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Joey and I had been friends for as long as I can remember. I think we met when we were ten years old at day camp on the shore of Long Island Sound, the summer between fifth and sixth grades. We both had had a bit of the devil in us and had formed a fast conspiracy against the rest of the guys in our group when playing croquet. We would knock away everyone else's balls except our own. Then we discovered that we both liked crabbing, and we would meet after camp or on the weekends to hunt crabs around the pilings of nearby marinas.

I must admit that Joey was a better athlete than myself, though not to say that I was incompetent. Perhaps its because he was a little taller and a little stronger, though it could be said I was a little smarter, at least it showed up in my grades. As far as looks goes, I do admit that he was a little handsomer than me, what with his blonde hair, blue eyes and constant smiles, though I was certainly never teased for my looks either.

We later went to the same high school, and our friendship remained as tight as ever. Only now instead of crabbing, we went out sailing together every weekend we could, and would fish for snapper and king fish, often times bringing home a nice dinner for our families. Our camaraderie was especially nice because it had weathered the changes of puberty and junior high school when we had begun to notice girls. Neither of us had trouble finding dates and usually we would go out together, but one thing was certain: Joey and I were number one with each other. Nothing could rock our friendship and the time we spent together.

Only, something did occur and thats why I'm writing this story. You see, in twelfth grade, Joey met a girl named Elise, who began to little by little capture all of Joey's time, until there never seemed to be much time left for me. Okay, I understand we all have to grow up and these things do happen, but Elise was nothing very special. I don't think she was pretty at all, she certainly didn't have much of a body: practically flat in my opinion, and her personality? Yuck! As obnoxious as they come. So why did Joey let himself get captured by her and hurt our friendship?

If you ask Joey, and I did more than once, it wasn't so much what he wanted as the effect that Elise had on him. He still loved me, and still wanted to go sailing with me, but somehow he always found Elise in the way. And when he said he needed some time with his male friends, Elise had the balls to wonder if maybe Joey was really gay after all? Why else would two guys go out in a boat all day long for hours and hours and days and days?

What really bowled me over was the news, one day, that Joey and Elise had become engaged. At first I figured he had gotten her pregnant, but Joey assured me that it wasn't the case. He didn't think he could get any girl nicer than Elise, so he figured it was time to make a commitment before he ended up an old lonely guy. Can you believe that attitude, and Joey was only a senior in high school?

Well according to Joey, he has three uncles who never married and he thinks it runs in his family to end up an old bachelor. And knowing how lonely they are, and all their medical problems from not getting fed and loved by a good woman, he was determined to avoid that mistake. Of course, you and I know that this is all rubbish. Joey could marry any of a hundred girls nicer than Elise, girls who wouldn't smother him, but I couldn't convince him of that even though I talked until I was blue in the face.
 

 
Now I was very depressed about Joey. My life had become empty and I missed his company just terribly. I know I'm not gay, but I really do love that man. We'd been together, inseparable for so many years, and I had fallen into a very worrisome depression.

One day, a Saturday in spring, as I was just moping around the house feeling sorry for myself as usual, the phone rang, and since no one else was home, I answered it. It turned out to be my Grandma who lived by herself in Manhattan. Grandpa had died a few years back leaving her very well cared for: a nice apartment near Grammercy park and a chance to travel and live to the fullest.

She must have known I would be home alone; my parents had been worrying about me and must have said something to her.

"Listen. I want you to come into the city and visit me. I need you for something."

"Grandma, I know you don't need me. You just want me to get my mind off Joey."

"Come!"

"But Grandma!"

"Come! I'll see you for lunch!" and she hung up.

I had no choice, so I got myself to the train station and took the next LIRR train to Manhattan, and then a cab to her apartment. I was there by noon time.

"Come in, come in, my dear!" She said giving me a hug.

"Hi Grandma," I said limply, "good to see you."

"Come in and sit down for lunch," she said, and we sat down at her large dining room table facing an expansive window overlooking Grammercy park.

"My favorite grandson doesn't feel so good does he?"

"You know why I'm not happy."

"Its all about Joey?"

"Yes."

"So whats the problem?"

"He's gotten engaged to his girl friend Elise and never sees me anymore.

You know how close we've been our whole lives? Now, in just a couple of months that horrible girl has squeezed him out of my life forever. I can't believe it happened!" With that I began to fight back tears, and actually let out a sob, which made me feel very foolish.

Grandma is an imposing woman. Though just five foot five, she carries herself erectly despite her years, and wasn't shy about displaying her more than ample bosom in attractive suits with skirts. Now she sat up fully, and looked hard at me. "Let me be truthful, my dear. You'll never get Joey back the way you are now. Boys eventually end up with girls, and thats just the way the story goes."

If she thought this was comforting, she was very mistaken because it made me even more weepy.

"However, there is no reason why you couldn't be the girl that Joey falls in love with."

The words didn't make sense to me, and my brain went around and around in circles trying to understand them. Finally, I said, "huh?"

"You could be the girl that Joey falls in love with. I mean he could fall in love with you instead of Elise."

