Phil fought his way slowly back to consciousness. He had only vague surreal thoughts coming and going into focus in his head. He couldn't quite put his finger on it; nothing hurt yet his body felt wrong somehow. His arms were pinned under the blankets, the feeling of being restrained was an irritant. The only logical explanation was that someone had tucked the blankets in too tight.

He shifted in bed trying to free his arms and noticed that his ass felt huge, like he was laying on a soft pillow. The slightest movement of his head brought a tickling sensation to both ears. Because his arms were pinned under the blankets he was unable to investigate. He moved his head and an annoying strand of hair fell across his face. He puckered his lips and with a single puff of air was able to blow it away. All this twitching made him aware there was a weight on his chest that was the most disconcerting. When he moved the weight seemed to shift with him. He didn't have a reasonable explanation for that.

The tactile impressions bombarding his senses were foreign. Not uncomfortable really, in fact there was a vague sense of pleasure associated with them.

Before he could explore his environment further, voices fought through the fog of his brain. His eyes seemed stuck so that they would not open. After working to get them open, he managed to get one eye open a crack.

He saw two men dressed in lab coats standing at the foot of the bed he occupied, going over a medical chart. One, presumably a doctor raised his voice, "Damnit Ron! Stop trying to run up your bill. This patient doesn't need any more tests. He isn't suffering from a concussion. I tell you I have seen this kind of thing before. It's a textbook case of hysterical amnesia. Tranquilizers and a few days bed rest is the only treatment needed."

As Phil waited for the two to leave, he struggled to remember how he got here. There were no memories of an accident involving his head he really had no head pain, so that only left some sort of a traumatic incident. As hard as he tried, he was unable to recall what event could have produced amnesia. Since he couldn't think his way out of his predicament, he decided to investigate his environment.

As a highly competent psychologist, Phil brought his logical abilities to bear. Without moving his head, he could see that it was obvious he was in a hospital somewhere. There was an empty bed to his right and an open door to a bathroom to his left. He tried to look past the foot of his bed but his vision was obstructed by a mound of blankets. He reasoned that this must be the weight he felt on his chest.

There was a strap across his chest that was keeping him from moving very well. The constriction of the strap combined with the blankets was what was making it difficult to move his hands and arms. After some struggle, he worked his arms free and found he could undo the strap across his chest. He forced himself up onto his elbows and caught a quick glimpse of a room full of women, all in hospital beds. He fell back bewildered as to why he would be in a ward full of women. Afraid that if one of them saw a man in the room there might be trouble, he fell back onto his pillow and tried to burrow into the sheets and blankets.

He really wanted to maintain a low profile until he could figure out why he was there and how he could leave. That became a lost cause when the familiar urge of a full bladder hit him like a sledge hammer. After lowering the safety rails on the bathroom side of the bed, he swung his legs onto the floor. To limit his exposure, he pushed himself into a standing position and scampered the two steps to the toilet. He slammed the door and collapsed against the inside, surprisingly fatigued from the effort.

That is when he experienced a true Twilight Zone moment. The strange weight on his chest was still there even without the blankets, as well as the gown he was wearing stood out away from his body. The only explanation for what was happening was that he was somehow hallucinating. That also had to be the reason for why he was wearing a pink hospital gown and why long blonde locks kept obscuring his vision. He felt week but didn't feel dizzy or as though he were under the influence of medication that would affect him that way.

When he reached up to his head and felt the mass of hair that crowned his head, he could only assume that he wore a wig for some reason. He took hold and pulled. The pain that followed let him know that they were somehow permanently attached to his scalp. Confusion really overtook his senses. He knew he needed a haircut; but his hair was certainly not blonde.

"What the fuck is going on?" he mumbled. The sound of his voice didn't sound right either. He thought back to what the doctor had said about a head injury and decided that must be the answer. Phil tried to relax and rationalized that his surroundings were a figment of his imagination, they only appeared real.

As a mental health professional, he was well acquainted with the symptoms of schizophrenia. He was obviously seeing things and if he started to hear imaginary voices he was going to check himself into a sanatorium.

His bladder issue threatened to spill over onto the floor, so he stumbled to the toilet before he had an accident. As he stood before the bowl, his center of balance seemed off. A glance down to make sure he was aiming correctly proved impossible as whatever was under his paper frock blocked his view. He really did not need to see what he was doing, so he stared straight ahead and pulled up his hospital gown, found his manhood by feel and aimed to where he thought was the center of the bowl and relieved himself. When he shook his customary three times, things again didn't seem right; he could swear his snake seemed more like an inchworm in his hand.

Having finished urinating, a rather perplexed Phil continued his trek along what was becoming the yellow brick road. Unable to see his feet, he advanced slowly as if feeling his way to the sink to wash his hands. Standing in front of the wash basin he raised his head and looked into the vanity mirror. What he saw gave him heart palpitations. Staring back at him through a concealing veil of hair was a person with long wavy blonde hair that fell across his eyes. To the sides, the tresses hung down to his shoulders. He reached up with both hands and tucked the locks behind his ears to clear his field of vision. What it revealed was again a shock. There were two ears gaily festooned by sparkling stud earrings. Phil knew he had never had his ears pierced. He gingerly felt each earring to check that they were in fact attached through a hole in his ear. The evidence before him was incontrovertible, he had three holes in each ear.

