Dream Come True - Chapter Four - by: Danielle Krieger (c) 2011 Ostracized by family and many friends, Melissa Sterling finds herself on the cold, lonely streets. Being transgendered, not many opportunities present themselves and too many people are overtly discriminatory. Like her family, the state safety net has abandoned her with no income and no health care. A modern American tragedy. In her own mind, she can't seem to catch a break and life doesn't seem worth living. That is, until fate seems to have another plan in place. In this installment, the public learns Melissa's name as a press conference is held, but no one sees her face. She gets two special visitors and the transformation takes a turn toward scary. Also, a rite of passage that most women dread.

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A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Again, I'd like to thank everyone for the comments and the kudos. As I've said before, it's kept me going on this. Honestly, this chapter was finished almost immediately after Chapter Three. I just waited a couple of days to post it. That was one VERY productive day! xD

So, kick back, relax, and let's see what Melissa gets herself into, shall we? *incredibly deceptively cute evil grin*

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— Chapter Four —

Both Janet and Heather had found replacements for their shift. Today was the day. They had joined me in my room and we had snacks, drinks, and plenty of good conversation to go around. Admittedly, I was nervous as a bunny at that moment and very glad to be behind the CDC quarantine. We had all decided that tuning into CNN would be the best course of action because the local stations probably wouldn’t cover the story until later that night. Also, they had a lead in and were constantly showing a live feed from the press conference outside. Thankfully, Janet had brought in a 42-inch flat screen from her house for the occasion. The little 20-inch in my room just didn’t seem to be enough and there was no way we were all going to huddle around the 17-inch monitor on my laptop. Yes, they were streaming the press conference online, too. It was crazy!

Through the camera lens, I could see a couple hundred people. Some were the actual reporters, others were just the cameramen and sound crew. Thankfully, they were rather subdued, regardless of the revelation they were about to get. The reporters were all sitting in a semi-circle around a podium placed just outside the hospital. There was even a little carpet leading from the entrance to podium. Thankfully, the police had shut down the block of Ninth Avenue in front of Virginia Mason days ago, so there were no traffic issues. As if downtown Seattle needed any more traffic headaches, anyway.

As soon as Nathan and Dr. Carver stepped out of the hospital, the flashing of cameras started -- yet another reason I was glad that I wasn’t out there.

“Holy crap, Melissa! You weren’t kidding! That man is hot!” Heather stated enthusiastically.

“Yes, he is a luscious piece of man meat, isn’t he?” Janet agreed.

I giggled. “I do not lie about hunks like that.”

“Shh! It’s starting!” Heather was thoroughly engrossed.

Outside I could hear shuffles and the curtain opened. There was no fourth wall to my room. It was just a curtain between me and the nurses’ station. A crowd was gathering to watch the broadcast.

Nathan cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press: on behalf of my client, I’d like to thank you all for coming, this morning. I know that many of you have been here for at least a week, now, so thank you for your diligence.” He pulled a piece of paper out from his jacket pocket. Janet had printed my statement after using her jump drive to transfer and access the hospital’s printer. “First, I will go ahead and read my client’s statement and then we will have a brief question and answer segment. Dr. Abraham Carver has graciously agreed to help answer the questions that I may not be able to.”

He unfolded the piece of paper. So far, so good. He cleared his throat again as he began to read my prepared statement. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press: thank you for showing interest in a humble young woman with a humble past. My name is Melissa Deanne Sterling, spelling provided. You can now put a name to your stories, though the face will have to wait. I’m not done changing, yet.

“Just one month ago, I was a homeless transsexual woman with no home, no future, and no hope. This has plagued my existence for a few years, now. I grew up in Southern Idaho with a conservative family in a conservative environment. As a way out, I joined the United States Navy to, hopefully, see the world and maybe go to college. Sadly, such was not to be. The ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ policy ended my military career far too early. From there, things went from bad to worse. I fell into a deep depression and only wanted to put my life together.

“Without much thought and even less money, I moved into Seattle. With the status of my discharge, not even the Veterans Administration would help me, so I turned to the state. For a year, I began to see a small light in all the blackness. I was able to see a psychological therapist, procure a primary care provider, and a pharmacy who all showed me not only compassion, but kindness. I was finally able to start my transition, like I’d always dreamed I could. I could finally be a whole person.”

Tears flowed down my cheeks as I recalled my past while he read it. This was harder than I had originally thought.

