As expected, Cindy is less than enthusiastic about my new bust line. She looks at me with a sour face and says, “I would say you look ridiculous, except I know I am supposed to be supportive to you. Is this really necessary, though?”

I shrug and say, “It wasn’t my choice. Dr. Ginger just glued them on without asking.” Cindy gasps, “They are [b]glued[/b] on? Are you kidding me? Well, I guess you are about to have a better understanding of what it is like… Just wait until they get in your way of everything…”

I know better than to press it. I know that she will get used to the sight in due time… I just need to give her time and not push it… So, I go about the day as if nothing is different… Except she is right—the danged things get in the way of everything! I don’t grumble or groan, though—I can’t expect any sympathy from her on this one.

We get dressed for supper. I put on a dress that shows off my new assets—not that I have any others in my closet that would hide them, even if I wanted to. Cindy just harrumphs as I freshen up my makeup. I still ask her what she thinks and she grudgingly says I look nice and fixes a few small mistakes I had made on my makeup. I kiss her and we go downstairs.

There is a new hostess tonight, Gabi, and she doesn’t ask our preference; she just takes us to a table with another couple. Cindy smiles and says, “Hi, Margret! How are you tonight? Ro…err, Gwen, this is Margret—she is in my support group.” I say hi to Margret and she says, “Hello, Gwen. This is Georgia, my…umm…my…significant other, I guess is the best term, now. Husband won’t do.” She giggles a bit. Georgia is beautiful… She is obviously further along than me and much more feminine than I ever hope to be…

We all sit down and start talking. Cindy and Margret are fast becoming good friends. Georgia and I talk while they gab. I find out that she is in the experimental program that I am in, as well; and is a VIP. I say, “You look marvelous! How much longer do you have?” She tells me that she just has a couple of weeks left before the final surgery and shows me a before picture. I gasp. It is a picture of a guy that looks [b]nothing[/b] like the girl sitting at the table with me. She tells me it is all in the experimental drug and a lot of cosmetic surgery; that I will have the same to look forward to.

Unfortunately, there is no way for me really scrutinize the picture. I can’t tell if this is one of the criminals or a terrorists I am supposed to be looking for. Somehow, I don’t seem to be making any progress, at all…

We talk for quite a while and share a bottle of wine. I can’t help but notice that Margret is much more supportive of Georgia than Cindy is of me. I can’t help but ask, “Margret, have you always been this supportive of Georgia?” She giggles and says, “Goodness, no! It is like I told your wife. In the beginning, I thought it was the stupidest idea she could have ever had. Now, though…well…I can’t wait until the program is complete!”

Cindy looks thoughtful but stays quiet. We finish another bottle of wine and all go up to our rooms, since it is getting late. Cindy and I get ready for bed. After we climb in, she says, “It is not that I am not supporting you, R…Gwen. It is just that your case is different.” I raise an eyebrow and ask, “How so?” She blows out a lung-full of air and says, “You know…” She seems to think about what she was going to say and finishes with, “…well, it just is…”

I roll my eyes and turn out the light.

The first week goes by quickly. It is filled with me practicing my makeup until I can do it perfectly. I also have to practice walking in my heels and sitting properly; all of the basic feminine actions and gestures. Cindy and I get to know Margret and Georgina much better and meet a few other couples, but I don’t see any of the individuals that I am supposed to be looking for. Although, everyone I meet seems to be very close to the end of the program and bears very little resemblance to their former selves—and few are willing to show their ‘before’ pictures…

Cindy is starting to loosen up a little about the whole thing. I think it is a mix of her support group, the one-on-one interaction with Margret, and her just adjusting to seeing me like this. That is, she was loosening up until she hears today’s news from Dr. Ginger.

It is early Monday morning of the second week. We are both sitting in a room with her and she is asking how we are doing. After we assure her that things are going well, she says, “Good! I am glad to hear that. Gwen, I have you scheduled this afternoon for your first feminization surgery.” Cindy gasps and Dr. Ginger continues, “We will have to do several before it is over with, but this will go a long ways towards feminizing your face. We will work on your nose, your forehead, your chin, and remove your Adam’s apple. We will also plump your lips bit and lift your cheeks. Later we will work on your vocal chords and a few other things, along with tidying up things from this surgery. We may have to do another smaller procedure or two after that. I promise that you will be beautiful when we are done.”

Cindy looks like she is going to have a stroke. Finally, she can’t stand it anymore and asks, “Doctor, isn’t it awfully early in the process for surgery?” She says, “Quite the contrary. There needs to be sufficient time to heal between surgeries…and for both Gwen and you to adjust to the changes. I promise, you won’t be disappointed in the results! Oh, we will likely do a bit of body-sculpting today, as well. Which reminds me, how are your breast forms doing?”

I shrug and say, “I don’t notice them as much anymore. At times I still feel the weight as being unusual—and I still bump into things.” I giggle a little. Dr. Ginger nods and says, “That will get better. When we are done, you will be a little larger even… OK, you are free to go and do whatever you want for a couple of hours…except eat or drink. Sorry.”

We leave and Cindy pounces on me, as soon as we are out of the office. “Are you nuts,” she asks. She is near hyperventilating when she continues, “You can’t have that surgery…that is way permanent!” I shrug and say, “I can’t very well not have it if I want to be a woman, now can I?” She starts to retort and just turns on her heels and marches off towards the dining room.

I sigh and go outside to get some fresh air.

“Just relax, Gwen,” Dr. Ginger says, “and this will be over before you know it.” She gives me an injection through the i.v. set and I drift off into blackness…

I come to and feel like a semi has run over me. I groan and Cindy comes over. She pats my hand and says, “It will be OK, Sweetie. You were very brave to go through with this. I know I gave you shit before, but…well, I know you have to do this. How do you feel?” I groan again. She laughs and says, “That good, huh. Well, I hate to say you look like shit in mummy-chic.”

That is when I notice that my face is all wrapped up in bandages. I have also have some of corset-type thing on my body. I can barely move.

Dr. Ginger comes in and smiles as she says, “Good! You are awake! How are you feeling? I am sure you are in pain.” I nod. She says, “I will give you some pain meds. But only for a couple of days, OK? You will have to start moving around in a couple of days.”

And so, the next couple of days are a medicated blur. I just remember the feeling of laying on clouds…

Unfortunately, I fall through the clouds on the fourth day post-op and hit the ground hard. Dr. Ginger takes me off the pain meds and insists that I start moving around. I get up and groan—my whole body hurts. The corset-thingy does not help any; Cindy tells me that it is because they had done lipo and a tummy-tuck on me. My breasts feel different, too. When I look down, I discover that I no longer have the glued on version, but the implant variety…and they feel huge. My face is still wrapped in bandages and I can’t breathe through my nose.

Cindy holds on to my arm and we walk down the halls to get my blood flowing and my legs working again. There are a couple of others in similar shape to me in the hallways. Of course, there is no way for me to see any of them to compare them to my mental list.

I spend the next few days in this ward doing the same thing. Walking around and slowly getting over the major pain—the swelling must be getting better, since I can breathe through my nose a little again. The Monday following the surgery, Dr. Ginger asks, “Well, Gwen, are you ready to get rid of those bandages?” I nod enthusiastically. She warns me, “Now, the swelling will not be completely gone—and there will still be a lot of bruising, so don’t be shocked. It will take another week, or so, for that to all go away.”

I nod and she starts taking off the bandages. Cindy gasps when she sees me. I can’t see in the mirror, yet, so I am not sure if it is because of my new face, the bruising and swelling, or both. Dr. Ginger finally finishes getting the bandages off and hands me a mirror. I look in it and now it is my turn to gasp.

Yes, I am black and blue and green all over from the bruises…but I look like a woman! My forehead and brow are much less pronounced. My chin is smaller and rounder. My cheeks are higher and my lips fuller. My Adam’s apple is gone. And my nose doesn’t resemble my largish one of old at all anymore—the only way to describe it now is…a cute little button-nose!

Overall, the effect is stunning—and I barely would know myself anymore. Dr. Ginger says, “Like I said, the bruising has to go away…and when the swelling goes completely down, the effect on your face will be even more striking. You will have to leave the corset on for a few more weeks to let your skin heal back onto your body correctly. We removed quite a bit of abdominal fat and cleaned up your lines. Oh, and how are the implants doing?”

I say, “They feel funny…still sort of tight…and like they are in my face.” She nods and says, “They will settle in a few weeks…and your skin will stretch. Then we will add more saline. You still have two cups to go.” Cindy gasps again and says, “Won’t that be awfully large?” Dr. Ginger says, “It will be on the upper end of normal, but it is standard for transsexuals to go a little larger to fit their frames…”

She finishes a few notes and says, “OK, Gwen. You are free to back to your suite. You will need to take it easy for the next week still, but then it will be back to a full schedule of feminization!”

We leave the room and I gasp as I see a patient being wheeled out of a room. The nurse is in my way of a full view and they are at the other end of the hall but I am almost certain that the person on the gurney is Ben Staden… One of the major terrorists that I am to look out for.