"Grandma! Are you suggesting I pretend I'm a girl to get Joey? I mean, beside the fact that I don't look at all like a girl, Joey would be the last guy in the world to want to date a guy in drag!!!!!!!!"

"Don't think I'm so stupid! I'm talking about you becoming a real girl. And I mean the change would be permanent. There would be no going back!"

"What? Some sort of massive surgery? Then I'd look like Frankenstein when it was all over? I don't think any amount of surgery could make me into a desirable woman. And certainly Elise is not that bad looking!!"

"No, no, no. Just listen to me. You, or any other man for that matter, can turn into a girl, as if by magic, if you just do exactly what I say. It does take an extreme form of concentration and desire. Probably more determination than even the Marines experience during basic training at Parris Island! But I'd be here to help you and show you how its done; to egg you on and perhaps, if we're very very lucky, we'll succeed and you'll become a beautiful granddaughter. Maybe even by five this evening! Then you could go back home, and tell Joey that his same best friend he's always had, is now in the body of a beautiful woman, and he could then get rid of Elise once and for all to be with you."

I listened speechless. The scientific possibility of this making any sense, seemed negligible to me. But still she seemed so sure and she didn't give any impression of being crazy.

Life as a woman seemed to be an extreme sacrifice to make in order to be with Joey, but I couldn't think of any rational reason why life as a woman should be any more unpleasant than the life I have now. I would still have my same brain, and nowadays women get to play as many sports as men do. It would be kind of freaky having babies maybe, but also a fascinating experience.

"But what about mom and dad?"

"I've already told them about it, and they had no objection! They're just anxious to see you happy again."

This seemed impossible. How could my own parents be so blasé about me becoming a woman?

"Well, what's it going to be?"

Here she is pressuring me to make such a huge decision! "Grandma, don't pressure me!"

"I'm sorry, but today is the perfect day do to it, if we're going to do it. All the stores are open, the weather is perfect, and besides, tomorrow I'm leaving on a four week long trip to Germany. I wanted to see the reunited Berlin before I die."

It was all very sudden, but I was so far down I couldn't see how I could possibly do myself any harm. If I was lucky, it would turn out for the better: I'd permanently get rid of Elise, and Joey and I could resume our friendship. Suddenly the image of Joey and I out in the sound fishing together as husband and wife popped into my mind, and it looked so good I just blurted out: "OK Grandma, I'm willing. How do I become a girl?"

Grandma was positively beaming. "Its not going to be easy. You have to absolutely want it so badly you can burst. You have to get your mind at the deepest possible level of introspective concentration and then from that state you begin to alter the chromosomes in each and every cell of your body. In fact it was your late grandfather who discovered the possibility of this change, just before he died. He told me about it on his death bed, and so you see, I've always wondered if his insight was true or not. Your situation with Joey seems like the perfect occasion to find out if he had really been onto something. The medical fact that he realized is that since we are all destined to naturally be females, and it is only a slight alteration caused by the Y chromosome which converts females to males, it should be possible to retroactively put the cat back into the bag so to speak. In other words, undo the effect of the Y chromosome. This is possible since the XY pattern is unstable to small perturbations. Basically, if one can force the change to occur in just one small part of the body, a chain reaction then ensues which spreads the change to all the other cells. In fact, your grandfather realized that transgendered people probably have had an arrested chain reaction, where at some occasion when they were children, the reversing toward womanhood began in the brain, but suddenly stopped for some unknown reason. Thus such people live thinking they are women in men's bodies. Of course, the chain reaction is irreversible, since the double X chromosome is a fully stable state."

"Wow, Grandma, it sounds like Grandpa was a genius!"

"I do think he was; as you know I miss him terribly! But let us not be dragged down by those thoughts. The fact of the matter is we now have the wonderful opportunity to show that he was right!"

"What's the first step?"

"The first step is that you have to do everything I say, without hesitation, because hesitating will only mean a lack of desire on your part and then the change can't possibly succeed. Do you promise to do everything I say, with absolute enthusiasm? And most particularly without concern for anybody else in the world except yourself?"

"I'm ready Grandma! I'll do everything you say!"

"OK, empty your pockets onto the table, and come with me. We have some shopping to do!"
 

 
Outside on the street, Grandma led me to the corner of Fifth Avenue and 14th street. She pointed up north and said, "up there at 59th street is the Plaza hotel. By the time we walk up there, you're either going to be a woman, or the whole experiment is a bust. But be warned that the closer we get to the Plaza hotel, the more intense the pressure for change will become, the more force you will have to put in your mind to control your desire for your objective. Its going to get very very tough, before it gets better. But when it gets better, you're going to be the happiest young girl on the planet! So first, come with me into Klein's department store!" With that Grandma led me into a large department store which was just off Union square park. She looked up "intimate apparel" on the directory and I followed her to that intensely feminine part of any store where racks hold huge dense collections of bras and panties.

"OK. If you want to be a girl, starting this second you think like a girl. Go find a bra and panty that you like and come back to me."

"But grandma, there are ladies looking."