His methodical inspection process also exposed ten long fingernails painted a bright red color that matched perfectly the color on his now quivering plump lips. What he saw was the face of a woman looking like she was ready for a stage production of Cleopatra. The eyes were whorishly outlined in thick black liner which only served to accentuate the smoky gray eyeshadow. To make things worse, the eyes were topped by highly arched pencil thin eyebrows.

The image in the mirror just did not match what he knew had to be there. Phil became so pale even his rouged checks couldn't hide his pallor. His limbs trembled as if palsied, only by grabbing the sink was he able to keep from collapsing. He knew he was going crazy and shock was setting in.

His eyes fell to the gown that stood out from his chest. Based upon the available evidence, he suspected what he might find if he looked. He was terrified, but he had to know. He pulled the gown out away from his chest and discovered two breasts, encased in a lacy brassiere. Not just any breasts; but two of the biggest he had ever seen. He could see large dark areolas through the lace, surrounding nipples as thick as his pinkie.

He didn't know how; but he was sure someone was pulling a practical joke on him. The mounds on his chest had to be some sort of prosthetic glued in place. With quivering hands, he had to test his latest hypothesis, so he reached in and touched the mounds of flesh on his chest. When they touched back, he tore the gown open exposing his chest to find that his breasts were not glued on. His next search was between his legs, only to find that he might still have his bat but his balls were AWOL.

He slumped to the floor crying hysterically, "This isn't happening. I'm no fucking girl!"

It took two burly orderlies to subdue Phil and haul his hysterical body to the mental ward where he was again sedated. His first admittance had been under the name on his driver's license, Phyllis Darlene Brown. Despite his protestations to the contrary, that was how he was addressed for the remainder of his stay.

A quick physical examination revealed his male genitalia. The admitting had seen this type of reaction from other transsexuals who had second thoughts during transition. So he left strict instructions in his chart to only address the patient as Phyllis or Miss Brown and to treat the patient as a female.

Every time Phil tried to convince the staff there was a mistake and that he was a man, he was met with soothing voices and a sedative nap. He eventually gave up and accepted the situation for what it was.

After his three days of observation, Phyllis woke up in his bed. Happily, the restraints and catheter had been removed. Opening his eyes revealed his father in-law, Mike, standing over him.

The only thing Phil could choke out was the word, "Water."

Mike magically produced a Styrofoam cup of ice water. Phil downed it in one large gulp, like a parched man at a desert oasis. Refreshed, he started to hyperventilate.

Mike could see that Phil was moving toward overload so he shook Phil’s shoulder and asked, "What do you remember?"

Phil thought for a minute before answering, "My God, I was in the bathroom and found I swapped my balls for a set of boobs."

"Yes, that is all true. I meant what do you recall about being here in the hospital?"

Phil thought before he responded, "I don't remember it all; but I think I was too late to stop Carol from having her surgery. My lord it was SRS if I haven't completely lost it." Phil's eyes went wide in fear.

"How long have I been out? Where's Carol? Please tell me she isn't a he! Is that what this is all about? Someone has decided to trade my masculinity for her femininity?"

Mike's firm grip on his shoulder got his attention. "Relax everything's fine."

Phil managed to settle down somewhat, but only to be able to look at Mike. How could he deal with the fact that he hadn't saved his wife from destroying herself?

"How can you say that? I'm only half the man I once was and my wife is going the other way. This is so wrong!"

Mike smiled and held up a hand to stop another outburst.

"Let me try to explain," he said.

"I still have a number of contacts here in the hospital. When you called and told me that Carol was here, I knew that we couldn't get here in time to stop her from being taken to surgery. So I phoned ahead and had a long talk with her surgeon to explain the situation to him. After he consulted with her original doctor, he did just as we originally planned."

Phil blinked as he tried to process what Mike said. "Hold on there, Mike you lost me."

Mike leaned forward. "The idea was to teach Carol a lesson. Right? She told us she was going to give up her womanhood by having a double mastectomy. So to mimic that, we got her a breast lift. To let her think that her genitals had been operated on she had liposuction on her inner thighs. And the doctor performed a vaginoplasty. That is a procedure the doctor had talked to Carol about previously to tighten up her vagina. The discomfort from that will be convincing I would think. In lieu of a new masculine face, we gave her a face lift to go along with a new nose to correct the slight bump she has had since childhood.

Nothing outrageous. She'll actually come out of this more attractive than when she went in. She's so heavily bandaged and sore in all the right places that she won't figure out what we arranged for at least a few days.

"I’ve talked to her surgical nurse. Things went just like I predicted and she had a change of heart at the last minute. In Carol's case, it WAS too late because the anesthesiologist put her out before she could back out. She is going to think that this is her worst nightmare. She will believe she got exactly what she was threatening."

Mike paused in his narrative and said, "To cover the surgical staff and the hospital, they need to have you sign off on the forms authorizing them to have performed those procedures.” He smiled slightly as he continued, "It’s a bit poetic that you would be able to use your power of attorney over Carol in the same way she did with you."

Phil nodded in acknowledgement, slightly confused.

Mike pulled up a chair and sat next to his son-in-law's bed. "How much do you remember about the last few days?"

Phil thought for a minute or two. "I have vague recollections of Carol threatening to have a sex change. For the life of me I can't figure out why."

Mike frowned as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.

"There's a lot that I need to tell you then and some of it is going to be difficult. So just make yourself comfortable because this is going to take a while." He sighed and began telling his story, "Carol found a stash of women's clothes you were storing for a transgender patient and jumped to the conclusion that they were yours."

Phil snorted, "That's ridiculous. How could she come to that conclusion?"