He continued. “Good things never seem to last. The entire nation was plunged into the worst economic recession since the Great Depression and many states, including Washington, found themselves with massive budget shortfalls. Major Depressive Disorder and Gender Identity Dysphoria (my term) are not as important to some as Schizophrenia, Bipolar Disorder, or drug and alcohol dependence. I could not meet the new standards to remain on the Medicaid program; thus, fell through the cracks. I would like the Governor and the Department of Social and Health Services to know that I do not fault them for doing what had to be done, it was likely a very difficult decision to make and I am not the only victim. I don’t know if I could ever make that decision.

“For a year and a half, I have been roaming the streets of Seattle, never knowing where I would be laying my head at the end of the day or where my next meal was coming from. I applied for and was denied access to so many transitional housing programs that I have lost count. Though it has been illegal in the State of Washington since 2006, I suspect the denials were because some believed me to be a man in a dress, but I cannot prove these allegations. I also did not win the Section 8 lottery held through the Seattle Housing Authority and Housing and Urban Development office. Frankly, I stopped caring some time ago. This kind of disappointment eats at the very soul of a person.

“The last thing that I remember was not being able to sleep in the temporary night shelter at St. Mark’s Cathedral, counting the divots on the ceiling tiles, while a compassionate soul attempted to cajole me after a particularly heart-wrenching denial. Then, awakened in strange surroundings. The kind nursing staff informed me that I had been unconscious for five days and I thank them for their diligence in my case.”

Janet and Heather turned to smile at me before snapping their heads back to the broadcast.

Nathan continued. “It wasn’t long after that when I met Dr. Carver and Dr. Michaels. They immediately informed me that I had suffered a febrile seizure, which runs in my family, and had contracted the Human Transmutation Virus, or HTV and commonly referred to as the ‘Girl Flu’ unceremoniously. To be honest, I didn’t know how to feel, initially. Though, now I am celebrating this turn of luck, as I see it. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of during the entirety of my young life. After twenty-five years of hardship, something was finally going my way and a birth defect would begin to right itself.

“Dr. Carver, Dr. Michaels, and the entire nursing staff here at Virginia Mason have worked tirelessly on my behalf to monitor my well being. Sometimes, they were a shoulder to cry on and offered a hug when I really needed it. At other times, a firm scolding was just the thing I needed. My body is helping itself, but they have been helping my mind mend itself. They are all very hard working individuals and I ask one simple request of every single member of the press: leave them alone. They have enough stress in their lives and do not need more piled on. If you have questions or comments, please field them through my representative, Mr. Dobbs. Thank you for your time.” He folded the piece of paper and placed it back in his pocket.

There was quite a long pause. Deep inside, I was really hoping for someone to raise their hand and ask a question. However, the silence alerted me to soft sobs and sniffles around the room. I glanced over at Janet and Heather. Both were crying. Then, I glanced over at the spectators. The men were stoically silent. Among the women, there wasn’t a dry eye between them. Suddenly, I felt a little guilty.

Thankfully, Nathan raised his head and pointed at one of the reporters. “You’re first.”

A woman in her forties stood. “Kelly O’Donnell, NBC. Is there a date when Miss Sterling will be released from the hospital?”

Nathan shrugged. “That, we can’t know. That decision falls to Agent Donovan from the CDC. We can’t get much information on that, sorry.” He pointed to the next person.

Another woman stood. “Abbie Boudreau, CNN…”

“Ah, well, be sure to thank your network for the live coverage, this morning.” Nathan winked.

“I will.” She took a breath. “Is Miss Sterling seeing any visitors?”

He nodded. “Yes, she is seeing some visitors, but very few. Any and all visitors need to be screened by the CDC representative at the hospital. Thus far, it has been Dr. Carver, Dr. Michaels, a few nurses, her primary care provider, and myself.”

“Who is her primary care provider?”

“David Halden, ARNP. Spelled H-A-L-D-E-N.”

“And two more visitors can be added to that list.” A male voice in the room stated.

I was so engrossed in the broadcast that I hadn’t expected it. Again, I jumped and screamed. It was just my doctor, Dave, so I quickly calmed back down. “You people have really got to stop giving me heart attacks. You come out of nowhere.”

Dave laughed. “I have found two visitors for you that I have been trying to reach since you were admitted in here. They’ve come a long way to see you. Are you willing to accept guests?” The spectating nurses began to disperse.

I shrugged. “I guess. Who is it?”

A man and a woman rounded the corner. The man was six feet tall, even, and was carrying a spare tire around his middle. His black hair was cut short and there were two “widow’s peaks” extending from his forehead on either side, but he wasn’t going bald as they were always there. He wore a full beard, under which a smile could be seen. His eyes seemed to light up as he saw me. He was dressed plainly in a T-shirt (his very hairy arms exposed), some kind of multi-pocketed vest, sweatpants, and tennis shoes. The woman was just shorter than him, standing five-feet-nine-inches. Her salt and pepper hair had curls to spare. Her gentle blue eyes also sparkled when they landed on me. Her smile was sweet and matronly. She was dressed in a blouse and skirt combination, probably because she’d just come from work.