"OK, the project is a failure, let's go home."

"What?!!"

"Look, I'll give you one more chance. Do you remember your promise?"

"Yes."

"Well don't break it. Now go find a bra and panty that you like and come back!"

I saw what she was getting at, so I started looking over the racks of bras and forced myself to not be concerned about the women shopping nearby. It took just a second to realize that I didn't know my chest size, and I came back to grandma saying, "but what size do I wear?"

"What would a girl who didn't know her exact size do?"

"Try on several different sizes?" I asked.

"Yes that's possible, but perhaps a bit slow. Do you see the sales lady over there?"

Looking across the racks I saw a woman sorting panties and wearing a name badge. "Yes."

"Well, you are allowed to ask her to measure you for a bra. Any girl would know that!"

Smart enough not to question Grandma, I got up my courage and walked over to the woman. "Ma'am, excuse me, but I don't know my bra or panty size, and I wonder if you could help me figure them out?"

The woman looked at me like I had a glob of pudding stuck on my face:

"Measure you??"

After glancing back toward Grandma and seeing her expression, I said "Yes, measure me for a bra and panties, if you're not too busy."

After hesitating, the woman found a tape measure and did the necessary chest measurements. "I guess you would wear a 36AAA bra, if you were a girl, and I'd guess you would wear size 7 panties."

"Thank you," I said, and returned to browsing through the racks.

It didn't take long till I realized that I couldn't find any 36AAA bras, so I went back to the sales lady saying, "Where are the 36AAA bras kept?"

"Of course we don't have that size!" she said impudently. "Obviously you should just take a 36A if you really insist on getting a bra for yourself!"

"Thank you," I said once again and went back to browsing through the racks. This time I found many possibilities for a 36A bra. I ignored all the fancy ones with lace or the pink ones, and concentrated instead on finding the plainest white one I could find. I finally settled on a Jockey-for-Her bra and then found some plain white no frills panties. They even seemed to me like something a boy could wear. I walked back to grandma and she said, "fine," and walked with me to the cash register to pay for them. The saleswoman was even more surprised that Grandma was with me, but she evidently accepted the situation.

Grandma turned to me at the counter and asked, "What's it going to be, a dress, a skirt or jeans?"

I looked at her puzzled, and she said "For your first outfit. What's it going to be?"

Acutely aware of the saleslady I said, "Jeans, I guess."

"OK, then throw in a pair of knee-hi's for my granddaughter, would you?" Grandma said to the saleswoman who then took a pair from behind the counter and added them to the bra and panty I had picked out.

After paying for the clothes, Grandma led me to the girls jeans section and told me to find a pair, and also a top. It didn't take long for me to figure out to ask a saleswoman to fit me for the right size jeans and to tell me that I could wear a medium sized blouse. I took a pair of blue denim Jordache jeans and a polo top that looked fairly unisex and Grandma paid for them. This time she announced to the sales woman, "my granddaughter would like to wear her new clothes out of the store. Can she change in the fitting room?"

The startled woman didn't get a chance to answer when Grandma led me to the womans fitting room and ushered me into a booth. "Put these on and leave behind your boys clothes."

I looked at her with some confusion and she said, "Hurry up, and yes of course you can figure out how to put your bra on!"

I could see now how deeply I was plunging into a foreign land, so I concentrated real hard on thinking how joyous Joey will be to find me as a woman. I told myself that I'm real lucky to get such nice new clothes, as I stripped naked. The panties were easy to put on, and felt really different from my normal jockey shorts. A little lighter material and they held me close at different places. The bra was a real trip, and felt positively strange across my chest. The blouse and jeans also fit really kind of different than my boys clothes and looking into the mirror I didn't think they fit very well. My boys shape was not well suited for clothes cut for women.

I stepped out and showed Grandma and she only made a slight comment, "It's a start honey. Now lets get you some shoes, and Ill let you pick out a perfume to wear and we'll get your ears pierced."

I was going to select girls sneakers, but here Grandma intervened. "No, you've got to start walking like a girl, so you'll have to get shoes."

Looking around I saw some penny loafers with a low heel and she said they'd be fine with my jeans, so that was what we got. As before I left behind my boys sneakers and walked away in the new shoes. At the perfume counter there were so many scents, I just took the first one I ran into:

"La Escada," realizing too late when Grandma was spraying it on me that it was extremely feminine compared to others I had smelled in the past, but Grandma seemed to be very happy I had chosen it.

Grandma also had me select some lipstick and a compact as well as pick out a handbag from a large collection displayed near the cosmetics counter. I chose pink lipstick, thinking it would blend in better with my lips and a white pocket book, with a long strap. Next we headed to the jewelry counter where I picked out some gold studs and had them inserted in my ears. I thought I'd be a lot more self conscious about this, seeing how this was certainly not the kind of place where men got their ears pierced, but I was wearing a girls outfit and I was slowly getting used to ignoring the stares from people around me. I may be a kind of ugly girl right now I thought, but I will be beautiful soon enough, so just let them stare all they want!
 