Mike nodded in agreement. "Well the way I understand it, she also found a notebook detailing how unhappy you are as a woman trapped in a man's body. That prompted her to hack into your laptop and looked at your recent google searches."

"Hold up, I remember that. The notebook wasn't mine that was a patient's diary I had him keep. The computer searches were research trying to understand his gender dysphoria."

Mike gave his new daughter a reassuring smile and went on, "Carol's mistake was not verifying the author of the notebook. Like she always does, she jumped to a conclusion, with dire consequences in your case.

"Anyway, right or wrong, she believed you wanted to be a woman. It is her assertion that what she did was done out of love. According to Carol, she was willing to make the sacrifice and give you want you wanted. Any of this sounding familiar?"

A tense feeling was forming in the pit of Phil’s stomach as his memory began to stir.

"It's starting to come back. How did she get me to agree to any of this?"

"She drugged you and took you to her surgery and performed a number of procedures. The breast augmentations being the most obvious. She also worked on your vocal cords to give you a more feminine tenor. As you woke up from surgery, she went further and had your makeup tattooed on, pierced your ears among other things."

Phil's memory was still fuzzy but starting to come back a little at a time. "That's what happened to my testes she took them from me! Didn't she also use her power of attorney to change my name?"

Mike nodded again with an unhappy frown. "I'm sorry; but that's right. As far as the world is concerned, you are now Phyllis Darlene Brown. Personally, I'm not crazy about the name Phyllis but Darlene has a nice ring to it, don't you think? But based upon the way you look now, a feminine name makes more sense."

Everything that he had been through for the past year or so was now crystal clear in Phil's memory. He might have come to an uneasy truce with what he had become, but he still was not ready to joke about it.

"Knock it off Mike, I don't think you're funny."

Mike reached over and held Phyllis' hand. "Since you are still technically a male, your marriage remains intact. The relationship between you and I is a little confusing to me and we've never really discussed it, but as far as I can see, you are now technically my daughter-in-law.

"I know that the old Phil was never comfortable doing it, but it would mean a lot to me if you would call me Dad. We can just drop that in-law crap and you can be my second daughter."

Phyllis began to cry. Embarrassed, he apologized for his outburst.

Mike said, "Don't worry about it. It's probably just the hormones."

"What hormones? Carol took my boys."

"Yes, that's true. She confessed to me she implanted experimental slow release female capsules to compensate for what you lost. If they perform as the manufacturer promises, they will mimic the female cycle. You are spared periods and cramps; however, it is my understanding that PMS will be a monthly visitor. Meaning that every 28 days, you will have to put up with bloating, tender breasts and wild mood swings.

"I'll always be there for you. You are my daughter after all. That's what fathers do."

Phil looked at Mike and saw something in his expression. "Dad there's something you're not telling me."

Mike couldn't look Phil in the eyes and said, "Yes I did my own research on those hormones. There's a chance they will cause additional breast growth."

"OMG they are huge already. What kind of a chance?"

"It's just a slim chance. I just wanted to warn you. In case you wondered about your bra's becoming too tight."

The two hugged and Phyllis sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "Thanks Dad. I guess forewarned is forearmed."

A nurse brought in a tray of food. Phil sat up in bed and the two shared the typically bland hospital meal. As Phil ate the last of his green Jell-O, he considered their plan to punish Carol. He'd fooled her into believing he had been with a man. And how he and Chris had pretended to be intimate. He could see that he really hadn't thought this thing all the way through.

He crossed his arms where they snuggled nicely under his female enhanced endowments. "Dad, what do we do now?"

Mike sat back again and looked thoughtful. "We'll let her stew for a couple of days, it's time she paid the piper for her past arrogance. When they change her bandages we will have to let her know the truth. By then she will have learned a valuable lesson."

"When can I see her? We need to have a talk."

"Slow down. She must believe she has gone through a rather severe surgery. We will wait until tomorrow to see her. First, we need to get you out of here. As your therapist of record, I should be able to make that happen. It may take a while. Why don't you relax?"

The paperwork took a lot longer than Phil liked; but it allowed him plenty of time to think.

He mulled over the anger that he felt at his wife for taking such cavalier liberties with his body. She took his manhood away. His first reaction had been to leave her. But where would a half woman, half man go? If he was just a normal appearing woman, he could just blend into society. No, that hadn't been good enough for Carol. She had given him outlandish Barbie Doll dimensions that would make him the center of attention anywhere he tried to go.

He raged at his body and held Carol solely responsible. The memory of dejection, hurt and most of all sadness came flooding back to him. He recalled wanting to hate her for what she did, but he couldn't maintain the vehemence. He still loved Carol and that love kept getting in the way. The depression that he had dealt with worked against that love at the same time and he'd gone through a period of feeling empty.

Even though it had not been Carol's intention; through honest, objective reflection, Phil came to recognize that his practice skyrocketed mainly because of his new form. His reputation as a transsexual shrink spread though San Francisco communities faster than a jungle telegraph.

Deep down, he resented looking like a hardcore porn star; but he had always been a glass half full person so like the prayer says, 'God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. The courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference.'

It hadn't been an easy journey and Carol's father, Mike, had helped him with counselling to deal with the anger and depression. Once his pent-up anger slowly turned to acceptance, he was able to reach a level of serenity and contentedness.

Waiting for his release found him practically bored to tears, after all psych wards do not put televisions in the rooms. He sat in his bed and tried to find his happy place. He looked up when two nurses that looked young enough to be candy strippers showed up at his door.