This time I screeched, a happy screech. “Daddy! Mom!” They were my father and step-mother, the only truly supportive family I had.

My father bent over and winced. “Geezus, Melissa!” Twenty years in the Navy, many of them on an aircraft carrier flight deck, had taken a good deal of his hearing. He only had one good ear that was quite sensitive.

My hands shot to my mouth. “Sorry, Daddy!”

“See what I mean?” Dave chuckled.

My step-mother giggled. “Yes, I do. Our daughter has quite a set of pipes on her.”

Janet and Heather quietly excused themselves, shutting off the television. Janet closed the curtains as my parents entered the room and Dave excused himself, leaving us alone. My father was still recovering from my screech, so my step-mother approached and gripped me in a tight hug. I reciprocated, though a little harder. I was very glad to see them.

“When did you guys get here?” My mouth barely translated what my brain was telling it to say. I was way too excited to filter anything.

“Just before the press conference started, I think.” My step-mother answered as she took a seat on my bed. “That Agent Donovan is a real piece of work. He put us through the ringer down there.”

“Yes, and though I have a legal concealed carry permit, he relieved me of my weapon.” My father lamented as he, too, gripped me in a hug. Tears fell down my cheeks.

“Well, dear, it’s not like you’re really going to need it in a hospital.” She hated my father’s constant need to carry a gun, but he was a bullheaded Second Amendment believer.

He released me. “I gave it up without question didn’t I?”

She giggled and glanced at me again. “So, how are you feeling, darling dear?”

I let out a long sigh with tears still coming down my cheeks. “Better, now that you guys are here. It’s been pretty lonely around here.”

“I’ll bet. What, with nothing short of a government shutdown and media blackout?” He grunted.

“They can’t be too careful, Daddy. They still don’t know how HTV is transmitted.”

“Physically, sweetheart, how are you doing? They didn’t tell us much.” She really seemed to be quite worried.

“I’m fine, mostly. I’ve got joint aches all over the place. My chest hurts. I’m wearing a diaper because my body hasn’t recovered after seventeen hours without a urethra. It had to reroute itself. All of that, plus my body feels like Jell-O. I can’t move around too much.” I explained plainly.

“Wait, your urethra rerouted?” His puzzled expression was priceless.

A large smile found its way onto my face. “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, it’s a girl!”

Both their eyes widened. “You mean… ?”

I nodded. “Yep, it finished forming a couple days ago. Dr. Michaels, my gynecologist, will perform a full examination when everything’s over, but according the nurses it’s all there.”

My father plopped into the chair to my right, dumbstruck. “I don’t believe it.”

“Sometimes, neither do I, Daddy.”

My step-mother moved closer and placed both her hands on my face, feeling it. She also glanced at my neck. “Well, it looks like you’ll never have to shave again. And, your Adam’s Apple is gone, which would explain the voice changing a bit.”

I nodded. “The voice is a new development. The hair fell out about two weeks ago. I really need to shave my legs and armpits, though. They’re starting to itch and annoy me.”

“Would you like us to pick you up a razor and some blades?” She asked.

I shrugged. “I would appreciate it, but don’t feel obligated.”

Her smile had something of a mystery behind it. “We’ll see. What sizes do you wear?”

I didn’t even process the question before answering. “Well, the outward changes will start soon, but I’m inclined to stick with current sizes. Panties are a 5. Pants are a 5 or 6, depending on brand. Tops are almost always a medium. Dr. Carver said that I might be surprised that my shoe size changes, but I kind of doubt that. I get most of my stuff in the Juniors’ department.”

She ran fingers through my hair. “A young woman like you? Would you get them anywhere else?”

“No, I don’t want to look like I’m forty.”

We all shared a laugh.

Again, tears welled up in my eyes. “I’m really glad you guys came.”

“Well, we haven’t heard from you in a month. We actually called search and rescue looking for you.” My dad gave me a look from over the brim of his glasses, which told me he was serious in a slightly joking manner.

“You did?”

“Yes, honey, you had us worried sick. I mean, sleeping where you have and living like that? Any number of things could have happened!” Now, there were tears in my step-mother’s eyes.

My own tears rolled down my cheeks. “I’m sorry I worried you so much. They haven’t allowed me any contact besides my doctors and Nathan.”

“We know. Your doctor called us two weeks ago. Thank you for listing me as your emergency contact. That Agent Donovan wouldn’t allow us access until he heard about the press conference this morning and Dr. Carver drilled into his feeble, bureaucratic mind that you weren’t contagious.” My father reported.