 
Out on the street we faced north on Fifth Avenue. "Now we start walking uptown," Grandma said. "I want you to concentrate on the women around you. Look at every one we pass. Think about what clothes they're wearing, think about their hair styles, their figures, their jewelry, their makeup, the way they walk. Everything! Really concentrate."

"Yes, Grandma," I said.

"The point is for you to try to imitate them as much as possible."

"Yes, Grandma, I'll try my best."

As Grandma must have known, there were hordes of people out and about, and half of them were women. Not just frumpy overweight Midwestern women wearing jogging outfits, but stunning and sophisticated New York City women. From secretaries to lawyers to CEO's and VP'S, they wore well-tailored suits, dresses, skirts and blouses as they marched along on the avenue.

"Now really concentrate on your walk, and don't take giant male steps. Take much more lady like smaller steps," Grandma coached me.

With only a great deal of effort was I able to decrease the length of my stride. It helped a lot to focus on the dozens of pairs of stockinged legs walking toward and past us as we negotiated the first block. I did my best to imitate them and felt like I was making some progress. However, we hadn't gotten to 17th street before a new wave of self-consciousness swept over me.

"Grandma. I feel ridiculous! These jeans don't seem appropriate here on Fifth Avenue. All the women are wearing skirts and dresses!"

We stopped in front of a large plate glass window, within which I could see our reflections. "Look at me! I guess I sort of have some feminine qualities from the clothes and lipstick, but I feel like I'm just a kid playing dress up."

"What do you want to do about it?" Grandma asked.

"Would you be mad at me, if I said getting the jeans was probably a mistake? I mean, I think now that I want to wear a skirt like all the other women, and stockings as well. That way, I think I'd begin to feel more like a woman. A lot more like a woman."

"Very good, dear, there is no need to apologize. We'll just run into the next clothing store we find and see if you can't find you a skirt to wear."

We began walking uptown again and I turned to Grandma and asked, "I think a skirt would be nice, but I think I also have two other big problems."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for one, my hair is way to short, and, and..."

"We'll stop in a hair salon and get you a wig. What's the other problem?"

"I, umm, I, umm. I don't know how to say it, but, ummm..."

"Speak up!"

"I mean, I don't have any chest. All the women I pass seem to at least have some sort of breasts sticking out, and I've got nothing. I think I ought to get some breasts. But where could I get them?"

Grandma reached in her handbag and took out two scarves she kept there.

She balled one of them up and said, "Stuff it in your bra!"

"Out here on the street?"

"Lets go in that doorway," she said, and I followed her to a slightly hidden alcove off the street, where I quickly filled my bra with the scarves.

"Pretty good," Grandma said when I was done. "Now let's get you some hair."

Once again walking up the street, I felt relieved to have my small womanly chest in front of me, though I really couldn't figure out why. Glancing at some of the men walking by, I felt like I was starting to become different from them. They probably don't know anything about bras, and they probably don't know anything about having a womans figure.

23rd Street was a large intersection and Grandma saw that there was a hair parlor across the street. A few wigs were displayed in the window and without waiting to be asked I pointed to one of long light brown hair which I wanted. Inside the shop, Grandma had me fitted with it and styled. The hairdresser, Mario, was very swishy, and if he thought there anything strange about me being outfitted with a wig, he didn't let on.

With long hair, I had to admit to myself that I was really starting to look and feel girlish. As we walked up Fifth Avenue, now reaching 28th street, I was getting impatient to get a skirt. I saw so many women walking confidentially to and fro in their short skirts that I felt increasingly silly wearing jeans. If I was going to become one of them, then I had better start looking more like them, I thought. As we walked along I asked Grandma a hundred questions about what kind of skirt I ought to get, until she began laughing.

We had just reached 34th Street, and she said, "Now honey, you'll get to do some real shopping. We'll walk up one block toward 6th Avenue to B. Altman's, one of the nicest ladies department stores in the city."

When we got there, I was intimidated by the overwhelming presence of women. The store had only a small men's department; four complete levels were devoted to ladies fashions and the main floor was mobbed with well dressed women scurrying about on their way to the elevators and escalators or stopping at the seemingly endless cosmetic and handbag counters. For the first time this day, I became nervous and even anxious. The sense of invading a forbidding territory rose up in my mind to almost a panic. I don't know if Grandma sensed it or not, but she must have known that this was a crucial point on our journey, but she said in what I thought was kind of a loud voice, "are you happy with your bra? Do you want a different one?" I guess we could have been any Grandmother and granddaughter out shopping, the way she said it. With all my courage, I answered, "no Grandma, I guess not. I think I'd like to look the bras over more carefully this time."

"OK, let's go," and we made a beeline to the lingerie department on the third floor. The collection was immense and I threw myself into finding exactly the bra I wanted with a passion. Luckily, it didn't take long until I saw a white padded lacy Olga bra that just leaped out at me. "that's the one I want, Grandma!" I said, and she smiled approvingly. Yes I did now want all the lace. I wanted to look just like so many women I had seen in the street, with white blouses through which I could hazily make out their lacy bras and slips. "And I also want a white slip, and I want panties to match, and I want pantyhose."