"Hello Miss Phyllis, we hear you're to be released. It's our job to get you ready to go home. First, we're going to bathe you. Then Sally here will fix your hair while I give you a manicure."

Phyllis enjoyed the pampering, especially the shampoo and scalp massage. He was really relaxed until the sponge bath got to his genitals. He was concerned how his little man would respond to a soapy wash by two giggling girls. He was thankful nothing happened. Unfortunately, his sensitive breasts seemed to make up for the lack of response of his lower body. His nipples popped up like they had been shot from a cannon. Interestingly, his little man appeared to be hooked in with his breasts as it took to flight as well. A deft tug on the sheets managed to hide that fact.

The girls were very efficient, with the aid of a curling iron Sally had his hair untangled and in long luxurious curls in no time. She put a light coat of hairspray to hold everything in place just as Rose put the topcoat on his nails.

The two girls stood back to admire their work before they walked Phil to the mirror to get his approval. He gushed at his appearance, they had toned down his tarty look and he now appeared merely glamorous. Phil thought, 'If I must be a woman this is the one I want to be.'

He hugged both ladies and they responded with a series of air kisses in return.

Mike came in with gifts just as the girls are leaving. He carried two shopping bags from an upscale boutique in each hand, it looked like he was late because he had gone shopping.

"I took the clothes that you were admitted in into the store so that they could help me with your sizes." Mike said. "It's the first time in my life that I ever went dress shopping." He grinned at the how he must have looked to people as he passed judgment on dresses and shoes for Phyllis.

Phyllis pulled out a smock sundress with a tropical print that looked like it might be nice.

Seeing what Phyllis was looking at, Mike said, "They assured me that would be figure-flattering for a woman with your stature."

Mike held up a pair of shoes that had been suggested as complementing the dress, he was unsure of the reception he would receive. To his surprise, the gifts earned him a huge smile followed by a hug and a kiss on the cheek. An embarrassed Mike handed his newest daughter a separate bag containing fresh underwear, including a support bra, silk panties, and a new pair of pantyhose.

The two nurses had lingered at the door long enough to watch Phyllis's reaction. When he literally jumped for joy. Sally turned to Rose and whispered, "That is the first time I have ever played with a guy's joy stick and got no response."

Rose smiled in response, "I know, but based upon his reaction over the new dress, there is no question in my mind about whether he is a she. The shopping gene doesn’t just grow; you have to have it in the first place." Sally frowned at the comment before she caught on. Phyllis might be part man and part woman on the outside, but she was all woman on the inside.

Mike waited in the hall while Phyllis got dressed and then followed hospital protocol by wheeling Phyllis out to his car in a wheelchair. The drive home was in total silence. Mike walked Phyllis to his front door and said, "I'll pick you up after work. You, Liz, and I can all go in to see Carol together."

It was a sleepless night for Phil. He tossed and turned all night long. Twice he had to get out of bed to untangle his long nightgown.

@ @ @ @

The day at work dragged on and Phil spent his free time worrying about the visit that was coming with Carol. He ruined a perfectly good manicure by biting his nails. The random thought popped into his brain, 'It will take a trip to the salon to get all this damage repaired.'

Mike and Liz pulled into the parking lot right at quitting time. Phyllis, wearing a cozy and comfy yellow sweater dress, was standing on the curb waiting impatiently. He climbed into the back only to find he was sharing it with a hanging clothes carrier. "Dad, what's the bag for?"

"Oh that's a change of clothes for my other daughter," Mike said with a light tone to his voice. It promised humor and mischief at the same time.

Phyllis looked at the garment inside and said, "What's strange is that it looks like a man's suit."

"It is. That is what Carl will be wearing home, and wait until she sees what I have waiting for her. I took all her girlie clothes that she has at our house and moved them to storage. Her closet is full of Marlboro man outfits…plaid wool shirts and corduroy pants. I also replaced her underwear with men's t-shirts and tighty whitie underpants."

At that, Liz broke down in tears. Mike was rather callous towards his wife as he said, "Get over it Liz. Your daughter is getting just what she deserves, look what she did to our son-in-law. This is just karma. If we are lucky, she'll learn from this and become a better person when it's over."

Liz said nothing in response, which did not surprise Phyllis. There had been enough said between Carol's parents about their daughter's behavior and Phyllis knew that Liz thought that Carol was her angel. Mike had pointed out that Carol's actions could only be regarded as criminal, which Liz could not defend.

All Liz did was ferret through her purse to find a bottle of Xanax pills. She dry swallowed a couple of tablets and Mike reached over to take the bottle out of her hand. He put it in his coat pocket and glanced at her to make sure that she was okay. In a matter of minutes, Liz began to smile happily as the drugs kicked in. Both Mike and Phil took that as a good sign.

@ @ @ @

Mike pulled into one of the parking spots set aside for patient pickup. Like the gentleman he was, he opened his wife's door and helped her out. The he did the same for Phyllis. Phyllis removed the garment bag with Carol's suit and folded it over his arm. The trio headed for the front doors, with Mike maintaining a light hold on Liz's arm because of her medicated condition. Phyllis followed a step or two behind them, looking at the hospital building that loomed above them. It was understandable that he felt more than a little anxiety, he did not have fond memories of this place.

The parade made its way to Carol's private room, having privileges at the hospital had some perks after all.

