A story based in the real world. For some reason, a high school boy named J.J. went to sleep and didn't wake up for nearly 3 years. Someone else was awake in his place ...

		Sacrificial Alter Chapter 8 of 13 Femme Dans La Peau by **Sigh** Copyright© 2017 plaintivesigh All Rights Reserved.

J.J. was usually a non-stop talker. He lay in the treatment room at Passages Psychiatric Hospital where a nurse could constantly attend to him. Since awakening from his fainting spell, he just lay still and sobbed, his arms crossing his chest to keep his breasts out of his immediate vision. Dr. Rama now came to visit him.

As he approached his patient, the doctor said nothing. What he did do was pull up a chair next to the gurney and sit down there. He had a box of tissues, and he started doling them out to the teen.

Finally J.J. choked out a sentence. “What (sob) do you need?”

“I myself don’t need anything; I’m here so you won’t feel alone. So you know that I care about you, and so does every one else here.”

“Don’t you (sob) have more important things (sob) to do? You’re a doctor.”

“Right now, nothing is more important than me being here.”

J.J. took a bit to bawl out long and loud. In a few seconds he spoke again.

“I need my momma. If (sob, sniff) you want me comforted, she’s who I need.”

“I wish I could allow it. I cannot. This is even more complicated than you realize, J.J.; the local law is involved, and they have a say in where you stay. If I broke the rules for you, they might not look favorably on your case.”

“My (sniff) case? You mean my medical case?”

“No, unfortunately. Your court case.”

“I’m in trouble … with the law?? (sniff, sob) – my God, how much more worse does this nightmare get?”

“Worse than this, I’m afraid. We need to have a sit down visit where I go over what happened that night at homecoming, and what has happened since. You also need a physical hygiene primer for your new body; I’ll have our head clinical nurse do that with you. But you’re pretty upset now. I won’t proceed with these until you’re ready –“

“I’m ready.”

Rama was taken aback. “I don’t think you really are, Jacoby.”

“Doc. Let’s get the bad stuff out of the way. Otherwise the dread of what’s to come will be worse than going through it (sniff). Please.”

Rama sighed. “Okay – starting in the morning. You’ve been through enough today. I’m going to start you on a medicine to deal with depression and PTSD; the nurse will bring your first dose tonight.”

“Forget that. I don’t want to be a doped up zombie.”

“That’s not what this med does. It won’t dope you up or even make you artificially happy; it just helps keep the black cloud overhead from being quite as big and dark as it could be. It takes at least 2 weeks to work, so we should get started now. If you need help getting you to sleep tonight, I’ll give you a sleeping pill too; they should be safe to take for a short time until your other med kicks in. Tomorrow morning, you’ll meet with the clinical nurse – unless you change your mind, which is OK.”

The next morning J.J. was mute again through much of the visit with the clinical nurse.

“We won’t go over bras, hose or makeup; this is mainly learning about basic female body maintenance,” Nurse Fredrickson said. “Here’s how you do a breast self exam.”

J.J. was very careful and slow doing feeling for lumps in his bosom. Especially his nipples; they were hyper-touchy, and he jumped when he pressed on them to make sure they weren’t oozing any abnormal liquid. Next came adjusting to a new center of gravity, what with his new chest and hips; when he tried bending over in his usual 14-year-old boy way, he nearly toppled forward.

“Take shorter steps, J.J. – at least until you get more familiar with your hips. A fall and injury is the last thing you need.”

“Okay, remember, you must sit every time you use the toilet now. And you will always need some paper of some type. So check for it when you choose a stall. If you don’t have paper after urinating, you’ll be left with the decision to stain your pants or to sit there and air dry.”

Jacoby finally spoke up. “Air dry? I’ve never heard … is this what normal girls talk about?”

“Welcome to the glamorous joy of being a woman,” the nurse empathized. “Okay. We saved the toughest for last: care of your vagina.”

Jacoby wondered why applying a simple thing like a panty liner was so difficult to get right. Maybe I’m just nervous about having to PREPARE MY PANTIES. I WEAR PANTIES NOW. GOD.

Now Jacoby lay on his back, knees flexed and feet together on the bed. And nothing on from the waist down.

“Put the lubricant on your finger; now, apply it into the opening down there. Oops! A little more to the center – there you go.” Nurse Fredrickson gave him two thumbs up.

J.J. moved to a sitting position on the table, covering his girlish groin with his hands. “Ah, nurse – I just realized – I’m putting lubricant INTO MY VAGINA. There’s only one reason I’d be doing that – and I am NOT having sex with another dude!”

“Honey, you're 'lubing' down there for another reason. For general vaginal health – whether you ever have sex there or not – you need to keep your vagina dilated. We’re going to go over that; you’re overdue for it, likely.” She held up four items of different color and size, but all the same shape.

“Dildos?”

“No, honey. Dilators.”

“DILDOS??” J.J. suddenly looked pale and woozy. The nurse laid him back down on the exam table until the color was back in his face.

Then, like a trooper, J.J. grit his teeth and performed his first vaginal dilation.