“Your father has been here several times roughing it out with that man. He told me that he was yelling he didn’t care if he started turning into a woman, he had a right to see his child. On top of that, he called Governor Gregoire, Representative Rick Larsen, Senator Patty Murray, and Senator Maria Cantwell to give them a piece of his mind.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

More tears rolled down my cheeks. “You did that for me?”

His nonchalant demeanor was comical and sweet. “You’re my kid, aren’t you? I’d take on the Devil, himself, if it meant I could keep you safe.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.” My gaze returned to my step-mother. “You, too, Mom.”

“We know, honey.” She smiled back. “Love you, too.”

My father stood. “Much as we’d like to stay, that Agent Donovan has us on a time limit. Besides, we’ll be in town. There are a few errands to run and I’m going to call your mother to let her know you’re okay.”

Again, we were sharing hugs. Both of them kissed my forehead after the hug.

“Get well soon, honey.” My step-mother requested.

“Hang in there, kiddo. You’ll be out of the woods soon enough.” Dad grinned.

Tears rolling down my cheeks, I waved as they slowly and reluctantly left the room.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

The next three weeks really were the worst of the whole ordeal.

On the positive side, Mom and Dad stopped in two days later to shower me with a few gifts. They had bought several pairs of panties from Victoria Secret, a top-and-bottom pajama set in lavender with little hearts and stars on them, a sleek silk nightie in plum with pink lace along the neckline and hem, a pair of sweatpants in navy with two pink stripes down the outside of the leg, one purple and one powder blue tank top with a shelf bra built in, and a hoodie that matched the sweatpants with two pink stripes running down the outside of the sleeve. Not having many options for shoes, they simply got me a purple pair of slippers and called it good. On top of all that, they bought me a Schick Quattro for Women with enough blades for a month and a little shaving cream for good measure. After signing a Power of Attorney form, Nathan was able to procure me a new Android smart phone, so we could keep in touch.

On the negative side, there isn’t much of that time that I remember because I was kept so drugged up. There were a lot of pain medications flowing through my blood stream. Truly, the last thing I remember was slipping into the nightie, turning out the light, and waking up in some pretty nasty pain the next morning. After Janet administered the pain medication, the rest is a blur. It’s just a bunch of flashes of incoherence when I managed some consciousness, which usually meant I was in pain. They’d put some more medication into my IV and I’d pass out again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

When I woke up, I thought I was still dreaming. As I tried to breathe, though, I gagged something fierce. There was something inserted into my throat that was incredibly uncomfortable. Though, as much as I heaved, I couldn’t so much as cough. Suddenly, about a hundred alarms started going off. I heard somebody shout out ‘Code Blue’ and, like a trained army of ants, four nurses and Dr. Michaels burst through the curtains. Immediately, they set to checking the devices and manually checking my vitals. I think I punched somebody as my stomach continued to heave. My eyes still refused to fully open themselves.

“Geezus, she’s awake!” Dr. Michaels sounded panicked. “Melissa, are you in pain?”

The most I could muster was to shake my head and touch some sort of machinery in my mouth, repeatedly.

“Janet! Help me get this tube out! Heather! Shut off those damn alarms and call off the Code Blue! Courtney! Richard! Hold her down!” Dr. Michaels responded pretty well under pressure. When she turned back to me, she wasn’t barking orders anymore. She sounded kind and maternal. “Melissa, honey, this is going to feel really weird but you’ll feel a lot better once we get this feeding tube out of you.”

‘Feeding tube?! What the fuck is going on?!’ All I could do was ask myself that question. Two tubes stood in the way of my vocal cords operating as well as stifling any regurgitation.

In seconds, two nurses were holding me down while I felt some sort of pulling. Now, I knew what it was like to feel the entire length of my esophagus. It seemed to take forever for that tube to come out of my body. Every other second, my stomach was protesting and I’d heave again. All the alarms were suddenly silenced, thankfully. In the next moment, I felt the tube finally emerge from my mouth. There was no time to celebrate. Now, there was coughing and dry heaving. I was immediately lifted to a sitting position by I don’t know who. Thankfully, my eyes finally opened and were tearing up as I heaved. Someone was reassuringly rubbing my back. My breathing was labored, but I was fine for the most part.

“What… the hell…” I managed through breaths. My voice was horse, but still recognizable as a female voice.

“You were in a lot of pain, honey. We had to induce a coma so you wouldn’t feel any of it and inserted a ventilator with feeding tube. I’m sorry, but you’re out of the woods, now.” Dr. Michaels explained.

“How long?” My breath was coming under control, now.

“Three weeks, honey.”

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck?!”

“Language, young lady!” Janet chided me.

