That is OK… It really is… But tell me… Do you still want me?” I look at her—shocked that she would ask. Then I understand and say, “Of course I do, Cin. I can’t understand my reaction to that poor guy… I wanted him so bad…but it was like…just for sex…you know? But, I LOVE you!”
Thirty minutes later, we are at the lab. I had just gotten my new driver’s license—in the name of Reyna Lynnette Hermann; so I drive. Cindy is busy texting someone the whole way, so I just amuse myself mentally calculating Pi to the thousandth decimal. I could have easily gone on, but we are here…
Crick puts me through a battery of physical and mental tests. After precisely 137.89 minutes (I don’t know how I know that—I just do), she pulls Cindy and I into her conference room. She says, “Reyna, you are now a full and complete woman in every way. You are fertile and will be on your first period in about two days. You CAN get pregnant; so remember that; assuming you develop any interest in guys…” I blush profusely and Cindy tells her about my ‘elevator guy’. Crick smiles widely, especially when she finds out that, apparently, I am bisexual now, since I am still into Cindy, too.
She says, “Well, that confirms your psych tests—which also said you are bi. Your IQ, by the way, is now 201—actually one point higher than mine, even. Which concludes the results of the tests given so far. But, I have one more thing that I want to see how you react to…” She pushes a button and, after 67.35 seconds, the door opens and a gorgeous young man walks into the room… He puts my elevator guy to shame. I feel myself getting wet again; my nipples get hard; my heart is beating hard and fast… I am having to really fight not jumping him… It is again like I am a bitch in heat…
Crick takes some vitals and says, “Dick, why don’t you take Reyna and Cindy to lab three…it is set up for you… I feel my eyebrows raise in question, but Cindy just gets up and takes my hand. She follows ‘Dick’, pulling me along behind, to a lab I have not been in before. We go in and there is a large bed set up…where I experience my first threesome with another woman and a man… And I find myself very hooked on the experience!
When we come out, Crick hands me and Cindy each a pill and tells us to swallow them. She says, “So you don’t get pregnant… Reyna, I know you are not protected… Cindy that is in case you are not… I swallow mine and so does Cindy. Crick smiles and says, “OK…now that you have fed your little addiction, Reyna, here is the check for the last of your money. You have earned it… Now; let’s talk about your future.”
Crick takes us to a conference room and offers us some coffee. Cindy and I both accept and, after we get settled, Crick pulls out the contract I had signed. She looks at me and asks, “So, did you ever really read this?” I shake my head and say, “I skimmed through it. My intelligence may be much higher now, but I still don’t know what all of the legal terms mean…”
Crick nods and says, “OK, let me explain the background of the experiment—of which you are ‘Subject Zero’.” She blows on her coffee a second, takes a sip and says, “MY objective in this is…was to find a process in which I can turn those men that wish to be women into full women. Obviously, that has the potential to be a very lucrative business for me. The foundational research that I needed to do this, cost about a hundred million dollars alone, though. I was able to get a good portion of that money together through private grants…spinning it as basic genetic research. I could not get everything I needed, though, so I had to ask the government. That is when a black-funded military organization appeared and I made a deal with the devil…”
She drinks some more coffee and continues, “The deal gave me access to large sums of money for my research, but, at a huge cost. Obviously, there were strings attached. I also had not fooled them; they realized my ultimate purpose in the research—genetic sex research, rather than just genetic research… They saw that I wanted to perform experiments that actually changed the DNA, more so than just explore the DNA. So, over time, as I got more and more results in my animal trials, they added on more and more ‘items’ to the list of things they wanted in the human trials.”
She pours herself more coffee. Then she says, “So, this is how all of that has affected you. In the beginning, I wanted to open the trial up to the transgender community; pick a good candidate from any number of lists that I have access to from several doctors that specialize in transitions. The military had other ideas, though. With their agenda—I will explain more about that in a minute—they wanted the subject to clearly NOT be transgendered. That is why I had to run those tests on you and set your baseline.”