We bought these like we had done downtown and then went skirt shopping. I found a pretty gray tight skirt and a matching jacket, and nearby located a lace-edged white blouse. I put on the whole ensemble in a fitting room. Stepping out to show Grandma, I swiveled around admiring myself in the dozen mirrors. The jacket was open, revealing the lace of the slip with the bra underneath. "If I could only get larger breasts! I mean real breasts!" I said.

Very seriously, Grandma said, "You will. Now is the time to start really bearing down. Look in the mirror and see that you are a woman now. Look hard in your eyes. Stare deeply into your eyes until you really start seeing your soul. Do you see the woman there?"

I concentrated very hard, like she said. As I looked into my face, I said,

"Grandma, I need make up. And I want my eyebrows to be prettier, and I hate these ugly shoes, and I want different lipstick, I think red is what I want. And yes I want a gold chain with maybe a cross hanging from it! Feeling very excited I said, I wanted a pretty ring and a bracelet. Oh, and I hate this handbag. I want something prettier! And my nails are too short and bare! Can I get my nails done?"

The words flowed in a torrent. I didn't know what was happening to me, but just seeing my image in the mirror, made me desperately want to be as perfectly womanly as possible.

"Then lets go!" Grandma said, joining in on the excitement, and we raced around B. Altman's getting the most lovely high heels and lipstick and everything else. They even had a nail salon, where I was given long artificial nails in a perfect red shade. At the end of our shopping, she took me into the ladies room, which once again seemed like a rite of passage. I felt like I was entitled to go in. I belonged in there, just like all the other women!

Inside, my eyes raced around watching the women as they moved about, going into and out of stalls, sitting in front of large mirrors to put on make up. I only didn't know what went on in each individual stall, but I could see skirts and dresses lying around stockinged feet through the bottom of many of them. When it was my turn to go in, I lowered my skirt and pantyhose and sat on the seat to pee. I looked up at the high walls of the cubicle around me, and felt like I was a small sea bird flying over an ocean of womanhood. I wondered where in myself would the chain reaction start, assuming I could get it going, and I was now getting increasingly sure that I could. I felt so sure that it would come that I imagined going home this evening on the LIRR and my parents hugging me excitedly, and then having my dad driving me over to Joey's house, since I would have to wait for a new license to come before I could drive. I would knock on the door and Joey would answer and he could tell immediately from my eyes that there was something different about me, and then I would tell him who I was and he would start to cry and we would hug each other. I would have to learn how to want to be taken by him as a girl, I suddenly realized. Joey would want to kiss me since I would make him hot.

The reverie started getting confusing and I once again focused on the world around me. I could hear the women talking around me and zipping and unzipping their dresses and skirts, and the clicking of their heels and I felt a stab of joy and even of pride that I now belonged to them. Boy, had I come a far way from just 14th to 34th street I thought.

After I was done peeing, Grandma helped me put on my makeup, and plucked my eyebrows and showed me how to comb my hair. Leaving the bathroom, I could see that I was really starting to get passable, though the basic male outlines of my body and face were all too evident to myself, and an occasional passerby.

We walked back to Fifth Avenue, and then up it toward the 40's. The tight skirt made me take even shorter steps than before, and Grandma told me to really concentrate on the walk. "Let that bottom swing, feel your thighs brush against each other so you get the swish, swish of the pantyhose rubbing. But also be graceful, float along the pavement, let the high heels seem a natural extension of your beautiful legs."

It was a lot to think about at once, but it was getting easier and easier. By 40th street we were walking along comfortably, and Grandma said, "who do you want to grow up to be like? I mean you're almost an adult now, but whom would you want to emulate?"

Just a few hours earlier, I suppose I would have said Mickey Mantle, and though that went through my mind, I felt now that that wouldn't be my first choice anymore. Instead my mind seemed to naturally start to think about various celebrity women that I wished I could be. In a flash I realized that I really looked up to some of them, and in fact, even envied them. To be a famous actress like Diana Rigg, or Emma Thomson or Julia Roberts or Juliette Binoche thrilled me. Or maybe be like Eleanor Roosevelt or Jackie Onassis or Madame Curie. "I think most of all, I'd want to be a famous actress, but I'd use my fame for a lot of good causes."

Grandma smiled at me, and I knew that I had passed an important test. When we reached 42nd Street, standing near the Library, Grandma said, "you've got the externals just fine. Now we need to take a huge leap in your internal feelings. I want you to imagine that you are each woman we pass now. Put yourself in their minds. What are they thinking about and think about that yourself. OK, do you understand?"

"Yes, Grandma," I said, but I was really frightened by what she had said. We began walking uptown again and now I looked as hard as I could into the face of every woman we passed trying to read their thoughts. Beyond 42nd street I noticed an increasing number of very affluent women. They were less often wearing suits, and more likely wearing fashionable Spring dresses and they were clearly out shopping in the expensive boutiques which began to line the street.