“Janet, I love you, but can it! You sleep for three weeks and we’ll see how you react!”

She brushed off my verbal assault. “So, you’re really not in pain, now?”

Quickly, I performed a mental checklist and relayed my findings. “My whole body’s heavy, but there’s something tugging on my chest. Besides that, my hips are a little sore, but no more than a mild headache.”

“That’s good to hear.” Dr. Michaels replied. “You’ll be pleasantly surprised about that extra weight on your chest, I think.”

There was one small problem. “I hate to say this, but I think I really have to pee.”

“Just let it loose, honey. We were almost ready to change you, anyway.” Janet requested.

“I’m going to pass. Could you guys please help me to the toilet? I’ve got to learn how to use the new equipment sometime.”

Janet scoffed. “Okay, I’m in. Kaitlyn?”

“I suppose we ought to. I mean, we kept her in a coma for three weeks. It’s the least we could do to make up for it.” Dr. Michaels agreed with me.

The helped me lay back down while Janet went about removing the diaper. In moments, I was being lifted again and helped off the gurney. I did the best I could to stand on my own and wasn’t doing too bad, really. Moments later, they helped lift my nightie and I sat on the toilet for the very first time. In half a second, the dam burst, startling me. My back straightened and my eyes widened as I heard a sound I’d only heard from the next stall in the ladies’ room. Now, it was me making that sound. The sensations bordered on sensory overload, but I wasn’t complaining. The flow steadily slowed until it was just drips.

“Front to back, honey.” Janet instructed, handing me some sheets of toilet paper.

“I get the concept. I’m fine.” Came my retort as I stuck my tongue out at her.

After wiping and satisfied I was dry, I simply dropped the wad into the toilet and flushed. Then, steadying myself on the handicap rails, I lifted myself to my feet. Janet and Dr. Michaels remained close, should I show the slightest sign of falling over. It felt strange but exhilarating to walk and feel my thighs rub together with an empty crotch between them. However, my center of gravity had definitely changed and would take some getting used to. Not to mention, there was some jiggling on my chest that was mildly annoying but more exciting.

I stopped at the sink to wash my hands and glanced up the mirror. I lost all concentration to wash my hands. My eyes would have liked to bulge out of my sockets. There was no doubt that the person in the mirror was a young woman. Her features were soft and smooth. Her eyes were stunningly blue. Her nightie prettily accentuated her supple figure and kept her modesty in check by concealing a pair of ample, perky breasts. Gone was the prominent brow bone. The nose was smaller and flowed harmoniously with her forehead, coming to a slight point at the end. The cheeks were full and youthful. Gone was the angular jaw, replaced by a sloping, curvaceous one. There was no more “Jay Leno” chin, either. It came to a soft, almost pointed finish.

I had seen pictures of my mother when she was younger, about the time she’d given birth to my brother and I. If this girl in the mirror didn’t look an awful lot like that woman, no amount of convincing would make me believe that the girl in the mirror was really me. She even mimed my movements as I brought my hands to my face and gave my cheeks a little stroke. Only, they weren’t really my hands, either. They were smaller, more dainty. Then, my eyes fell to my chest. Gawd, they looked huge! A pair of smaller hands gripped them simultaneously and gave a little squeeze. Why did that feel so good? Still, there was no denying that these were my breasts, alright.

“Talk about your dreams coming true!” I thought out loud, again my melodious mezzo soprano voice echoing through the room.

Dr. Michaels stood behind me. “To you, it’s a dream. For us, we’ve watched that pretty little body of yours change on an almost daily basis. I think Janet or Heather started recording a time lapse video for you to see when you’re ready.”

“That was Heather.” Janet admitted. “She knew Melissa would be dumbfounded when she woke up, so we caught the whole thing on video.”

I smiled at Janet, by way of the mirror. “Thanks, you guys.” I gave myself another look over. It was hard to really gauge all the changes when all I could see was my torso.

“There’s a full-length mirror in your room. Also Heather’s idea.” Janet smiled back.

I slowly made my way back into the room while Janet guided me over to the mirror. At first, there was some reluctance to look into it, but once I was there it was all over. There was that girl again. She turned to the side. Boob to ass ratio looked proportionate. The silhouette was stunning. Then, she turned facing the mirror. Her shoulders were the same width as mine, but her neck had thinned out. Her ribs had much less volume than mine ever did and her waist was well defined. Then, there were the hips. Slowly, the torso sloped into them, but they were an inch wider than her shoulders. Yep, those were my mother’s hips. Though hairy, she had really gorgeous legs. Then, she turned around, craning her head to see the whole thing from the rear. The nightie dipped a little past her shoulder blades, showing off the soft smoothness of her back. Everything formed a “V” into her waist, then flared out again to the hips. Her butt was full, round, and youthfully pert. I’d always thought my ass was my best feature, but now it seemed to be one of many very nice assets I now possessed.