Carol was propped in bed, obviously waiting for her family. Her appearance was somewhat grotesque, but it was understandable considering the surgical procedures she had experienced. Phyllis came to a stop as he came through the door, looking at Carol’s black eyes and puffy face that she had received as a result of the rhinoplasty. It’s amazing how medical steps intended to help a patient seem to actually make things worse before things get better. The three of them filed into the room with Mike taking a position at the end of the bed while Liz and Phil took up flanking positions on either side.

Her dad looked down at her and asked, "Hi, honey. How did it go?"

"Far worse than I expected; but I'm man enough to handle it!" She responded with a defiant stare. With a slight quiver she added, "I wouldn't want to go through that again. I feel like I was dragged through broken glass after having been roasted on a spit."

That response reduced Liz to a pitiful puddle as the waterworks started again. Mike took the pills from his pocket and gave two more to his wife. Then he turned to Carol, "Honey, the good news is that's a once-in-a lifetime event. You have traveled on a one-way street and there's no going back." At this point, shading the truth was necessary.

Phil had a hard time keeping his emotions in check watching the despair play across on his wife's face.

Carol as was her want, took to the offensive when she felt attacked.

"Daddy, you old geezer, who says I want to go back? What I've done was to show Phil how sorry I am. Since he can't go back it is only fair I can't either." She looked at Phil and smiled. "I've always loved Phil. Over the last few weeks I have found I love Phyllis even more. This way we are still husband and wife, our roles have simply been reversed. In fact, I can hardly wait to get Phyllis home and make her my bitch and prove to you all I can be a better man than Phil ever was!" Phyllis knew full well that Carol’s crudeness as an act as she did not speak that normally. He couldn’t believe that she actually thought like that.

Liz, now recovered from her brief trip on the crazy train, pushed Mike and Phyllis out the door saying, "You two get out of here. I want to spend some time with my daughter."

Mike bit his tongue, wanting to twist the knife by commenting, 'You mean your son.' Instead, he took Phyllis by the hand and said, "Come on. Let's go get a drink. I'll buy you a beer."

Phil responded, "Thanks Dad, I can really use a drink. But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather have a glass of wine."

Mike gave Phil an eye roll and said, "Whatever."

As they drove out of the parking lot, Phil said, "Please Dad, not back to your sports bar. I'm not ready for round two."

Mike took the hint and drove to a quiet cocktail longue nearby where he parked in a well-lit spot right next to the front door. Mike walked them into the quiet lounge and took a table off to the side where they could talk. Mike ordered his beer and Phyllis decided to have a glass of Chardonnay that he found quite delightful. They both quickly finished their first drinks. A pretty young waitress arrived to take their refill order. Phil watched Mike flirt with her. He reflected on the fact he would have done the same only a few months earlier. Now he was more likely to flirt with the handsome bartender, even if he wasn't sexually attracted to him. It wasn't until he had drained his second glass that Phil began to relax.

Phil leaned across the table and asked, "Dad, you've had a lot more experience in this area than I have. Can a person be a man and a woman at the same time?"

Mike pushed his empty glass to the side and answered, "As you know, biologically you can be only one or the other, but I suspect that isn't what you're talking about. Psychologically, you are who you are. No matter what the external packaging is."

Frustrated, Phil asked, "Then why do I feel so different when I'm in a dress? The scary part is the prettier I look the more feminine I feel."

At that instant, Mike's phone rang and he listened to whoever was talking. He put his phone away without saying a word. He waved down their waitress and asked for their bill. He turned to Phil and said, "That was Liz, it seems she and Carol got into it and the hospital staff had to separate them. We need to get back there before they kill each other."

"What was the fight over?"

"From what I gather, Carol told Liz she intended to fire the gardener and do all the yardwork herself. That freaked out Mother." As they walked back to the car, Mike said, "Now back to your issue. Why don't you stop by my den in a few days and we can examine your predicament in detail?"

When they got back to the hospital, Phil elected to remain in the car. Mike went in to collect his other two women.

Phil spent the time people watching. He found himself closely scrutinizing the women, more so than the men. There was a difference that he knew was there, but it was not immediately apparent. It took him several minutes to realize just what was bothering him.

Most woman today tended to dress down. It would seem women in general had traded feminine fashions for comfort. He saw ten ladies in slacks and loafers for every one that wore a skirt. Finding a woman wearing high heels during the day was nigh onto impossible.

Phil saw a steady stream of men in his practice all wanting to present as woman. He came to the realization most men trying to pass as a women tended to exaggerate their dress and mannerisms. They would willingly suffer through hours of agony in corsets and pointy toed stilettos chasing their dream of femininity. But he could see that they had it all wrong.

In the day-to-day world, women appeared to want to look and dress more like men with no repercussions, while society cast aspersions on men who wanted to look feminine. Even a man caught wearing a pink dress shirt had his sexual orientation questioned. Phil wondered about this phenomenon and thought it had the making of an excellent paper. He decided to get Mike's professional opinion on it when he had time.

Mike returned with only Liz in tow. Because of her emotional outburst, the hospital required Carol stay overnight for further evaluation.

Carol took a taxi home the next day. She had moved into the spare bedroom by the time Phyllis came home from work. The door was locked and she refused to respond to Phil's persistent knocking. Over the next few days, she kept the door locked most of the time. On the rare occasions that he did see his wife, his heart went out to her. She looked so miserable and he wanted so badly to tell her that her life had not been changed irrevocably.

@ @ @ @

Phyllis was cleaning up in the kitchen when he heard Carol close the front door. She had insisted upon keeping her appointment with her surgeon on her own, even though Phyllis had offered to take her. In a rare conversation, Carol had shared that she was dealing with persistent pain in her groin and chest areas. The fact that she had not called him told Phyllis that the doctor’s assessment of her recovery had been positive.