What can one say about the faces of women. I learned so much that I had never known before. I saw their gentleness and goodness, I saw their suffering, their desires, their feeling of sexiness of being pretty. I saw how they dealt with still largely a man's world. "Pick one out and be that one ,"

Grandma said, and a few minutes later I was seeing myself as a particularly striking woman in her thirties wearing a bright red dress with long beads around her neck. I forced myself to believe I was her and was thinking her thoughts, which I felt was shopping for a new dress for an important party her husband was going to take her to. I also felt she was concerned about a problem with one of her children and joy for a vacation she was planning in the future. Then I felt her concern at getting older and, when I thought very very hard I felt like I had to be concerned about changing a pad. She was having her period and she probably was planning on finding a restroom in one of the stores. I thought so hard about this, I began feeling a terrible pain in my lower abdomen, and had to hunch over.

"Grandma, I'm having a terrible pain in my stomach!"

"Wonderful! Its a menstrual cramp! Keep on going, think harder and harder!"

The pain was getting more intense and I told Grandma I had to sit down. She took me by the hand and led me into St. Patrick's Cathedral on 50th Street. It was a huge chamber and she brought me up to the very front row and had me sit in a pew facing a huge statue of Christ. I was doubled over in pain, holding my sides, and Grandma said, "very, very good, you're getting your first period, in a sense. I feel like puberty is about to come!"

"I don't know if Ill be able to withstand the pain!" I cried and then regretted having said it. Grandma gave me a sharp rebuke in her face which said everything I needed to know. I turned away from her and looked up at the Jesus, and through my tears I saw Joey's face on the statue, and he was smiling at me and I suddenly knew that I was going to become a woman not just because I needed Joey so badly, but because he needed me also. I was going to save him from a miserable life with Elise. That insight was so powerful, that I knew that no amount of pain would stop me now. A new wave of inspiration swept through me and I almost felt like jumping up and shouting my love for Joey on the alter.

"Come on Grandma, I know I can make it now! But I'm not the type of woman to wear suits like this. I want a pretty dress. No, I want a beautiful and sexy and fashionable dress! And I want the most expensive and silky underwear a girl can have, and I want my hair made up into the most beautiful hairstyle and I want an expert to put on my makeup. I want to walk up Fifth Avenue as if I own it. Straight to the Plaza hotel and walk in and be a woman!!!"

Elated, Grandma took my hand and we danced down the aisle of St. Patrick's and out into the bright warm sunshine of late afternoon. Sak's Fifth Avenue was a couple of doors down and inside I felt like I had arrived where I belonged at last. We went upstairs to young miss dresses and I glided through the racks studying every dress; picking some up and holding them against me, and asking Grandma her opinion. Now I was thinking not only as to what I liked but what would Joey like. I wanted a dress that made me the exact blend of demure and sexy that would make Joey absolutely love me.

I couldn't believe how many dresses they had at Saks, but I couldn't find the one I really wanted. I did absolutely love their lingerie section, and this time

I bought a sinfully expensive white satin lace bra in 36C because I was sure that I would soon become a real woman, and I was sure that this was the size bra I was going to need. The bra had matching high-cut panties and I felt like a child in a candy shop as I went through the racks of slips and other goodies deciding which one I wanted. I saw a rack of all-in-ones and asked Grandma about them. They were just all lace from the bra cups down to the bottom of their girdle where the garters attached and I wondered if I should get one of them instead of a bra and panties.

"You can if you want. It would look very pretty on you, I'm sure."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, dear."

Now I had a real dilemma, should I give up the pretty bra and panties for the all-in-one or not. Finally, I decided that I would have many opportunities in the future to buy the all-in-one once I became a woman so I put it back on the rack.

Grandma said there were a hundred dress boutiques heading up north on Fifth Avenue and we will look in everyone for my perfect dress, so we rushed out of Saks and continued walking up the Avenue. Though I still had cramps in my stomach, they didn't bother me so much anymore. In fact, they made me feel like the end was getting near.

We went in and out of several dress shops in a few minutes, and then finally I saw the dress I was looking for! It had a flaring skirt ending at my knees, and a tight ribbed bodice. It was ivory colored with a light pink rose patterned design. The store had a size 12 which fit me to a tee and after Grandma paid for it we found a shoe store across the street with the perfect matching shoes. Now I was dressed to my dreams: my perfect bra and panty, the silkiest Saks pantyhose, a lovely slip and a dress which was perfectly flattering for me. Now, all I needed was to become a girl.

We were now approaching 57th street, another major artery. The Plaza hotel was almost in sight, and I knew that the hardest part was now about to begin. I also knew that failure was not an option. I had gone too far, walked too far up Fifth Avenue, to turn back now. I felt like a girl now; I desperately wanted to be the woman of Joey's dreams, I wanted to grow up and become a famous woman. Looking around at all the women passing me, I understood their faces and their appearances, and I saw myself as them. Yes, I was scared, the chain reaction would be like a thermonuclear bomb going off inside me and then everything would become irreversible, and would I find a safe port on the other side? Would my fantasy about Joey and me be true?