On impulse, I ripped off the nightie and stood there, naked. She followed my lead. This prompted Janet to jump over and close the curtain. Everything was where it should be, though. Pretty face, lovely skin, perky bosom, little waist, flaring hips, shapely thighs, and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. I’d always been a fan of my rear end, but I loved it even more, now! Most importantly, the cleft of my new vulva was clearly visible, even with the 1970’s porn bush surrounding it. I squealed and jumped with glee, “I’m fucking hot!” I instantly knew that I was going to look amazing in a bikini.

“A lot of energy for somebody who just emerged from a coma.” Janet almost grunted. “Now, Miss Pretty Little Thing, would you stop streaking the hospital and put some clothes on? You’re making me jealous.”

Stopping, I turned my blushing face to her. “Sorry about that.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

“There’s some good news to deliver this afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.” Nathan was doing his thing with the podium again. “After three long weeks in a drug-induced coma for her own safety and comfort, we were hoping and praying for the best. Early this morning, the breathing tube and ventilator were removed from Miss Sterling and I am pleased to inform you that she is doing perfectly fine. In fact, better than that. She’s positively bursting with happiness. All the doctors are giving her a clean bill of health. She will undergo a complete physical this afternoon.” Secretly, I was dreading that. “But, we’re confident that she will come through with flying colors and the CDC will be satisfied that she is not a threat to anyone. Thank you very much for your words of encouragement during this trying time.”

He waved at the crowd, turned, and reentered the hospital.

Sitting up on the gurney with one leg bent Indian-style and my arm resting on my other knee, I was clad in a simple outfit. Wearing one of the pairs of panties my parents had bought (No, I’m not telling which one.), I had covered myself in the sweatpants, hoodie, and the purple tank top. There was a grin on my face about how much cleavage I was showing off with that top. Heather had leant me a scrunchie for my hair, too. Having it hanging to the middle of my back was becoming cumbersome.

Shutting the TV off, I wanted to slam back down onto the gurney and take a nap. With Dr. Michaels in the room, there were other plans. Dave was there, too, but mostly for moral support and medical history reasons. What was about to happen was largely out of his hands.

“Are you ready to begin?” She asked, holding her computer pad against her chest.

“No.” I moaned. There was still the marvel of how pretty my voice had become. The time to get used to it hadn’t existed before I was induced into the coma. “But, it’s a necessary evil, right?”

She nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”

I swung my legs off the gurney and slipped my now smaller feet into my purple slippers. Purple is my favorite color, if you hadn’t already guessed. Over the course of the day, the drugs had worn off and moving around was a lot easier, now. Grudgingly, I followed behind Dr. Michaels with Dave pulling up the rear. There was no preparing for what came next.

Dr. Michaels pulled back the curtain and stepped out. When I emerged into the corridor, the whole ward erupted into applause. All the nurses were standing. I hadn’t received a standing ovation since high school, so it was a little daunting. My cheeks became warm as I blushed and I smiled back at the applause.

“Thanks everybody. I owe you a lot.” I greeted through choking back tears.

The applause continued as Dr. Michaels led me away and slowly died out. As we walked through the hospital, all of the staff applauded me. Blushing more, I simply waved to them. Once we reached Dr. Michaels’ offices (which took forever), the novelty was over. It was now down to business. Dave opted to wait in the front area. First, she set me up in an examination room. Then, she set about checking my vitals, my ears, my eyes, and my throat. Typical doctor’s check up. Then, we went out into the hallway to check my height and weight.

“Well, well… you’ve shrunk, my dear.” She smiled.

“I have?” A frightened expression crossed my face.

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s only an inch. Though, amazingly, you’ve gone from one-forty-five all the way down to one-twenty-four. Some of that can be attributed to three weeks of coma, but also to the decrease in bone mass.”

“So, I’m five-six, now?”

She nodded and led me back into the exam room. Next, she was breaking out a tape measure. “Okay, off with the hoodie.” She measured my chest, over top of my breasts, my waist, my hips, and (for some odd reason) my wrist. Again, she was smiling. “Well, missy. It seems you’re now a thirty-four C, you have slightly under a medium frame, and you shouldn’t worry about your dress size changing. I’d say that was about the same. Now, sit up on the table.” I acquiesced as she picked up one foot, slid the slipper off, and measured my feet. “Well, I’ll be…”

“Is that a good indication?”

She nodded, putting my slipper back on. “We can share shoes, now. You’re an eight.” She winked.