Another sip of coffee and another pause later she continues, “So, you already know my ultimate goal in this—craft a process that will turn a male into a full female. Then fine-tune it to make it affordable and accessible—to make it into a business. The military, however added a litany of other ‘riders’ onto that. First, they wanted to be able to control certain aspects of the genetic change. In other words, not just fix the damaged Y-chromosome, turning it into the repaired X-chromosome, and let the change occur as it would have given that new set of genes. They wanted to be able to control the change—like hair or eye color, and the like. That is actually not as hard as it sounds—it is much easier than the gender-induced changes. I had a partner in the very beginnings of this project that was insistent that I use her to test out my capability to induce these cosmetic changes. I changed her hair color to red from black and her eyes to green from blue. It was easy—I just spliced the appropriate gene segments from Angela into her and induced the change—but only after I had had 100% success in doing similar changes on a series of animals in my trials.”
She pushes a button and Angela brings in a bunch of sandwiches and sodas. Angela sits down and Crick continues, “But that was not enough for the military. They wanted to see if I could control intelligence--they wanted to know if I could increase it in a subject to my level. Again, my partner insisted on being my ‘Guinea Girl’. I extracted the gene sequence from myself that I had identified as being the appropriate one for my intelligence and induced the change in my partner. It did not work, though. I had miscalculated where to snip the gene sequence by a couple of base pairs and what I induced instead of an increase in intelligence was a change in sexual-preference. My partner became like me—bi-sexual. To my surprise, the military was happy with this event. My partner was, obviously confused…and we wound up ending our close partnership, although we are still very good friends.”
She pauses a bit to take a bite of her sandwich, then she continues, “When it came time to identify a ‘Subject Zero’ for the sex transformation, the military wanted me to institute a preference transformation, as well. To show that my previous results were not just an irreproducible fluke. That is why there was that requirement in the subject’s eligibility. The military did not specify that the subject would have to go from a fully heterosexual male to a fully heterosexual female—so, I just decided to use my own DNA again, since I most familiar with it, to induce a change to a bisexual female. When I snipped the DNA this time, I included the base pairs that I left out the last time to prove to myself that the intelligence issue was within in my control, as well. Interestingly enough, the military had not stipulated this anymore…”
A few more bites of sandwich and she continues on, “And so, I had Angela work up a short list of candidates that we felt would be eligible for the trial-run. That is how you got on that list and were contacted. The rest is pretty much, as they say, history. Although I had had huge successes in the animal trials, I really had no idea how the human trial would work out. Some of it truly surprised me and well exceeded my—and the military’s—expectations. You are a very beautiful woman. The fact that you are now genetically-encoded to be bi-sexual and female-gendered has and will help you adjust to your new life. In fact, you will likely have more problems adjusting to your new intelligence status than to your new sex and gender. Being as intelligent as we are has a lot of draw-backs—as you have probably already noticed.”
She sits back and finishes her sandwich and eats a few chips. A sip of soda later, she asks, “So, do you have any questions?”
I had been paying close attention to everything she said. It is strange, I now have basically a total-recall ability. I can also process multiple things at once. As she was talking, I was both listening attentively and thinking about what she was saying. I go back through both of those streams. I look over at Cin…for the first time processing that her hair is the exact same shade of red as Angela’s. While that could be a coincidence, the fact that her eyes are the exact same shade of that rare, but beautiful emerald green that had originally drawn me to her, is no longer a coincidence. I quickly calculate the odds in my head… 346,112,135,475,345.35739000027457242 to one, to be exact, against it being a coincidence…
I look at Crick and state, rather than ask, “The former ‘partner’ you referred to was a life/sexual partner—not your business partner as I might have inferred from your intentionally vague language. It is clear to me that that partner was Cindy.” Cindy blanches and Crick says, “Very good, Reyna. I assume you calculated the odds of Cindy and Angela having the same hair and eyes and realized that, while there is no family relationship between them, there has to be a genetic one.” It, like mine, was a statement rather than a question. I nod anyway. Cindy starts to say something, but Crick gently waves her down and says, “Let’s let Reyna finish, please.”
I look at Cin as I say the next piece, "Dr. Crick is correct that I am having increasing difficulties adjusting to my intelligence. There was a threshold, probably as I exceed about 150, that it became exponentially more difficult to be ‘social’ as my IQ increased. Yet, I still have little to no problems relating to and with you. At the time I first realized this, I chalked it off as love. Now, I realize that that is very much part of it—but, also that you have had a lot of practice dealing with people like us—as Dr. Crick’s partner for three years.”