Mike's plan was to let her stew in her own juices but Phil just didn't have the stomach for it any more. Coming out of the kitchen, he asked her to sit down for a chat. He told her everything he and Mike had done. An expression of incredulity crossed her face. She folded her arms across her chest and said, "You did what? How dare you treat me that way?"

With that, she stormed out of the living room and went to her room, slamming the door. Thus began an uneasy truce between them, the bathroom and kitchen becoming a de facto DMZ. Carol would not leave her room except for bathroom breaks and Phyllis made only occasional overtures of peace. There were lots of please and thankyou's, but neither appeared ready to sit down and actually communicate.

The dynamic changed when two packages were delivered for Carol, things she had purchased using her smart phone and she had shipped overnight. After signing for them, Phil brought them in to Carol. She tore the brown paper wrapping off the first package to reveal a box gift wrapped underneath.

Carol surprised her husband by patting the bed next to her and saying, "Phyllis, sit."

Phil plopped himself down on the bed and got comfortable.

Carol glared at him and said, "I asked Phyllis to sit. Now get up and do it like a lady!"

Phil was caught off guard. He stood smoothed his skirt and daintily sat and crossed his legs as ladylike as he could. Carol handed him the package and said, "Here this is for you."

Phil unwrapped the package and removed the top of the box. What he found set his heart racing. It was a sexy lace baby doll sortie nightie in dark peach mesh with gorgeous grey lace cups. It was probably the most erotic sleepwear Phil had ever seen. However, he thought whoever wore that wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep. He said, "This can’t be for me."

Carol simply smiled and replied, "It most definitely is. The other box is a surprise we both can enjoy. The doctors tell me I will be strong enough for sex in a week."

Phil stood and in a very feminine gesture held the garment to his chest. It was apparent that it was too short as it ended halfway between his bellybutton and his groin. He searched through the box looking for the matching panties he was sure would be there. Finding nothing but tissue paper he asked. "The nightie doesn’t even come low enough to hide my private parts. Where is the bottom half?"

Carol gave her husband a sultry look and said, "Exactly as I planned, it allows for easy access."

She pulled out the contents of the second box. It was a strap on dong. Phil gasped and mentally clutched his butt cheeks. It was the largest he had ever seen. It was obvious to him what Carol had in mind. She took his hand and laid the artificial phallus in the palm of his hand. "Feel! It is so very life like. I can hardly wait to test drive it."

Cotton-mouthed, Phil said, "It's so large!"

"I know I hope you don't mind. I think size does matter. I am optimistic you will enjoy it as much as I do."

At that, Phil snapped and walked out of the room saying, "You're crazy if you think you are using that on me."

As the door slammed shut, Carol managed to get out, "You don't understand! It is for you to use on me."

@ @ @ @

Phil was furious, the thought of being used in that way solely for another person's pleasure was abhorrent to him. Maybe if things between them were better he wouldn't feel so upset.

He barely paused on the way out as he snatched his purse and decided to take a drive to calm down. As he sat in traffic waiting for the light to change, a carload of teenage boys pulled up next to him. Even with his window rolled up, he could plainly hear their catcalls. He merely turned up the volume on his radio.

As he slowly worked his way through the heavy Friday night traffic, he contemplated on why he had reacted so vehemently to Carol's suggestion. Being fucked, even by his wife, was too much for his manhood to take at this point. Then he realized if he was being totally honest, there was some part of him that was curious as what it would be like to totally surrender to Carol.

That part scared him. He had recently been having concerns about his true sexuality. As he drove, he found his route had brought him near the city's best known gentleman’s club 'Pandora’s Box' that advertised the most beautiful women. He made a split second decision to test his sexuality. He pulled into the parking lot and boldly walked to the front door. The doorman took one look at the busty beauty entering and he said, "I'm sorry tryouts for new dancers are Wednesdays."

Phil again became indignant and angrily told the man, "I'm not here looking for a job. I merely want to watch the show."

The man apologized for offending her and waived the cover charge. He called for a server and told her to show the lady to the reserved table right next to the stage. Phyllis thanked him and followed the scantily clad girl to the designated table.

Phil got comfortable and ordered a drink. He sipped his cocktail and watched a series of attractive women dance mere inches from his face. He wasn't trying to be egotistical or arrogant but he realized that Carol had done such a terrific job on him, he had a better body than anyone on the stage. He didn't have the dance moves but he would win hands down in a beauty contest.

None of the woman did anything for him. Which strengthened the possibility that maybe Phyllis was attracted to men. Since he was not tipping the girls lost interest and stopped giving him attention. He was working on his second drink when an attractive man took a seat at her table uninvited.

He introduced himself as George, the club manager. He told Phil he had been watching her and then he extended an invitation for a private audition in his office. Phil found the offer amusing, but not tempting. George tried to persuade him saying he would give Phyllis top billing and make her his headliner. He tried to impress Phyllis by telling her how much money she could make.

Phil smiled at what he was sure were exaggerated figures and told, "George no thank you, I couldn't afford the pay cut." That took the wind out of the man's sails. George wasn't easily discouraged and proceeded to ask Phyllis out for a date. When he again declined, George slipped her his business card. As he did so he said, "The club's business number is on the front if you ever need a job. If you reconsider about the date, my private cell number is on the back."