“My feet really shrank?”

“Honey, with your ribs and your hips, are you really that surprised?”

“I guess not.”

“Okay, let’s get you initiated. Strip the lower half, including your panties.” She started setting up something I barely recognized. Stirrups.

I gulped and nervously began to slip off the sweatpants, then slid out of my panties. As wonderful as it would be to never have to tuck ever again, what was coming up didn’t delight me. She turned and slipped on a pair of gloves. Once my lower half was fully exposed, she motioned for me to put my feet up in the stirrups. Reluctantly, I complied. Next, she grabbed… a mirror.

“Janet was right. You want to see?”

“See what?”

She let out a sigh. “Your vagina, pussy, clam, flesh taco, twat…” She cringed. “…cunt.”

“Hey, I’ve never used that last one and never plan to.”

“Good. Still, want to have a look.”

“Before you violate me with all those contraptions? Sure, why not?”

She turned the mirror around and zoomed in on my crotch. My eyes shot open. There it was, the one thing I never thought I’d ever own. The mons pubis was nice and puffy, the labia majora seemed to be framing things nicely, the labia minora were small and taut. Then, she opened up the labia to reveal the pink bliss inside. Methodically, she pointed out the separate parts: my clitoris, my new urethral opening, and my vaginal cavity itself. For good measure, she stuck one finger barely inside, which caused me to try to leap back in retreat.

“Hey! You’ve got to do the warm-ups before the spelunking can begin! You know that!” I protested.

She giggled. “Sorry, no time and I’m straight. Besides, you‘ll get my equipment messy if I get you going.”

I glared at her. “Very funny. She is very pretty, though. I‘ll give you and Janet that much. I still think I need to trim the hedges a little.” She turned and grabbed some kind of device that looked like a lobster claw. “Hey! Where are you going to put that?!”

Another giggle. “Don’t worry, silly. This is a caliper to gauge the size of your clitoris, nothing more. Now, lie back.”

Again, reluctantly, I acquiesced. I winced and almost sensed as if I was about to loose my new little friend, but she was done before I knew it. Now was the tricky part. She put a healthy amount of gel on some metal device and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see. Then, I felt something cold insert into me and then spread me apart. It was all so surreal. After that, there was nothing from her for a few minutes. I began to wonder what she was doing, but she spoke before I could.

“This is amazing. Melissa, not only do you have a fully-functional vagina, but there’s also a hymen in there. Honey, you’re effectively a virgin, again.” She announced. “I wouldn’t recommend any sexual activity for a while, yet, but when you do be prepared for a little pain down here.”

“Great. Just what I need. More pain.” I groaned.

“Welcome to womanhood. Just wait until you have your period.”

A smile creased my lips. “I can’t wait. It’ll hurt, but it’ll be confirmation, y’know?”

“Before today, I never thought I’d meet anyone that was glad when they started their period. Though, given the circumstances, I can see your point of view.” I couldn’t see her smile. “Now, get ready, you’re going to feel a little scratch inside, but I’m going to do a Pap Smear, okay?”

“Mother of All Q-Tips, time?”

She giggled. “Yes, something like that.”

She was right. The sensation startled me, but it was gone as soon as it came. A moment later, the spreading feeling was taken away and I could feel her cleaning me up a little. Good, that part was over. How humiliating, though. And, to think that I’ll have to go through this once a year for the rest of my life. Oh, joy.

“Okay, Miss Pretty Pussy. Get dressed. It’s time to get acquainted with the twins.”

Slipping my panties back on, I shot her a puzzled look. “How so?”

She merely grinned. “Mammogram.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

After being poked, prodded, and thoroughly explored down below and then getting the twins squished into pancakes, I wasn’t in much of a mood for visitors. Regardless, there they were when I got back to my room. Dave was there with my parents. Both of them looked exhausted.

“How long have you guys been here? No offense, but you look terrible.” I pointed out.

“Started off from the house when we found out that you had woken up.” Dad stated rather grumpily. “You look great, by the way. Are you really my kid? You look a lot like Bridget Fonda, to be honest.”

I giggled.

“Yes, Melissa. You look absolutely lovely.” Mom smiled. “So, how was the exam?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “A yearly, plus a mammogram.”

She winced. “Not quite the introduction to womanhood you were looking forward to?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve got a hymen, though. That little bug was really thorough!”

“Whoa! Whoa! Do women talk when I’m not here, would you?” Dad protested.

“How did everything turn out, then?” Dave finally inquired.

I plopped down onto the gurney, making my breasts pleasurably bounce. “Well, let’s see… I shrunk an inch. I’m now five-six. I’m down to one-twenty-four, though I don’t recommend the weight loss plan. My boobs are a C cup. Oh! And I’m a size eight shoe!”