Grandma said, "come with me into Tiffany's. I'm going to buy you something which will help get you across the threshold." Inside Tiffany's she went to a counter filled with diamond rings. "This time, I'm going to make the decision for you." Among the rings was one of unspeakable delicacy, with a huge glittering 1.25 karat diamond. "That's the one!" she said, and the salesman put it on my ring finger and it fit perfectly. I think she paid twenty thousand dollars for it and didn't blink an eye, but I didn't care, I felt so happy to have that beautiful jewel on my finger.

"Consider it my wedding present for you and Joey" Grandma said, and I gave her a large tearful hug.

Outside, we walked up to 57th street, and Grandma said. "This is as far as we go together. I'm going to walk up to the Plaza hotel and get a seat in the main lounge and order a stiff martini because I really need one now. You concentrate on getting just one part of you to begin the change; I leave it up to you to decide where. Only you know best where it should be. Take these last two blocks slowly and carefully, go inward as deeply as possible and, if you are successful you'll start to see a change which will then spread in seconds throughout your whole body. Nobody else has ever gone where you are going; you are going to a place men have never gone before, so there is nothing more I can say to you. When you get to the Plaza sit down at my table and good luck, and God bless you!"

With that, Grandma walked quickly up the block to the Plaza hotel. I had tears in my eyes. I don't exactly know why, but perhaps, because I now felt more alone in the universe than I had ever felt before. How was I going to go the last two blocks without her guidance?

I kept staring after her, until she was lost to view among the crowds of pedestrians. Now I have to get down to work, I thought, and I chuckled as I remembered a snippet from a Country Western tune:

"Let's get down to the main attraction, with a little less talk and a lot more action."

What to do? I had to concentrate very hard on changing and then maybe it would become obvious which part of me should lead the way into a woman's body. Once again I began to examine the woman around me, their faces, the way they walked and carried on in their lives. Suddenly I got a vision of all the bras being worn by the women nearby. Probably a hundred different bras hidden by clothes I realized, and I closed my eyes to imagine them gracefully moving down Fifth Avenue and along 57th Street. Then I was thinking of all the pretty panties being worn by the women around me and imagined that. Then I was thinking of their pantyhose, like tan bodiless ghosts walking down the street. A thousand pairs of high heels moving along.

I tried to see how I fit into this, that I was just another bra and panty wearer on the street. That I too had pantyhose and a pretty dress, and I was thinking womanly things. The traffic light must have cycled a half dozen times as I stood there on the corner. After each change a new tide of women approached me either from up Fifth Avenue, or from 57th Street, while those standing waiting for the light next to me, walked away so I could see their retreating bottoms and calves. Waves and waves of women; I wasn't noticing the men; they were irrelevant. As each set of women approached I forced my mind to dig deeper into itself. I felt huge surges of alpha and beta waves scorch across my mind swelling up and down all the alleys of my head. I must have been in a deep trance, because the next thing I knew, I felt a blow to my legs which snapped me back to the present. It was a toddler, a boy of about 2 or 3 who had accidentally run into my legs and fallen down. My mind did some sort of strange calculation, because I found myself stooping down to help the little boy up, saying, "my my young man, what a tumble? Are you all right?" I was in a deep knee bend, resting on my heels and smiling into the boys face and helping him get up and dusted off. He wasn't hurt and he gave me a cute smile back and I continued, "where's your mommy?"

"Over there," he said pointing straight up, and I laughed brightly at him. Just coming up to us was a woman pushing a stroller with a small baby in it, and her husband carrying another child.

"I'm so sorry miss," the woman said to me, "I saw him run ahead and knock into you!"

Standing up, I said, "Oh, no harm done. I think he took a bigger hit than me!"

"He really is a handful," the husband added. Turning to his son he said, "Ivan, did you apologize to the nice young lady?"

The boy nodded his head vigorously, and I laughed, "yes he did. He was very polite."

After a few more pleasantries, the family moved on up Fifth Avenue, and I continued to stand at the corner. With a rising excitement I re-enacted the entire incident in my mind, "sorry miss," "nice young lady," they had said it to me! to me! And I knew that from the very start I had acted like a woman:

I had been gentle and nurturing to the boy, instead of mere businesslike or resentful like a man might feel. Something indeed was changing in me, OK, so now what to do? I decided to cross 57th street and walk slowly up toward 58th. Looking on the other side of 5th Avenue, I saw the sign for F. A. O. Schwartz, the famous toy store, and I decided to wander into it and look around. It was very crowded, but it was also a very large store and after aimlessly looking at the toys and displays in the hope that they might tell me something, eventually I found myself in the doll department, and found a small alcove which was fairly quiet and had a number of large stuffed bears which one could sit on. Wearily, I sat down, tucking my skirt under me and began concentrating again.