Crick nods and Cin quickly speaks up. She says in a low voice, but in the rapid-fire speech that I recognize as her being nervous, “When I convinced Dr. Crick…” She looks over at her and corrects herself, “…Frances, or Franny as I have always called her, anyway, when I convinced her to give me the serum to increase my intelligence—it was not because I wanted to be more intelligent, it was because I wanted to understand the love of my life better. I was fully and completely, and I thought irrevocably, homosexual—a tried and true lesbian. I had no desire to be anything else. So, when I suddenly switched to being bi—and it didn’t bother me, I was very confused. Since I am now genetically coded that way—like I was as a lesbian before—I just had to catch up with myself…and I am completely fine with it, now. It took surprisingly little time—as you yourself now know. It did not take you long to adjust from being completely heterosexual to being bi, right?” I just nod and let her continue, “The fact that I did not become a genius was not really a problem. I did not blame Franny at all. The fact that I was suddenly bi did not fundamentally bother me either. The reason that we broke up was because I met you and found that I love you unconditionally. Franny understood and so we remain very good friends…and can hopefully be more again…now that you understand some of this…”
The advantage of having this level of intelligence is that I approach things at a near pure logical level…sort of like I always understood Vulcans to be on Star Trek. I just say, “That is logical. So, you knew about all of this and coaxed me into the experiment to have your cake and eat it, too?” I ask this time, because while it is a logical conclusion, I quickly calculate that there are many other possibilities. She pales again and shakes her head.
Crick takes up the story again, “No, Rey, Cindy is innocent on that front. Actually, it was Angela’s idea—one that I found had a lot of win-wins to it. I felt bad about what I had unintentionally done to Cindy—something that Cindy had taught me…to have…feelings… I had a lot of money set aside from the grants as compensation for the subject of the first trial. I wanted Cindy to have the money, but there had to be a way to legally do it. Angela came up with the…scheme. It had to be carefully done, though, so that the grantors or the military did not find about it. I am not sure if the military figured it out, or not, but I have protections in place that we will discuss in a minute. Anyway, Angela contacted Cindy to see if she would go along with this, with the understanding that you had to volunteer—and that she could not say anything for both of your protection.”
Cindy speaks back up, “I was torn. We needed the money…badly… When Angela convinced me that, if you accepted the terms—and things turned out as hoped in the trial—you would be a full woman that would be very acceptable of her sex, gender, and sexual preference, I decided to let her contact you and see how you would react. Yes, I pushed you pretty hard in the direction of accepting, but I never demanded… And I would not have held it against you if you had not accepted. Something I made sure you knew before you did. You don’t know how hard it was for me to keep quiet. But—if the military knew; they would have locked you away as a guinea pig somewhere—to study. I would have likely gone to prison—or worse, become some sort of forced guinea pig myself…”
I nod and look at Crick. I raise an eyebrow and say, “So, now I know. This can’t have been part of the plan today.” Crick says, “No, but I knew there was a high probability that you would figure it out, though. That is why I built a clause into the contract that says you and Cindy have the option of becoming full members of the team after the trial is over. In order for you to do that, you would have to be read into all parts of the experiment and you would be safe from any knowledge after that—because you would be under the confidentiality clauses. As for the money—well, because of the way the contract was written, remember what I said about those lawyers and their requirements, what we did is technically not illegal. You did meet all of the pre-requisite requirements for the experiment. Neither the grantors nor the military ever stipulated we had to offer it to more than one person, nor how we chose the person from the eligible list. We started with a list of one and you accepted. Case closed. Now as for that clause…?”
EPILOGUE
Cindy and I have been full members of the team for 1.2325 years now. GenX is now a publically traded company and we have successfully transformed our first twenty paying customers from men into genetic women. The price is still out of the range of most people’s budget—One million for the base transformation and one hundred thousand for each targeted cosmetic enhancement, like a specific hair or eye color. That will come down as our patents finish clearing and we can get some of the materials produced commercially. After that we will open franchises and, through shear volume, hope to get the price of true transformation to be competitive with SRS—even beat it with time…
We continue to just ‘not be able to figure out’ how to turn homo- and bi-sexual soldiers into heterosexual ones… We are in danger of losing our military contract… Darn!
As for Cindy and I—she keeps reminding me of my humanity…how to stay in touch with my old emotions and feelings. We are very close with Franny and Angi, who are a couple (something I found out later, but should have been obvious)… Another thing that I find out is that Franny has a long list of male ‘friends’ that like ‘playing’ with a ‘harem’ of women…
Life is good!