The afternoon session was much more traumatic than the morning. J.J. saw the recordings of Nova’s sessions, jaw agape at seeing him in his female form, acting in ways and talking with language that he never would have thought he’d do or say.

He almost passed out once more when he heard of Missy’s murder. He sat on the floor in the corner of Dr. Rama’s office and bawled for an hour straight. Then he stared dumbfounded as Rama eventually told him that he was the chief suspect.

He had no recollection of his father ever hurting him. Rama suspected that some of J.J.’s memories somehow were being repressed, but he could not prove it. The doctor did not show the video of Kitty to J.J., but rather told him the gist of it.

Dr. Rama let the staff know to watch out for any suicidal behavior or speech from the unfortunate young man; he’d not shown any tendency for that, but Rama felt it was better to be safe than sorry.

In a few more days, there was a very positive breakthrough.

J.J. was meeting once more with the doctor and both of his parents (Bob was now allowed to be present, as his presence actually seemed to produce calm in J.J. rather than agitation). The boy sat up and made an announcement.

“I’ve been contemplating my life, and what’s happened to me. I don’t like any of it. In fact, I HATE my current condition. I mean, I’m suddenly a female, and my girlfriend is DEAD, and I’M wanted for murdering her! What in God’s name did I do to have all of this happen to me? Speaking of God, how could He have let this happen? Does He hate me, or is He dead, or what? What … why –”

J.J. began weeping hard, his body jerking with sobs. Becky started to rise out of her chair, but caught herself and turned her head quickly to stare at Dr. Rama.

Rama was trained to interpret body language, but a toddler could have read Becky’s look. It said allow me to comfort my son or I will hurt you. He nodded his head and waved Becky towards her child; she was at his side in a millisecond with a box of tissues.

The tears gushed for a good minute. Then, J.J. pulled himself together and blew his nose clean, wiped his eyes, and set a look of determination in his doe-like eyes and tiny chin.

“So, yeah; this sucks. But I am not a quitter. Mom, Dad – you taught me never to give up, and to make the best I could of any situation. So: I’m going to do that. I don’t know what “the best” of this looks like; but that’s the one choice I have, so that’s what I’m going to do. I believe that in spite of all this, there has to be some purpose for my life. I can still accomplish something.”

That statement produced more tears, but mainly from his mother and father.

J.J. now appeared worried. “But, I’m afraid … I’m going to need a TON of help. And I’ve already been such a burden on you two.”

“The only burden was when you weren’t around, son,” Becky smiled. “Together, somehow, we’ll all get through it.”

“Amen, J.J. I’m right with you, buddy,” chimed Bob.

Becky turned to the doctor. “Is there any chance that he can come stay at home while he continues his therapy with you? He might do better there, now that he’s ‘himself’ again.” An unmistakable yearning could be heard in her voice.

Rama rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. “Not yet. You, Bob and I need to talk after J.J. goes back to his room here.”

Once J.J. was gone, Rama didn’t beat around the bush. “The district attorney called me to get an update on his progress. I am working closely with your defense lawyer to make sure I disclose only what I legally am required to. Still, the D.A. feels that it’s time to schedule your son’s murder trial. He told me it would be on the docket as early as possible, unfortunately.”

Bob growled with anger. “That grandstanding bastard is up for re-election, and wants to be in the headlines with a ‘big win for the people’s justice’. Our son being sex-changed will only make this a juicier story for him and the papers.”

“Also,” added Rama, “they demand J.J. be kept under lock and key. They already feel he has been a fugitive from justice; if I discharge him from the hospital, he will be sent to jail without bond while awaiting trial.”

Becky was pale as a ghost. “Doctor – then you must keep him here, please! As long as possible! This place is not home, but I shudder to think what would happen to my son in jail! Oh god – please tell me you won’t release him!” She looked at her husband. “Bob – what if he’s sent to prison? What if he’s sent to men’s prison? More torture and then death! I – I don’t want to continue living if that happens!”

“Shh –shh, baby. This isn’t over yet,” Bob whispered as he pulled his wife’s head to his shoulder, and then looked to Dr. Rama. “Until the trial at least, can he stay here?”

“I don’t think our work is done here,” Rama answered with a nod. “We are so close to finding out what Kitty knows. That may or may not help J.J.’s case.”

Bob whistled with relief. “Thanks, Doc. Have you seen any sign of Nova since J.J.’s come back?”

“No.”

“Well, great. Good riddance.”

“Bob … Nova is part of your son’s personality, whether you like her or not. She likely will return, sooner or later. I suggest treating her with love, even if she doesn’t reciprocate.”

The father suddenly was clenching his jaw; his face was red and his eyes were leaking. “God … I was so stupid! I knew, I knew what happens on prom nights! That’s when half the girls at school get knocked up! I should’ve given them an earlier curfew; I should’ve stayed home to enforce it; I should’ve chaperoned them; I should’ve done something more, or different! Maybe all of our lives would still be going boringly normal still. God, what I wouldn’t give to go back …”

Now it was Becky who was comforting her spouse, with whispers and light brushes on his cheek with the soft tips of her fingers.

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

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