I thought of the little boy, Ivan, and my reaction to him and of a growing sensation inside me that I would have liked to have hugged him. What a nice feeling it must be to hug a child to ones breast, I thought in a reverie, and then thought of my own chest now, with the satin bra and how pretty my chest must be. That wonderful little spot just between the breasts, underneath where the little bow appliqués are usually placed on bras. The wonderful feminine little spot where a young child's face would be pressed up against one as a mother and woman. I felt the image so deeply, and wanted it with such a longing, that I was surprised to feel an intense pain start right there. It was a searingly hot pain, of an intensity that I had never imagined. I let out a little cry of agony and clutched at the spot, but the pain seemed to be subsiding just as fast as it came. Very freaky, I thought, but then the same pain resurfaced in a ring of hot scalding pain that came out from the original spot. I had to clench my teeth so as not to scream in agony, but I am sure I let out an audible sound when the pain seemed to find my nipples. Like two hot pokers the pain burned there and then subsided again.

I saw someone coming over to see what was the matter with me. I was sweating profusely now, and my mind was struggling to stop from passing out. It must be the change I thought to myself. What else could it be? Just as another colossal ring of pain now hit, this time stretching in a circle from my neck down my sides to my stomach, I saw two large nipples poking out my dress and I wanted to rejoice but the new pain, covering an even larger area was full upon me now and I am sure I gave out a screech. The man who had come over called out, "What's the matter miss? Do you need help?"

I couldn't talk for a second as the pain rolled through me, but gasping for air, I said, "No, no, it's OK, it's nothing, it'll be over in a minute and I'll be fine."

The pain went away and I relaxed again, but just for a second or two, because now I felt the hurt come shooting straight up my neck and down into my loins. I realized in a sort of horror that my penis was going to vanish forever and then I knew it had happened. Through great effort I stifled my pain as the man, now joined by a couple of women came over to help me. I knew that the next jolt was going to be the last, my head and my legs, and as it started I knew I couldn't stay awake: the pain in my brain would make all the others look small.
 

 
After what turned out to be just a few minutes later, I awoke to smelling salts being administered by a paramedic who had been called by the store. "Miss, miss are you OK now?"

"Huh?" I groaned half asleep.

"Are you OK? Do you have a medical condition like diabetes?"

"No, no, I'm OK now," I said as I regained consciousness.

"Can you walk?"

"I think so." I started to move as if to get up, and I noticed that even though

I had a mass of hair against the sides of my face, my wig was lying on the floor next to me. I reached up and touched the hair and looked at it. It was long and blonde. I wanted to cry terribly, but didn't want to do so with everyone staring at me.

Between my legs I felt wet and as I started to get up, I saw that a small red stain had formed on my dress. The medic saw it the same instant as me, and said, "are you having a period?"

"Yes, I guess so," I said, while inside I wanted to scream out loud with joy.

"Maybe you had a sudden large blood loss from your period, causing you to faint?"

"Yes, I think so. It happens occasionally to me," I lied. Of course, it was my very first period, and it made sense to me that it would be there after the transformation.

A woman standing behind the medic, said, "There are pads in the restroom.

First I'll get you some paper towels so you can get there without dripping."

The woman rushed off and came back with some towels and after the medic and everyone else was shooed away, I put them inside my panties and the woman helped me up. I had trouble standing since the shoes were a terrible fit; there must have been an extra inch in them now. The pantyhose seemed to be a little too baggy and my bra felt very tight. The dress still seemed to fit, though it was disheveled from the sweat and blood.

In the rest room I cleaned myself up, and put on a pad. The mirror turned out to be very kind to me: I had a pretty face and my figure was much nicer than I could have ever hoped for. I profusely thanked the woman who had been helping me and left to go find Grandma.
 

 
She was waiting for me as she said she would be. I plopped down beside her on a sofa in the cocktail lounge, and I don't think that she was fully prepared for the hard reality of the transformation, since she was alternating speechless and crying for ten minutes. I was scared it would do her in, but happily she finally was able to accept what had happened, that it did work, that Grandpa's theory was true.

"Was it bad?" Grandma asked.

"Yes, Grandma, it was, but I don't have any regrets."

She looked me over and noticed the red stain. "I came into the world having my first period," I said, "but I was able to get a pad from the ladies room." I told her the story of how it happened, about the boy Ivan, about F.A.O. Schwartz and she nodded her head and listened closely.

"Isn't it funny? My shoes don't fit, and the diamond ring, I guess, didn't help very much after all."

Grandma smiled at me. "I'm glad I bought it for you. What should we call you now? Have you thought about your name?"

"No, I didn't Grandma, but I've always like the name Pamela."

"That's a very pretty name. From now on you'll be Pamela."

We sat like that for a while. I drank a glass of Chardonnay and eventually said, "I'm sleepy Grandma, I think I ought to go home now."

"Yes, you've done enough for one day. Let's get a cab and we'll take you to Penn Station."
 

 
 
Epilogue
 
Joey and I were married later that Fall, and Elise never could figure out what had happened to her. Grandma wrote a famous article about my Fifth Avenue transit into womanhood which has led to many young men trying to emulate my experience. Just go to Fifth Avenue any bright Spring day, and you may very well see some rather awkward young men dressing up as girls and walking determinedly up the Avenue. How many transit successfully by the time they reach the Plaza, is anyone's guess.