Phil smiled at him and took out her wallet paid for her drinks. As Phil made his way back to his car, he considered the ramifications of pretty, naked young woman doing nothing for him. Empirical evidence indicated that maybe he really was attracted to men. Getting into the car, he used his phone to find directions to the local Chippendales club.

In direct contradiction to his experience at the club he had just left, he was required to pay the outrageous cover charge to get in. He took a seat toward the near side which provided him a clear shot at an exit. The show started with real fanfare. The women in the audience were even more obnoxious than their male counter parts. They threw themselves at the performers along with handfuls of cash. There was a two drink minimum so Phil thought what the hell and ordered two double strength screwdrivers and sat back as a detached observer.

A mild alcohol buzz settled over him when the house lights suddenly went dark and there was an announcement, "One lucky lady had been selected for a private lap dance. She is located in seat 35 B." Phil was almost blinded by the spotlight shining on him. The women around him went bananas.

Before he knew what hit him, Phil was forcibly ushered to a room in the rear of the club. The door was closed and he was told to enjoy and that no one would disturb the performance. Phyllis sat in the only chair in the room. After a few moments, a man whose features were chiseled out of stone stepped in through a side door. His muscles seemed to have had developed muscles. He wore a white cowboy hat, a black bowtie, chaps all complimented by snakeskin cowboy boots and spurs.

His performance began with several feet between them. His body swayed and gyrated in such a way to call attention to his well-developed body and the parts that were concealed by what little clothing he wore. His dance seemed intended to afford Phyllis with glances of what was hidden without revealing anything.

By the time the dance ended, he was about two feet from Phyllis. His finale consisted of pulling his chaps off with one hand as the other hand covered his manhood with the hat. Phil still only caught a glimpse of his equipment, but a better look than he had gotten previously. The thought that raced through his mind was, 'Now I know where they got the mold for Carol's dildo.'

The dancer proceeded to hang the hat on his pole as he moved about the room in a seductive manner. After several minutes, he approached Phyllis and straddled his lap. He pulled away the hat and waved his thing back and forth to the rhythmic music under Phil's nose.

Phil sat awestruck unsure of what to do. If he moved his head a millimeter it would come in contact with the monster cock. Phil regained his senses and managed to push the behemoth off his lap. Grabbing his purse, he retreated to the car. He sat there for what seemed like forever as the parking lot emptied out.

He tried to make sense of his experiences. He now knew with total certainty that naked men were not his cup of tea. Yet the naked woman didn't float his boat either. He began to think he might be asexual. However, he realized when he had dreams at night they always involved Carol. What this all meant was beyond his capacity to consider especially after four strong drinks. He decided to pay Mike a visit first thing in the morning to sort this thing out.

He cautiously drove home and snuck in as quiet as a church mouse until he tripped over the throw rug in the living room. He angrily threw his purse on the coffee table. He passed the bedroom Carol was using and noted that the door was closed. He didn’t even bother to stop as he went on to bed in the master suite.

@ @ @ @

Carol woke to a clear sunny day. She put on her terrycloth bathrobe and went looking for her husband, hoping to clear up the misunderstanding. She saw the bedroom door was closed and decided to make coffee before trying to reopen the lines of communication. She saw Phyllis's purse on the table, part of its contents fallen to the floor. She stopped to pick things up. The one item that got her attention was a glossy card from Pandora's Box featuring a semi clad woman with humongous hooters.

Carol was furious that her husband would go to a strip club for companionship. If he wanted to regain his masculinity, why wouldn't he come to her? As she threw the card down on the table, she noticed handwriting on the back. Out of curiosity, she picked it up and read what was written on it. The handwriting was hard to decipher, but she could make out a phone number proceeded by a note of, 'When you’re ready for our date give me a call.' It was signed ‘Kisses, George’.

Her anger was mingled with a deep feeling of confusion. She wasn't a mental health expert, but it was obvious that her husband was having a hard time deciding which side of the gender divide he was more comfortable with. That really complicated how she was going to win his love back. Her anger was forgotten as she sat at the kitchen table and sipped her morning coffee while she went through her possible alternatives.

Should she be a submissive, meek and mild, lovey-dovey house wife? That was a role she wasn't comfortable playing. Besides, she had tried that once in an attempt to win Phil back and Phyllis had not responded to it. Or was Phyllis looking for a loving lipstick lesbian as his equal partner? She thought she could happily settle into that persona.

They could maintain a platonic, sisterly relationship. But Carol rejected that solution outright. She still loved him too much to totally give up a physical relationship.

From the dark recesses of her mind came the vision of being a female dominatrix to her husband. Sadly, she admitted that it was a role that fit her personality. Then a shiver went down her spine as a fresh thought struck her. God help her me if he wanted to be the domme. If that was the case, she would have to just let him go.

The best possible outcome might be to maintain their status quo. Where they remained a couple and occasionally enjoyed marital relations, while each maintained their professional careers.

Her train of thought was disturbed when she heard Phyllis stirring and the toilet being flushed. Carol knew she should sit down and talk the options over with her housemate/husband. She rejected that route out of hand. She was convinced she knew what was best for Phyllis. He might have the body of a lingerie model, but he still had the pea brain of a man. Besides he was confused right now, why clutter his brain with more decisions?

Carol got up and filled a cup for her husband. She had just put it on the table when Phyllis staggered into the kitchen, obviously suffering from a headache as he held his head with his manicured hands. He sat and asked where the aspirin bottle was.