“Wonderful! Should make shoe shopping a lot easier.” Mom knowingly nodded. We’d discussed how utterly difficult it was to find cute shoes to fit my Size 10 clown feet.

“Definitely! I’ll finally be able to fit the adorable shoes!” I squealed with glee.

“Melissa, what did I say about the women talk?”

I threw a pillow at my father. “Oh, hush, Daddy!”

A man nearby cleared his throat. “I… hope I’m not interrupting.”

My eyes darted to the sound of the familiar voice. Nathan was smiling and leaning against the far wall. Was it the lighting or did he look like an angel? That warm and tingly feeling was back.

My father stood and crossed over to him. “Well, this is the man of the hour? What was your name again?”

Nathan stood straight and presented a hand to my father. “Oh, we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Nathaniel Dobbs. Call me Nathan. I’m your daughter’s publicist.”

A few muscles in my body tensed until my father took Nathan’s hand and shook it. “So I’ve been told.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sterling.”

Dad chuckled. “Please. My father was Mr. Sterling. Call me Daniel.”

“Very well, Daniel.” He released my father’s hand, crossed the room, and took my step-mother’s hand. “You must be Melissa’s sister?”

It was corny, but she and I both giggled. “Heavens no. I wish I could claim that, just look at the gorgeous little thing. No, Nathan. I’m her step-mother, Ella -- short for Marcella.”

I was blushing again. “Mo-om!” I groaned.

Nathan chuckled. “Well, it seems as though you have succeeded in the motherly pastime of thoroughly embarrassing your daughter. Well done.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Enchente, Mrs. Sterling.”

“Pleasure to meet you, too, young man.”

“So, what’s the plan from here on out, Nathan?” My father interjected.

“Ah, directly to the point. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” He turned, winked at me, then turned back to my father. “Well, as you can tell, the press is clamoring for this story. They all want to be the first to break it. Because of the CDC blockade, no one’s been able to get a picture of our golden girl. You really wouldn’t believe the offers I’ve gotten for a piece of her.”

“What are we talking? Thousands?”

“Daniel, this is the 21st Century. That doesn’t cut it, anymore. Try millions.”

My breath had left me. “Mi… millions?”

“Yes, eleven of them. That’s the top bid, dear. And, you’d know that if you checked your messages once in a while.” He scolded me.

“Who’s paying?” Dad was grilling him, now.

“Well, CBS and Viacom have been battling since the written statement. Viacom won’t surpass ten, but CBS offered eleven for her to do 60 Minutes. On top of that, Ellie Girl is offering six million just to get you in a photo spread and do a tiny interview, without even seeing how lovely you are.” He smirked.

“That’s… seventeen… million combined!” Mom was effectively flabbergasted.

“Yes. The current record is nine million, held by an Australian HTV recipient. Not that I’m looking to set a record, mind you. However, when you’re the first, people are lining up at the door to get a piece of you. Daniel… Ella… I told your daughter that I wanted to make sure that she never had to worry about being homeless ever again. I meant every word. That’s why, I’ll have you know, I’m in her employ strictly pro bono.”

“You’re doing all this for free? What do you get out of it?” My father, forever the cynic.

“The satisfaction of helping someone less fortunate. Also, I had a very dear friend of mine who was transgender and homeless when my career was just taking off in San Francisco. I put her up for a while, but the streets kept calling to her. She was a regular on Polk Street and a frequent consumer of methamphetamines.” He breathed a deep sigh. “She took her own life before AIDS had a chance to. I swore I’d never let that happen again, if I could help it.”

Finally, Dad smiled. “Perfect. I approve.”

With a straight face, I looked up at Nathan. Hopefully, he couldn’t tell I was on the verge of tears. “I’ll do it. Both of them.”

“Wonderful.” He grinned. “Now, there’s Agent Donovan to deal with, but I may have a way around that. Today, you’ve been through enough. Tomorrow, though, we’re going up to the Medi Spa on the ninth floor. You’ll be getting the works: manicure, pedicure, facial, massage, and whatever else you’d like. The day after that, 60 Minutes is willing to send someone to the hospital for the interview. Before that, it’s back up to the Medi Spa for hair and makeup. Ella, would you do me the honor of helping shop for a suitable wardrobe for Melissa?”

A bright smile gleamed on her face. “Would I!”

“Excellent. Then, tomorrow, the fun begins. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it all in hand. I will leave you to get back to your lovely evening. See you tomorrow, Melissa.” Again with the wink. Was he trying to get me in the sack?

Blushing, I simply waved to him.

[ - To Be Concluded - ]
Photo Credit: Haley Ramm