Carol handed him the bottle she took from a drawer and asked if he wanted breakfast and she got, "Oh god no."

Carol smiled and recognized the obvious signs of a hangover. Hoping to get some explanation on his exploits the previous evening, she asked brightly, "Too much partying last night?"

Phyllis slowly shook his head. "No, it's just a touch of the flue, I’m calling the office and I’m taking the day off."

Each sat and finished their caffeine fix in a tense silence. Carol stood and placed the two empty mugs in the sink and left to get dressed. She had a long list of patients waiting for her.

Phil moped around the kitchen until his wife was gone. He retrieved his phone from his purse and called Mike wanting to know if he could come over. Mike agreed, saying he would make the time for his favorite daughter.

@ @ @ @

It took Phyllis the better part of an hour to look presentable. His best efforts couldn't hide the bloodshot eyes and bags under them.

He found Mike home alone, Liz was out somewhere. He sat in a hard back chair in Mike's office before he launched into a description of his actions of the previous evening, leaving nothing out. Mike leaned back in his chair with a well-practiced blank inscrutable expression.

When Phil was done, he simply looked up at Mike and saw him scribbling frantically in a note book. He asked Mike, "Well, what do you think I should do?"

Mike put it right back on Phil, "What do you think you should do?"

Phil was looking for advice, not psychotherapy. He pleaded with Mike to help.

Mike sat up in his chair and went back to his notebook and continued to take notes.

"Phil, it is obvious you are conflicted concerning your future and who you really are. You have been through so much in the last few months that it's no wonder. I am in no position to advise you on whether your future involves dresses or pants. That is a question only you can answer."

Mike tented his fingers and rested his chin on them as he looked at Phil, "All is not lost. I can help. There is this test that can identify where on the gender spectrum you fall. It will take almost an hour. I think it would be beneficial, at a minimum it will give you some empirical data to help base your decision on."

Phil nodded his consent, then asked if he was going to receiving the friends and neighbors discount on Mike's time.

Mike took that small joke as a good sign and handed Phil the test while he went and made coffee for the two of them.

When Phil took a sip of his, it was immediately obvious Mike had added spirits to the beverage.

Phil was emotionally exhausted by the time the assessment was completed. This time, Mike brought back a glass of Irish whiskey without being polluted with coffee. Mike wasn't going to let Phil leave in the emotional state he was in, so he thought nothing of dosing Phil with alcohol. For his part, Phil sat and enjoyed the slow relaxing glow that overtook him. He was on his second glass by the time Mike had finished tabulating the results.

Phil waited with bated breath for the results. Infuriatingly, Mike sat studying the paper in front of him. His hand was rubbing his chin and nothing but, 'hum' and 'that's interesting' came from his mouth. Finally shuffling the pile of papers together and fastening them with a paper clip he stood.

He walked over and paused behind Phyllis. He pushed aside his long hair and started rubbing his shoulders and finally broke his silence. "Honey, you are not going to like this. The test is inconclusive. There is definitely a strong feminine component to your personality, but not an overriding one. The one thing I am sure of is that Phil is not gay. Phyllis, on the other hand, if that is the way you decide to go is strongly leaning that way."

Phyllis frowned and turned to face Mike. "Dad, what are you telling me?"

Mike smiled and said, "The psychological effects of massive dosages of hormones on a person can be insidious. Aside from the obvious physical effects, evidence indicates it influences a person’s mental outlook. Using a sports analogy, from a mental standpoint you can be a true switch hitter, you can swing from both sides. The way I read your test results, I believe you can find sexual gratification from partners of both sexes. So to speak, it opens up the entire playing field when looking for sexual companions. The final decision is still in your hands. If you elect to be masculine, I'll refer you to a top notch endocrinologist. She is the best in her field and drugs might be able to give back some of what Carol took away."

Phyllis stood and found himself a tad unsteady on his feet, he had to grab the back of his chair for stability. Mike continued, "On the other hand, if you decide to stay as a woman, I would recommend you don't take half measures. Get the surgery and do it right."

This newsflash instigated a maelstrom in Phyllis's head. He completely lost it and broke down in a torrent of tears. Mike rushed over to where Phyllis was standing and held Phyllis in his arms and let the emotional tsunami pass.

Once in Mike's arms, Phyllis folded like a wet noodle. His chin lolled onto his chest as he blacked out and Mike was the only thing keeping him from sliding to the floor. Mike was not as young as he used to be. His strength failed, and the he crumpled backward into the chair. Phyllis landed in his lap, reflexively his arms encircled Mike's neck while Mike wrapped his arms around Phyllis's waist to keep him from crashing to the floor. Phyllis embraced Mike; but his head flopped backward. Phyllis started to sob again, and began to slip off Mike's lap. Mike did the natural thing and with both arms around his new daughter's waist pulled him back. This forced Phyllis's face to flop forward and into contact with Mike's.

That is when Liz walked into the room, seeing what she thought was her husband in a lip lock with her son-in-law. She took a deep breath and screamed, "Mike how could you?" Then fainted dead away.

Mike found himself caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place.

The 'woman' on his lap was comatose from emotional strain. She was total dead weight and Mike was unable to lift her.

His wife was passed out on the floor. He knew if he didn't go to her there would hell to pay.

He did the only thing he could think of. He slid his legs apart and let Phyllis gently slide to the floor where he was between his legs. As Mike stood up to go to Liz, she chose that moment to regain consciousness. From her perspective, Phil now had his face buried in her husband's crotch. This was more than she could take and she fainted again.

To be continued: