Kate Draffen

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

These as the first 9 chapters of the story, the next 9 will be put up soon followed shortly by the remaining chapters.

This is set in Australia and thus a very small portion of the slang might be a shade confusing to a lot of you but I'm sure you non-Aussies will pick it up. Also, like a lot of Australians the characters have a relaxed relationship with swearing. So, it may seem a shade gratuitous but I assure you it's fairly realistic. If you have any questions or comments please send me an email at [email protected]

*****

KATE DRAFFEN
By Swishy

Everyone in Australia knows about Kate Draffen. Everybody had at least talked about Mrs. Draffen at least once: Did it hurt? What about her kids? What about her husband? I had asked those questions. Essentially, Kate Draffen wasn't special enough to warrant everyone talking about her, unless we all are. She was just a simple stay-at-home mum; 41, three kids, married, liked arts and crafts. But it wasn't her we were all talking about- it was what happened to her. Her photo was on the front pages of all the newspapers. For a while she was the most famous person in the country.

Who knew I would soon be as famous as Kate Draffen?

CHAPTER 1

I was unremarkable. If you asked me to describe myself in one word I would have said 'unremarkable'. My name, Michael Taylor, was an indication of how truly unremarkable I was. Such a boring name. Although, I always reassured myself that I had plenty of time to become remarkable. I was only 17, plenty of time to figure out how to change the world for the better. There are 21 million people in this country, and when it came to importance I would have probably ranked myself towards the bottom. I was just a young kid, average in all ways, living in a small town. It's not that I wasn't worth anything, it's just that there was nothing super interesting about me. And I was perfectly fine with that.

I didn't mean a lot to many people either. Sure, I had a mum who loved me and my own group of friends but outside of this little town no one knew me. I was just another blank faced teenager in a long line of teenagers. In fact this story begins in a line of teenagers.

We were having a yearly medical check at school. As far as everyone else was concerned it was a great excuse to lose two classes while we waited in line, for me it was a hellish torment, a terrifying wait to get a needle. To say I was scared of needles is like saying The Pacific Ocean is a puddle. Sure, I hated Rubella too, so I knew why I needed the needle but the reassurance of knowledge didn't make the needle any less sharp or painful. The injection wasn't the only part of today's yearly medical examination; they were going to check for head lice, give us the standard sight and hearing test and quick swab of saliva to see if there was anything massively wrong with us. All those other things were fine with me; anything that withheld the jabbing of the needle into my arm even for a second was great in my books.

Dot gave me a massage that made it apparent that she had never given a massage before or that she had no clue that pinching my shoulders hard would not have a calming effect. "It'll be OK," reasoned Dot cheerfully, "Immunisation is like losing your virginity, mate!"

"And how is that?" I bemoaned, not really wanting to listen but deciding to placate her so she didn't attempt another massage.

"Well, just one little prick and it's all gone!" She laughed at her own joke. I glared at her, unimpressed.

"That doesn't really work for us," Glen chimed in, "As we are the 'pricker' not the 'prickee'." Glen made a good but completely useless point.

"Just don't talk about it!" I grunted, as the line moved and I got a step closer. Dot peered at the line snaking its way into the Study Room, which for that day was a makeshift medical centre.

She did her best to hide from the burning sun, pressing up against a wall, "Michael, I don't know why you made us go last in the line. You should have gotten it out of the way ASAP, like ripping off a band-aid. I'm seriously melting out here!"

Dot's fear of burning was well placed. Dot was pale. She was also tiny like her name suggested. She was colourless, short and very slight with thick black hair and piercing eyes. Despite being quite a striking looking creature, the boys pretty much left her alone. Not that she cared, however, as her heart belonged to only one boy. She, like many teenage girls, was in love with the unobtainable. Not to say that he was out of her league, I'd like to think they would have gotten along famously. But he was married. And dead. For over one hundred years. Let's just say I never could foresee Dot becoming Mrs. Herman Melville anytime soon.

"You're the only one melting because you haven't seen the sun in 11 years, you hermit!" I told Dot. She stuck her tongue out at me and mimed poking me with a needle. The light bounced off my watch and I carefully aimed it at Dot's eyes. The line lurched a step forward, as some of the casualties leaked out of the building. They talked, giggled and planned their lunchtimes. They didn't seemed like victims of a horrible stabbing to me, that just meant that the statistics were stacked against me, if they hadn't made a mistake so far it meant they were more likely to screw up on me. One of the prettier wounded walked over to us, clutching a cotton wool ball to her arm.

"Hey spunk," she called to me.

"Did it hurt?" I skipped the small talk with Holly and went straight to the matter at hand.

"No, not really," Holly looked at me looking at the bloody cotton ball. "I'm a bit of a bleeder," she confessed, "Michael, you're not actually scared, are you?"

"Shitting himself," Glenn chimed in again to another conversation where his participation was not required. Glen was quite quiet, except when he knew it would annoy me. So basically, he's your average best friend.

"Just be glad you're not a girl, because we have to get two needles," Holly said.

"That's not fair," whined Glen, assuredly adding nothing to the conversation, "I don't want to get cervical cancer either!" I wonder if it was too late to change friends.

"Look, just make sure you don't faint. I don't think I could handle having a Deb partner who faints," Holly called over her shoulder as she left for the canteen, "See you in English later on, I want to talk about our Deb speech!"

Now, I'm sure some of you reading this might not know what the 'Deb' is. I'll tell you: 'Deb' is short Debutante and in Australia a lot of High Schools have these things called Debutante Balls. It's a way of introducing young women in Year 11 at school, to society. The girls get dressed up in white dresses, like wedding dresses, and dance with boys in tuxedos. We all learn how to do different ballroom dances, like waltzes and The Pride of Erin and perform them in front of local dignitaries and our family and friends. Then Debutantes dance with their fathers and the boys dance with their mothers. Some people cut a cake, two students (Holly and I) make a speech and then a band plays and we all dance. That's about it, I guess it's a little like a prom, but not really, it's a lot more formal, with protocol and all. There are more rules than just playing Stairway to Heaven at the end.

And Holly was my partner, which was great. I wasn't going to do it at all until Holly asked me. I couldn't turn her down because I had a huge thing for her. She was pretty and sweet and has a lovely singing voice. We were in the school play together a few times and once even played lovers, which was awesome. Unfortunately our school never does any of the kissing scenes so the closest I got to her was a tender hug. Her friend, Alison told me that Holly only chose me because I was a great dancer and looked good in a suit and that was good enough for me. Any chance I had to get close to Holly was good- performing in school plays, tutoring her in Japanese, being her Deb partner. Yes, I know she had a boyfriend who was at university and I know that she only liked me as a friend but there was no reason I couldn't enjoy holding her close and dancing.

My Deb partner was above me in rank. Although our school isn't like a school in teen movies with the jocks, nerds and cheerleader all in there defined cliques, there was a little bit of a class system. Basically there are three groups. Group A is the 'cool' group: Usually self defined, the prettiest and stylish girls belong to this group, as do the toughest and most obnoxious boys. This is the group that has parties where not everyone is invited, they only date within the group and they staked out and reserved all the best spots to hang out around school. Group C is the deviants, psychos, nut-jobs and misanthropes who shun company. They are weird and will probably grow up to be people you avoid on the street because of the religious ranting they are doing through a megaphone. Group B was everyone else. We were the drama nerds, the music lovers, the smart kids, the movie buffs, the math nerds, the wallflowers, the everything elses.

Holly could be a Group A if she was snobby enough. A lot of her friends were Group Aers. She had long blonde hair and large blue eyes. I have seen her in her underpants while she changed costumes and can attest to the fact she has a totally smoking body. But she is too sweet to belong to Group A all the time, quite content to be friends with whoever she likes. That's what attracted me to her in the first place, the ability to befriend everyone she meets. She was going to look amazing in a couple months time at the Deb Ball, and I was going to be dancing with her.

I was the only one in our little friendship circle who was doing the Deb. Dot opposed the whole thing as the pseudo-feminist she pretended to be. "I am not being put on display as a potential wife!" she would often preach, in the child-like voice she couldn't shake off because of her stature "Next after that is setting up a dowry for catching a worthy gentleman," she would scoff. The right girl had just simply not asked Glen. I think he was hoping for Alison or another one of the A Squad to come to their senses and ask him, but nothing materialized. So he would often jumped on the feminist bandwagon too.

"Hey mate, guess who got pulled for having lice?" asked an acquaintance, giving us no time to guess. "Candice Ellwood!" he named an unfortunate Group C girl, laughed and left, probably to spread the rumour further. Even though our school was big (about 1,000 students) you would be surprised how fast rumours would travel. Rumours would travel through the school faster than… well, head lice. But I guess that was the same in every school. I knew I had no lice, as I carefully washed my hair everyday, nothing would survive on my hair. My hair was my pride and joy, I even wore it unfashionably long, down to my shoulders. It wasn't very fashionable or masculine, bit I simply didn't care. As if the building was trying to inhale the students surrounding it the line moved on and I entered the belly of the beast.

The first thing I noticed was how disinterested the medical professionals appeared to be. It was Monday morning and these people looked like they had been working 12 years without a day off. Now I understand swabbing saliva and checking for lice aren't seat-of-your-pants exciting jobs but at least you could smile. I would be worried if the needle people had the same lackadaisical attitude, if they were so indifferent they might stab me accidentally in the wrong place or something. Unfortunately, the needlers were hiding behind a partition, so I couldn't appraise their job satisfaction levels.

"If you would come this way, miss, we'll start your hearing test," parroted the nurse as if she had said the same thing a thousand times a day for a thousand days.

"Eh? What?" asked Dot craning her ear forward in an attempt of vaudeville type humour. The nurse manufactured a smile as if she had heard that same joke five hundred times a day for the last thousand days. I was led to seeing test, which I past quite well. I liked being tested as it gave me a chance to show off. And if I had anything to show off it was that my eyes could see a lot rather well. Me and Dot swapped over and I showed off my impressive hearing too. I winked at Glen as he entered the tests after us, knowing that he was as blind as a bat and as deaf as a doorpost. My record was safe.

Dot and I went to the next pair of tests, head lice and saliva swabbing. A woman with rough hands, went through my hair searching for the tell tale signs on an infestation but to no avail. I tried to make some chit-chat, but she looked at me with confusion. Some adults seemed to forget that people aged 17 are quite able to carry out a conversation. Just because I was wearing a blue and white school uniform, doesn't mean I am unable to talk about the weather. I was pushed along to the saliva swab, but before I left I warned the lady about Dot's arrival and the rat's nest she called hair. Dot just glared at me, if had she an once of weight behind her she might have tried to punch me but she tended to avoid physical tussles.

I scurried to the saliva swab and promptly opened my mouth, "I'm the second last of the day. That must feel good," I gurgled as the man in the gloves took a scrapping off the inside of my cheek. He ignored me and handed the swab to another man to dropped in into some liquid.

"You can go," he mumbled. I didn't want to, that meant going to the last part. The jabby, stabby, needle part.

"So, what are you checking for?" I asked the man.

"Just predispositions to various diseases," he mumbled looking deeper at one of the solutions. His curtness was a sign that conversation would not be tolerated for any longer, I took that is an obvious clue to leave and left.

It would be quite accurate to point out that I was walking very slowly to the last section of the medical obstacle course. Words that would better describe the walk toward the needle: creeping, tiptoeing, meandering, ambling and strolling. These are all more precise words to use. Soon Dot left her head lice check and pushed me, "C'mon, loser! Get it done and we can enjoy the rest of our extended lunch break!" I huffed loudly, mostly in frustration. "Do you want me to hold your hand?" and I huffed again. As we walked past the final partition I caught sight of the needles. One of them was going into Will Hodson's arms AND he was wincing slightly in discomfort! I wasn't so sure I could do this. It could break off in my arm, and get infected. I grew greener thinking about it. The medical lady, now finished butchering poor Will beckoned me to her chair. I obeyed, only to get it done with. Dot went to another chair to be dealt with. I wanted her nurse, she looked so caring and a lot less threatening. Meanwhile I was stuck with Nurse Death over here. I closed my eyes and awaited the pain.

"Mister Taylor?" asked a voice, saving me from the sharp, painful inevitability.

Despite never being called Mister Taylor I dutifully answered, "Yes?" I opened my eyes, it was the saliva guy.

"Can you come with us?" he asked in a way that didn't sound like a question at all. It was then I realized that saliva guy wasn't alone, with him was another man, holding the handle of a stretcher.

"OK," I agreed to join saliva guy and medical stretcher guy. I would have followed Satan himself if it meant a reprieve from the needle lady.

They lifted me onto the stretcher and wheeled me out of the building. I playfully waved to Glen who grimaced back from his position underneath the rough hands of the head lice inspector. It was weird. I was so relieved about the no-needle situation that I didn't even contemplate something must be wrong with me until I was being slid into the ambulance. "Uh fellas?" I called out as the men began to drive, "I don't actually feel sick. What's wrong with me?"

"We're not sure. We're going to have another doctor have a look at you. What's your parents' phone number we'll make sure they can meet us down at the hospital." I told them nicely my mother's phone number as I read it off my phone. It was then I received a message myself.

It was from Dot, "WHERE R U?"

"Im going 2 da hospital 4 sum reason not sure y they wont tell me!!!!"

"SUM PPL WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET OUT OF A NEEDLE"

They didn't put on the sirens and they didn't race through town, which seemed like the perfect course of action for a patient who didn't feel ill in the slightest. They even allowed me to walk to the doctor, instead to wheeling on the bed, which was nice. I didn't want to offend the real sick people by being pushed around in a bed feeling fine while they lay motionless in their beds, actually sick. The men weren't very talkative, so I didn't push my luck. I followed them through the stark, barren halls of the hospital, winding through a veritable maze. It didn't feel like cancer, or a stroke, I told myself. Sure, I was a little unfit, but nothing that required a speedy trip to the hospital. The deeper we descended into the bowels of the hospital, the more worried I got. We passed the old people waiting for death or a visit from their grandchildren, passed the mothers and their babies, passed the eerily silent Critical Care ward and into the centre offices. I was placed into an examination room like any other and told to wait. There was no mobile phone reception in the hospital so I couldn't call Dot, Glen, Holly or anyone else. So I just sat.

I thought through a list of diseases that I didn't have to calm myself down. I was pretty sure I didn't have the Bubonic plague, Small pox, Monkey pox, Bird flu, SARS, Malaria, Mexican death breath, the dreaded Rusty eyeballs or Nun's armpit. I ran out of diseases after Malaria and made up some of my own. I wasn't very good at waiting, usually I had my Nintendo DS or iPod to play with until excitement broke out but I was forced to wait like they did in the olden days. That way to wait was almost unbearable, especially when you don't know what you are waiting for.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably closer to seconds, a man walked in. He had a beard, that's the first thing you can say about him because it was a very prominent beard. "Hello Michael," he said in a condescending tone that meant that he had no idea how to talk to me.

"Why am I here?" I asked, avoiding pleasantries.

"Well," he said about to unveil something, "Let's just find out." The Doctor then revealed what he was holding in his hand. It was long, and it was pointy and I supposed he wanted to jab me with it. Fuck! I can't escape needles today! Out of nowhere a nurse appeared and dabbed my arms with something. "You might feel a slight discomfort," The Doctor recited as he put a metal stick into my arm and drew blood. Slight discomfort? No, I didn't feel any of that. Maybe the slight discomfort was hiding underneath the blinding pain!

"Ow!" I hollered.

"Oh hush!" said the nurse, unaware of the immense amount of pain I was in. The Doctor or should I say my torturer handed the needle to the nurse and told her that he needed the results stat. She scurried away.

I was about to question the ethics of someone locking me up (sorta) and taking my blood without permission, when I said something a little more realistic, "When's my mum getting here?"

"I'm sure she's not far away," the Doctor said, dealing with my question as quickly as possible so he could get his own questions, "Michael, have you been overseas recently? Like to Japan or the U.S.A."

"No," I admitted, "Never left the country at all."

"Have you interacted with anyone suspicious in the last couple of months?"

"Umm… I don't think so."

"Received any strange packaging?"

"No." Where was this going? I couldn't figure it out. The questions weren't helping me narrow down the purpose of them. He mumbled some about staying put and left me alone again.

I looked at my phone and it told me it was almost 2 o'clock. I hoped all this cloak and dagger stuff would be finished soon, I really wanted to catch up with Holly in English class. She showed me a picture of the dress she wanted. Now, not every Deb dress was sexy, in fact a lot of girls end up looking more like decorated toilet seat covers than a burgeoning woman, but if Holly wore the dress in the picture a lot of people who were dragged to the event will sit up and pay attention. I think my uncles will all be very proud of me. Hurry up, Dr. Mysterious! I wanted to get back to school.

I waited another 45 minutes before I was escorted to, of all things, a waiting room. At least there were other things to do in this room other than make up fake diseases. I could read out-dated magazines or look out of any one of three windows, or I could talk to my mum. "Michael!" she said, with a mixture of concern and puzzlement.

"Hi," was my response and I did my duty as a son and lovingly hugged her.

"What's wrong with you? They haven't told me anything. I've been waiting here for ages. There better be something wrong with you, otherwise my boss is going to be pissed." Now I'm sure my own mother wasn't wishing I wasn't sick, but according to that sentence it sounded like she'd be mad if I wasn't dying.

"I don't know," I told my mum, "They've just taken my blood and left me in a room all alone. It's been lousy."

"Well, I'd like some answers." I liked Mum a whole lot. My Dad I didn't care about so much, but since I hadn't heard from him for like 11 years that was OK. Mum worked very hard to support me and my older sister, Nicole. She wasn't the type that took to motherhood well. She forgot things, she wasn't much of a cook or cleaner, she was spontaneous and didn't always think of her kids first. But she was honest and she loved us, and that is all you need for a good childhood.

Mum worked as a waitress at a pub, so sometimes she was away at nights and sometimes she did the lunch shift, today she must have been doing the lunch shift. She twirled her finger through her dyed blonde hair nervously while reading an old magazine. "Oh, that's sad," she mumbled, "Graham Kennedy died." That was typical of my mum, catching up with news through a waiting room magazine, Graham Kennedy died in 2005. I sat, spoilt by the many options to entertain myself and did nothing.

"If you would like to come this way," said the bearded Doctor who had stolen my blood. We followed him deep into the bowels of the hospital again into an office. I looked at the name on the door, according to the door he was Dr. Judy Zimmer and he was an OB/GYN. I think the door was lying, I think maybe he was just borrowing the office for the afternoon. "I'm Dr. Samuel Chisholm," he said shattering the door's lies, "Michael, Mrs. Taylor, please take a seat." We did so.

"What is this all about, Doctor?" asked my mother. Dr. Chisholm looked down at his papers and studied them for a moment, seemingly ignoring my mum's question. His eyes raced over the papers, scanning for something.

"Michael," he said, looking my deep in the eyes, "Have you by chance been eating any metals? Like tin foil or other things?"

"Certainly not," answered my Mum, "Are you insinuating that I don't feed my kids? He may be almost 18 but I still look after my little boy."

I sat still, embarrassed of my Mum and what I was about to say, "Yeah, for some reason I can't stop swallowing coins." The noise my mother was making dribbled to a halt as she listening to my odd confession.

"Coins? Why, that could work." Dr. Chisholm scribbled furiously on a piece of paper. Mum just looked at me strangely, "You eat coins?"

"I don't know why! The last couple of weeks I've just popped a 10-cent coin in my mouth every now and again. But I haven't done it for the last couple of days!"

"You don't know where those things have been! Especially 10-cent pieces!" Mum spouted the usual Mum rhetoric, although I don't think other mum's have an aversion to 10-cent pieces. I guess my Mum just hated Lyre Birds.

"You've stopped ingesting them?" asked the Doctor, more concerned about me ceasing my awful habit than starting it.

"Yeah," I said, "I just haven't felt the urge for awhile."

"We caught you just in time!" heralded the Doctor like a madman.

OK, this day was getting a little weird. But it was only the beginning. "I read that everyone eats spiders when they are asleep and it never does anyone any damage. Why is my son swallowing coins cause for so much alarm, Dr. Zimmer?" Mum asked Dr. Chisholm, reading the name off of the plaque on the desk. My Mum never did have a head for names.

"Well, it's not the coins I'm worrying about, Mrs. Taylor. I'm worried about the reason young Michael was eating those coins," said the Doctor leaning forward staring at my skin. It made me feel uneasy like he was mentally undressing me, for medical reasons!

"I was just eating them cause I guess I felt it. I sorta craved them," I said trying to disprove any ridiculous theories the mad Doctor might have.

"There was another person who ate a lot of metal," explained the Doctor, "Do you remember a person named Kate Draffen?"

Kate Draffen was all over the papers about a year ago. She was a simple housewife in Sydney who had three young children and a husband. Her life was fairly un-newsworthy, until one day when she went shopping with her kids. Not only was it the first case of it in Australia, it was the first time people had captured it on camera. The security camera caught the whole thing in blurry, grainy, history-making footage. Also some shopper had her camera-phone with her and took a picture that would stun a nation and the world.

Everyone saw the picture. Her two children stood, terrified watching their mother, another kid looking over his shoulder stuck in the toddler's seat on the trolley. They all looked like they were too scared to cry and had no one to comfort them. Kate had dropped a can of some sort and it lay beside her body. The photo was taken mid-scream her face contorted in fear, her arms out-stretched as if to plea to the gods for help. A harrowing picture made all the more harrowing because, despite the body and clothes being very feminine the screaming face was a man's. The subsequent photos showed the body also transforming, becoming that of a man's. The final photo is one of a new man, lying unconscious, in a summer dress in the toiletries aisle on a supermarket floor, the children scared.

Kate Draffen was the first and so far only Australian to go through a Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration. The first reports of it happening came out of Asia. They were only reported in the tabloid newspapers and even they didn't take it very seriously. It wasn't until it started happening in Europe and North America that it received credible reporting here. It would happen the same way, a person of one gender would for no reason would, through no choice of their own, spontaneously change into the other gender. Men would become women and women would become men. It wouldn't happen very often though, maybe 1 or 2 a month for the last 2 and half years.

Scientists figured out it was the work of Nanobots. Nanobots are tiny, tiny robots that would get into your system and re-build you. It always terrified me that I could breath in and a swarm of minuscule robots could enter your mouth and transform you as they see fit. But I guess real viruses act the same way, so I didn't panic as much. No one knew who built them and why it made people change gender. Some people thought it was the work of terrorists, others thought it was a U.S Government secret plan gone haywire, others thought aliens were to blame. Despite knowing about the nanobots, no country admitted to knowing how to stop them. The technology was decades away what anyone professed to knowing.

Nothing could stop it. No one knew who it would strike or why them. It didn't seem to matter what age, gender, race or religion you are it could get you. I read it happened to a 3 month old boy in South Africa and a 78 year old grandmother in Poland. There was neither rhyme nor reason to figure out who was next. And since it had only affected about 80 or so people to date there was no international push to solve this problem. There was more likelihood of being struck by lighting three times and winning a Grammy Award for Best Rap album then being transformed. It just seemed to be a sensational distraction from the War in Iraq or Global Warming or whatever else was really important that day. It was a freak show. Mum would always look at the pictures and wonder out loud why the 'after' pictures were so much better looking than their 'before' pictures. "Perhaps," she would always muse, "They were always meant to be the other gender and this is God's way of fixing that." I would explain that God would probably use some sort of miracle to 'fix' them instead of sending swarms of tiny robots to do his bidding. She would each time reply that the Lord works in mysterious ways and go back to eating her Coco-Pops. She was never religious unless discussing those tiny robots.

Kate Draffen was Australia's only victim of P.E. Although the real term was Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration, the tabloids called it P.E. A crude term meaning either 'Penis Envy' for a woman who became a man or 'Pussy Envy' for a man who became a woman. The term seemed unfair as it seemed nobody who went through the changes particularly wanted the change and all said it was tremendously painful. Some people had such a hard time adjusting that they would have severe mental problems or even kill themselves. So calling it P.E. seemed cruel. Kate Draffen, who called herself John Draffen after the change, was lucky, she had her loving family to look after her. Although I read John and her husband separated soon after.

"Yes, I remember of Kate Draffen," I replied, hoping Dr. Chisholm was going on a completely different tangent.

"You mean the mother who had P.E?" asked my Mum.

The Doctor cringed slightly at my Mum's uncouth use of the term P.E., "Well, we found out before her 'transformation' she ate a lot on tin foil." Hmmm.. I didn't like where this was going. I decided to stay silent. Maybe I could stop this conversation from going where I didn't want it to go if I kept quiet.

"So what does Kate Draffen have to do with my son eating coins?" Damn my Mum moving the conversation forward!

"Well, we believe that before the Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration occurs the initial army of nanobots need to build many more robots to aid with the change. So in order to get the materials they need, the nanobots convince the victim to eat metal. Coins, tin foil, even spoons. That gives the robots enough material to create an army large enough to complete the transformation in a matter of minutes. Since you've stopped desiring metal it probably means they have amassed enough help to carry out the transformation. It's lucky we found you. You could have transformed any day now."

"Are you saying Michael has P.E.?" No I don't, Mum! I certainly liked pussies, at least I like looking at pictures of them. If I ever got close enough to one I'm sure I'd like feeling it, smelling it and tasting it but I would never be envious of it. I like being a guy a whole lot. Even though I sometime neglect my manhood- I have foppish hair, I like singing and dancing and I'm still a virgin- I still love the gender bestowed on me.

"Yes," said the bastard Doctor, "In a matter of words, Michael has contracted P.E. But…" Yes! There was a 'but…'! I dreamed about the things that would come after that 'but…'

"But there is a cure, Mrs. Taylor!"

"But there is a painless cure, Mrs. Taylor!"

"But there is a painless cure, not involving any needles whatsoever, Mrs. Taylor!" Any one of those would be good, especially the last one. But beggars cannot be choosers.

"But…" said Dr. Chisholm, "luckily there is something we can do to ease him into the transformation." This was not the 'good news' I was expecting and I wore an expression on my face that said exactly that.

There was no way my picture was going to be in the paper alongside a picture of a girl, with my Mum saying, "I guess you were meant to be a girl." This was not my future. My future involved Holly breaking up with her stupid boyfriend, me snapping her up and both of us becoming stars on 'Neighbours'! Maybe that was aiming a little high, but all of my potential futures did include me still having external genitals.

I sat in a stupor, letting Dr. Chisholm's words roll over the top of me, wafting though my ears and echoing into my brain, "A few months ago in Chicago they used electric pulses to set some of the nanobots off early. Not all of them you see, just a few of them. And through a period of one week they slowly activated more and more of the nanobots until the job was done. The man said he hardly felt any pain."

"Was he a man at the start or did he become a man?" was the pointless question my Mum asked.

Dr. Chisholm leafed through his notes, "Ah… he was a man, and became a woman."

I spoke up, "Are you sure there's nothing you can do to stop this? I don't want to be a girl." I hoped my voice conveyed how much I didn't want to become a girl. Maybe if the good Doctor realized how little I wanted a vagina he would double his efforts to find a cure.

"Whoever has done this to you is far more technologically advanced than we are, Michael. We are only just beginning to figure out what is happening, at the moment the best I can offer you is a smooth transition."

"You're talking like I'm going to a new school or something! I'm not! I'm going to grow a pussy! I don't want to be a girl!" Sure I was losing my cool, but I don't think anyone else could have been as cool for as long as me. I was proud of my efforts so far but now I was travelling to crazy town.

"Michael, there are a lot of things worse than being a woman," Mum said surprisingly sternly. I had inadvertently offended her, although I didn't really care. There were bigger things to worry about, such as my 'smooth transition' into a nice pair of tits! "I realize that, Mum,"

I said calmly, "But I'm quite happy being a guy."

"The truth of the matter is you are going to be a girl soon, like it or not. The Nanobots have been in your system and settled in. This will happen, Michael. Just be glad we found out because we can help. The way I'm proposing to do it will be relatively painless and slow. You'll have up to a week getting used to all the changes. We'll do this together." The Doctor leaned forward, studying my face.

I mulled over his offer. I would rather do anything without pain, the fool who said no pain, no gain was an idiot as far as I was concerned. If I had to do it, I'd rather do it with a bit of help on my side. And despite not knowing a thing about how to stop it, Dr. Chisholm certainly knew a lot of ways to make it easier for me. There was no way I was letting anyone call me Michelle though, I knew a girl called Michelle Taylor and she was an absolute slut. There was no way I was sharing a name with her. What were my friends going to say? Was I going to be a lesbian? The press is going to go crazy! How big are my boobs going to be? I'm going to be the next Kate Draffen. Oh no! I couldn't do the Deb with Holly! I slowly reeled in my thoughts and prepared my response to Dr. Chisholm.

"As long as you limit the needles to the absolute minium, Doc. Go ahead." I looked at Mum for comfort and she draped her arm around me in solidarity. She gently rubbed my back, the way only a Mum could.

"Good boy," she gently murmured, probably unaware of her use of the word 'boy'.

"Good to hear, Michael," smiled Dr. Chisholm, "If you want to follow me, we can get started."

"What? Now?"

"No time like the present!"

CHAPTER 2

I walked alongside the Doctor through the maze of identical hallways until we reached the examination room I was in before. At least I think it was the same room, it could have been any other room as far as I could tell. The doctor made me strip and took all sorts of measurements. Height, weight, hair colour, eye colour, even the length of my member, which I informed him was incorrect due to the coldness of the room. It was a base result, to measure my changes against.

Don't be under the misapprehension that I was looking forward to this. I wasn't one bit. I cried like, coincidently, a little girl when I had to say goodbye to Mum, even though it was only for an hour or so. She told me to buck up and smile. I couldn't do either. I spent the whole physical begging Dr. Chisholm not to do a thing to me. I told him that my body would fight the nanobots and win. I told him to 'shut the fuck up' when he told me that was impossible. I thought the typical teenager thought, 'Why is life so cruel to me and only me?' and for the first time in my life that was almost valid. I was honestly 1 in over 75,000,000. That was certainly life ganging up on me. I cried all through the measuring. Hard.

"Now, relax Michael. I was the former Kate Draffen's doctor and I looked after him after the transformation," said Dr. Chisholm as we walked down the hall towards another room.

"Really? What was she like?" I asked using the pro-noun I wanted to use.

"He," he said, stressing the word, "was very fragile. He isn't as strong as you are."

I actually chuckled at that, through my sobbing, "Yeah, because I'm a regular hero."

"No Michael, you are being very strong. We got there too late to ease John Draffen into his new gender, we didn't even know how to back then. But John kept working hard at it and he's a good father and healthy human now. He can live life now. But it took a lot of work."

"When was the last time you saw Kate…I mean John?"

"This morning," said Dr. Chisholm, "I see John few times a month. Then I got the call to come down and investigate you. So, I flew down here and here I am. I'm glad we got to you on time."

"Me too," I shrugged.

We arrived at the room and the Doctor warned me, "There's going to be my entire team in here, Michael. They are all here to see you, so please answer all their questions. After that I'll begin the process, OK?" I nodded and we entered the room.

Three people were awaiting my arrival with an almost kiddie sense of excitement, although they hid it well under their lab coats and glasses. But I knew they were all giddy at the chance to look at the boy with Pussy Envy. They all shook my hand and asked me questions. They asked about the number of coins I ingested, about my travel habits, my comfort levels, my medical history, my personal life, pretty much everything. All the while, Dr. Chisholm fiddled with some equipment in the corner. I caught glimpses of the mad scientist hiding inside him a few times while answering questions about my birth weight and study habits. "Thank you everyone, you will have a chance to know Michael a lot better as the weeks continue. If everyone could leave, except Anupam and you, Michael."

Everyone did as they were told, some people left and Dr. Anupam Nagra and I remained. I already like Dr. Nagra because he asked me the least amount of questions. He mainly helped Dr. Chisholm fiddle with the contraptions. "Now, what were going to do is awaken SOME of the nanobots. Not all of them, around 10% of them," Dr. Nagra said in his cold, somewhat peaceful voice.

"Not the ones in my penis, please," I asked, "I want to keep that as long as possible." The Indian Doctor sighed, trying to break to me the bad news,

"We can't do that, Michael. It's all over your body. You'll be 10% along the way of your transformation. So, I'm sure we wont see that much of a decrease in penis size." I gingerly looked down at my penis, even giving 10% of it up seemed like a massive sacrifice.

"While we are on the subject," chatted Dr. Chisholm stroking his beard, "I heard you tell Dr. Fischer that you are a virgin. Is that right?" Great, I didn't want to answer that damn question the first time, I certainly didn't want a reprise.

"Yes."

"Well now, this is only a suggestion and you don't have to follow through if you don't want to," for the first time since I met him, Dr. Chisholm was getting flustered, "Perhaps sometime soon before the changes are too great you should secure a girl and enjoy some physical activity with her."

"Huh?" I said, only to stir Dr. Chisholm up a little more.

"What Dr. Chisholm is trying to say," interrupted Dr. Nagra, "Is you should find some one who cares for you, probably tonight or tomorrow, and experience sexual intercourse with her before your transformation makes that an impossibility."

"Oh, OK."

Wow! I thought I was under pressure to get laid before, now I have a 2-day limit! I ran my mind over all the girls I know. But there was only one girl I really wanted to ask- Holly. I would always dream that she would be my first and now I had an excuse to ask her. She was caring and sweet enough to let us have one special night before Michael disappears and some girl replaces him. Depends really on how angry she will be about losing her Deb partner. I'd love one magical night with Holly. But it would mean cheating on her boyfriend and asking for a huge favour and potentially ruining a friendship. It was risky, but when is sex not risky?

Dr. Nagra handed me a small metal bar, about the size of a 30cm ruler. It was connected to a machine that looked like it controlled the amount of electricity. "Sorry we are taking so long but we have never tried this procedure before."

"Never?"

"Well, since you are second person in the country to have contracted these Nanobots and the first to be diagnosed before your transformation you are somewhat of a special case," said Dr. Nagra. Gee, I was a special case. Hear that? Me. I was special. I didn't hear that a lot. It was nice to hear, even if it involved me getting a strange virus.

"So, what's going to happen?" I queried the men.

"You are about to receive a small surge of electricity, not a lot. This will activate a small amount of the nanobots who will begin their jobs. These little guys do everything, right down to re-coding your DNA. As the little robots do their work we should see some very minor cosmetic changes. You might get taller or shorter, we might see some changes in the face, some shifting in weight. Very minor. You wont suddenly grow breasts or anything like that." I was relieved to hear that.

"How long will it take?"

"Oh, we should see the changes within a few seconds. If you take off your clothes we should be able to watch some of the changes," said Dr. Chisholm. I stripped down to my briefs, just as curious about the changes as the men of science. With my permission they turned on a camera, so future generations could watch this historic footage.

"Hold tight," instructed Dr. Nagra, and I did so. "Ready for charge in 3, 2, 1." He must have pushed a button and a shock rushed through my body, awakening the tiny little robots. It didn't hurt a lot, more of a shock than getting a shock from touching a car door and less of a shock than that time I grabbed the electric fence at my Uncle's farm. I did say 'ouch', but mainly to get sympathy. I felt the peculiar feeling of my skin crawling and looked at my body. The doctors were right I didn't grow huge breasts, however my nipples both grew puffy, like little soldiers ready at attention. I watched one of my hands slim down a little bit and the fingers grow a little bit more slender. By the time I had finished watching that, the tingling had finished. I was 10% more female than when I woke this morning.

I consulted the mirror, as the Doctors consulted me. They also took measurements. I had got shorter, a whole 2cm. I had lost a few centimetres from my waist and had gained a few in the length of my legs. You could see I looked different, I was more… girly, I guess. But not a lot. Most people wouldn't be able to pick what was wrong with me I'm sure. It would be one of those 'Have you had a haircut?' moments. No, in fact nothing at all had happened to my hair.

However, when Dr. Chisholm talked me into losing the briefs we discovered I had lost a fair bit of penis. I was flaccid (nothing exciting about two old men poking me around down there) and a sizeable chunk was missing. "But you said!" I whined.

"We only guessed. It's going to happen anyway!" Dr. Chisholm was a good doctor with a bad bedside manner. "If it's any consolation, you're still a lot bigger than me." OK, maybe his bedside manner isn't that bad. Every teenager boy is happys to hear that he is well endowed, even if it is by a man in his fifties who has a beard.

"So, if you want, you could do more than 10%?" I asked.

"Why? Would you like to go through this process faster?" asked Dr. Nagra as he took some blood from me.

I had asked the question in an attempt to ignore the needle, "Fuck no!" I shouldn't have swore in front of the doctors but they didn't seem to take offence, "I was just wondering."

"Well, I guess we could. I, myself, wouldn't do more than 40% at a time otherwise you might accidentally trigger a chain reaction. I mean we aimed for 10% today but I think it's closer to 15%. It's not an exact science," Dr. Nagra enjoyed talking about the science behind it all, and it seemed to calm me, "If you wanted we could knock you out and do 100% the transformation with you unconscious but Dr. Fischer thinks it's still too much of a shock for the mind."

"So, will any electric shock activate the Nanobots?"

"Pretty much, so unless you want an early birthday present stay away from any power points."

"What do you think being a girl is like?"

"You're asking the wrong man," Dr. Nagra joked, "But I think you'll be fine, Mike. Girls can wear the same clothes as guys. Do the same jobs as guys. Aside from the bra, you'll be exactly the same."

I'm not sure if Dr. Nagra has enough tact to be dishonest so it was nice hearing that. And he was right. In this day and age women can do anything a man can, except perhaps write her name in the snow. All this was, was a change in costume. I could still wear my jeans and shirts, I could still be an actor if I wanted to. Even my back-up job of Drama Teacher was safe. I wouldn't have to become a stripper and wear 'boob tubes' and sundresses and bikinis. I could still be who I wanted to be. And if Holly was willing to become a lesbian I could still keep that dream alive.

"So, we'll see you back here tomorrow for another dose," Dr. Chisholm told me as he escorted me towards the exit. Considering he was from Sydney, he certainly learnt his way around our hospital fast. I still didn't know where we were.

"How many more shocks do you think it will take?"

"Not sure, Michael. We'll give you another one tomorrow and the day after. That will probably bring you up to 30%-50% complete. From then on we might admit you to the hospital, just so we can keep an eye on you." It all got very real, in 2 days I could be half female. I'm not sure what some one who is half female looks like but probably nothing like I do now. By next week I would be a woman. That was a scary thought. I was not looking forward to this at all. But maybe Dr. Nagra was right, maybe being a girl wouldn't be all that different.

"Becoming a woman will be a very different experience for you," said Dr. Fischer, the team's psychologist. She was the only woman and was probably in her early thirties. She was slender and tall; 'willowy' is a good word for her. She wore a pair of frameless glasses very low on her nose and would peer down through them to look at me. Her and my mum had been discussing options for me. Maybe moving town to start school somewhere else. Maybe being home schooled for the rest of the year. I'm sure boarding school was probably on the table as well. I didn't want any of that I needed my friends to help me. Dot, Glen, Holly and everyone else would be good for me. I didn't want to make new friends, even in a body that was good for making friends in.

But they didn't talk about that with me, at least not much. Dr. Fischer or Annette as she wanted me to call her, was slowly and painfully explaining how the female body worked. On how I would grow a vagina and how to take care of that. She told me that I would grow breasts and looking at my mother's they probably would be large. I looked at my mum's tits with interest for the first time since I stopped breastfeeding. They were big, standing proud and high on her chest. Mum had Nicole when she was only 17, so Mum was only 35. Because of her young age and large breasts, my friends often called my Mum a MILF, a title I'm sure she would be proud of. Nicole also was stacked. Maybe I would inherit my chest from Dad's side, because people often thought I took after my Dad. I hoped the females on my Dad's side weren't as gifted when it came to their mammaries.

I knew I was going to grow breasts, but I didn't think they would be big. When Dr. Nagra was talking about wearing the same clothes, I pictured myself wearing the EXACT same clothes, only with a slight bump in the chest region. Who knows? I could end up with nothing more than a 'slight bump'. I had something to pray for tonight.

Annette was quite graphic in her descriptions. I think it was her way of making me realize how serious this was. She used words like 'vaginal openings' and 'ovum'. She told me that once it was finished trained doctors would not be able to tell the difference. I stood there, glum and amazed at the same time. I looked at my phone, I had service again and about 10 messages to wade through. It was already 6pm! I had spent all day in this hellish hospital. Deb practise started at 7.30 and I was definitely going. It may be my last chance to dance with a girl and I wasn't passing it up. After that, I'd invite my friends and tell them all the news. After that, I would beg the precious Holly to help me enjoy being male one last time and we would do it, in my room and hold each other. So, suffice to say, I didn't want to be here listening to Annette talk about birth control.

"Dr. Fischer," I butted in.

"Annette," she advised.

"…Annette. I want to tell some friends tonight what is happening. Is that ok?"

"Well, if you want to, Michael. That's a choice you have to make yourself. Friends and family are very important. They can help you through many situations. But you have to understand that you are very special. This has rarely happens to people and you are the first male in Australia to be 'changing'. Some people will not be able to understand. So, I think it's a good idea to tell some friends but choose your friends wisely."

It was a silent trip in the car on the way home. Well, as silent it could be with our old car rattling loudly, and the Beach Boys (Mum's 'happy' music) blaring through the one good speaker. Love for The Beach Boys must be hereditary because listening to them could often cheer me up too. Unfortunately, The Beach Boys were singing about what life would be like "When I grow up to be a man," which only helped me sink into a foul mood. Unlike the Beach Boys (except the one who drowned under his house boat) I wont find out what it will be like to be a man. "Cheer up, Mikey," attempted Mum.

"Don't start," I warned her.

"At least you're not dying," she said blowing her cigarette smoke out the window. She didn't smoke much around us kids, only when she was carefree or frustrated, I'd like to think she was frustrated but I wasn't sure.

"No, I'm not dying but my life is going to change completely."

"It doesn't have to."

"You heard 'Annette', Mum. I'm getting a 'vaginal opening'."

"Don't be gross, Mikey!" She is the only person I let call me 'Mikey,' I hated it. I never told her I hated though. I think she really enjoyed calling me 'Mikey' it was the same thing calling Nicole 'Nicky,' a name I know she hates.

"Look, I'm going to be here for you. Kate Draffen's mum was dead when it happened to her, so you're lucky. And you're getting girly slower, that's good!" I knew what she meant, but calling it 'getting girly' made me want to vomit. "And I bet you'll even be better looking than Nic. Since you've got your Dad's genes, you'll end up looking like your Aunt Sharon and she was a model!" That was true, Dad's sister was a Chiko Roll Chick in the 90's. I saw a poster of her when I was young, straddling a motorbike, wearing a leather jacket and bikini, holding a Chiko Roll. I was too young to take notice of how sexy she was. But I bet she was quite sexy. Damn it!

Mum's 'consoling' continued, "Mikey, I'm here for you. I'll be there for you every step of the way. I've had 35 years experience being a woman, so if there is anything I can answer just ask." I was often embarrassed by my Mum, most teenagers are. She was a bit of a dag but I guess she meant what she said. I looked at her, smoking the cigarette as close to the window as possible as not to infect me.

"Thanks Mum."

Nicole was at her boyfriend's house for the night so it was just Mum and me for tea. Nicole was a hairdresser, or at least learning to be one. She had a new boyfriend, so many nights a week were spent in his house. I gulped down tea, not bothering to savour it or even taste it. I wanted to hurry up and go to Deb Practice. I had organized my friends to come meet me back at the house at 9 o'clock, where I would reveal what was going on.

"You know, everyone knows Kate Draffen's name," said my Mum between spoonfuls of her ravioli.

"Huh?"

"I mean EVERYONE knows her name. I don't even know the state Premier's name and I know her name."

"So?"

"Even if you are half as famous as her, a lot of people are going to be interested in you." Mum was right. There were stories on Mrs. Draffen for weeks after her change. They would report on everything- her family life, how she was coping, where get bought her new man clothes. My story might not be as interesting, but a boy slowly turning into a girl would attract some people. Might there even be paparazzi on our front lawn?

"Mrs. Draffen never did an interview, did she Mum?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well, if they ask me, I might do one."

"OK."

I enjoyed the walk to school for Deb Practice. I imagined there were photographers all along the way. I would sheepishly smile and keep my head down. I imagined having burly security guards who would ward off any member of the press who got a little close. "I'm just trying to live my life," I would mumble to the non-existent journalists, "You guys are vultures!" Oddly enough, this was not my first ever game of 'invisible paparazzi'. When the urge a struck me before I had run to my Mum's car, hood over my head, fending off the ghostly cameras. This time however, it felt less like pretending and more like practising.

Holly was waiting for me outside the school gym when I showed up. Well, she might have been talking to her friends too so don't get the impression that she was desperate to see me. In fact, I stood by her for a few minutes before she said anything more than 'hi' to me. This Debutante Ball meant a lot to the girls. Although there was only 4 months of actual rehearsals and preparation, most of the girls involved had been planning this since Year 7. Jessica had even asked Tall-Jason on the first week of high school. Getting a decent partner was half the challenge, Holly had asked me half way through last year, when we were rehearsing together for 'West Side Story' the school's musical that year. She was of course, Maria (Despite having blonde hair and blue eyes) and I was her brother Bernado (Despite looking very Angelo Saxon too). In regional Australia there aren't a lot of people who look Puerto Rican.

"Hello sicko!" she said after winding up her conversations with her friends, "I heard they took you to the hospital today. You going to die?"

"No, not quite." Man, I so didn't want to tell her.

"Tall-Jason said he heard that you fainted from getting your needle. Is that true?"

"No," I defended my honour, "I actually got two needles at the hospital and didn't flinch once!" OK, that may be stretching the truth wafer thin as I flinched during both of them, but I would do anything to sound like a man. Something that was going to be harder and harder to do as the days went by.

"Aren't you the big man?" she teased pulling me into the hall.

Now the dance teachers had their work cut out for them. The funniest about the Deb Ball was watching the farm boys try and dance. Boys who would mock me every other day of the year for dancing were now trying to unravel the waltz. There was always plenty of stomped toes and squeals of pain from their partners. Because of them dance lessons were a little slow moving for Holly and me. So, naturally like any fast learners we just spent our time talking. "Man, we're kicking arse tonight!" quietly cheered Holly as we performed a perfect waltz. I lead her around the circle his ease, I didn't let myself think about the next couple of days. It was time to enjoy Holly and nothing else mattered.

The song finished and I spun Holly around, adding a flourish to the end of the dance. I guess this would be one of my last times leading the dance so I wanted to enjoy it. We were the best dancers in the room. I wasn't cocky, I knew we wouldn't have stood a chance with against professional dancers but being the best in the Deb practise at Marrang College was good enough for me. "Well done everyone," said Mr. Coleman our school's woodcraft teacher who always doubled as the Debutante Ball dance teacher, alongside his wife.

"Remember to take your eyes off your feet. You can't build up confidence with your head down," said Mrs Coleman.

"Thanks Kristen. Also you need to get over this fear of boy/girl germs. Men, you need to hold your girls tighter. Really get chest-to-chest with each other. Holly and what's-your-name do a really good job. Maddi and Greg aren't too bad either. How about we do a Mars Bar challenge?"

The Mars Bar Challenge was an ill-conceived idea that Mr. Coleman believed to be genius. Each week, he would challenge two couples to go face-to-face in a competition. The couple that won would each get a Mars Bar. Although that seems like a fine premise, most of the Debutantes were acting like mini-brides, starving themselves to look perfect on their special day. So, an offer of a chocolate bar wasn't much encouragement. However, it didn't stop the naturally competitive Holly eyeing the aforementioned chocolate with determination. "Greg and Maddi don't stand a chance," she whispered in my ear. I wanted to win as well, not for the chocolate but to give Holly one last thrill before I disappoint her, genetically.

"OK challengers!" Mr. Coleman must have dreams that he is a boxing announcer, "Waltz positions!" He grandly whipped out two oranges, so grand was his gesture nobody would have been surprised if he started a magic trick right then and there. I held Holly's hand tightly assumed the waltz position. "I will place the oranges between each couple's bodies, the first one to let the fruit drop is the loser." He went to place an orange between Maddi and Greg's stomachs when Mr. Coleman realized this was the type of thing teachers shouldn't do. Instead he handed it a red-faced Maddi, "You can to it, sweetheart." He brought us our orange and Holly jammed it between our stomachs. The orange was just below her bust and it felt like a third, not-as-soft breast. She pressed up against me so hard that it was simultaneously exhilarating and painful.

Dear old Mrs. Coleman pressed play and the cassette began whirring away. For the 20 years the Colemans have organized the Deb Ball, the music stayed the same, in fact I think it was the exact same cassette. The stereo droned out the same crickety old tune it had played many times before and the two couples danced. I was very focussed on keeping in time, leading Holly and not letting the orange drop. My eyes closed deep in concentration. My feet annoyingly rattled around in my shoes, smaller than they were when I put them on this morning. All my clothes were looser than they this morning and it was going to get worse. While my shoes would always get looser, my T-shirts might start getting tight again, at least in certain areas. In fact, if I concentrated hard enough, I could feel my nipples reacting differently to all this rubbing. It was only a tiny feeling, but I knew what it meant. I read somewhere that some women can orgasm just by having their boobs rubbed alone, I hope that I wasn't going to be that type of women. Hell! I didn't want to be ANY type of woman. If ever caught the people responsible for those penis-stealing robots I'd make them regret it.

I heard an orange drop and laughed victoriously.

But it was short lived. I felt our orange roll past my leg. "Sorry Holly. I wasn't concentrating."

"That's OK." Mr. Coleman declared the other couple the winners and dismissed everyone. Mrs. Coleman reminded us that the boys were being measured for their suits next week. Everyone fell out into the warm late-Summer air, laughing, talking and making fun of the whole thing.

"Is it OK if you come around to my house for a little while now?" I wasn't able to summon the courage to ask her earlier, "I've got something important to tell you." The way I said it told her she knew this was something that needed to be said in the comfortable surrounds of my house and not the school car park.

"Let me go check with my Dad," she said scampering over to her Dad's car. While she talked Holly's Dad eyed me suspiciously, almost as if he knew I was going to ask her about having sex with her tonight. Maybe he could sense the box of condoms in my bag that I bought on the way to practice. He gave a tiny begrudging nod and asked Holly a question. "What time should Dad come and pick me up?" Holly shouted from over by the car.

"My Mum will give you a lift home."

The walk back to my house was uneasily quiet. "So… this has something to do with what happened at the Hospital, yeah?" I kicked a stone in front of my foot, not aggressively but very moodily,

"I'll tell you when we get there. A few people are going to be there, I want to do it all at once." She didn't ask any more questions but instead wrapped an arm around me and gave me a little 'buck-up' squeeze. My penis twitched a little bit but I informed it that it was a false alarm.

CHAPTER 3

Everyone was already there and waiting for me in the lounge room when Holly and I returned. The room fell silent as I walked through and for a second I thought my Mum had already told them. I felt like the corpse at a funeral, everyone was paying their respects to me and they didn't even known what, if anything, was wrong with me. I surveyed the room-

Dot had been chatting to Kev on the couch. Kevin Madsen was a year old than me and we hung out together a lot outside of school. Kev and his brother, Darcy (who was a year younger than me) lived around the corner from us and we'd always go swimming at the beach together. Both Kev and Darcy (Who everyone called 'Mads') were really good friends of mine and were usually the first I'd turn to for advice. I think Kev had a tiny bit of a crush on Dot but Dot thought he was far too arrogant for her. Glen was there, talking to Mads and I gestured for Holly to sit down.

It was only then, when I was surrounded by my best friends, on the cusp of revealing my secret did I realize I didn't have a clue how to tell them. "Umm… hi! Thanks for coming, everyone." That was all I could come up with. Usually Glen or Kev would have chipped in with a joke to embarrass me but they both knew what I was about to say was serious. I could really use a joke right about now. "I'm about to tell you something. But I only invited my best friends because it's a bit of a secret. So I'd really like it to be kept quiet. But you wont have to keep it quiet for too long I'm sure everyone will know soon."

"Is it good news?" foolishly asked Mads.

"No, not really. It's pretty horrible news," I swallowed hard and prepared to do it quick, like ripping off a band-aid. That was advice Dot had given me about the needle but it seemed appropriate to my situation now. "I'm… I was at the hospital today because…" Another pause, so much for doing it quick, "I'm lucky number two in Australia!" My brain was a bloody idiot, this was only going to confuse things.

"Number two? What you mean?" ask a confused and concerned Dot. A look of puzzlement was generally shared amongst the assembled.

"Well, Kate Draffen was number one and I'm number two," There was a silence I couldn't interpret, was it stunned realization or quiet bewilderment? I ploughed through the explanation: "They found Nanobots in my blood today. I have P.E."

"What?" laughed Glen, the only person to speak up, "You're not a girl." I nervously looked at my feet, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze.

"By next week I will be." I'm pretty sure there was no silence left in the world because it seemed like all of it was in my lounge room.

I slowly explained Dr. Chisholm and the small electric shocks that will make me girlier as each day passes. I told them swallowing coins and how from that the Nanobots amassed their armies. I cried as I told Holly I was sorry that I was unable to be her Deb partner. I showed them some of the small changes that had already begun to happen. For a good ten minutes there was no silence in the room whatsoever, I filled every nook and cranny with explanations and fears and pleas. The speech ended with me saying, "Look, if you don't want to be my mate anymore I'll understand it's a weird situation to be in but I'll need at least one friend to get me through this." With that said and finally no more words pouring of me, I sat down and promptly cried.

"Hey chin up, Michael," Mads was the first to approach me, "It's not like you're dying. We'll help you through it."

Dot cuddled me,"Yeah, it's OK," was all she said but it made things feel so much better.

"I'd hug you but I can't get to you," called Glen, joking about the line that had formed.

"C'mon stand up! Group hug," instructed Dot. Someone grabbed my arm and stood me up, from everywhere people hugged me. Some were crying, some were laughing because the group hug is the messiest of hugs.

"Thanks guys!" I said quietly, as the hug disbanded, like all hugs do.

"So what are you going to call yourself?" asked Kev.

"Not Michelle," I quickly answered.

Mads laughed, "Because of Michelle Taylor in Year 10?" I nodded.

"I guess I'll wait to see what type of girl I become before I choose a name." I was happy to have such friends, friends who would look after me through this whole ordeal.

They always say, "A friend in need is a friend indeed." That never made sense to me, of course they are going to be your friend they need something from you. The friends indeed are the ones that help you when you need something. My friends indeed began to leave, because it was quite late on a school night and despite their good friend becoming a girl, life had to continue as normal. That's the thing about lives, they keep going.

The Madsen Brothers were the first to leave, they walked home. Dot's Mum knocked on the front door to take Glen and Dot home. They both hugged me and told me they would see me at school. It was just me and Holly left. She looked uncomfortable, as if she was the one who was sick. I sensed she wanted to go home and almost gave up the plan. But this was my last chance, I was about to forfeit my gender. My penis may be nothing more than a nub tomorrow so I wanted to use it for its purpose, if only once.

"It's not contagious, is it?" she asked me warily. That wasn't a great prelude to sex and I knew it. If I was more observant I would have noticed that Holly had been a little stand-offish since the announcement. She didn't openly comfort me, content to simply echo what had already been said. I didn't notice that.

"No, you can't catch it. There's usually only one or two cases a month and usually in completely different spots on the globe. Nobody knows how you catch it." Again, not the right kind of talk to be seductive.

"Do you want a drink, you two?" asked my Mum, standing in the doorway, "A juice, coffee, even a beer or wine?" My Mum liked to think she was a 'Cool Mum' by offering us alcohol. Maybe that was cool at 15 and 16, but we were both 17 and quite able to find booze on our own.

"Mum, me and Holly were both about to go to my room for a talk," I said, however no plans had been made. Holly cautiously followed me to my room.

At least I could tick one thing off my list. I had Holly Morissey in my bedroom! I was dreaming about this kind of miracle happening as recently as 2 days ago. Although she was wearing some sexy lingerie and not a T-shirt of the Rock-to-Reef trip she did last year and blue shorts. But I had to admit she did look sexy in them, especially the view of the curvature of her taut buttocks inside her shorts. She looked around my room, at all the pictures stuck to the wall. I had a lot of photos: photos of Dot and me in Melbourne- our big trip to the city, photos of Glen and me at the beach mucking around, photos from Christmas parties and birthday parties, photos of the musicals and plays I've done. Holly was in a few of them. She was always smiling or pulling a face, posing in costumes, a stark contrast to how sullen she looked now.

I sat down on the bed and tried to summon my nerves to say something romantic. But romance was not the mood of the day and it would be impossible to use it in the situation. Genetic modifying robots weren't sexy, knowing that her seductor was doomed to have the same sexual organs as her wasn't sexy. If this was going to work I had to use pity.

Pity is never a good reason to do something, but at least I was pitiful in spades. "I'm so sorry I can't do the Deb with you!" I apologized, it was something I had already said a few times but this time was meant more of a 'pity comment' than a real apology.

"That's OK," she said, her soft voice barely above a whisper, "It's not your fault. We're only two weeks in, I can get a new partner." What? How dare she? She is supposed to be feeling bad for me, not already making new plans for the Deb! I bet she already has a shortlist of whom to ask.

Time to up the sympathy, "I'm just so scared. This is all so weird," Nice Michael, keep going, "Holly, thanks so much for being my friend, it means so much to me." Good, good!

She sat down on my bed to comfort me. My nose twitched at the gorgeous scent she always wore. My penis, slightly wary this time, began to rise. "C'mon Michael. I know it's weird but I'm sure you're going to make a wonderful girl. I mean all the girls at school already think you're sweet, so you're going to have lots of friends." This was not heading in the right direction.

"But I like being a guy, Hol. There's so many things I haven't tried," I steered the conversation in the right direction.

"There's nothing a girl can't do that a guy can do," she joke-protested, looking me in the eye.

"Well, there is one thing," she slowly cottoned on as I began my proposition, "Look Holly, I've always had a crush on you. Big time. Ever since we did our first musical and we were both in the chorus, back in Year 7. I know this is a lot to unload on you at the moment."

"Michael, you know that I have a boyfriend." I knew that little problem would come up.

"I know that and Jake's a real nice guy. It's just that my time is short and I want to experience this one last thing before…" I didn't want to say 'I turn into a girl,' I almost wished I could say 'before I die,' mainly because that would be so much harder to turn down.

Holly took a laboured breath and craned her head up, as if she had a stiff neck. I loved the way she nibbled her bottom lip when she was frustrated, but I didn't like it then, it wasn't a good sign. "Michael, you know I love you," I knew how this sentence would end, and she finished it, "as a friend." She kept talking but it didn't matter, I had blown it. Not only would I 'die' a virgin, I might have wrecked a good friendship at the same time, a friendship I could have really used when I joined the bra and panty set. For a longer moment than I should have thought it, I wished I were dying at least then if I didn't get the sex the ruined friendship wouldn't have mattered much.

She gave me hug. Not a hug the hinted that sex would follow, but a 'this is as close as we are going to get' hug. I desperately tried to not smell her. "Thanks so much for asking me," said Holly, crying a little, "I know this must have been so hard for you!"

"Yeah," I admitted, "I almost didn't do it."

"Well, I'm glad you did. It makes a girl feel wanted. It's just I'm a virgin too and I really want to save it for some one I really love. Shit! I sound so selfish!"

"No, no, no. Don't beat yourself up about it. You're not selfish. I understand," and you know what, I did.

"If you want I can call Alison, she gives it up pretty easy," the mischievous glint in Holly's eye returned.

"As desperate as I am, I'm not THAT desperate," and I laughed. And she laughed. We both laughed, probably too hard at a joke of that calibre. But we needed it. She leaned forward and I caught a glimpse of what she was saving for her boyfriend. Lucky bugger!

"So, does your Mum think we're doing it now?" Holly asked.

"Probably," for all I knew she could be listening at the door.

"You don't want to be a girl, do you?"

"Not really." She gave me a look that told me she was a little disappointed in me. As if becoming female was almost a gift being bestowed on me. Holly seemed to enjoy being a girl. She wasn't all lace and petticoats either, she played sports and surfed and did anything a boy could do. But it wasn't the girl part that bothered me, if I had been born a girl I wouldn't have anything against it. The problem lay in the fact that I was turning into one. I was changing teams mid-play and that doesn't work. I didn't know how they played the game or even the simplest rules. I told Holly about that and she removed the look of disappointment.

"I can teach you to be a girl," she smiled.

"Thanks, but there isn't much I want to learn."

"What? I can teach you about clothes and make-up and stuff like that. You're probably going to be pretty hot." Was I? Whenever I thought about being a girl I only saw the parts: the boobs, the pussy, the skinny arms, the round arse. I never thought about the sum of the parts. If I was attractive to guys there was going to be a whole new set of problems.

"Holly, the only difference between me and me two weeks from now is going to be my gender. I'm not about to start wearing dresses and make-up. It's going to be Michael with boobs. That's it."

"Well, that's seems healthy," Holly said in a way that I couldn't tell whether she was sarcastic or not.

"I'm still going to be me. If I could dance with you at the Deb I would, but I don't think the Deb committee would allow it. They didn't let Tracy and Donna do it together." Tracy and Donna were two lesbians in our year level.

"OK, just remember if you want help, I'm here for you." We pretty much tied up the conversation after that.

Mum drove her home. I stayed in my bedroom, citing that I had a big day tomorrow. Instead of resting up for it I wept. Wept for myself, really. I didn't want to have this happen to me. I didn't deserve this. I'm not religious but I did swear at whatever god might be up there. I looked at how feminine my hands had become and begged to anyone to stop it. Sure, I was selfish but as I was attached to my body it was a lot easier to think about it than worry about the trouble in Sudan or the homelessness problem. I'm not sure how I picture the events with Holly would go, but that wasn't it. I was so stupid to think that she would fuck me just because my penis was disappearing.

I ran outside. There weren't many good things about our house. Even with only three of us in there it still seemed cramped. The house sat one notch above in disrepair and we worked hard to keep it there. The plumbing was skittish and the paint was peeling almost everywhere. What our house lacked in presentation it made up for in location. Mum had bought it as a single girl when she first moved to town. Marrang wasn't very big back then, so she picked it up for less than a song. However, less than a song was still expensive for my Mum and she worked tirelessly to own her little heaven. The reason she wanted to live in her little house; the location. It was right on the beach.

And I mean right on the beach. We had about 5 metres of grass out the backdoor and from then on it was the beach. No fence or anything. Houses either side of Mum's cost over a million dollars and Mum could have easily moved us out of the little sea side shack and gotten something a lot nicer once the property boom happened but she didn't. We all loved the beach too much that even moving a few kilometres out would hurt us.

I learnt to swim right away, so did Nicole and from that day there were only a handful of days when I didn't swim. Those days I was usually sick and it was raining, it had to take both of them to stop me diving in. If someone asked me to picture home, I would conjure up the image of the frothy waves crashing against the shore rather than the ramshackle house that I slept in.

So, that was where I ran. Feeling the cold sand give way under my feet was the feeling of home for me. I did a lot of my late night thinking on the beach, often I dreamt about bedding Holly but now it had to remain as a dream. I continued my crying. Here, even the crying seemed at home. When I cried in my room it felt like I was being weak. But here on the beach, waves flinging themselves onto the shore, it felt natural. I closed my eyes and let the horrible thoughts inside.

"I thought I'd fine you here," said a voice. The body accompanying the voice snuggled in beside me, shielding herself from the cold night wind.

"Dot? How did you get here?"

"I rode my bike. No-one was answering at your house, so I thought you might be out here." Dot shivered despite it only being mildly cool. Dot was one of those girls who was always cold. I think it was because she was so slight that the wind literally chills her bones. I pulled off my jumper and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said through clenched teeth, "So, you have Pussy Envy, do you?" Sometimes I found Dot's frankness endearing but not today.

"I don't have Pussy Envy. I have Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration," I snarled at her.

"I was kidding. Michael, I think you're being really brave. Despite crying on the beach you're taking it well." Dot was an only child and probably had never comforted anyone before. She wasn't doing well but at least how bad she was doing was cheering me up.

"Thanks."

"Life is going to get a little weird," she said watching the waves.

"Just a little, yeah," I said watching her watching the waves.

"I don't how you put up with being a guy, walking around with your dick flopping around. It's all so messy, being a girl is much more neat."

"Well, girls have boobs bouncing all around the place."

"Umm… I don't really have that problem," she said like she said many things, bluntly. I felt foolish, Dot was pretty much flat in that area. Was she acting blunt because that throwaway comment hurt, I hoped not and asked if she was upset.

"No, not at all. Like I said, I'm neat. No extra surface area on me. Ha," she laughed, "You're probably going to have bigger tits than me!" I groaned, I didn't want to think things like that.

"I just want to enjoy being a guy while I can," I stated, more as a mission statement to myself than a comment to the shivering girl beside me.

"And what does that entail? Pissing standing up and earning more money for the same job?" Dot asked, poking me with her slender finger to provoke a laugh. I did laugh and then the silence kicked in.

I don't what came over me but I said something that I didn't expect to, "I asked Holly to have sex with me."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want miss my chance having sex as a guy."

"So, I presume she said no?"

"Oh yeah!" I was almost proud of my spectacular failure. It was at least, spectacular. Dot stood up and thoroughly wiped her jeans, flinging sand everywhere.

"Come on then," she said heading for the house.

"Where are we going?" I said and stood up as well.

"Well, if precious little Miss Holly wont, I will."

I darted across the beach to catch up with Dot, "What?" I incredulously asked her. Was she being serious? Had my luck changed? Was I now getting sex without even looking for it? That only happens to the best looking of male movie stars and almost all women. I had never really thought of Dot as a sexual object, she had been too good a friend for too long a time. I nudged her image from the friend file in my brain over to the sexual partner file to explore my feelings. Immediately I could see she had a very nice arse to compensate for her lack of tits. I was surprised how fast I could turn her into a sex object.

While my brain ticked over with possibilities, Dot started talking, "Michael, you're my best friend and you know what best friends do? They help each other. So, I'm going to let you fuck me. Don't think that I wont get enjoyment too, I probably will. But my pleasure is not the matter at hand, it's yours. Saying that, we are only going to have straight, up-and-down, vanilla sex. No anal sex, no head jobs, in fact no 'jobs' of any kind, no weird positions, no tying me up. Just no crazy stuff, OK? And please don't send me flowers afterwards. I know how your mind works, you'll think it will be a nice way to say thank you. Just a simple thank you will do, thank you very much! Also don't misconstrue this as love. It's not love, we're just friends, OK? I may be desperate but there's no way that I'm going to start dating a guy who has one week left being a guy." She finally took a breath.

That speech was said at such a rapid speed that I was finally catching up with her when we reached the house. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I sincerely asked her. She stared at me, her piercing eyes telling me the answer. She grew taller, all of a sudden as she got up on tippee-toes. She inclined her head at the right angle in preparation to kiss me. Suddenly, the fog of 12 years of friendship cleared and I saw how sexy she could be. She wasn't some sexless, feminist bookworm, she was a sensual woman looking for a little tenderness. I leaned down to join her in a kiss. Slowly, my head reached her and I tilted it as not to bang noses. I was going to kiss my best friend. Then I heard it. A giggle, a stifled giggle, but a giggle none the less.

"Sorry," she laughed, "Please continue." I hit her.

"I'm sorry, it's just we've been friends for years. It's a little weird!" she laughed quietly as we walked into my room, "It's like kissing my brother, if I had one."

I sighed frustrated, "Well, if we don't do it tonight it will be like kissing your sister."

"If I had one," she added, "Look, it's going to be hard to make this romantic sex so let's just treat this as it is."

"And what is it?" I asked. She closed the bedroom door behind her and sidled up to me. A wandering little hand fumbled to get under my t-shirt and into my jeans.

"A going away party for your penis," she purred as she gave it a polite tug. My best friend had just touched my penis. To almost anybody that is a strange thing to happen, best friends don't touch each other genitals. Dot must have noticed it too, she gasped when she grabbed it again, "Bye bye Michael's penis."

I had a pressing question to ask Dot, "You're not giving up your virginity for me, are you?" We always talked about everything and I never heard about any sex. But that was probably a thing only girls talk about with other girls. Either way I knew she hadn't slept with anyone at school. It seemed a sad way to give up your virginity.

"No Michael, I am not. When I went to Perth for the Christmas Holidays with my folks, I kinda hung out with a guy," her squeaky voice lost its bravado, and she sounded shy, "He was nice. We hung out a lot. His name was Michael too." Dot sounded like a regular teenage girl, something that hardly ever happened. "We had sex a few times. I got pretty good at it, I think. We still e-mail."

"Aww… that's sweet," I joked, "He wont mind that you've got your hands down my pants?"

"Nah, he had a girlfriend. We were just playing around."

Dot was tired of the limited amount of space inside my jeans and begun undoing the button. I watched her, strangely detached from the whole state of affairs. If doing Holly was a dream come true than I don't know where having Dot undo my pants comes from. My jeans collapsed to the floor. Dot grunted, "I know that you haven't done this before, so here's a hint: It takes two of us!" I awoke from my daze and kicked off my jeans, hitting a stack of CDs and sending them plummeting to the ground. Ignoring them, I pulled of my T-shirt and looked for something else to do. Since all I had left was my briefs and Dot was fully clothed (including my jumper!), I decided to even the score. I yanked the jumper off of her and then her shirt. I didn't know she wasn't wearing a bra, so she was a lot more naked than I thought she would be.

Dot's breasts were small, even though she was quite small herself. If it wasn't for the pinkish, erect nipples her chest could be mistaken for a young boy's. "Hey look," she bubbly squealed, "We're chest twins!" I looked down and saw that I was sporting two plump, erect nipples myself. I couldn't control the frown that grabbed a hold of my lips and forced them to purse up angrily. "Cheer up, you sook!" Dot teased as she turned around, "At least you don't have something as girly as this!" She threw her head back and her dark, black hair flew majestically through the air. She wiggled out of her jeans, exposing a perfectly round, definitely feminine bum. It was like all the femininity in her body was redirected into her back. From the back there was no mistaking her for a boy. She had a tiny waist and a round, firm and inviting pair of buttocks. Even if I was a little girly in the back area there was no way I'd come close to that.

We both stood there in only our underwear. It was a stand off, as tense as any stand off in any Western film. I eyed her mound and she eyed my erect penis, fighting to be free. "You first," I said.

"No, you," she replied, teasing me by running her thumbs under the elastic band of her yellow cotton pair of panties. The wind rustled in through my open window.

"How about we got together?" I suggested.

"Good idea," Dot agreed and added, "Just a warning- I know you are probably used to porn but I haven't shaved down there."

It was my time for a confession too, "Just a warning for you- The Nanobots have already gone to town down there. I've lost about a quarter of length and some girth. Also my balls are smaller but I don't know why you would care about that."

"I don't."

"That's cool. OK, on the count of three… 1, 2, 3!"

I stripped off and Dot became naked as well. We sighed a sigh of relief. "OK, our friendship is never going to be the same," Dot smiled, completely naked. I nodded, also naked. There was a pause as I examined my partner's body. So what it wasn't the heavenly body that Holly wore? It was a woman and she was willing to have sex with me. Dot eyed me as well, "That's 3/4 of what you were packing? Michael, you must have been huge! I mean, you are still quite big now!" I felt a sharp pang of disappointment. Here I was being praised for my penis size and I only had a few days with it, and only one more with it being larger than average.

"Bloody hell! I could have been a porn star!" I complained.

"You could still be!" Dot winked at me. I pictured myself, bouncing up and down on a man's penis, my humongous tits flying everywhere, threatening to knock me out. I moaned like all the girls in every porno I had ever seen.

"Don't even joke about that," I growled.

"Oh, I didn't mean when you are a girl… I meant that tonight… you could pretend… forget about it!" Dot said, climbing on the bed.

I went for my bag and grabbed the box of condoms. I ripped open the box. It seemed a shame the store only sold them in packs in twelve, I wouldn't really need twelve. As far as I could see the next time I had sex it would be completely free of penises. I fumbled with a packet and heard Dot instruct, "Come and get me ready first, then put on the franger!" I was nervous, naturally. Not only was this my first time, this was my only chance be a man inside a woman (as opposed to my transformation which will make me a man inside a woman's body). If I screwed this up, I could only dream about it.

I lay on the bed beside her, befuddled. "What am I supposed to do? How do I turn you on?" I asked. The female body needs a manual. I had no idea what to do. I gingerly played with her nipples, and she seemed to like that. I even licked them, which made her moan once. But there was no real breasts mass to caress and every time I went to kiss her on the lips she couldn't stop laughing. I took a journey southward. Amongst the soft pubic hair was the jewel of the crown, a place where every teenage boy would love to spend time. I rubbed it, more scared of it than it was of me. I pushed the thought that I would soon have one of these out of my head. Dot did nothing more to help me than moan when something felt good. I tickled what I thought to be her clitoris and she rewarded me with a deep, pleasurable moan. I continued to work on that while her vagina prepared itself for my entry.

"You can put the franger on now," she moaned, alerting me it was time. I sat on the bed and ever so carefully rolled the condom down my rod. I had followed the instructions properly and was sure that I think was on properly. Just to make sure I asked Dot to come over and inspect my work. "Looks good to me," she said, lightly caressing it in her hands. It soon gained back its stiffness that it lost by the emasculating experience of putting a condom on. Dot looked more pretty than I had ever seen her- porcelain white with jet-black hair and eyes. How somebody living in a beach town could never get a tan amazed me.

The atmosphere was electric, the feeling most teenagers get when they have sex. But in the mix was the fact this was so special. Most of the people with P.E don't know they have it, so they can never savour their last time, like I could. One minute they are one gender, the next they are the other. Only a slither of me was female, while the throbbing coming from my penis reminded me I was still very much male. I took my penis in my hand and nudged the welcoming lips of her sweet pussy. Dot breathed heavily as I slowly eased my way inside of her. "Now you're a man," she said sweetly.

"Sadly, for the first and last time," I said, drawing my penis back so that I could push forward again.

Sex, I found out, is not always like the movies. Sometimes what you are doing hurts the girl, some things she does hurts you. I accidentally pinned her hair to the bed with my palm and when she moved her head she yelped in pain. I also pushed too deep and she screamed. I wasn't sure of the nature of the screaming, so I went deeper. It wasn't until she swore quite threateningly at me, did I know I was doing wrong. We changed the positions around, probably too much, to find something we both liked. Dot took charge, choreographing the whole event like the boss she liked to be. Doggy style was what seemed to work best, which I was happy with because it gave me a great view of her impressive arse, which in turn spurned me on.

The problem with doing anything in real life that you dream about is that it has to be done in real life. The dream world is full of possibilities, where every single thing is exactly as you want it to be. Real life was a lot of variables- things that are tricky to control and other things you have no control over at all. Young men, untrained, often have problem satisfying a woman. Therefore I wasn't surprised when I had finished, before I could please Dot. Was I ashamed? Totally. Was it to be expected? Probably. I offered to finish her using my hands or mouth or something. "I'm happy if you are happy," she smiled, pulling her panties back on. I was happy, as time ticked mercilessly away I had been able to tick something off my list, with the help from my best friend. I told her I was happy and she hugged me. I hugged her back, careful not to touch her with the used condom I was holding in one hand.

"I feel sweaty and gross," Dot said as she continued to dress.

"Are you going?" I asked her glumly. She pointed at my clock radio, which indicated it was far too late to be up for anybody with business in the morning. "Fair enough," I relented.

"You were pretty good," Dot said, "With a bit more practice you could have been great," Dot finally noticed how comments like those upset me, "Sorry Michael. I'm sure you're going to make a great girl too."

"I don't want to be a girl!"

"If there was something I could do to stop it I would."

"I know."

"So, I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

"Probably."

CHAPTER 4

Sleep came surprisingly easy to me. I had always have been able to sleep no matter the situation. I slept a long, dreamless sleep. Maybe because my dreams had just been lived out I didn't need to dream them. I'm not sure what kept away the nightmares of me wearing petticoats, sucking cocks or having my period, but I was happy for my uneventful sleep. The next thing I remembered was my Mum's voice calling for me to get out of bed.

Since Mum did a lot of night work at the pub, she wasn't usually awake when I went to school. I made my own lunch and walked myself to school therefore it was weird having Mum drive me the miniscule distance to school. We were meeting with the Principal and Dr. Annette Fischer to discuss 'options'. I wondered how many people knew in total about my predicament. There were the medical men at the School Medical Check, Dr. Chisholm and his gang, Mum, my friends, maybe a nurse or two, probably the government and now the Principal. I wondered who those people had told, and how long it would be before the press got wind.

It was nice to wake up and notice my body hadn't become more female during my sleep. I was scared that, somehow an electric volt would fly in from somewhere and convert me in my sleep. That wasn't the case and I was as male as when I went to sleep. I inspected my body in the shower and noticed that I had some way to go before anyone would call me 'Miss'.

Mrs. Higgins was our school's Principal and had been since time begun. She was a stern taskmaster bordering on doddering old grandmother. She had a lot of students to take care of, but she already knew me. She loved the school musicals and plays and would always compliment me on my performance. "Please sit down," she crowed like a magpie when all entered. Since I was groomed to be a gentleman, I pulled out chairs for both Mum and Annette before sitting down myself. There seemed to be too much oestrogen in this room and it appeared to be contagious.

Annette proceeded to get down to brass tacks. She talked about my problem in full, how they were 'easing' me into my new gender, how I was healthy enough to come to school and that soon I would be a fully functioning female. Her considerably long life experience had not prepared Mrs. Higgins for Nanobots and spontaneous gender changes. She eyed me with an odd mix of fear and contempt and you know what? I don't blame her. I was a freak. Only one of two in Australia, there are more albino dwarves in this country than P.E. sufferers. I would be scared of me if I wasn't me!

But to her credit, Mrs. Higgins was calm and thoughtful. They were discussing whether or not I could attend school over the next couple of days. Frankly, that didn't seem to be much of an issue. In two days or so I had to go and stay in the hospital, until it was complete anyway. Mrs. Higgins said, "I don't want my school to turn into a media circus, you understand? The safety of my students is always my number one concern."

"But it is important that Michael continues life as normal so that it isn't completely turned upside down, when the transformation happens." I'm not sure how me going to Maths class today was going to stop my life being a little weird when I grew a pussy but I left all that thinking stuff to Annette. It was finally agreed that I could go to school today, and if the press were around tomorrow I would remain at home. That simple compromise seemed to please both of them.

I wanted to stay here in Marrang College, sure it wasn't the best school in the state but like Annette said I needed things to remain familiar. I did not want to be shipped out to a Boarding School or (perish the thought) an All Girls School. So I watched Mrs. Higgins like a hawk, ready to fight for my right to stay in a middling government school. Ever since the car trip this morning I knew exactly what I was going say to her. I had practiced my speech in my head, numerous times and would cry if it were required. With the small battle of whether I could stay at school for the next two days over I was ready for the big one: Whether or not to kick Michael Taylor out on his girly butt.

"Mrs. Taylor," I almost swore at Mrs. Higgins until I realised she was not talking to me, but my mother, "You'll be happy to know that the Parents Association has kindly donated a new summer and winter uniform for Michael to wear." Mum nodded warmly and I sat there stunned. Uniforms? I guess I was staying. Mrs. Higgins must have figured out that keeping me at the school would be an easier choice than making me find a new school. The press for kicking a brand new girl, scared and confused, out of school would have been horrible and she knew that. I was more than a little disappointed that I wasn't able to use my prepared speech.

'Mum would have loved it, maybe I might recite it for her tonight,' I thought.

Mrs. Higgins said that there was to be a special Year 11 assembly to explain what was happening to me on Thursday. I was happy that I wouldn't be there. Knowing how fast gossip travels in this school I wouldn't be surprised if everyone knew already. She would remind them that I should be treated like any other student on my return. I'm not sure if that was at all possible

Annette nutted out some other details, such as special consideration for future exams (Yay! Despite being a slight to feminism, I could now blame bad grades on my gender!), counselling services at the school, changing of school records to my upcoming gender and other various and boring things. Throughout the hour long meeting the only thing I said was "Good morning" and that was right at the start. My Mum was also remarkably silent. After all the business was completed, Mrs. Higgins slightly cautiously leaned over to me and asked, "So what will be your name, Mr. Taylor?"

"I'm not sure," I mumbled.

"Well, when you chose one can you inform me so we know what to call you when you return," a smile that was tricky to decipher crept along her face. Was it genuine or was it there only to placate me?

"Yes Mrs. Higgins," I said shyly, now unsure if I could have done my impassioned speech at all.

"Is there any other problems you need sorted?" the wrinkly old principal asked my Mum and I. I looked at Mum and she, like the flake she is, absent-mindedly shook her head.

"I was doing my Deb with Holly Morissey from 11A and I guess now she will be partnerless. She still will be able to do the Deb, wont she?" In hindsight, it wasn't a real question. Rehearsals have only been going for two weeks and nothing formal had been signed or anything. Of course, she could her Deb. All she would have to do is find a new partner and it would be fine. I guess I asked the question because I wanted to say SOMETHING in the meeting and because I was worrying more about Holly than me this morning.

"Holly will be looked after," Mrs. Higgins reassured me, she then looked my straight in the eye and smiled another one of those undecipherable smiles, "If you like, after you are…." I watched her choose her words carefully, "After you get back from hospital, I invite you to become one of the Debutantes yourself." I couldn't believe what Mrs. Higgins had offered me. Me being a Debutante? I almost scoffed. Did she think I was becoming a girl on a whim so that I could wear pretty dresses? Had she not listened to a word Annette had said about 'troubling time', 'massive amounts of stress' and 'possible depression'? Or was she just trying to scare me, acting like the old witch she sometimes looked like? "It would be a shame to not have a dancer as good as you not among the couples."

I was blind sighted so badly by that offer that I wandered of out her office in a weird daze. Mum thanked Dr. Fischer for all her work and Dr. Fischer said she would see me this afternoon. I waved and mumbled something that could have been a farewell of some type. "That Annette is a nice woman. Come to think of it, so was Mrs. Higgins," I could hear the Mum stopped short of saying something else. I'm sure she knew that it would upset me and that's why she withheld it. She had been doing that a lot since she heard the news. My Mum kissed me, told me to stay strong and left home. It was only 10 minutes before the recess bell would ring, so instead of heading to class I headed to my locker.

The Year 11 Study Room is where our lockers are, it also has tables, chairs, a sink, a fridge and a drink machine. Just enough things to make us think we have our own little utopia, so that we feel better than the Year 7-10s. The Year 12s have an even better study room, we can only dream about it until we move up the year level. There was only 5 or so people in there when I entered and every single one of them fell silent. They knew. They were just talking about me. Somebody told. Aware I had 10 eyes watching my every move, I threw my bag on top of my locker and went to say something.

The 5 students who were sat around weren't best friends of mine but I did know them. They were all 'Group A' kids, too cool to go to their morning classes. "Hi," I said, "It's true." Why not be upfront about it? They all seemed startled by my honesty and kept their distance. "It's not contagious," I reminded them. They exploded into a mass of questions.
No, it didn't hurt. Although, I wasn't enjoying it.
Yes, they are using the electronic pulse procedure to make the process less painful.
No, I don't know how I caught it.
Yes, I know I already look a bit different.
No, I don't know what I will look like.
No, Kate Draffen hasn't called me.
Yes, I would be coming back to school.
Yes, I was scared.

They all asked their questions politely and with care not to offend. Not even our continual class clown, Trevor Tull, made a single joke. I told them that I planned to be the same old Michael after the change, that I'll only look different. I'll still be studying the same classes, I'll still go swimming every day and I'll still keep the poster of Jessica Alba up on my bedroom wall. "So, you'll be a lesbian?" someone asked.

I replied, "No, I'll be heterosexual Michael in a girl's body," but it was interrupted by the school bell.

"Watch the reaction of people when they see I'm here," I said as we heard the unmistakable sound of gossip heading towards us. The gossip was rolling around the school ground, gathering in size and speed like a snowball down a mountain.

It was a deep, seismic rumble that was saying things like "I'd freak if I grew tits" and "I heard that he paid for it to be done to him." The gossip avalanche came crashing into the Study room and stopped dead. Jokes, questions and conspiracy theories all stopped dead as people saw me. The whole thing was almost funny enough to stop me worrying about my problem for a second or two.

"Hey lover," said Dot, winking at me, "How was your big meeting?"

"OK, I don't have to leave Marrang and I got a new summer uniform, free of charge! How was your classes this fine morning?" Dot threw her sport bag in her locker,

"Crappy, I hate having P.E… Uh, I mean Physical Education first thing in the morning. Especially when I hardly got any sleep last night. You're lucky you got out of it, Mr. Dellaqua had us running laps the entire time." The school's policy to fight obesity was to have every student study Physical Education with the intolerable Mr. Dellaqua. It didn't seem such a good idea since Mr. Dellaqua's teaching methods drove a lot of people to comfort eating. "Hey, next time you go to Mr. Dellaqua's class you'll probably need a sports bra!" coming out of anyone else's mouth, I would have hit them but Dot was an only child, and this way her weird way of cheering me up.

"Saying things like that doesn't really cheer me up, Dorothy." She hated being called by her full name but sometimes it's called for.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled but she would probably do it again very soon.

"That's OK. Hey, guess what?"

"What?" she asked.

"There's one good thing about becoming a girl."

"What's that?"

"I get to go in the girls change room!" I said. And to tell the truth I was excited about the prospect of seeing my female classmates in various stages on undress. I could almost picture it; Alanna and Kristen comparing bras, Alana, Josie and Lilly all washing each other, Alison Sorokin trying on her new G-string. I know a lot of guys who would give their left testicle to see inside the girls' change room, I was just overpaying, that's all.

"They're not like that, you know?"

"What?"

"Girls Change Room. They aren't like you picture them." How did she know how I pictured them? For all she knows I could be imagining them perfectly. "Most girls don't walk around topless, only the slutty ones do. We don't shower together. We all shower in separate stalls, those of us who do shower. The rest just change facing a wall." The dream slowly deflated right there on the floor in front of us.

"Thanks for ruining the one upside I found," I grunted. Dot pointed at a large-chested girl walking past, "You'll be happy to know she walks around topless. If that cheers you up?"

"Yes, yes it does."

The remainder of the school day was nicely mundane. There's something comforting about being able to turn off your brain while a teacher drones on. I was mostly able to forget as soon as school finished I would go to the hospital to become a little more female. However, I couldn't keep those thoughts from appearing all day. It was the last class of the day, Physics, when I couldn't hold on any more. I quietly sobbed to myself, sitting in the back row. I excused myself and had a louder more cleansing cry outside.

I had never wanted to stay at school after the final bell had rang. Like most students the final bell said to me it was time to escape for another day. I could do what I wanted, swim, talk to friends or just watch TV. No timetable controlled me. That last bell of the day was one of the greatest sounds in the world. This bell, however, tolled for me. With each 'ding' it donged it told that I due for a measuring, a prodding and a feminising electric shock. I said goodbye to Glen and Dot and told the Madsen brothers I would catch up with them later. I tried to say bye to Holly but she left so quickly I didn't have a chance. I hadn't been able to say anything at all to her all day, we didn't have classes together and she was never around during recess or lunch. It was almost like she was avoiding me.

Mum was waiting for me out the front of school. Compared to other Mums she looked frazzled and worried but that's the way she always looked. We went through the motions. She asked me how my day was and I said 'good' which wasn't true but easy to say. My Mum was nice enough not to ask any follow-ups and we clambered into the car. "So, ready for the hospital?" she asked.

All of the doctors were excitedly waiting for me, like a litter of puppies waiting for their master to come home from work. Their professionalism was the only thing stopping them jumping up and licking my face. I was so special to them or more to the point the tiny little robots that were inside me were so special. They waited until I sat down to begin asking the questions. The whole situation reminded me of devoted fans getting the chance to ask their favourite movie star questions, they were polite, courteous and increasingly intrusive.

The questions died down and their professional excitement slowly ebbed away. For somebody with such a fascinating situation I could be wholly boring. I refrained from revealing my last night's activities with Dot and lied about how well I was coping. I'm sure at least one of these highly skilled medical practitioners knew I was avoiding questions but none of them let on. Annette and Dr. Jensen, who wasn't a real doctor yet but was studying to be, left, leaving me with good old Dr. Chisholm and Dr. Nagra. Out of all the doctors these two were my favourites. Dr. Nagra's blunt honesty was almost charming and Dr. Chisholm seemed like a bit of a father figure to me.

"I had sex last night," I blurted out. I know girls don't usually like it when you brag about sleeping with them but this was different. This was to doctors! Both of the doctors looked at me silently, even to them this area of conversation was a little private. My brain made the decision to keep talking, "It was with my friend. She's a girl. It was very nice. I'm going to miss it."

Dr. Nagra must have sensed how sad I was about it and made an attempt to cheer me up, "I'm sure you wont miss it. The female orgasm is quite the powerful thing, or so I have heard," Dr. Nagra said, almost nonchalantly. In the corner was the cursed machine, able to turn me into a girl with a single shock. The doctors both fussed over it, reading off numbers and twisting dials. I was unsure if I hated it or not, sure it was responsible for slowly taking my manhood away but it seemed a lot better than the alternative of painfully changing all at once.

At Dr. Chisholm's request I took off my school uniform and sat it on the chair beside me. I eyed my shirt and shorts, wondering if they would fit me at all after this shock. I asked Dr. Chisholm and he thought that they should be fine. The linoleum felt cold on my toes so I concentrated on that and not the metal bar that Dr. Nagra was handing me. "So, are you ready, Michael?" Of course I wasn't. I had only upgraded from boyhood to manhood a few years ago and I didn't want to trade it in for womanhood.
But I knew I didn't have a choice.

I grabbed the bar with both hands and said in the spirit of Clint Eastwood, "Zap me up, doc!"

The electricity flew down through the machine, down the wires, into the metal bar and awoke millions of tiny robots living inside me. I felt my skin crawl again as my body edged ever closer to total femininity. The robots worked tirelessly to make me more womanly and I watched in morbid horror. While I hated the outcome I had to admire the Nanobots' fervour. There was a pulling feeling in my face and my ears hurt a little. My arms began to slim down and the hair covering them thinned out. Everything felt like it was changing and I didn't know where to look.

I looked down, in time to see my breasts being born. Like any newborns, my breasts were small, cute and forcing their way out of a place they didn't belong. Already I had tits bigger than Dot, but I wasn't a bikini model by any stretch of the imagination. My already feminised nipples now looked more at home atop my smallish mounds. It only took a few seconds all up. Growing breasts was a pretty girly thing to do and now I would have to do something extremely manly, like killing a bear or building a barn.

The tingle slowly ebbed and I stood up to allow the medicos to examine what was now me. "OK Michael, you are now about 30% female," announced Dr. Nagra after consulting the computer.

"Great," I heaved a sigh. Did my voice sound different? Maybe a tiny bit. The men once again collected data by measuring me and weighing me and testing everything about me. I'd lost some centimetres here and gained some centimetres there. They concluded all was fine and that I was well on my way to becoming a teenage girl. I would have liked to argue their that 'all wasn't not fine' but didn't have the strength to have Dr. Chisholm call in Annette to explain that being a woman wasn't a bad thing.

My briefs came down so that my genitals could be surveyed. It was an embarrassing thing to do, only made slightly less embarrassing by the fact Dr, Chisholm was almost too embarrassed to ask me at all. The tingling feeling was present there for quite a while but I ignored it, not wanting to upset myself. But there was no choice now. I had predicted it would be bad, but it was far worse. For what was once a mighty oak tree (OK, maybe not that big) was nothing much more than an acorn. Hidden amongst my pubic hair was a penis that belonged on a 4-year-old boy. I gasped, holding 'it' between two fingers. The testicles were also retreating in fear, my scrotum spread out and barely hanging down. As far as defined genders go, I was a mess down there.

"What the fuck!? Where my penis?" was as clean as I could make it in spite of how angry/confused I was, "I thought there was 70% to go!". Dr. Chisholm approached me slowly and carefully, as if he was a lion tamer and I was his favourite lion in an uncharacteristically bad mood.

"Now Michael," he gently said, "The reason things down there have changed the most is because they have the most to change. Everything else is just getting smaller or bigger or longer or softer. All the amazing things are all going on down there. You're creating a womb and eggs, all sorts of things, while at the same having to lose your entire male reproductive system. It's such a big task that it will be more noticeable than the other changes."

My fragile, pathetic, little penis hung its head in shame as if it knew it had betrayed me. If my penis was to die before me I would have rather it went out with a bang as opposed to a whimper. It should have died doing something heroic or exciting, not shrivelling up to make room for some pussy lips. Looking down at it then was like watching a loved one in an Aged Care Facility, drained of all spirit and just waiting to die.

My penis didn't stir at all with all the prodding and measuring. It was sad watching it, so I looked at the mirror instead. My face was… cuter, for a lack of a better word. The nose I owned was shrinking and changing shape, my eyes were larger and changing colour, my lips seemed a little bigger and my ears smaller. While I still looked like me, I certainly looked different.

This time around they connected wires to my head to measure brain waves. "Is my brain changing?" I nervously asked. I hadn't thought about that. Could I come out of this with a whole new personality? Would I still me be?

"Yes," confirmed Dr. Chisholm, "But the changes wont be drastic. There has been some personality changes- clean people have become messy, angry people calm down, senses of humour get tweaked. Nothing too major. You wont lose your memory or forget how to talk." He bent down to look me in the eye, "You'll still be you, Michael. Just a ever-so slightly different you." The way Dr. Chisholm said it calmed me down a little.

"It's just small thing," added Dr. Nagra as he tidied up the place, "You know, you might be slightly more competitive or happy but most people wont notice. You might be more outgoing. Who knows?"

"Can't you tell yet?"

"No, nothings set in stone," Dr. Nagra said, "It's hard to tell if the personality changes are part of the brain changing or your reaction to the changes. Only one thing is certain; your sexuality will change." Dr. Chisholm spun around so fast to Dr. Nagra I knew he wasn't supposed to say that. I couldn't see but I was sure Dr. Chisholm was giving Dr. Nagra a death stare to end all death stares. I allowed myself into my brain and I quickly rummaged around my thoughts. As far as my thoughts were concerned Carmen Electra was still filed in the 'Hot' file and George Clooney was still in the 'Not' one. If Dr. Nagra was right I would have re-filed Mr. Clooney in the kinda hot file.

"Is that true, Dr. Chisholm? Am I going to start liking guys?"

Dr. Chisholm turned back around to me,"Well, Dr. Fischer, Annette, was supposed to break it to you gently this evening but since Dr. Nagra slipped- After your transformation you will probably be attracted to the opposite sex. All the case studies show that there is at least a swing towards heterosexuality in your new form. I'm not sure why the virus works like that. But, like a typical girl, you'll be quote unquote attractive to the opposite sex and you'll probably be attracted to them. These nanobots can do some amazing things." Dr. Chisholm must not know there is a difference between 'amazing' and 'disturbing'.

With that slab of bad news, I got ready to leave the examination room. Dr. Chisholm wished me a good day and said that he would see me tomorrow when I would come and stay and the hospital. I mumbled a 'thank you' I didn't mean and left. Annette was waiting for me at the end of the hallway, chatting with Mum again, making decisions about me without me. I caught my Mum's eye and she watched me walk towards her. "You're looking good, sweetheart," she said, unsure if that was the right thing to say. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to say but I felt loved so I didn't snap at her.

"I've got breasts! Can you tell?"

She looked my up and down, studying my body in my school shirt and shorts, "A little bit," she murmured, trying not to upset me, "Overall you look a little more…"

"Girly?" I suggested. She nodded and weakly smiled.

Annette expelled a long, professional breath, "Now Michael, I was wondering if I could talk to you alone for a moment?"

"No, it's OK. I know I'm going to like guys, I'll get over it."

"Huh? What? Oh…OK," she blustered, "So, you're OK with it?"

"Not really, but as I said I'll get over it," I tapped my mum on her shoulder, "Let's go, Mum. Bye Annette! See you tomorrow."

Maybe I shouldn't have blown Annette off like that. After all, she was only doing her job. But come to think of it, I actually liked Dr. Nagra's blunt honesty more than Annette's patronizing lectures. I felt a little bad treating her the way I did, but only a little bad. When I'm lying in the hospital I won't be able to get rid of her and she can talk down to me until her little heart is content. It began to spit down rain as we walked to the car. I broke into to a quick jog to avoid getting too wet, while my Mum didn't even seem to notice it was raining. My reason for running was that I didn't want my stroll to the car to turn into a wet-shirt contest. These school uniforms were notorious see-through when wet, a thing I enjoyed when I was the viewer but hated now I was a potential viewee. I was already very self-conscious of the two small lumps in my shirt. When I ran I was reminded about my new breasts again, as they bounced up and down. Maybe 'bounced' is too strong a word, I wasn't Pamela Anderson running across the sand in Baywatch, giant tits threatening to hit her in the face with each step. Mine was more of a slight tug, but a tug that certainly wasn't there this morning.

Mum had the keys to the car, so I had to stand and wait for her in the rain anyway. As she came walking around the corner, soaked through completely, I noticed that her cold nipples were visible through her top. I wouldn't usually notice something like that about my mum but breasts were on my mind at the moment. I used to love visible nipples, it was like seeing something you weren't supposed to, discovering an oasis. I looked down at my chest and sighed. Like mother, like son.

CHAPTER 5

The Beach Boys sang their little hearts out to cheer me up on the car. But again there choice of song was poor. Brian and the boys sung about how they wish 'they' all could be 'Californian Girls.' I knew they didn't mean themselves or me, but it didn't help things. "Nicole's going to be home for tea tonight," Mum said, breaking the silence with whatever blunt object she could find.

"Does she know about… me?"

"Yeah, she does. I called her this morning. She's excited about getting a younger sister."

"Great, I bet she wants to practice all her stupid hair cuts on me!"

Mum laughed, "You guessed it. She's already planning your Deb hair."

"Mum, you don't think I'm going to take Mrs. Higgins up on her offer, do you?"

"Well…"

"There's no way I'm doing the Deb, not as a girl. Don't think I'm going to do anything girly…" I snapped, my voice pitifully cracking as I tired to chide my mother.

"It's just we still have the dress and it's never been worn. Me and Nicky worked so hard on that dress…"

The sad story goes that my sister planned for her Deb since she was 9. No joke, she was cutting pictures out of magazines when she was 12. She picked her date, a burly fellow called Darren, in Year 7 and held onto him. As a special project Mum and Nicole (both very handy with a needle and thread) actually made the whole dress from scratch. They would often fill the TV room with pins, white satin and an assortment of sewing machines. The room was also filled with giggles, jokes and that warm family feeling that is tricky to fabricate. It was a project that brought them both together. But Nicole had a horrible asthma attack the day of the Deb and had to be taken to hospital. She was in there for like a week. So, she missed her Deb. She might have done it the year after but she quit school to do the hairdressing. It seemed to be the biggest tragedy in our family, even bigger than one of my Aunties dying. Mum put the dress away and never had a chance to use it.

Until now…

"Mum, I only wanted to do the Deb with Holly. Now that we can't do it together, I don't want to do it!" I took an angry breath, "Why would you think I would want to wear your stupid dress anyway?"

"It's not a stupid dr…"

"All dresses are stupid, Mum! I'm not wearing any of them!" I huffed like the petulant teenager I was and stared out the car window, awaiting my apology.

The apology didn't really come, "Sweetheart, I would really like it if you thought about doing the Deb. It would mean a lot to me. I was so disappointed when Nicky couldn't do it. I would hate for both my children not to do it. I couldn't do it because I was pregnant with Nicky. I really regret it. I really want one of the Taylor mob to do it." Never underestimate my Mum to be selfish in the face of other people's tragedies. I didn't need to say anything, so I didn't.

Our phone had such a loud ring, it often ruined a perfectly good weekend-sleep in only to tell Nicole about a party that night, or to tell Mum she now had to fill in at the pub because someone was sick. My friends all had the decency to wait until the afternoon to call. The loudness of the phone could be heard from the car so I rushed inside to try and find it. One of the few cons that the invention of the cordless phone poses is the continual game of Hide-and-Seek you have to play when it rings. Who knows who had it last and where they hid it? I ran from room to room trying to locate the playful appliance and its loud call.

I found the phone in Mum's room and took a leap to catch it. It must have seen me dive for it and tormented me by ceasing to ring. I groaned that my efforts were in vain. "If it's important," I recited, "they'll call back." Mum had often said the same inane thing while we let the phone ring out while we ate dinner 'as a family'. And it seemed to be true as seconds later it rang again.

"Hello?" I answered, puffed from the chase.

"Could I speak with Michael Taylor, please?" asked the voice at the other end.

"Speaking."

"Michael, I'm Nathan Smalley and I work for the Herald Sun," the Herald Sun is the biggest newspaper in the country, "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?"

"How did you find out about me?" I stood and wandered into the hall, where the phone usually lives.

"I cannot reveal my sources."

"Am I going to be on the front page?"

"You're going to be on the front of every newspaper in the country!"

"Yay!" I cheered sarcastically.

"So, may I ask you a few questions?"

"Well, according the answering machine I have 86 messages to respond to…"

"Several of them are from me," Nathan said.

"Excellent. I will call you back later I promise," and without saying another word I hung up and pulled the cord out of the wall to stop the torrent of call from flooding in.

"Who was that, Mikey?" asked my Mum ducking her head in.

"Oh, just every news crew in Australia," I sighed, "They all want to talk to the Amazing Shrinking Man!"

"Hmmm… Annette said they might know by now. She was going to talk to you about it today but you blew her off." For a second I felt bad about blowing off Annette's long winded speech, but only for a second. "Annette has organized a publicist…"

"A publicist?" I interrupted.

"Think of it more as someone to control the press. He's coming here after tea. He'll sort it out for you."

"Great," I moaned. More people to talk to. Can't I just change sex anonymously?

"Holy shit!" hollered a voice from the doorway, "It's really true! You're turning into a girl!" Thankfully that wasn't the publicist talking. The high and shrill voice belonged to my sister Nicole, seeing me for the first time. I loved my older sister but she took after my mum a fair bit. Perhaps she was even more like my mum than my Mum was. She was loud, ditsy and a little slutty. "You look heaps different, Michael," she said as she approached me, "Your nose and eyes. You're shorter and… cuter. Flamin' hell! You're going to be sexier than me!"

Nicole was not a bad looking girl. Like all hairdressers she had done some 'interesting' things to her own hair. I was now mostly platinum blonde but there were stripes of dark black amongst the blonde, making her look an ideal mate for Pepe LePew. She had gorgeous, big, brown eyes that she never realized were her best asset and hid them behind humungous sunglasses. She was short and a little podgy, something she hid by putting her enormous cleavage on display. Everything she wore, showed of her large breasts and no event was too classy not to have Nicole's pair greeting everyone. Breasts not only being her favourite fashion accessories, they were also one of her favourite topics of conversations. She talked about hers, her friends', how big they were, how small they were, implants, reductions, other women who need to wear bras. I'm not sure what the fascination was but it didn't seem to border on obsession once in awhile.

It didn't surprise me when the topic of this conversation turned to my budding pair of breasts. What did surprise me was the grabbing. Nicole reached and kneaded my hours-old new breasts. "Wow, Mum! Have you felt Michael's chest? He's growing a pair already! How far along is he?" Nicole asked Mum.

"The Doctor's think he's about 30% along," said Mum, eyeing my breasts that my shirt had done a job of hiding before Nicole started searching for them.

"Wow," Nicole gasped, "You might end up pretty big! Hey, you could even fit into my Deb dress!" That was it! Nicole was being a little too upfront about it all. Was it too much to ask for her to use a little bit of tact? My feet sent me hurtling towards my room, tears covering my eyes. I slammed the door while Mum began to yell at Nicole about 'being gentle' and this being a 'difficult situation'.

My room was decorated by a different me. What seemed like good choices before only seemed to mock me. Scattered around the room were pictures of hot 'babes' in various states of undress. They weren't littered everywhere like a pervert would display them, they were just intermittently placed around the room next to photos of friends and a large 1977 Star Wars poster. It was basically a teenage boys room. But instead of piquing my teenage sexual interests, the looming posters of Jessica Alba in Sin City, Carmen Electra and Krystal from Zoo magazine teased me. Thanks to P.E., I was the 'before' and they were the 'after'. I stopped crying for a second and screamed in frustration. There was nothing I could do to stop me becoming one of them. The way they were alluringly posed was luring me in, inviting me to join them. I could have torn them down, ripping their seductive smiles and their 'smoking' bodies, but I didn't. Instead, I collapsed on my bed and cried.

I felt two hands roughly stroke my back. Even though they were the same size as Mum's, there was no doubt this was Nicole's attempt to cheer me up. She did the best thing she could have done, she said nothing. At least for a few minutes, I could lay still and concentrate on ignoring her horrible back rub and not have to listen to her as well. I stopped crying but still kept my head in my pillow, I didn't want her remarking on how 'cute' my nose was getting.

Nicole was strangely silent. I knew she desperately wanted to fill the silence with noise but with Mum's warning to treat me with kid gloves she was unsure of what to say. She did say "Shhh" a few times, as if to calm a baby and sighed sympathetically but other than that she was totally quiet. I almost felt bad that I had stopped her from doing what she loved to do best, talk. The old bed squeaked in pain as I sat up and hugged her. The combinations of being pressed against her massive breasts and the wanton sexuality pouring down on me from the posters I should have been a lot more upset than I was but the truth was that I felt safe in Nicole's embrace. But then she opened her mouth…

"You're going to make a great girl," was the sentence she settled on. Who knows how unspeakably awful the other unsaid first sentences she rejected were?

"I'm not going to be a great girl," I huffed, "I'm just going to be a girl. I'm not changing clothes or hobbies or friends. Why do people think I'm going to be a whole different person?"

"Because you're going to be a whole different gender, Michael!"

"Haven't you heard of a tomboy? I'm going to be one of those. I'm just going to be me with a vagina!" Nicole waited before she said something again, cycling through her possible choices.

This time she made a better choice, "If you want, I'll treat you the same."

"That would be great."

She sighed, "It's a shame. We could have had so much fun re-decorating your room, going clothes shopping…"

"Could have but wont." It wasn't much, but we were brother and sister and that little exchange meant we were friends again.

Nicole walked to the kitchen, sullenly I walked behind her. Nicole's arse femininely wiggled in a way to attract men that was probably subconscious. I made a conscious effort to make sure I never walked like that. Store-bought lasagne and oven-ready chips were waiting on plates alongside some vegetables in the kitchen. I sat and ate the meal while Mum and Nicole talked about everything but my transformation. It was nice not being the topic of conversation for once and I started joining in where I could. For 5 whole minutes I didn't think about my gender issues once.

That changed when he knocked on the door. We were only halfway through dinner when he arrived. Mid-twenties, impeccably dressed, handsome. He introduced himself as Tyler and shook everyone's hands warmly. "You're the publicist?" I asked. He smiled a big, genuine smile,

"No, Michael. Everybody in Australia will be talking about you tomorrow, so you don't need a publicist. You need someone in Public Relations and that's where I come in. I am going to be dealing with the press for you, doing as you please so that we can make this a smooth transition for you." There was that term again, 'smooth transition', I hated it.

"Oh good," said Mum, "There's like 80 phone messages on our phone, they're all probably from newspapers and the telly."

He smiled a big, genuine smile again, "All taken care of. I've already informed the press that they'll be dealing through me," he withdrew his phone like a cowboy from the American old West, the phone rumbled uncontrollably with the force of one thousand phone calls, "See? They know if they want to get anywhere they have to do it through me. You shouldn't be receiving many calls anymore."

Tyler kneeled down and looked me in the eyes, "Now Michael. The next step in this crazy process is yours. You name is going to be on everyone's lips tomorrow and you can dictate what people are going to say about you. You can be as reclusive or as public as you want. If you want we can sell your story to the highest bidder or tell absolutely everyone your plight."

"Isn't it illegal to print his name? He's only 17?"

"Only if he's committed a crime do they have to withhold his name. Going through a Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration isn't a crime, so Michael Taylor is going to on everyone lips."

"Well…." I mused, "I would like to make some money off of all this…."

A smile crept around Tyler's mouth, which he professionally hid, "I have a whole host of offers, Michael. You can pick and choose what you want. Channel 9 are offering $300,000 for exclusive TV rights to your story, The Herald Sun are offering the same for newspaper rights and I reckon we can get $200,000 with New Idea for the glossy mag rights." Tyler was talking a lot about a lot of money, I didn't fathom my story was worth that much money.

"Would they really pay that much?" Nicole said, eyes wide.

"They sure would. I even have a $500,000 offer from Zoo Magazine for Michael to do a photo shoot in a bikini once he finished changing, but I figured you wouldn't be up for that?"

"Good intuition," I said, cringing at the idea of me festooned in a tiny bikini, calling out to all men like a siren of the newsstand. Let me tell you there was no chance of that happening, even for a million dollars.

"Look Michael, a lot of people make money off of unfortunate events. Wars make some people rich. Now the unfortunate can be the one making the money." Tyler was very good at his job, he made me feel safe and strong at the same time. Not only that he seemed to be a very nice guy, the type of guy I would have like to grow up into.

My mind wandered once again to Kate Draffen, as the only other Australian who had been in my position I thought about her a lot. She had decided not to do any press at all. The truth be known I hadn't ever heard Draffen speak. Not once, and I'd only seen handful pictures of Draffen; a few, smiling pre-P.E. and a few paparazzi pics of Draffen, sunglasses on shielding his new face from the camera. Those pictures were all that I had seen of Draffen, and of course the infamous one mid-transformation that was famous around the world.

"Well, I would really like to go to university, and I'm not sure I'll be able to in this country, if I become as recognizable as Kate Draffen so I'll need a bit of money to go to a good uni overseas. Plus, I want to tell people what I'm going through, maybe they'll be a little more considerate. So… I'd like to get some money outta this predicament I'm in, please."

"I can do that, Michael. I don't you very well but I think I was a lot like you when I was younger. I think I know what you want, you're a smart kid and I want the public to see that. Is that cool?"

"Just don't over saturate me," I said, even though I wasn't exactly sure what that mean, I had heard media analysts use the term and I thought it might apply here.

"I believe me, Michael, I'll take care of you."

Nicole had probably said less during the last 10 minutes than ever in her life and was wanted to add something to the conversation, needed or not, "Hey, any chance of us making money out of this?" she gestured to my mum and herself.

"Sure, Nicole, if you're willing to sell out your own brother," Tyler chuckled, "Look, I'd advise you to keep together as a family. I'm sure Michael will be willing to share some of the money around."

"Don't count on it," I joked.

"But seriously," Tyler continued, "I've seen too many families and friends split up over stupid things they've said to the press. I'm sure whatever deal we end up going with will end up with an interview with all of you."

"Oh I don't know if I could do that," stammered Mum, shy for first time in her entire life.

"You could talk underwater with marbles in you mouth, Mum!" Nicole said. I wondered if Nicole knew that she also could achieve the same seemingly impossible feat.

Tyler took out a notepad and glanced down at some scrawlings, "Also Michael, it's important the media knows what to call you. I'll need to know what you are choosing for your new name." Nicole and my Mum stared at me.

"I haven't really decided that yet, can I give it to you tomorrow?"

"No rush, mate. But you probably want to avoid confusion, unlike the Draffen case. It took John too long to decide on his new name and now most people still call him Kate. I think it will help everything if on Day 1 of your new life we have a new name to go with it, OK?" I nodded in agreement, although I really didn't want a new name.

"Look, you seem to know what you're doing, Tyler. I'm going into hospital and by Saturday I will probably be coming out a girl. So, if you want to squeeze a pre-female interview with me in, there isn't much time. But I'll leave you with all the details. Basically all you can do to stop me being perused by paparazzi would be great. That's my main worry. My aim for a smooth transition," Great, now even I was saying it! "is to have life change as little as possible. And swarms of photographers following me around everywhere is going to hamper my plan a little."

"Thank you for trusting me, Michael. I'm not some money grubbing weasel and I don't work that way. I couldn't imagine what you are going through and I think you're a very brave guy, so I'm going to make sure I keep the press at bay. However a lot of them don't play by the rules: so you will have paparazzi following you around and there will be people going through your trash and talking to anyone who ever knew you. I cannot help that. So I ask you to understand that although I will try my absolute best, the media will find ways to annoy you."

I liked Tyler. He had the smooth swagger that I would have liked to adopt if I ever got to be a young man. He was good looking and a charmer. But I was excited to realize I wasn't attracted to him, not in the slightest. Maybe the Doctors and their theories about my sexuality were wrong. I was now almost a third female and there was no way I was a third attracted to him. Not even as he shook my hand and smiled warmly as he said goodbye.

Dinner rested uncomfortably in my stomach by I didn't blame my mother's work on that. Dr. Chisholm had warned me there might be a bit is nausea for the next couple days. While I didn't vomit I sat on the couch, ignoring the blaring from the TV as I rubbed my belly soothingly, feeling extremely sorry for myself. Not only was I turning female, it didn't feel good either.

A lot of people have a lot of different markers of when a thing becomes real- like many people of my generation I believe a thing is real when I see it on the TV news. Wars are real, natural disasters are real and according to the national news bulletin me becoming a girl was real. A man who is paid to be serious all time announced that a teenage boy in the Marrang area in the state of Victoria has been infected with Nanobots programmed with Spontaneous Sex Reconfiguration more commonly know as P.E. If anyone in town didn't know, they sure did now. The serious Newsreader continued that the teen attends the local high school and is undergoing a process that slows the transformation down. I was told by the TV that I should been a girl by Friday. It was the top story on the minute long bulletin. I was the top story on the news. That's a very weird feeling. "Hey, at least they didn't mention your name," grinned my Mum.

"Yeah, that's an upside."

Glen and Dot came around to see me after they had finished dinner. I was glad to have friends that were willing to give up doing important homework to come visit me. "Hey you're a star!" announced Glen, "Seven, Nine, Ten- you're the lead story on every channel?"

"What about SBS or ABC?"

"Didn't check. I don't watch them."

"Fair enough."

"You're looking a little more girly. How far along are you?" asked Dot as she studied my face.

"About 70% to go, so I'm barely there." I said as my friends studied my face harder.

"How's downstairs doing, man?" asked Glen as we went to my bedroom to be away from my family.

"It's a mess, I'm like a 4 year old boy."

"Gross," Dot chimed in. I had to agree with her, it was gross. My assembled think tank filed into my room and took a seat. Glen got comfy in my slightly dilapidated beanbag and Dot chose to sit on my computer desk, while putting her feet on the desk chair, I took the bed. It was weird to think that less than 24 hours ago I had sex with Dot in this very room, on the very bed I was sitting on. I hadn't told Glen though, as he could be a little weird about these types of things, he likes to be included. Once Dot and I went to the movies while he was away and he cracked the shits with us all week because he wanted to see that movie. I didn't think it was a good idea to tell Glen about Dot's and my night together.

"You cleaned those sheets yet, lover?" Dot teased me. It appeared that Dot didn't quite have the same feelings as me regarding keeping this a secret from Glen. I shot her a stare, the equivalent of 'Shut up!' but she just stared right back at me, "Don't worry I told him already!"

"You what?" I couldn't believe Dot had shared our special little moment with someone else. But then again I had enjoyed telling my two doctor friends.

"You dirty cad," joked Glen, "Just keep me in mind when you need your next 'first time,' OK?" I laughed a strange and unfamiliar laugh.

"Your voice has changed, you can really tell when you laugh," Dot said further chronicling every one of my changes.

"Yeah, I'm not deaf. Anyway, the reason you're are is to help me choose a new name, so let's stop mucking around and do it." I was allowed to be a little snappy as I was turning into the opposite gender.

The backpack that Glenn carried in with him was opened and he produced a book, "I came prepared!" he smiled as waved his hand under the book like he was trying to sell it on TV. It was called The Baby Name Bible: The Ultimate Guide By Baby-Naming Experts. It had pictures of tiny babies crawling all over the cover. Some would describe it as terrible, I would have selected the word terrifying. "

Glen, a few questions," Dot said, leaning over, "One, how do you get to be a Baby Naming Expert? And two, you do know that Michael isn't turning into a baby?"

"One, you name a lot of babies really, really well, like you name a boy Alfred and he grows up to be a butler or a baby girl Candi and she grows up to be a stripper. THAT'S how you become an expert of baby-naming. And number two, yes I know Michael isn't turning into a baby, but my parents didn't have a copy of Naming Teenage Girls: You haven't gotten around to it yet?!?"

Dot leaned back, cleanly defeated by Glen's quick wit, "Touché!"

Picking a name for yourself is a weird thing to do. Most people wont have to do it, aside from making up silly pseudonyms for the bowling alley scoreboard. And of those that do change their names it's usually because they want to. I didn't want to, Michael is a perfectly good name but the problem was it wouldn't suit me for very long. Kate Draffen eventually changed her name to John. John to me seems uninspired, a name quickly chosen in a flurry of confusion. I wasn't like Draffen, I had time to prepare.

"OK dudes, we're not leaving this room until we find me a new moniker, K? I don't want something silly because I'm going to have to wear it for a long time. Let's not get bogged down in middle names either, that's busy work. OK, let's get searching and remember, be serious!"

Glen dived into a book with a vigour I have never seen him show before. "So, I know you don't want to be a Michelle but are you sticking to names beginning with 'M' like do you wanna be a Melinda or a Miranda?" asked Dot as she scribbled in her notebook.

"I don't know," I sighed, "I don't know what I want." And that was true. I sat through a lot of ideas.

"You might be a Dawn?" suggested Glen. I shook my head. "Willow?"

"No."

"Cordelia?"

"Huh?"

"Buffy?"

"No, Glen, I'm not naming myself after a character on Buffy."

"Damn it!"

It took awhile. It seems like any name I slightly liked Dot knew some girl who was a whore/bimbo/idiot who shared the same name but truth be told I didn't like many names. I had a lot of rules:

-I didn't want a unisex name. Alex, Jackie and Tracy all gone!
-I didn't want a girly name. Rose, Mary, Betty discarded.
-No Stripper names. Charity, Sapphire and Sexalicious deemed not appropriate.
-No 'trendy' names. I wasn't going to be called Madison, Dakokta or Tilly.

Time was leaking out the room. I didn't want this choice, no-one else has to pick their own name, and those people who choose to do it usually have a name all ready to go. I had narrowed it down to about 7 that I didn't hate. We were now at the stage of crossing them out, trying to narrow them down to one. "Can we cross out Melanie? If we call you that, then people are going to Mel and that's kinda a guy's name," mumbled Glen staring at the list, just wishing that he didn't come around.

"No, I like Melanie, I think it'll suit you," whined Dot. I'm sure she was as desperate as Glen was to have this sorted out, so I'm not entirely sure why she was fighting him.

"OK, it stays," groaned Glen in defeat.

"Come on, Michael. Let's just choose one!" You could hear the frustration in his voice, it sounded like it was tearing him apart.

"Read them out again," I meekly instructed.

Glen climbed out of the cracked vinyl beanbag and read out the shortlist of names, "OK we've got Tamara, Megan, Lucy, Melanie, Jennifer and Penny. One of these will be your new name, Michael. Which one will it be?" I thought about prospective labels. Would Penny be a good girl? Would Megan love to wear short shorts? Will Lucy be a good kisser? How big will Tamara's tits be? Every name on that list, in fact every name I heard that night brought up it's own image. Kathryn going shopping for clothes. Mary going for a girls' night out. Heidi ordering a salad. Samantha sucking some guy's cock. I know it was silly thinking that whatever name I choose would shape my personality but I'm sure that's true in some minuscule way.

I said what I didn't want to but it came out anyway, "I don't know."

Glen sighed and Dot came to sit next to me. "I know this is a hard choice for you to make, but it is your choice to make. We can't do it. If we could I'm pretty sure Glen would have christened you Glenda and moved on 2 hours ago."

"You know me too well, Dot."

"I know I'm annoying you guys, but choosing a girl's name will make me one step closer to being a girl. I know very well that I cannot stop this process, I have no choice in the matter and there are millions of tiny robots in my system just waiting to finish the job. I guess not choosing a name is a name is my tiny rebellion. I know it's fucking stupid, I'm sorry. Fuck it, I'll be Lucy!"

"Are you sure?" said Glen, now ditching the frustrated and sounding concerned. I guess he was acting concerned because I was now crying. He sat beside me and wrapped an arm around me.

There was a knock at my door followed by my Mum coming in with a few cans of Pepsi. We always had a fridge stocked full of soft drink because Mum would always score them for mega cheap from the pub. "Oh what's wrong?" Mum said in a very motherly way.

I heaved a sob and responded, "I'm going to be Lucy Taylor!"

With no room either side of me Mum knelt down and hugged me, "That's fine, dear. Good choice on a name. It must have been very hard."

"It was," agreed Dot.

"Lucy Taylor… I like it, Mikey. If you want people can call you Lou for short, that's kinda blokey."

"They can't," said Glen, "That's against the rules."

"OK, OK, OK… I didn't know there was rules," Mum laughed a little, and her voice took her back many years ago. "You know what I was going to call you if you were born a girl?" she daydreamed. No, I didn't. It was weird I'd never asked her that, not before P.E and not even now after searching for a name in vain for hours. She hugged me close in her warm embrace and said, "Probably Gemma."

And there it was. Gemma.

I liked Gemma. It was a girl's name with out being a girly name, it wasn't as simple as Jane and yet I wasn't calling myself something Alegra. I didn't know any Gemmas personally but I knew of a few of Gemmas. It was a perfect fit. "Can I use Gemma, Mum?" I asked her.

"Of course you can. Given up on Lucy already?"

"It wasn't for me."

Tired goodnights echoed plumply off my front porch and into the night as my two friends went home. Dot said she liked Gemma a whole lot and Glen agreed, although the sincerity of the agreement is questionable. As they left Dot slipped me a scarp of paper, I slipped it into my pocket and forgot about it. It wasn't until I took down my pants in the toilet did I remember about it. Since the nanobots had destroyed my penis I was reduced to sitting down, making the reading of the note more comfortable. "Michael," the note read, "You've gone to get some lollies for us right now and I know you said not to worry about a middle name for you but we found one. Please use it or we will gut you with a knife. It is Mae. Thank you, Dot and Glen."

So, despite my best efforts, and through no choices of my own, upon arrival to girlhood I had a full name: Gemma Mae Taylor. Not horrible. I would tell my friends about it in the morning.

CHAPTER 6

My sleep was again non-eventful, definitely not a sign of how my day would be. It started out OK. I showered and ate breakfast. Some things disturbed me as I showered. My body was weird. I had breasts, this I knew but now I had some personal time with them. They were tiny, looking like they belonged on an 11 year old girl, but it was a sign of things to come. My whole body shape seemed a little wrong. I looked in the mirror at myself. I wasn't very female at all, but I was losing what was male about me.

Breakfast wasn't much of a meal. Even though I was under strict instructions by Dr, Chisholm to eat three big meals a day I didn't feel I could eat much more than a banana. "Not hungry?" asked Nicole as she watched me slowly eat the banana.

"Not really," I said, half asleep, a mouth full of fruit.

"So, you're staying at the hospital tonight?"

"Yep."

"An when do you get out?"

"When it's all done."

"That'll be exciting," said Nicole filling the air with sound, not really thinking about what she said. Both Mum and Nicole were deathly afraid of silence and would do anything to prevent it. I hoped it wasn't a female quality, as I quite enjoyed the odd bit of quiet and did not want fear it. "Do you need a ride to school today? I have Ben's Holden." Ben was my sister's boyfriend.

"No, I should be OK," I said as I headed for the door. I yanked my bag off of the floor I the hall, opened the door and went outside.

CLICK!

Murmur, murmur, murmur. CLICK! Clickity, clickity, clickity, click! Michael! MICHAEL! Mr. Taylor! Click! Click! Click! MR. TAYLOR! …you scared? …school think? CLICK! Have you been… CLICK! CLICK! …yet? CLICK! …being a girl? Michael! …family and… CLICK! ….is that correct? LOOK THIS WAY, MICHAEL! Clickity, click! …suffering P.E? SNAP! Kate Draffen… Mr. Taylor? Click! Click!

SLAM!

I took a few deep breaths. That was insane. There was a phalanx of cameras, recorders and people outside my front door where usually there was my letterbox, some snails and maybe a neighbour's cat. Not only was there a sea of people they all wanted something from me, something that I was scared to give. I closed my eyes and tried to reassure myself but frankly I was freaked out.

Nicole stared at me from the kitchen table, her mouth agape. For once in her life she was speechless. But not for too long, "Wow! What was that?"

"A lot of people with a lot of cameras!" She stood up and peeked at the crowd behind our fence.

"Shit! There's fucking thousands of them! You sure you don't need a ride to school now?" I remembered that Mrs. Higgins had warned me not to bring the press to school with me. This amount of people following me to school would be noticeable, like Mary in 'Mary had a little lamb'. Unlike Mary however I'm pretty sure it would not make the children laugh and play.

"I can't go to school. They don't want the press there," I sighed, a long and defeated sigh, "Can you take me to the hospital?"

I grabbed my overnight bag and called school. Mrs. Higgins was concerned for my welfare and wished me good luck. It was nice to hear her say those things. I also told her my future name and she said she like it, turns out she has a niece called Gemma. I took a look around my room, getting sentimental that this would be the last time I would be in here as a male. I stared at my Jessica Alba poster and wandered how I would feel about it after the change, I hoped I would still enjoy it. I whispered a quick goodbye to my room and joined Nicole by the back door.

Nicole cradled a large blanket we used to use for the occasional beach picnic in her hands. I wasn't sure of her plans, "What's with the blanket?"

"I could throw it over you in the car, so that they can't see you. What do ya think?" she grinned. It was a good plan, I guess, if I wanted to hide from the press. But I wasn't hiding from the press.

"No, Nicole, it's ok. I don't care if they see me." She looked at me with a mix of confusion and awe. She dropped the blanket and it crumpled to the floor as we started to walk to the car.

At least the media were relatively well behaved. There was none of them hiding in our backyard, so the trip to Nicole's boyfriend's car was a quiet one. I simply got in the passengers' side and Nicole, the drivers' side. She turned around and drove out through the carport. CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! The cameras began as soon as the nose of the car edged in view of the mob out front. I panicked and looked straight ahead, neither frowning nor smiling, not acknowledging the cameras or the hubbub at all. Nicole sped off down the street. "This is kinda exciting!" she confessed as she soared around a corner. Silently, I prayed that I would live long enough to see my penis convert into a vagina, a weird prayer I assure you. I did get to the hospital safely, practically flung out the window so that Nicole wasn't late for her job.

Not one of my special crew of doctors was expecting me this early in the day. We had organized I would show up after school as per usual but instead of going home I would stay in the hospital. The swell of humans waiting at my doorstep kind of changed that. "Michael!" smiled Dr. Chisholm as I was escorted into his makeshift office, "You're eager this morning!" It felt like forever since yesterday and it was good to see him. He held out his hand and shook my warmly.

"Yep, kinda had to miss school today. A little too many photographers and stuff."

"Geez! I can only imagine. So would you like to get your daily dose out of that way?" That was an interesting question. Yesterday, I sat at school dreading the end of the day when I was become a little more female. The doc was offering the chance to get it out of the way before Morning Tea. Considering I had nothing else to do, I agreed.

It wasn't long before I was stripped, probed and told to hold a long metal bar with wires attached. As you can imagine, that was not my ideal Wednesday morning. Today the room was a little more crowded, along Dr. Chisholm and Dr. Nagra was student doctor, Dr. Jensen. He was the nervous type, he spent the entire time avoiding looking me in the eyes. "So Michael, ready for a bitch-zap!" Dr. Nagra joked. Coming out of anyone else I would have been angry, but Dr. Nagra had the uncanny ability to crack me up. Maybe it was because a 40-year-old Indian man had just said 'bitch-zap'. I was about to be edged a little further into womanhood and I couldn't stop laughing.

The countdown reached zero and Dr. Nagra threw the switch, or turned the dial, or pressed the button. I wasn't sure how the thing worked, all I knew was the familiar feeling on my skin crawling had begun again. The tiny army resumed their job, destroying my manhood and constructing my new femininity. I felt my bones creak and my face stung a fair amount. This one seemed to hurt more than the previous ones and I grunted in pain to reflect that. It seemed to go for longer too, where the others were over in 20 seconds or so, this felt like a minute. Maybe since it was more painful it felt longer. My fists clenched, my teeth began to grind and my eyes were tightly shut. Finally the crawling feeling stopped and could relax.

"How do you feel, Michael?" asked Dr. Chisholm.

"That…one…hurt!" I said one word per exhale. My words felt weird as the seeped into my ears. "Hello? Hello?" I said, listening intently to my voice. I submitted my scientific findings for the doctors, "I sound weird." According to the mirror I looked weird too. There was a word for it: androgynous. I looked neither fully male nor female. From that point on, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be considered male, but I still had a long way to go before I was 'Gemma'.

The doctors came over to me and helped me sit down. I felt painfully stiff and yet my legs felt like jelly.

"Easy does it," said Dr. Nagra as he made sure I didn't fall off the seat. The young Dr. Jensen handed me a glass of water and I sipped it.

"Thanks," I muttered, in my new weird sexless voice. "Welcome to the halfway point," said Dr. Chisholm, he glanced at one of his many computer screens, "You're doing very well. You're very healthy. No complications."

"I feel weird," I muttered.

"That's to be expected, your body is in a very peculiar position as you are not quite male and not quite female. You might feel dizziness and nausea. The Chicago man who had this procedure done to him reported feeling very bland and apathetic, almost in a trance-like state around this period of the transformation. Your body is unsure of what type of hormones it should be producing, if any. If this weird feeling continues we might give you another dose to push you a little closer to being 'normal'."

The measuring tape and other devices were brought out and I let them take statistics. They were all talking to me but it all sounded like they were underwater. I nodded now and again but mainly I resided in my head, unable to hear them. It occurred to me that I was now free from the shackles of gender. Should I feel liberated or terrified? I was unsure. All I felt was nothing and it wasn't a relaxing, peaceful, sunsets-on-the-beach nothing it was a terrifying, dull nothing. While my brain was technically working, my thoughts seemed to be very rudimentary. Nothing was making me sad, angry or happy. Things were just things.

Annette came in and talked at me. I watched her mouth and lost track of what she was saying. In this state I was finding it hard to concentrate but I was getting bits and pieces. She was talking at me about a press release Tyler my publicist had put out, explaining my situation, my new name and that I would make a public statement myself sometime after the transformation. She told my face that I was going to have a hospital room to myself if that's ok with me and my face stared back at her. She helped me to my own little private room and placed me on the bed. I sat up, motionless and started literally at the wall. I just stared.

"Are you OK?" Annette grabbed my arm so that I would pay attention. I nodded. I was fine. "You were staring at the wall when I left. In fact, you look like you haven't moved since I left."

"You left?" I asked, unaware that she had left the room, during the brief amount of time since I began staring at the wall.

"I left you here an hour ago!" Annette exclaimed, "As much as you might hate it, I think you might have to see Dr. Chisholm for another dose. That'll get some hormones rushing through your brain again and give you back a personality."

"That's fine," I murmured as I continued to look at the wall.

"He is sitting the exact same as when I left him, Sam. He probably hasn't moved a muscle in 70 minutes," I heard Annette say.

"What are you looking at, Michael?" Dr. Chisholm, who must have entered my room at some point in time.

The wall, Dr. Chisholm, I'm looking at the wall.

"Michael," said Dr. Chisholm firmly as he grasped my arm and looked me directly in the eyes, cutting off my view of the wall, "What are you looking at?"

I thought I had answered that question.

Maybe I didn't say it out loud.

"The wall, Dr. Chisholm." This time he heard me.

"Why are you looking at the wall, Michael?"

"I'm not sure."

"How do you feel, Michael?"

"Fine."

"I think it would be healthy for you to have another dose of electrical current. Is that OK with you?"

"Fine."

So for the second time that day I was stripped, hooked up to all the monitors, and handed the long metal bar. But this time I wasn't scared, in fact that was what the doctors were worried about. The crawling feeling came over me but I didn't look to see what was happening as I was perfectly content staring at Dr. Nagra's shoes. But without me much caring a lot of things were happening to me. The nanobots I was cursed with continued there little jobs, every one of the millions inside me was doing something to make me more female. They worked on everything from preparing my ovaries to changing the shape of my teeth. My hips widened, my breasts swelled, my vagina developed. None of that was as interesting as the laces on Dr. Nagra's shoes.

Finally the fog of apathy lifted. It was like flicking a switch- one-second I wasn't concerned at all what was going on and then I was suddenly very aware of my predicament. I felt the crawling sensation ebb and I looked down. Things had definitely changed. My body had almost completed its betrayal against me. Without my permission it had grown breasts. I wasn't happy with the tiny ones I had yesterday and let me tell you much bigger did not make me feel better. While they weren't 'porno' big, I would certainly never be mistaken for male again.

Never.

I couldn't walk down the street again and have people think 'There goes a guy'. That simple dream was over because of these disgusting fatty deposits in my chest. I inspected my arms, they too had lost the battle against femininity. I was never the strongest guy in the room but my arms did have a little more bulk and hair then they did now. I looked in the mirror and a girl looked back. That's what the mirror told me. It told me a cute, teenage girl with a grief stricken face was looking into it. "Fuck!" I grumbled, hearing my new voice.

"How much am I done?" I asked. Dr. Nagra approached me carefully as if he was scared of me.

"We had to make sure that you were out of the potentially dangerous middle area. Therefore, we have you a heavier than usual dose. You're not done, but I'd say you're in the 75%-85% complete area. One more blast tomorrow should do it. Good news, according to your readings you're doing really well." I usually liked Dr. Nagra, he was honest and funny and I usually liked what he said. This, I didn't.

I cried.

Now I am not going to blame it of my new girly body or the hormones rushing through it, I am going to blame that fact I had a new girly body. I really didn't want to be a girl, at all. That was why I cried. I didn't seem fair. Why was I picked? Sunday, I went swimming and did my maths homework and now, on Wednesday I was 75%-85% female. It seemed like a perfect reason to be sad. I didn't care that I was crying in front of the doctors, I didn't particularly care that I was naked either. I was going to cry good and hard, until I didn't think I could cry no more.

The doctors, all of whom geniuses in their fields, were somewhat taken aback as what to do to comfort a naked, brand new crying teenage girl. My sobbing was the only audible sound in the room as four doctors thought about how to help the situation. Annette was the first to try, of course she was, as taking care of my mental health was her primary mission. "It's OK, Michael," I'm so glad she didn't call me Gemma, if I heard that I probably would have swung a blind punch, "Have a seat." She gently guided me over to a chair. "There nothing wrong with having a cry," Annette reassured me and she rubbed my back a little.

"That's right," agreed Dr. Chisholm, sounding like a grandfather, "Let it all out!" I took the doctor's advice and cried all the more harder.

"I want my mum!" I heaved through a sob, not caring that I sounded like a 6-year-old girl after falling off some play equipment at school.

"I called her about half an hour ago and she said she was coming to see you. I'm sure she's somewhere in the hospital. I'll go get her," Annette said and quietly left. I felt I still had buckets of tears before I was all cried out. For a moment I felt extremely lonely, I missed my friends. I wondered what they would all be doing at school. They were probably laughing and enjoying life. Dot was probably drawing cartoons of people in her maths class and passing them to Glen who would undoubtedly laugh too loud. And what about Holly? I'm sure she was asking Zack or Aaron or some other guy whether they would like to do the Deb with her. She probably didn't even care about me anymore. Thoughts of that nature of course, did not stem the crying.

"Michael, your mum is here," Annette said softly but I didn't open my eyes or lift my head. I heard the trademark sound of the click of her high heels as my mother came into the room.

"Mikey?" she asked incredulously. I slowly raised my head to look at my mum, she looked amazed that the girl in front of her was once her son. Parents often have dreams for their children- to become Prime Minister or a scientist or a famous actor- and although my mother was slightly kooky I'm pretty sure she never imagined that I would grow up to become a girl.

"Hi Mum," my new voice made a sentence I had said thousands of times sound weird and new.

"You look beautiful," my Mum said, I was unsure if she meant or thought that was the right thing to say.

But as she often does, Mum made a horrible decision, "I DON'T WANT TO BE BEAUTIFUL!" I howled, balling myself up tightly. I brought my knees up to my chest and they repulsively squished against my breasts.

"Sorry Mikey, I didn't mean to upset you. I was surprised, that's all. You look so different!"

"Well, Mrs. Taylor, Michael's transformation is almost done," said Dr. Chisholm, "He's about 80% complete."

"Oh Michael, you're almost there! It will all be over soon," Mum said as she cuddled me, not realizing that it had only begun and I had the rest of my life until it was over.

As with Nicole, Mum did her best comforting when she said nothing at all. She hugged me tightly gently hummed. It was very soothing. "It's OK, it's OK, it's OK, it's OK," Mum whispered, as I ran out of tears.

"I love you, Mum," I whispered, looking at her through my red eyes.

"I love you too, Mikey."

Since now I was all cried out, the doctors were able to on their tests and measurements. I was shorter, although it didn't feel too different to me. My body was very womanly now, I had a slim waist and wideish hips. They took some blood, but I was almost cured of my fear of needles. Mum had stayed in the room for support but spent most the time asking questions I didn't want answered, "So Dr Chisholm, is she going to be able to give birth?" My Mum just called me 'she'.

"Why yes, Michael will be a fully functioning female once the process is complete."

"Do her breasts have much to grow?" Mum asked after Dr. Nagra took the measurement around my chest. I held up my arms and frowned as he ran the tape measure around my expanded chest. From the look of them I certainly hoped they were finished growing.

"Oh I think Michael's almost finished in that area. Maybe a little more, but not a huge amount." Dr. Nagra successfully avoided 'she'.

But there was no denying that I was a 'she'. I was jarringly reminded of my new gender when the doctors got around to poking around my nether regions. They were very delicate around that area and did not spend long there. They kept very quiet and didn't look me in my eyes. Despite their delicacy it was a very invasive feeling. It wasn't like someone touching your cock, it was a lot more personal. It wasn't sexy or amazing or anything, it felt gross. Aside from pissing and the horrible idea of inserting tampons, I was fairly sure me and my new friend, my vagina, were going to leave each other pretty much alone.

After the dehumanising measuring and tests I was allowed to return to my room. Annette had brought me some clothes to wear so that I didn't have to wear those embarrassing hospital gowns. Luckily, the clothes were unisex so I didn't have to endure the horror of girl's clothes. I was now sporting grey tracksuit pants, a plain white T-shirt and a pair of navy blue boxer shorts that were a little snug on my new, wider hips.

Annette and Mum escorted me to my room. Three women walked side by side. Each time my feet took another step on the echoey linoleum floor, the fatty deposits on my chest would wobble a bit. Memories came flooding back of growing school girls and the lusty joy I used to feel when I saw that wobble on girls' chests. It was no longer sexy but repulsive.

"How are you feeling?" Mum asked me.

"I'm a little dizzy, but other than that I'm OK," I mumbled, clearly not OK.

"You're being very brave."

"Thanks Mum." I looked over at my Mum, realizing I was looking at her squarely in the eye for the first time in years. I must have lost a few centimetres in height, which is weird because my legs felt longer. The staff of the hospital had barely seen me, they saw me walk the corridors now and again, but other than that I was in the direct care of the visiting gender reconfiguration specialists. It was interesting to watch their reactions to me- staring at me, trying not to stare at me, smiling at me, looking at me with fear in their eyes. I was a freak, so I didn't judge them.

"Sorry about the room but we didn't want to give you a room with windows in it just in case the press found you," Annette apologised as she slid the creaky door open. She was right to apologise, it was truly a makeshift room. It was nowhere near any of the other patients' rooms and surrounding the bed were random pieces of electrical equipment pushed into the corners, as if this was a last-minute decision. I wondered if this was the same room I had spent time in as a genderless zombie. One look at the wall confirmed it.

"Luckily though," Annette smiled, "You have your own shower and bathroom just through there. And we wheeled up a TV just for you." Annette pointed to the TV at the foot of my bed. It was good to see a TV as I'm sure it would be perfect thing to use to escape. Not escape the hospital, of course, but watching some crappy show might make me forget I now reside in a girl's body.

"I brought some of your DVDs, if you wanna watch them. They're in your overnight bag."

"Thanks Mum," I said, happy to have some creature comforts, "If you don't mind, I feel a little sleepy. Is it OK if I have a little snooze now?"

"Of course," Annette sweetly smiled, "When you wake up, would you like to receive visitors?" I thought about it for a second. I think seeing my friends and family could only make me feel better, so I agreed. Mum came over to me, gave me a big hug and told me that she would see me soon and that she loved me.

They slid the door closed behind them and I was alone. Alone and mostly female. Tears that had been holding on for dear life came suddenly tumbling down my cheeks. I punched a pillow in anger and wrapped another one over my head, I sobbed long and loudly. Hot, wet tears pooled in my green eyes before splashing onto the sheets. I felt I would spend the rest of my life crying over this and I wondered if John Draffen cried for Kate Draffen, his former self.

To cheer myself up I decided I would watch some TV. I clicked the remote and it whirred on, revealing someone cutting some capsicums. While it wasn't the most riveting of programs, I sat and watched it diligently. They were cooking a homemade pizza that looked very appealing. My mouth watered a little, as I hadn't eaten anything all day. I could have easily devoured a pizza then and there if anyone was nice enough to bring me one. The TV chef waved goodbye and the credit began to role. I was excited to see what was on next- a 90's American sitcom? Some bad TV movie? Maybe it would be another cooking show? People love cooking shows.

"Marrang Teenager gets treatment at local hospital for Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration," loudly announced the news. I actually laughed at the misery of it all, a pleasant little chuckle escaped my lips as the newsreader rattled off the rest of the headlines. Here I was watching TV to avoid thinking about my problems and TV decided I was the top story. It was too funny to cry about.

A professional looking woman in his early 30's sat behind the news desk. I had seen her occasionally when I was home from school sick or one of the evening news reporters were on holiday. She had a very pretty but serious face and it she appeared to have a nice looking body, I had always found her sexy. Here was a chance for an experiment, I though. My gaze swept over her, hoping to find her attractive. I stared at her pretty mouth, her exquisite nose and her deep blue eyes. Nothing, I felt nothing. I could still sense that she was beautiful, but that didn't scratch any primordial itch deep inside me. Fuck! Perhaps Dr. Nagra was right, maybe I would become attracted to boys!

In an attempt to shrug off that horrible thought, I directed my concentration back to the TV. "…Vanessa Stokes has more," concluded the 'pretty' newsreader as the TV flashed up a picture of the Welcome sign into Marrang. "This is the city of Marrang. The small tourist city has been rattled by the news that one of their local teenagers have been affected by the Nanobot induced Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration, the second case ever to appear in Australia. The teenager, formerly known as Michael Taylor and soon to be known as Gemma Taylor was found to be carrying the nanobots during a school compulsory medical check on Monday afternoon. By discovering the nanobots early the doctors were able to slowly induce the sexual reconfiguration painlessly over a few days. This method is used to spare the victim pain and create a smooth transition into his new female form." Oh man, I hate that 'smooth transition' term!

"Michael Taylor has been receiving treatment since Monday afternoon and was admitted to St. Peter's Hospital early today. Spokesperson, Tyler Perry had this to say at a press conference only an hour ago-." The news then cut to the man who sat in my kitchen last night and reassured me that everything would be taken care of. He was standing just out front of the entrance of the hospital in front of dozens of microphones that dominated the entire bottom half of the screen. Looking dapper in his suit, his hair gelled and styled within an inch of its life, Tyler read a prepared statement, "Michael is a very brave boy who is in the involuntary process of becoming a very brave girl. He thanks the Australian public for all the support and well wishes he is receiving and asks only for a bit of privacy during this difficult period of time. SGR is a terrible illness to be struck down with and one not made easy by the mountains of press that comes with it. To that end, after the transformation is complete Michael, who will be renamed Gemma, will hold a press conference to answer a few of your questions. Thank you." Throws of unseen journalists burst into a flurry of questions as Tyler stylishly turned around and re-entered the hospital.

Vanessa Stokes' voiceover continued, "People who knew Michael Taylor described him as a quiet yet funny boy who enjoyed the beach, schoolwork and performing onstage." Ouch! It sounded like I was dead! Losing a penis wasn't the end of the world, despite how I thought about it. The news then cut to vox pops of people I knew. My neighbour from down the road said, "Michael's always been a good kid and I'm sure that this wont stop him from succeeding in life." Next up was my friend Kev Madsen, who I had told my problems to on Monday. "Michael a great friend of mine and he'll be an awesome person, male or female!" Kev said and I smiled. A few other people had their say, all of it nice and positive.

It cut to a shot of the reporter standing outside the hospital, probably only 30 meters away from where I currently was. "It seems like the entire town is behind Michael who is excepted to emerge as Gemma on Sunday. Vanessa Stokes reporting." The news continued to the second, less important item of the news, a tragic earthquake in Africa somewhere that killed 8,000 people. I glanced down at the two large, fleshy mounds now hanging from my chest and highly doubted this was more important than a horrific earthquake.

But I guess I was a human-interest story. People all across the country would be sitting at their tables, waiting for a bus or tram, walking home from school or sitting in a taxi and talking about me. "Did you hear the latest about the boy with P.E?" "Do you think it hurts?" "I think the Government is behind it all!" "Do you think she'll be pretty?" "It must be so scary!" It would be like when I walked into the study room at school yesterday times a million. I guess that made me famous. I had achieved what a lot of people spend their whole life trying to achieve: I was famous.

Famous people still have to obey the laws of nature though and I needed to pee. I gingerly climbed down off my bed and crept into my own personal bathroom. It was dark, but I used the light switch to rectify that little problem. Click! Nice. Included were an extra large shower, toilet with handrails and a sink with a mirror. A cute red-eyed teenage girl stared back at me; I'd deal with her later. But first I had to deal with the semi urgent feeling that I needed to pee. The tracksuit and my underwear tumbled down my legs as I set them loose off of my hips. I didn't look down, as I was certain I didn't want to confront my 'pussy'. My cheeks touched down onto the seat and I wondered what to do next. It was funny, usually when you need to relieve yourself you don't need to think about it. But here I was, wondering what I needed to do.

I leaned forward a little and finally it came forth, a familiar feeling coming from an unfamiliar spot. It wasn't too weird a feeling and I was glad girls were still relatively human. The stream became a dribble and then finally stopped. I pondered what to do next. The toilet paper roll called to me and I ripped a few squares off and prepared to 'dry' myself down there. Very, very gingerly I dabbed myself in an effort to clean myself down there. I made sure I didn't focus on the feelings it created and quickly pulled up my underpants and trousers.

My hands felt dirty. They have been touching gross things. I hurried to my sink to clean these new hands. As I rinsed and scrubbed, I had time to look at the feminine stranger in the mirror. I hated to admit it but she was pretty. She wasn't mind-blowingly, drop-dead gorgeous but she could easily be described as 'cute'. A lot about this face was very different to my old face but there were a few things that were the same. My brown hair, which when I was predominately male was foppish or 'gay' was shorter than most girls but it suited this one. My eyebrows were perhaps a little thick, but luckily my doctors didn't double for beauticians so they didn't demand I pluck or shape them. My eyes also hadn't changed colour, they were still green.

Everything else was different. Everything was a lot cuter than it used to be. I wrinkled my forehead and scrunched my nose, even that looked somewhat adorable. My skin was weirdly smooth, free from the stubble and pimples I was plagued with a few days ago. I experimented with a smile, gone was my trademark 'wolfish' smirk, replaced with a delectable little grin. I wasn't planning on smiling a lot though. My eyes were bigger and my nose was narrower and smaller. The girl in the mirror looked like she loved indie music, making her own clothes and teasing chick flicks while she watched them.

I removed the girl in the mirror's T-shirt. I stared at her breasts. They were breasts, pure and simple. They were plump, symmetrical and if it wasn't my chest they were hanging off I would have called them things like 'perky', 'sexy' and 'squeezeable'. But the fact remained that they were mine and I hated them. Even deep in my curiosity, as much as they fascinated me I hated them. "Great," I moaned sarcastically, "I'm cute."

Glumly, I pulled on my T-shirt and walked back to bed. I opened my bag, pulled out my iPod and tried to let the music wrestle me away from reality. With my eyes scrunched shut, I listened to other people's problems put to music. However, broken hearts and unreturned love seemed trivial to me whenever I opened my eyes and surveyed my landscape. More than anything, I wanted to fall asleep. Luckily for me I did. Soon all the annoying and depressing things in the world melted away and I was at peace. I'm uncertain how long I was snoozing for but it felt wonderful. Again, my slumber wasn't rudely interrupted by invasive dream, I felt alone inside my head.

CHAPTER 7

Like everything good in life, my pleasant life-avoiding sleep had to end. I blinked my eyes awake, only to realize I was surrounded. Annette stood to one side of me and Mum to the other. Who knows how long they had been there? I always found people watching me sleep a little unnerving. "Hello," Annette said warmly as I looked at her through my half-awake eyes. She always had her mousy brown hair tightly and messily coiled atop her head like tangled spaghetti. Annette was very skinny and straight up and down, without many curves. Her femininity was somewhat muted, I thought. Therefore I lay in my bed wondering how weird it was that Annette was in charge of teaching me on how to be a girl when I now possessed a much more female body than her and I wasn't even 100% female yet.

"Hi," I murmured.

"Good to see you awake, honey," Mum said. She touched me maternally on the shoulder. Looking at my mother made me feel comforted and I weakly smiled. We talked a bit, mostly about nothing. Annette told me that the press were still outside and trying to interview anyone who comes in or out of the hospital. It was amazing to think there were lots of people just waiting outside for a small glimpse of me. All because tiny little robots chose my body to enter I was one of the most famous people in the country.

Since my health wasn't really a major issue Mum was allowed to sneak my in some 'unhealthy' food which was a treat after a long an confusing day. Since she hadn't wanted to wake me up, my KFC was now a little on the tepid side of things. It could have been frozen and I still would have greedily chowed it down. It was delicious, I really enjoyed anything that made me forget that I was wearing a girl's body and therefore I really focused on my food. Sadly, gravity still existed and when a dollop of potato and gravy fell off the chip and onto my T-shirt I was reminded that I now owned a pair of breasts that would occasionally get food spiled onto them. Well, the ignorance was bliss while it lasted.

I was lamenting the gravy stain of my breast when Annette spoke up, "Now that you're awake and fed, would you like some visitors?"

"Who's out there?"

"Your friends from school." I suddenly panicked. I didn't want my friends seeing me like this. At school they would tease me if I had some spinach caught in my teeth. They would have a field day with me now. Annette must have seen the dread in my eyes, "You don't have to see anyone if you don't want to." Even though she was right, I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't like her enough to admit she was right.

"No, it's fine," I choked, "Let them in." Annette looked confused but complied with my wishes.

"I'll step out too," said Mum, "Give ya some time alone with your friends." Mums always know when you want some privacy.

The friends that were waiting to see me were Glen, the Madsen boys and Dot, of course. I was kinda hoping that Holly would come and see me but I kinda knew that it wouldn't be her anyway. They cracked open the door slightly and Mads was the first to slowly creep in, he stared at me for a second and turned around. I've been this guy's friend for 4 years and he doesn't recognize me. Great! Annoyed, I called out "Mads, it's me!" cringing upon hearing my yell reduced to a girl's shriek. Embarrassed Mads shyly came back into the room.

"Sorry, man," he apologised, "I didn't expect such a large change."

The others slowly filed into the room. They stuck to the walls, terrified to come any closer, clutching cards and gifts like limpets celebrating a birthday. The boys looked at me with unease slowly filling their eye sockets, as if my vagina would leap off me and come attach itself to any one of them. I kinda wished it could do that. They were horrified. This was all rectified when Dot, the last in the line came into the room. "Oh fuck!" she gasped.

"I know!" I exclaimed. It was nice to hear some honesty even if it summated to 'Oh fuck!'.

"You sure this is the right room?" Dot asked the boys, they nodded nervously.

"Ta-da!" I proclaimed. Dot ran up to me and looked me up and down.

"You're all girl?" she asked me upon finishing her inspection.

"Nope, not yet. About 20% to go."

"Wow, you're already so girly!"

"Don't remind me!"

Slowly the boys built up the courage to surround my bed. Their eyes were either staring directly at me or awkwardly looking about the room. They still were a little reticent to say anything though, so Dot continued to talk. "How are you feeling?" Dot asked.

"Not too bad," I admitted.

"Do we call you Gemma yet?" she asked me. I winced,

"Ugh… Not yet." I wasn't quite ready to be called a girl's name, despite my appearance.

"We got you presents!" Kev announced as he thrust his gift upon me.

"I see that," I said as I surveyed the slightly scared present barers. As an ex-teenage boy myself I knew the inherent fear of talking to a remotely pretty girl (Hell, some of the things I said to Holly was bordering on brain dead) and this fear was combined with the knowledge that the 'girl' in question used to be a guy very, very recently. I don't blame them for being scared.

I opened Kev's impeccably wrapped present. Kev was always a perfectionist and he brought the good and bad qualities that come with that. His parents were very successful lawyers in Melbourne but after amassing a small fortune, they gave up lawyering and opened a delightful antique store, right on the beach here. So, being rich gave him and Mads, his brother a slightly elitist quality that was never endearing. They were also good looking and smart as whips, further placing jealous as another reason not to like them. But they weren't horrible guys at all. They had a bundle of good qualities, they were nice, passionate and were great at conversation. Although Kev was slightly lecherous (a trait that never really bothered me until now), Mads was strangely asexual. I never asked him, but I was pretty sure he might be gay.

Kev and Mads's present was, as I expected totally unisex. They were sensitive enough to know I didn't want to be reminded of what I was losing or gaining. It was a pen. I nice one, the type that comes in a display box and one you would be sad if you misplaced. It was classy, stylish and oddly touching. "Thanks, you guys didn't have to get me prezzies."

"I hope you like it," Mads said, innocently.

"Of course I do."

Glen handed me a present too. As he handed it to me he leant down and hugged me as if I was his dying Nanna in this bed, it was distant and sad. I retaliated by hugging him back, hard. I was in dire need of hugs and I wasn't going to let him get away with that. I choked back a tear and sniffed a little. Glen was one of my best friends and I wanted things to stay that way. It was going to be tricky, but since my other best friend was Dot I knew that close girl/boy friendships were possible. But were former-boy-now-girl/boy friends achievable?

It was a diary, that's what Glen gave me. Thankfully, not a flaming pink, little cute padlock, 'Girls rule and boys drool!' kind of deal but a charming leather bound book filled with empty, blank pages begging to be jotted on. "That's kinda what the pen is for," said the softly spoken Glen, "I'm sure you have some pretty interesting thoughts you should write down." It was well thought out present, it was a nice gesture without being sickly sweet, it was intuitive and most importantly it was gender neutral. I'm not sure who helped him with that idea but someone did.

Dot on the other hand had not been given any help. The gift was jewellery, that was her first mistake. Actually her first mistake was that it was in a pink box with pink ribbon on it. The fact she looked a little resigned when she gave it to me, maybe regretting what she thought was at first funny. I was a necklace, without a shark's tooth at the bottom, which was the only manly thing you can hang at the bottom of a necklace. At the bottom of this necklace was an oval locket. Dot skittishly pushed some hair behind her ear and began talking, "Look, I know it's a necklace and that's not a very cool thing to give you but I think it's important."

"Yep, getting me glammed up before I've even finished changing myself is very important!" I dolled out that comment, noticing that my voice was pitched higher than Dot's.

"Just open it!" she said, exacerbated.

I fiddled with the finicky little hinge and the gold locket swung open. Snug inside was a picture of two people cheekily smiling, hugging each other. It was Dot and me. It was Dot and the very male me. I needed an explanation. "I know you're not Gemma now but you are going to be soon. I just wanted you to know that I thought Michael was a cool guy and I don't want you to forget him."

"How can I forget him? I AM him."

"I know but I'm sure Gemma is going to be a different person than Michael."

"No, I'm not," it was tricky talking about two people who were essentially the same person but I was adamant to make my point, "I am the same guy as I was a week ago. Same guy with these …things…," I juggled those disgusting boobs on my chest, "strapped to me!" I took the locket and carelessly coiled it back into its box.

"Dot didn't mean anything…"

I cut Kev off. "I know, it's just I don't feel like a different person," I said feeling like a completely different person, "I mean, I would love you to treat me just as you did before, OK? That would be the best present you guys could get me."

The mood lightened as the conversation went on. Since me becoming a girl was the number one news topic in the country we didn't really talk about anything else. Glen had brought in a copy of a newspaper that had a computer generated image of what I might look like when P.E. had finished with me. It wasn't quite like looking in the mirror but it wasn't too bad. I had to be slightly amazed to see the whole first three pages of the paper dedicated to me. Stories about the history of P.E., interviews with Dr. Chisholm and Mrs. Higgins, opinion pieces about my troubles, explanations of the disease and the electronic pulse treatment I was receiving. I knew it was a human-interest story, but I didn't know it was that interesting.

"You are a bona fide star," Glen gushed, "The press are lining up like outside the hospital like you are Tom Cruise or Katie Holmes or something!"

"Mrs. Higgins held a full school assembly and prohibited anyone for talking to the press that were hanging out front of the school. Everyone was super distracted all day. It was like when a dog stumbles onto school grounds, you know how crazy everyone gets when that happens?" For a sleepy beach town a wandering dog is big news, "Well, your transformation is like that times a thousand!" Dot handed me one of those oversized envelopes that almost certainly contained one of those oversized cards that allows a lot of people to sign, but it wasn't addressed to me.

"You're not allowed to open this card, Michael. Only Gemma can!" she teased. Although I didn't want to admit defeat and begin calling myself a girl's name I did want to see inside the envelope.

Before I could get into another Michael is Gemma, Gemma is Michael debate, a nurse bustled in and told the visitors they had to go. "You going to be OK?" asked Dot.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said, "Next time you see me, I'll be …umm… finished." She looked at me as if that was a moot point, and I guess it was, I was already so very female.

"Well, you are already prettier than me." The nurse hurried everyone out and they said their goodbyes.

"Helloooo!" sung the rather too chipper nurse. She was an older woman maybe in her late forties with grey streaks glimmering through her wispy auburn hair. She looked like a nurse. Even without the uniform and the fact she was in a hospital, she looked like she was born to be a nurse. She had a warm but weathered face like she had cared for many people, some who came out of here better and some who didn't. Her name badge read 'Lesley'.

"Hi," I responded.

"Aren't you lucky? I'm one of the two nurses charged to take care of you. You've got me and Hannah, the night shift girl. New girl, she's very nice," Lesley chatted away, "The Sydney mob who came down to look after you, want there to be as few hospital staff as possible dealing with you. Guess they don't want the press comin' in bothering everyone, which is fair enough. They made me sign this thing that I wouldn't take pictures of you or talk to the reporters or anything. But I wouldn't do anything like that to you… Miss Taylor. I mean, I've known you since you were a baby." That might have been true, Marrang has a population about 30,000 people and thus it's small enough for a lot of people to know you and large enough for you not to know them.

Nurse Lesley clarified where she knew me, "Oh, I'm Will and Brooke's Mum." Ah! I had gone to kindergarten, primary and now secondary school with Will and Brooke O'Neill. They were twins of the high achieving nature. You all know they type; athletic, studious and friendly, the perfect kids. I actually went to their birthday parties when were younger. But as what often happens we fell into different cliques at high school. I would say hi to them and things, but we weren't playing Four Square and sharing fruit roll-ups together anymore.

"Oh hi, Mrs. O'Neill… Sorry, I didn't recognize you."

"Well, I hardly recognize you either!"

"I bet," I laughed. Lesley stuck a thermometer into my mouth and began to talk,

"Well, at least you turned out to be a pretty young thing. I've seen of the pictures of people who went through Spontaneous Sexual Reconfiguration and they come out worse looking but you've really blossomed, not to say that you were ugly before. You're quite 'robust' if you know what I mean? Quite 'chesty.' Just make sure you wear a bra all the time, OK? Your lower back will thank me. Gee, you're cute! But I'm sure you don't want to hear that you're a pretty girl, right? Ah well, it's the truth though. And many doors get opened for a pretty girl. You'll have the blokes knocking the door down to get to you. I'm not sure if you're interested in boys or not, but you're pretty enough to get a girl if you are that way. But that's none of my business, now is it? Looking at you now, it's pretty much impossible to know you were a boy. You look a lot like your sister, but more 'classically' beautiful, you know? Bigger eyes, well shaped nose, just… prettier." She took out the thermometer and looked at it. "You look healthy too. How are you?"

Wow. She actually stopped talking long enough to ask me a question. I was completely flustered that answering didn't come easy. I resorted to nodding. "Good, good," Mrs. O'Neill started up again, "If you want anything just give me a call, OK hun? You're doing so well. I'm sure my kids would be scared out of their gourd if it happened to them. You seem to be coping alright. You're not being a bloody sook or anything. Sure, you're being a little quiet but that's to be expected. Look, you've got a few more people waiting to see you, do you want to see them?" Again, terrified, all I could do is nod.

Many people have always said that the most important things in life were friends and family. Well, since I had already had one half come and visit me it was time for the second half. "No effing way!" was the loud call that alerted me to my sister entering the room. Oh lucky me! I was being visited by the women I was beginning to resemble; my Mum (again!) and my sister. Silently in tow was Nicole's boyfriend Ben, trying to feign nonchalance as best he could. He was older than Nicole, around 23 I'd guess and worked as an electrician. Playing footy was his life, and despite my first impression of him being uncouth and a bit of a dickhead, he was really good for Nicole. He seemed a little out of his depth here though.
"G'day," he muttered.

"Hey," I answered. We were guys and that was all the conversation we needed. In that exchange what was actually conveyed was:

BEN: It's a shame what happened to you. You are a nice guy and it sucks that you have to go through this. However, Nicole dragged me here and I'm more than a little uncomfortable. You're kinda a girl now and whatever amity we built up over the short moments we spent together isn't enough to be massively freaked out. In a gesture of goodwill though, I am going to act supremely casual, as if I see this everyday and will only stare at your boobs once.

ME: Totally understandable. This is a difficult situation for us all and I excuse you. Thank you for looking after my sister, I know she can be a total handful.

I hoped without my penis I would still be able to talk the 'man language'. The alternative, 'woman talk' as recently demonstrated by Nurse O'Neill and my sister, was quite scary. "Mum warned me that you had changed A LOT! But this is heaps! You look like a completely different person."

"I know," I said, reassuring her I had seen a mirror.

"It looks like you're taking a bit after Mum and me," Nicole hinted unsubtly about my bust, "You're going to be a Top-heavy Taylor!" It was then Ben took his pre-arranged glance at my boobs. "All the girls at work are barracking for you, kid. I'm famous now as the sister of the guy with P.E.!"

"Lucky you!" I cheered sarcastically.

"How are you feeling, love?" Mum asked as she patted my forehead.

"I'm OK, feeling a little more stable now. How's the rest of the world?" I actually missed having a window in my room. The entire world could have been destroyed but here in my little cell, I could only find out through second hand information.

"The whole world are all wandering how you are doin'. You're being talked about all over the TV and radio. People have been sending 'Get Well' letters and sending flowers, but the hospital doesn't want to crowd you so we've been keeping them safe for you at home for the moment."

"Any from Dad?" My hopeful comment made Mum laugh.

"I doubt it, Mikey!" It dashed my spirits a little that my absent father wouldn't even contact me during this, my very serious and extremely public ordeal. But I guess since he missed pretty much everything since me learning to use the big boy toilet, me transforming into a girl is a tricky place to start fathering again.

"The doctors told me that they are happy with how you are doing," Mum said.

"You're so fricking brave!" Since Nicole was in a public place her swearing was somewhat reduced down to 'fricking' and 'effing.' "I'm not sure if I got P.E I could handle being a hairy, sweaty bloke. What about you, Ben?" Ben spoke softly as Nicole did loudly.

"I am a hairy, sweaty bloke," he jokingly said trying to avoid the answer. That would not stop Nicole though.

"No, ya goose, if you caught Pussy Envy could you cope being a girl?"

That was a very scary question to ask a guy who was staring at what the result of that question was. But he did answer it as best he could, "Not as well as Michael is."

Mum, usually the person to put me in awkward conversations actually steered it somewhere else, "I was talking to Tyler just before. He doesn't want to come and bother today you but wanted to remind you that you had to start thinking about what you wanted to say at the press conference. Now, he told me that told didn't have do a speech if you didn't want to, he could read out a statement. But he said it would be better if it came out of you. So, just start thinking about that. It'll probably be not tomorrow but the day after in the gardens across the road."

"Do you know what Gemma's gonna wear?" Nicole asked Mum.

"We'll let Gemma decide that, Nicky," Mum said, as if this fictional 'Gemma' character would possibly care what she wore.

"Tyler is going to drop by tomorrow sometime. So are Nanna and Pa and Aunty Ros. The lil Indian doctor said that they were going to finish the process early tomorrow, giving to the rest of the day to adjust to it all. Annette is going to be spending a lot of time with you," Yay! Another reason I cannot wait to be all girl!

I yawned. I didn't mean to, but something interesting happened. The yawn flicked a switch in my mother's maternal mind and she whirred into action like a tin toy. "Oh sorry, sweetie! I didn't realize you were so tired. Come on kids let's skedattle and leave Mikey here to get some rest." Mum kissed me on the forehead and shepherded my sister and her eager-to-leave boyfriend out of the hospital. All it took was a simple yawn to clear the room, I must remember that.

With Television willing and able to talk all things Michael/Gemma Taylor and the fact I was now well and truly sick of me and that 'Gemma' girl, I decided I would watch a DVD from my collection. I selected 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest'. I had seen it a lot because I was a massive fan of Jack Nicholson but this viewing was a lot different. The movie is about Jack was trapped in a hospital, observing all the crazy people around him. It seemed to be very relevant to me and my situation. Relevant or not I fell asleep before the end.

Tomorrow, I would become 'Gemma'.
Shit!

CHAPTER 8

Usually the sun peeking into my room would be the culprit of waking me up. I liked waking up that way and would never fully close my curtains, unless I wanted to sleep in. But my current room had no windows; it was deep in the hospital where sunlight would have no chance sneaking into. My room was pitch black when I woke up, somebody must have turned off my DVD. I sat up slowly and took a deep breath. Ugh! I felt the barely familiar tug of two heavy breasts. My hands clutched at them, kneading them with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. I moaned in annoyance and flopped back into bed.

Today was Michael's last day in the world, and Gemma's first. Being the slightly neurotic dweeb I am I had often thought about the day I die. I didn't believe in a God at all and didn't have any thoughts of an afterlife. However, I suppose in some ways I was being reborn as a girl. The fact of the matter was I was practically a fully functional girl already. All that was happening today was a smoothing of the edges and some final adjustments. After a small electric jolt in a few hours, no one would be able to guess I was born male. Although thanks to extended news coverage there would be no doubt that everyone in Australia had already heard about me.

I showered for the first time in such a 'womanly' state. The warm spray bounced off my ample chest and dribbled down to my stomach. Being shorter gave me a weird sort of vertigo, whenever I walked I felt very conscious of how much closer to the ground I was. Those stupid little robots had robbed me of my growth spurt that I had when I turned 15. I jabbed myself in the ribs, hard, hoping that I at least damaged a few of those microscopic little bastards. At least the shower pressure was good. Whenever I go somewhere that is my biggest concern. At my house the water is almost always cold and the pressure is a little less than a trickle. It's like showering under a drainpipe. Whenever I stay the night at Dot's or Glen's I always have a massive shower in the morning. Sure, it's not a good thing to do considering we are all in the middle of a drought, but I never take long showers at home so this balances things out.

With a twist of the knob the torrent of water became a trickle, then a dribble and then stopped completely. I grabbed the rather starchy hospital towel and patted myself dry. Coincidently, while I was drying myself, the cute girl in the mirror also dried herself. I turned my back, not wanting to acknowledge her and got dressed. Under doctor's orders, I wasn't supposed to leave my room and thus I was getting cabin fever. Although I had plenty to do; write my speech, watch TV/movies, listen to my iPod or write in my new journal, I wanted nothing more than to wander the halls of the hospital.

Screw them! What punishment could they give me that would be worse than taking my dick away? I guess it was my rebellious teenager kicking in after following every single rule since I got here in the hospital. I slid on my slippers and prepared my break out! Oh the things I would see! Old people sleeping! Nurses pushing old people in wheelchairs! More old people sleeping! I really wished I had brought my camera!! I walked to the door and took a deep breath like Neil Armstrong must have done before his 'one small step'.

"Oh! Good morning! Didn't expect you to be awake," said the beard with the doctor attached. I jumped back in fright, like Neil Armstrong would have done if his doctor greeted him when he opened the door.

"Hi Dr. Chisholm," I stammered.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Dr. Chisholm was obviously unaware of my jailbreak attempt so I could rest easy.

"OK, I guess. Still haven't found a cure?"

"No," he replied, "I think a cure is still a long way off. We don't even really know what we are dealing with." I knew it was a long shot, but you never know. However if they had found a cure, I'm pretty sure he would have opened the conversation with it. It's not the kind of thing you forget to mention.

"Can I be honest? I know it's just going to be the same as the rest of the zaps but I'm scared."

"I don't blame you, Michael. What you are going through is impossible for me to even imagine and I have been studying SGR for 2 years now. I've been all around the world meeting a lot people who went through the change, read and written countless articles about it and yet I cannot fathom how scary a path it must be. But I want you to know the whole team think you are being extremely brave." He gave me an awkward pat on the back.

"Thanks."

"So are you comfortable in becoming a young woman?"

"Well, it hasn't been too painful, aside from some aching muscles and just feeling out of it. But I would much rather be a guy again. But in the grand scheme of things I'm sure it's not that big of a hassle. I can still be whatever I want to be."

"That's the spirit! Being a woman shouldn't stop any of your dreams in life." That was true but it didn't stop me feeling absolutely awful. He gave me a basic once over, checking my heart rate and my temperature.

"Well, your body is ready to go. When do you want to do this?" asked the Doctor as he chewed on a pencil.

"Let's get it over wuth!" I said, hiding my true feelings that wanted me to scream 'NEVER!' and run from the room.

My footsteps clomped down the echo filled corridors of the hospital. I was a dead man walking, so to speak and I sobbed a little. Dr. Chisholm asked me if I was OK, and I nodded. So, we continued to walk, each step a fraction closer to that damn metal bar and the shock that would awaken the last of the nanobots, they would begin their work and finish the job that their friends started, and I would stand up, a woman. Despite this gloom running through my mind, I didn't slow down. In fact I walked faster. I'm not entirely sure why.

The whole team of experts were there. Annette, Dr. Nagra and Dr. Jensen were all there waiting, almost salivating at the chance to see medical history. I was medical history. The second victim of SGR in Australia, the first male. The history books would read Kate Draffen and then Michael Taylor and then another poor soul and then another until they found a cure. Everyone in the room was quiet. A mixture of nervous excitement and a solemn almost a funeral like feeling. "Hi guys!" I said to jolt them out of their silence.

"uh… hi!" everyone replied.

"I just want to thank you guys for all your work. I really do appreciate it, although I'm not too happy with the results," there was a nervous laugh, "Look, I'm not looking forward to this. But let's get it over and done with."

I was asked, "How are you feeling?" by Dr. Nagra. As he tinkled with the equipment, I told him I was OK. "You're looking healthy," Dr. Nagra said as with a glint in his eye. I liked Dr. Nagra, he was probably my favourite of the doctors, he never talked down to me like I felt Annette did and he was a little less stuffy than the elder Dr. Chisholm. Annette came over to me, looking concerned.

"Hi Michael," she said through clenched teeth, "Now, this is going to be your final change, Michael. It is probably going to be a very traumatic for you. But I want you to know that you have a humungous support network and we are all barracking for you."

"Yes, I know," I said, trying to fob her off.

"Are you ready for this?"

"I guess so." She helped me undress. I lifted up my arms and let Annette tug my T-shirt off, exposing my very female chest. I kicked my tracksuit pants off and sat down, wearing only my underwear. Despite having the doctors practically study my naked body 6 hours a day for the last few days I still felt a little shy.

Dr. Nagra handed me the metal bar. "Last time," Dr. Chisholm said. I gripped the bar tightly looking down at the hands that held it. The hands had changed so much from the first time I held the bar. First off, they were definitely smaller, that was obvious. Also they were delicate, of course, and a little chubbier. I wondered if they would change more once the last shock came travelling down the wires.

Silently, a little peace was made. I was saying goodbye to being male. Even though there was nothing truly male about me anymore, I wasn't truly female. Supposedly, this final shock would introduce me to a world of periods and the potential to become pregnant. While there was no chance whatsoever of the latter I would have to endure the pain of the former, monthly. In fact, there were a lot of things that would be different. Oh shit! I was going to be a girl! I didn't want to be a girl! Why me? They didn't have to do this, right? They could find a way to reverse this. There must be a slim chance if I didn't go through this last zap they could find a way to fix me. If I did go through with it though, I bet they couldn't fix me ever! I don't want to be a girl! I must tell them!

With my mind racing a million miles a minutes, the sounds of my inner voice screaming at me drowned out the countdown that Dr. Nagra was providing. I went to scream to stop as I felt it. The tingle began through my hands and soon my whole body felt electric. I was too late. There was no turning back, the stinging sensation felt all over my body informed me of that. I looked around wildly at my changing body. Although nothing too drastic seemed to be happening, I began to freak out. I clamped my eyes shut and wished that everything would go away.

And it did.

I was surrounded by silence. And darkness. It was a very relaxing place to be in contrast to my thought-racing, heart-pounding terror of a few seconds ago. Nothing was scary. Nothing was threatening. Nothing was happening. I was content to be there, floating through an abyss. My gender wasn't an issue anymore, as I had no body. I was floating. It was serene. It was lovely. Suddenly, light began pouring in, spilling in and destroying the peaceful darkness. I tried to squeeze all the light out but it was futile. Blinding light took hold and violently dispersed the harmless, loving darkness until there was none of it left.

I was awake.

And female.

In my hospital room.

Since the room was windowless I had no idea no idea what the time was. How long had I been asleep? Days? Months? Probably not but who knows? A thought hit me. I suddenly remember what was happening last time I was conscious. But unlike the panic that had earlier gripped me, I felt numb. Groggily I climbed off the bed and plodded into the bathroom. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. I pulled the string for the light and looked into the mirror. A sorrowful sigh echoed off the bathroom walls. I thought I was girly before. I guess the last 20% had a real kick to it because I was much more feminine now.

As suspected I was shorter, maybe even shorter than my mum now but probably not as short as Nicole. My face was… cuter. A soft layer of puppy fat over my rounder face gave me a young, innocent look. I practiced a smile and noticed I was blessed/cursed with dimples. I poked out my tongue and wiggled it about, even that was different. My eyes were big and inviting even with the glazed look they now had. It was weird to see how much had changed. My teeth were different. My hairline started higher on my head, and my hair was a lighter shade of brown, thinner and longer. I now had those cute tiny ears that some girls have. There was only a bare passing resemblance to who I was before, unlike yesterday where I kinda looked like a female version of myself.

And that was just my face. My body had grabbed femininity and shook it until every last drop had come out. Yesterday I had boobs. Today, I had BOOBS! I turned to one side and flattened the T-shirt against my tummy. Yes, they had definitely grown, not just in size, but also in perkiness. I certainly took after my mother when it came to my body, there was a new 'Top Heavy Taylor' in town. To add to my Top-Heaviness my bum wasn't that big, it was small, round and pert. It didn't do much to balance me out. Also, although I had quite a small waist below my breasts, my hips weren't much wider. My sister often complained that when shopping for a bathing suit she would have to buy a different size top and bottom. If I ever wanted to buy a bikini (highly doubtful) I'm sure I would encounter that same problem.

"Testing, testing, 1…2…3." I wasn't too surprised with the revelation that my voice was even higher than yesterday. I know the way you hear you own voice is different to how everyone else hears you, so I would be interested in hearing it recorded. I am sure there are a few people with recording equipment just outside this hospital who would be very willing to oblige.

The prognosis was terrible: I had become a somewhat cute, overdeveloped 17 year old girl. True, it was better than dying, but life was only going to get weirder before becoming saner. Not only did I have to learn the basics of being a completely different human being I had to do while the whole country watched. I waved at myself in the mirror, "Hi world! My name is Gemma." I had to give up this 'Michael' charade; I was well and truly Gemma.

I missed being 'Michael' already. I did feel numb earlier but the foggy feeling was lifting. I was going to be stuck like this for a long time, in this weird body and I didn't want to be. Although it wasn't going to help anything, I cried. My little hands scrunched up in a fist and I punched myself, frustrated. Maybe this wasn't better than being dead, after all.

I couldn't keep my thoughts straight. The only thought I could keep still in my mind was, 'This isn't fair!' And it's true, with so many people in the world, why did it happen to me? There are people who are born the wrong gender why couldn't the robots get them, they would enjoy having boobs the size of small submarines. Why couldn't it happen to a baby who wouldn't know any better or and old person who wouldn't have long to live. I'll never know why it picked me; a 17-year-old boy who really enjoyed his penis.

I hid myself from the world under a hail of sheets being flung into the air. The sound of my sobs alerted someone I was now awake. "Gemma, is everything OK?" asked Annette, sounding like she had just peeked her head in.

"Fuck off!" was my response. I didn't want to talk to anyone, especially that patronizing bitch. I felt a hand trying and comfort me. Fuck that! I am special. No one else in the entire country is going through what I am now and thus have no idea what I'm feeling! How dare she presume she can relate to me? I blindly extended my leg out in an effort to kick her. My clenched fists swung wildly as she took off the sheets. "Fuck off!!!!" I reminded her.

My shouting must have attracted some more attention because I heard Dr. Chisholm's voice, "Calm down, Michael!" Michael? He's not allowed to use that name!

"You killed Michael, you fucker!" And I meant it too. My life was perfectly fine before I met Dr. Chisholm. I was your average high school kid, looking forward to dancing at his Deb ball and who enjoyed the beach. Then he entered my life and I became some big titted freak! "Michael's dead!" I repeated over and over. They tried to turn me onto my back, but I wasn't helping, thrashing like a petulant 5 year-old at the supermarket. "Don't touch me!" I howled. They tried to pin my hands by my side but I fidgeted one free. With my free hand I swung it at whoever was on my left side. It connected, and Annette let go. She yelped in pain and before I knew it there was a lot of people in the room, all with hands, and all trying to restrain me.

"Change me back!" I commanded to the doctors who had no intention of doing that. I was their prize; a huge titted bimbo they could show off to their scientist friends. They just loved watching me transform, didn't they? I bet they remarked on how they were going to enjoy me once I was 100% pussy. I bet they wanked off to the videos of me transforming. That's why they didn't change me back! "Fucking let go of me!" my new voice was so painfully piercing, "You're hurting me!" They were all shouting things as well. I couldn't tell who was there, and didn't care! "Fuck off!" By now, I couldn't move. There were hands all over my limbs, holding them to the bed with great force. "Michael's dead, you cunts!" I screamed as I felt something jab into my arm.

A needle! Great! It's because of those fucking things that I'm in this position. If I had gotten my needle first like Dot wanted they wouldn't have injected me with the nanobots at the hospital for their sick little experiment. "That hurt!" I wailed. What were they filling me full of now? Fucking poison? I could feel the darkness creep back into my life again. I stopped struggling and ran towards it, loving the emptiness enveloping me. The horrid light and the horrendous world it brings disappeared as the dark took command.

My time in the darkness was beautifully dull. I liked it there.

There was nothing to do and no reason to do anything at all. I didn't even have to think. So I didn't. No thinking, no worrying about what the newspaper people want, no stressing about the gash between my legs, no panicking that Mum was going to force me into the stupid deb dress, no thoughts about bras and how I would have to wear them from now on, no more longings for Holly. Just the black. I know this may not sound to appealing to you, but when all the thoughts you are faced with outside the darkness are bad, the darkness takes on a wonderful allure.

So much so that I was angry when the darkness began to ebb once again. My brain slowly began to whirr and the thoughts warmed up. But the thoughts didn't pick up speed, they continued their plodding path through my mind. The painful blur of bad thoughts and worries was now a warm trickle of dumbed down observations. I was warn. The room was bright. There were people all around me. They were smiling. There was Mum and Dr. Chisholm and the nurse and Dr. Jensen and Dr. Nagra. Annette wasn't there and that made me feel good.

"Mmrmm umph?" was my icebreaker.

"Shhh, honey. Don't speak," Mum said as she brushed my hair with her hands.

Since I was in a rebellious mood I tried to speak again, "Am I still a girl?" Mum's eyes suddenly saddened, she didn't want to say anything.

"Yes," Dr. Chisholm spoke, "You're a perfectly healthy young woman. But more importantly, a perfectly healthy human." That news should have angered me, or saddened me, but my thoughts wouldn't sink that deeply.

"Oh," I murmured, "That's OK, I guess." I asked for a glass of water and Nurse O'Neill left to room to get one. "I'm pretty, aren't I?"

"Yes, you're very beautiful," my Mum gently cooed.

"I thought so," I said, sounding a little glum about it, "I don't want to be a girl."

"It's OK, all the nice doctors are going to make sure you're well looked after."

I sat up and sipped my water, my mouth felt very dry and I downed the glass in one go. "Thank you, Mrs. O'Neill," I told the nurse.

"Just doing my job," she smiled a welcoming smile that made her seem younger. The light in the room suddenly hurt my eyes and I went to rub them. As I did, my hand brushed past my new breasts. I looked down at them, pushing the T-shirt out.

"My boobs are big," I lamented.

"Well, you are my kid," Mum softly joked.

"I feel weird."

"That's because we gave you something to calm you down. You were quite feisty before, you gave Dr. Fischer a black eye!" Dr. Nagra told me. Dr. Fischer? Oh that's Annette's name. Excellent! I smiled a little bit and Dr. Nagra smiled back. He understood.

"Now I understand this is very scary for you," Dr. Chisholm paused and it looked liked he wanted to use my name but was unsure of which name to say, "But you must realize that we are all here for you. None of us are here to hurt you. So, the next time you feel scared or angry or sad just call for one of us." I replied by giving a little nod and then yawning.

When I awoke the next time, I felt a lot less drugged up. I'm not sure what they gave me but it felt nice, that's for sure. When I was younger I used to sometimes wonder if there were anti-depressant pills that made people feel happy, why didn't everyone take them all the time? The answer to that question is a little more apparent to me these days.

Mum diligently sat beside, reading an old magazine that was probably from the waiting room. And even probably the same one she was reading the other day. She looked stressed out, the way I would see her around Christmas time if the ends were getting a little tough to meet or when she was really busy at work and would come home to a mess that Nicole or I had carelessly made. The colour from her face was muted, and she looked tired. I hadn't thought much about how tough this must have been for Mum. Crazy doctors were telling her strange things about her son swallowing coins to build robots and how his penis would transform into a vagina. No mother in this entire country had ever had to deal with that before. And she was coping, not only coping but also making me feel a little better about the whole thing.

"I love you, Mum," I said she looked up from her reading to check on me.

Her beaten down look seemed to warm as she looked at me, "I love you too…" There was that pause again. She was unsure what to call me.

I confirmed my name for her and the rest of the world, "Gemma."

"Gemma," she repeated. We sat in a healthy silence for a little bit. The hum of the neon lights above us the only sound. "You gave me a scare, Gem." Gem? No. Part of the appeal of 'Gemma' was that there was no way for Mum to make a dorky little pet name like that. However after one use it seems like she was sick of 'Gemma'!

"Were you there when I lost it?"

"Yep."

"When I punched Annette?"

"You gave me a fair kick in the chops too!"

"Sorry."

"It was very scary!"

"Well, I really don't want to be a girl."

"So, you can't promise me that wont happen again?"

I thought about it for a moment. I really didn't want to be in this body. I didn't like my cutesy face, I didn't like the overstuffed boobs and I certainly didn't like that slit in between my legs. Being captured inside this short little body was going to piss me off very much. I just couldn't promise my Mum that I wouldn't go a little wild again. She had to know that this was a dangerous place for me to be. I looked up at her, "No, Mum. This is going to be tough for me for a while. Just keep an eye on me, OK?" She nodded, with a look of concern plastered across her face.

"How are you feeling?"

"Weird, I think the drug is starting to wear off now. I couldn't think straight before, now I can. My head still feels…mushy."

"The little Indian fellow…"

"Dr. Nagra," I offered Mum his name.

"Yeah, him. He said you will be feeling woozy for little while."

"What's the time?"

"About 3," Mum answered, "You've been drifting in and out of sleep all day, so I suppose you're a bit confused."

"Happy to have two daughters, Mum?"

"Just happy you pulled through, Gemma. I couldn't care less if you were my son or my daughter!"

I grimaced, "I know which one I'd rather choose."

"You never know, you may learn to love it!" I looked down at my mountainous bosom and pondered the rest of my life.

"I seriously doubt it."

As the last morsel of sandwich tumbled down my throat, I felt healthier, not a whole lot happier but at least I was brimming with energy. Mum and I chatted about a lot of things while Dr. Chisholm took some data. We talked about how much I was on the news last night, how Nanna and my Auntie had stayed over last night, how scared Ben was seeing me yesterday. It was a nice chat. Meanwhile, I did the things I had gotten use to over the last couple of days, stand on the scales, get measured, read out a sample sentence so that they could measure the changes in my voice, had my pulse taken and even a blood sample. Needles, while they still hurt, were hardly as scary as they were a week ago. "You've got a clean bill of health from me, Gemma," said Dr. Chisholm, finally using my name after hearing my mother using it several times and deciding it was safe.

"That's good, I guess."

"Knock, Knock!" chimed in a voice from behind the door as he slid it open. It was my publicist, Tyler. He was again impeccably dressed from the shiny jet black shoes to his shiny jet black hair. "Michael?" he asked, incredulously as he stared at me.

"Sort of," I answered, gingerly looking at the floor.

"Wow! You look so fantastic! Just like your Mum!" Tyler had this way of talking that made yo feel special. Even though having my looks compared to my Mum would rate as one of the worse compliments you could give me at that moment I took it with a smile. My mum, on the other hand, was practically giggling.

"Well, she does come from good stock! Come on in and have a seat, you cheeky bugger!" Swiftly, with a spring in his step, Tyler came by and sat by my bed.

"How are you going… Are we calling you Gemma now?"

"Might as well. And I am fine as can be expected." Tyler made eye contact with me for a brief second, smiled and flipped open his book.

"Now, there are a few things to discuss before tomorrow."

"Take it away, I got no place to be."

"Let's just start by saying the press are all very eager to meet you. My phone has been ringing non-stop about you, ever since I took you on board. Your story has really struck a nerve with the country. You've got best wishes messages sent by everyone from the Prime Minister down." It was interesting picturing the Prime Minister sitting in his office, thinking about me. The image of that really made me think of how much of a big story mine must be. By just staying inside a hospital I had become a national celebrity. There were probably a heap of people were talking about me at that very moment. So far being a national celebrity didn't feel very different to being an unknown.

"You've got to decide what you want to say tomorrow. And I don't just mean what is going to come out of your mouth. I mean what is the message you want to give out: 'I'm a girl and loving it!'? 'I'm being strong in this tough time'? It's up to you up the message we give out." Tyler chewed on a pen as he scribbled down who knows what into his notebook.

"The second one," I said, slightly tearing up, "because I'm not exactly happy about…" I stopped the sentence to sniffle a bit.

"It's OK," Tyler said, "I know this must be tough for you. You're going through something very personal and yet the whole country wants every little detail. Most people get a little bit of space to go through personal things. If this is all too much, I can come back later?"

I sat up and swung my legs out of the bed, "No, it's fine. Let's keep going."

"You'll be super-dooper excited that me and your psychologist, Annette have been clothes shopping for you to get you something for tomorrow," Tyler said with a good dollop of sarcasm. Great! I can just imagine Annette nursing her black eye and a grudge picking out a pretty pink dress for me to wear.

"Nothing too girly?" I nervously asked.

"Made sure of that. Since it's going to be quite hot tomorrow, around 30, we've gone for the jeans/singlet combination. Young, casual, unisex. I think that's the best way to present you tomorrow. Not try and flog you off as the girliest girl and not still as a bloke but as a boy who has been through a tough transformation and finds himself in this young female body."

"Sounds OK with me."

Tyler jotted down something in his book again. It seems like he could think about a thousand things at once and keep them all straight. "Good, because I am not happy, unless you are happy. Now about your speech, I understand you are pretty much the star performer at your school? Well, that is a great advantage because there will be a lot of people there to see you tomorrow. If it's OK I want the whole thing to kick off around ten in the morning because news people are happy people if the news happens in the morning, more time to prepare. You can talk for as much or as little as you feel comfortable with. Usually at these press conferences you field a few questions after your speech, would you be happy to do that?"

"Umm…I guess so."

"Good to know. Also I've managed to score quite a large sum of money for you and your family by Channel 7, they basically bought exclusive television interview rights. Now what they really want is some 'backstage' footage of you preparing for the press conference tomorrow; talking to your mum, being looked after by Dr. Chisholm, that sort of thing. They want to do the main interview with you some time next week. It's going to be with Anna Coren, from Today Tonight. Now stop me if you don't like any of this."

He was saying so much it was hard to take it all in. While his mind was perfectly fine to slip along at this speed, I had been drugged and electrocuted already that day. My eyes boggled with too much information. "…I guess it's OK," I stammered. Mum, who had been strangely silent (probably ogling Tyler's fit body) spoke up, "Now, how much money did you end up getting us?" Predictable. But I guess since we weren't exactly rich, the idea of having some spending money was highly attractive.

"Well, Mrs. Taylor the only deal I've done is the Channel 7 story. Haven't organized a newspaper deal or a magazine deal yet, because let's just say this deal is significantly better than I thought it would be."
"How much better?"

Tyler took a deep breath, "You'll be paid about $2.25 million." Now to a boy who lives in a tiny, decaying house by the sea, who eat primarily shop-bought lasagne heated up by his mum just over two million dollars is a lot of money. To a woman who works part time at a pub, has two mouths to feed and has always struggled through all her life $2,250,000 is enough to make her scream, loudly!

"Wow! But I thought you'd say we'd get like three hundred grand? Not two bloody million!" Mum jabbered on.

"Well, that was a very wrong estimate on my part. The TV stations are very interested in your story. Everyone around this country has fallen in love with the Taylor family. But nothing is official until I get your signature on it, Mrs Taylor." Mrs. Taylor? I would take Gemma and maybe even Miss. Taylor but calling me Mrs. Taylor was going a little to far. That was until I realized he actually meant Mrs. Taylor, my Mum (who in fact is a Miss. Taylor, as she never married my Dad whose last name was Schiffmann). I was still only 17 and thus still only a kid in the eyes of contract law. "If you want, Gemma, we can leave you alone while me and you Mum sort out all this boring paperwork?" I sighed. Now I always consider me to be the more responsible one in comparison to my mum, so putting an offer of two million in her hands seemed a little scary. I was afraid for a few dollars more she might sign me up for a Playboy shoot or something, but I guess I had to trust her.

"OK, run along."

Well, there was an upside to all this, I was going to be rich. Although I wouldn't have gone through this all voluntarily for $10 million, it was nice that I was getting some compensation. Kate Draffen never sold his story, in fact since becoming a man he hardly leaves his house. I wasn't sure if I would become a recluse. 17 years old is a little young to lock yourself away forever. And yet there was some appeal to taking all the money, buying a nice small house, getting all my food delivered and never having to leave again. But I think I have too many meddling (read loving) people in my life to let me achieve that.

The rest of my day was one big blur- a long cavalcade of examinations, visitors and lectures. My Grandmother told me she found me 'breathtakingly gorgeous'. My Grandfather lamented not having any grandsons anymore. Glen said I had changed heaps since yesterday. Dot elbowed him in the ribs. Dr. Chisholm revealed to me that the nanobots had fully completed the transformation. I worked on my speech a bit. I opened the card Dot had given 'Gemma' which was signed by a lot of my friends from school. My Auntie thought I looked a lot like my Dad's sister, the Chiko Roll girl. I apologised for the black eye Annette was now sporting. Annette spoke to me at length about my new biology. Mum brought some take away food for me to eat and we sat and watched TV together with Nicole. Nicole couldn't stay long because she had netball practise but told me I looked hot.

But there was one last group of visitors before the night ended. "These are the last people to come and see you," Nurse O'Neill said, "And you've only got a few minutes before visiting hours are over, OK love?" I was happy to hear it. Despite my only physical activity was walking from the examination room and back, I was quite exhausted.

"Hi," said the little voice as they peered around the corner. It was Holly. She smiled nervously as she approached the bed, her hair bouncing up and down in a casual ponytail behind her. Alongside Holly was her little sister, Fiona. I assume Holly had brought as a security blanket, something to stop me freaking out on her or something. I knew Fiona from the school plays, she was an amazing dancer and a bit of an extrovert. She was friendly with everyone, despite being a massive know-it-all.

"Hi guys," I said, sitting at the little table they had set up for me, "Come on. Sit down." They did as they were told, looking as if they were scared to not follow my orders exactly. "Great room," Holly joked.

"Yeah, I'm not allowed to have any windows."

"Why's that?" asked Fiona.

"So that the paparazzi don't sneak a picture of me."

Fiona informed me, "We got checked for cameras before we were let in. We had to convince them we were really your
friends before they would let us in."

"Yeah, I thought it might have been only family allowed to see you, that's why we haven't been around earlier. But Glen told me today that they let in close friends too, so we thought we would visit," Holly stared vacantly at a spot above my eyes. She was too scared to look me in the eyes, but too polite to look away.

"So, how are you feeling?" I was getting pretty sick of that question.

"I'm OK, I've had better days."

"When did you…?" Holly struggled to find the words.

"Become a girl? The transformation finished this morning." All this talk of guys tuning into girls was too much for Holly who politely steered the conversation back somewhere else.

"So, how's the food here? When I broke my arm when I was young I remember refusing to eat the food. But you know me, I've always been a fussy eater." It's true, she didn't even like pizza.

"Since I'm not technically sick, Mum sneaks me in take away." Although this was friendly banter, it felt a little stilted, rehearsed even. My favourite thing about Holly was how fun she was to talk to but this was a pale imitation to the fun we used to have.

"So, are you a real girl?" asked Fiona. As much as I dislike the awkward small talk between Holly and me, I wanted less to answer Fiona's question.

"Mentally I'm still Michael but physically I'm as female as you."

"Probably even more so!" Fiona answered, making me hunch over a little trying to mask the size of my breasts. It's a thing I have seen a lot of large breasted, self-conscious girls do, and then they develop bad posture as well.

"So," Fiona continued her interrogation, "How big are they?"

"I don't know. Too big!"

"Did it hurt when they grew?" Holly, like me, had had enough of that particular line of questioning. Sure, she might have been curious to know the answer but she was polite enough to know that you shouldn't ask that type of question.

"Fiona!" she scolded.

"No, it's OK," I said, a little tersely, "A little bit, much not much."

Luckily the breast questions died out and we began talking about all the media. "I actually got a call last night from a journo wondering if I was still doing the Deb Ball with you!" Holly said in her could-you-imagine-such-a-thing voice, "How they found out we were doing the Deb together I don't know!" She giggled and I saw the thought bubble above her head of me squeezed into a suit, leading her around the room. One of the reasons she chose me was because I was taller than her, there was no chance that of being her partner now that I was shorter than her and a girl.

"So, have you found another partner yet?" I asked her, trying to hide my disappointment and doing a better job than hiding my boobs.

"Yeah," she confessed, "Melissa pulled out the other day, so I asked Sobey."

Trent Sobey, or Sobey as he was known, was the complete antithesis of me. Where I liked discussing movies at lunch, he preferred to spend his lunch times hitting cricket balls in the cricket nets. I liked school and most of my teachers, he was once suspended for swearing at a teacher. I tutored kids after school, he made the Year 8s buy his lunch at the canteen for him. I was a bit of a push over, he was a bit of a dickhead. Yet Holly was as good friends with him as she was with me. I never understood it. I know it was a bit childish to consider someone your mortal enemy but Trent Sobey was my mortal enemy. Although, he was probably not aware of this arrangement.

"Oh great! He'll scrub up well!" I said through the cracks of the forced smile I wore.

"Everyone at school reckons you should totally still do the Deb!" Holly grinned, "It would be such a cool message to put out there! You know, 'Nothing is going to stop me from enjoying life' sort of thing. You'd look real pretty." She was actually putting this forward as an actual suggestion. Was she as deluded as Mum? Didn't she know the only reason I did the Deb was to get to hold her close?

I set my position on doing the Deb, "No, I don't think that'll be happening."

The conversation clumsily wound down and the second time Holly mentioned the hospital food I knew it was time to call it a night. But, I didn't have to do the yawn as Nurse O'Neill returned as promised to remove them. I watched the girls walk away, watching their cute bums sway almost in synchronization. It was annoyingly unapparent to me if I enjoyed the sight or not. I had tried a few sneaky glances at Holly's breasts during the conversation to see if my libido was still working. The results remained inconclusive. "Sleep tight!" the girls called out to me and they slid the door behind them closed.

Visiting hours were over, and like a rare panda in a zoo that had been studied and stared at all day; I was free to ponder what it was like to be so special. Sure, I knew that I was only one of two people in the entire country who had miraculously a change of gender, and that was very special. I went to brush my teeth and prepare for bed. 'Gemma' greeted me in the mirror. Even looking sleepy, with my hair mussed up, I still looked 'cute'. I coated my toothbrush bristles liberally in paste and ran it under the tap. Even though today was the weirdest day I have ever had in my life there was still time for good oral hygiene. Even though these weren't my usual teeth, I made a promise to them I would look after them as well as my old teeth.

After finishing my business in the bathroom, I climbed into bed. The nights in the hospital were cold, the roar of the air-conditioning wasn't calming in the slightest. If I was any less tired I would have had problems falling asleep. A problem that I did have was finding a comfortable way to lie. Having two large fatty deposits rolling around atop my rib cage made it tricky to find a relaxing position. I used to lustfully admire a busty girl, thinking her to be a dream girl. Perhaps, this was some sort of weird punishment for my wayward thoughts? It did seem to be slightly karmic. I laid on my side, finding that to be the most comfy, plugged in my iPod and kept completely still until sleep took hold.

Since I had spent most of the day comatose, I did not have 8 hours of sleep in me. I woke up, checked to see if this was all a horrible dream and then looked at the clock on my iPod. It was a little past 2am, and Regina Spektor sung about why she loved New York. My new fingers fiddled with the iPod and she abruptly stopped singing and the rumble of the air-conditioning keeping the old folks cool serenaded me once again. I closed my eyes and just listened to the world. It's something I have always loved to do at night, whether on camp in the bush or at home listening to the rain fall on our flat tin roof. From the other side of the door I heard voices. "Is that where they are keeping him…her….umm, it?" said a shrill woman.

"Yeah, but only those Sydney Docs and Lesley and Hannah that new girl, it's no go for everyone else," replied another equally shrill woman.

"I heard it's leaving tomorrow."

"Yeah, then we'll all get to see the final product."

"Lesley says it has boobs the size of watermelons! Real massive ones!"

"Lucky girl! How old is it?"

"17, just a kid."

"Perfect slut age!"

"Oh you're horrible! C'mon on, let's get back to the station."

I cried myself back to sleep.

CHAPTER 9

Friday was the big day, the day I was going to be finally released out of the hospital and into the big world. I was anxious to get outside and a lot of people were waiting. I wouldn't call what I was feel 'excited' because there was a little too much dread in the mix. I awoke early and stumbled into the bathroom to prepare myself. First thing first, I grabbed my little toothbrush and brushed my teeth. I gave myself a cheeky a grin, in an effort to keep my spirits up. Next I sat on the toilet, leaned forward a bit and peed. The tinkle sound and feeling stopped and I mopped myself up. To finish up my morning ritual I had to have a shower.

Since my tracksuit pants and underpants were already on the floor, I kicked them off and peeled off my T-shirt. I looked in the mirror and two words came into mind to help solve my two biggest problems: Breast reduction. At they moment my large, perky friends were the centrepiece of my entire body. Sure, I had a cute smile, but look at those funbags! Sure, she was trim but check out the size of those bazookas! Not that I truly wanted anyone to find me attractive to be honest. Mum had often talked about getting hers reduced because of her back pain and Nicole had admitted that she would trade hers in for a smaller pair when she turned 40. I thought I must avoid the 23-year wait and get mine done sooner.

They were very impressive, mind you, like two giant beacons of femininity standing proud upon my chest. There was no hint of sag, and nor should there be considering they were less than a full day old, and most of the day I spent lying down. If I was still male they would have transfixed me. I meekly squeezed them together with my hands and investigated the feelings I could receive from them. My nipples felt hypersensitive to my touch. Cheekily, I traced my finger around the outside of my nipples around the goosebumpy part. It caused me to shiver. And not necessarily in a bad way.

Remembering I was neglecting my showering duties, I turned the tap. Since this was a wheelchair patient accessible shower I made sure my clothes were out of the shower's path. Again I abused the hot water service, relishing the feeling of a good shower longer than you should in a sunburnt country. Despite having all sorts of new body parts to play with I kept my hands to myself, or more accurately away from myself. In a small, thin walled house, the shower was the perfect place for a teenage boy to masturbate. I was allowed to be naked, I love the feeling of hot water all over my body and the sound of running water would mask the tell tale sounds. But I wasn't even entertaining the thought of introducing my new body to self-love. My pussy still sickened me, in as much as the thought of those delicate folds between my legs made me dry wretch. And wanking is very tricky when your own genitals repulse you.

So apart from rubbing in the shower scrub and shaving my armpits (following a direct order from my Mum), my hands were strangers to my new body. After I had used the equivalent of a month's drinking water for an entire village I turned off the shower. The hospitals towels were scratchy and threadbare so it was tricky trying to get dry. I towelled off my back and watched my boobs wobble in the mirror. There was no way known I was ever going to get used to this.

The clothes Annette and Tyler (what a weird combination of two of the new people in my life!) had picked out for me were left in the room. Not wanting to get dressed again and walk to 4 steps to the bag only to turn around come back in here, undress and redress again in my new clothes, I decided on a plan. I wrapped the hospital towel around my body and tucked the end in making a makeshift cover. I had seen Nicole do it when she ran to answer her mobile phone now and again and the idea seems to have worked in this case as well. I was proud of my MacGyver style ingenuity. My bare feet stepped into the room and I was glad for my towel attire.

"Oh Gemma!" said Tyler Perry, sounding slightly embarrassed. He turned away in modesty. The stunned TV crew did not do the same. "I thought you were out with Dr. Chisholm!" I ran back into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar to speak.

"Uhh…no. I just got out of the shower."

"I guessed that. The camera crew are here."

Did he think I was blind? "I guessed that too!"

He shouted to me through the door, "Well, we'll just come back in a few minutes."

"OK." I waited until I heard the door slide closed behind him and hopped out grabbed the bag and darted back in.

I was interested/terrified to see what Tyler and Annette had picked for me. One was my psychologist, the other was a Public Relations expert, so it would be a weird mix of what she thought would be healthy on me and what he thought I would look good in. I pulled out a pair of dark blue jeans out first. Jeans, the perfect equalizer. Almost everyone wears jeans, and I think a healthy choice between the not too girly and the presentable. But before I attempted putting on the jeans I had to put on the underwear. Luckily to avoid my humiliation they were just simple white cotton ones, like the ones I have already been wearing. I tugged them up over my legs and let them slide into place. My groin was flat, with the faint outline of lips of my vagina. There was no doubt in my mind that every last atom of masculinity had been torn from this body. It was a little sad.

The jeans I was putting up a little bit of a fight. I used to love a girl wearing snug jeans but now I have learnt that that is an unfair social double standard. I learned that as I was jumping up and down, trying to squeeze into them. On the third jump, they were sufficiently on, so I zipped up the fly and did up the button. Looking objectively at them, they did make my legs look quite sexy and gave my bum a little bit more definition. They were not the low riding style that some of the girls at school would wear, luckily. But they weren't unfashionable jeans, which means for girls there was an element of snugness. Laughingly, there was a belt in the bag. There was no chance these jeans were coming down. But I assume it was supposed to be decretive, Girls' clothes were a weird combination of the vitally practical and mindlessly decretive. I tugged the belt through the loops on my jeans and made sure it was done up properly.

Let me get this straight. I had never put on or taken off a bra before. Looking the way I do, if I had told you that you wouldn't have believed me. I had never touched one on a girl, or maybe even touched one at all. In fact holding this plain cotton one in my hands seemed like quite a momentous occasion. I had the 'boulders' and this was my 'boulder holder'. Wearing this would be an admission that I was a girl. I looked at the mirror and thought if I didn't admit I was in a girl's body I'd be an idiot. There was simply no fooling anyone, this was a girl's body. So, much to my own disgust I slid my arms into the armholes.

Off of my body, the cups looked huge, two deep cavernous bowls of white cotton. Amazingly I filled them, with boob to spare. This was scary. I hadn't been given the chance to slowly grow, unlike 'normal' girls I had gone from nought to a D cup in a matter of days. The next challenge of putting on the bra was hooking it up in the back. This was a tricky job, which seemed to be designed for people with two elbows on each arm. Using the mirror as my guide did help a minor fractions. It all seemed to fiddley. Were bra manufacturers unaware of Velcro or other technology? Off the top of my head I could've thought of 10 easier ways to fasten bras! These tiny hooks would be the death of me.

Although, I must admit that when the bra was on, it did feel helpful. I didn't feel so 'top-heavy' anymore. And it did reduce the jiggling and jostling coming from my breasts. The cups pf the bra didn't completely cover the entire bust, instead it stopped a little past half way up and also brought each breast closer together that created some rather impressive cleavage. On anyone else; it would have been a wonderful sight, on me; it made me a little sick.

I moved on to the pressing issue of what was going to cover this bra. It was a baby blue tank top, something that could easily been seen by any girl walking around town. I guess there were going for a very casual look for me. Like talking to a massive crowd about my recent sex change was a weekly activity for me. I shouldn't ridicule them, because I had no better ideas. The top was made of the clingy material that hugged my new curves a little too snugly for my liking. Another thing I didn't like was the spaghetti straps holding it up were so thin that you could see my bra straps as well and that if I bent down you could see a fair bit of cleavage. But the bag didn't seem to have any alternatives so beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

To wear on my feet, I had a pair of sandals. Nice, casual, brown leather sandals. I slipped them easily onto my new smaller feet. My toes seemed so small, even my big toe. On my old feet my big toe used to dominate the foot, like a troublesome dictator. It wasn't a dictator anymore, it was more like its companions, just a little wider. Also in the bag was a pair of sunglasses, the big type that girls my age like to wear. I always hated them. I thought they looked silly. But when in Rome, or should I say; when forced into a body of a Roman… The glare in the bathroom was suddenly reduced as I slid my brand new glasses on. I was right, I did look stupid so I took them off and tucked them into me jeans' pocket.

I looked in the mirror and it told me I was dressed like any girl around town, off to the beach or the shopping centre or lazy about the house. It made me feel less of a freak and more of a brain in a wrong body. It wasn't the body that was weird, it was a perfectly normal body. In fact, it was a very pretty body. The problem lay in the fact that I was inside it.

A polite rap at the door made me alert to the fact that I wasn't the only person in the entire world, a fact I would have to remind myself of now and again. "Yes?" I asked.

"It's Mum, sweetie!"

"Hi Mum."

"You finished dressing?"

"I guess so," I answered, although I didn't feel particularly dressed. My preferences would have included a big heavy winter coat and a balaclava despite it being quite a hot summer's day.

"Do you want to come out and show your Mummy?" Mum was sounding weird, there had to be an explanation for it.

"Is the camera crew out there?"

"Yes."

"Oh… OK." Thought so.

I slowly pulled the door towards me and trotted out to greet my Mum and the three-person strong crew and Tyler. I glanced nervously at the direction of the camera and gave a half smile. "Oh wow, Gemma! You look great!" Being called 'Gemma' by my Mum still sounded weird. She usually called 'Mikey' or 'Sweetie' or 'Michael William Taylor' when I'm in trouble. Maybe Tyler had told her to use my new name. Nobody ever acts normal in front of a camera crew, especially someone as image conscious as my Mum. "Do a spin for us, love," instructed my mother. Like a good girl I did as I was told, feeling not only the eyes of the camera crew all over my body but the eyes of the entire country when they show this footage on TV.

"Looking good," my Mum cheerfully said.

"Thanks," I mumbled so quietly that the boom mic operator lowered his mic lower in an effort not to lose anymore of my riveting comments. "You ready to make your speech?"

"I should be OK, Mum." It was weird trying to act natural when there are three strange men hovering over you, I felt a little stilted in my performance, but Tyler was grinning like I was giving an Oscar-award winning performance. "You really need some jewellery or something, Gem," suggested Mum as she looked my up and down, "You just look a bit naked." There was no way I was going to put on jewellery. I wasn't about to punch some holes in my ears just to appease a fussy parent. "What do you think, Tyler?" Mum asked Tyler.

"Umm… I think she looks great."

"Hmm… A bangle or something wouldn't go astray I think, Gemma." I suddenly remembered the discarded gift I had beside my bed. I walked over to it and showed Mum.

"Will this do?" I asked Mum, holding up Dot's locket.

"Perfect," she smiled. I turned around and she clasped it to my neck. The locket rested gently just below my collarbone and just above my cleavage. A mother helping her new daughter put on a necklace would make for heart-wrenching TV, I thought. Tyler must have thought it was enough too, as he told the cameramen that that would be enough. They turned off their equipment and said bye as they went in the corridor.

"That felt weird," I confessed as I sat down on my bed and grabbed for my diary. I flicked to the back, where the speech was scrawled out in my new, slightly different handwriting. It was amazing to realize how many changes there was, my eyesight, pronunciation, sense of taste, everything down to my handwriting was slightly different.

"Sorry about that, guys," Tyler said, "Having someone pointing a huge camera at you first thing in the morning can be a little disconcerting. The main thing is, not to fret. Just be yourselves."
"Just be yourself," Mum repeated the instruction to herself.

As the words I had wrote for my speech rolled around my brain, I kinda was dreading the press conference. I was so unsure of who I actually was it was tricky to write a speech saying my thoughts and feelings. Was I Gemma or Michael pretending to be a girl called Gemma? I was pretty sure it was the latter but not 100% sure anymore. Tyler, looking as sharp as usual in a light purple shirt and black pants, must have sensed I was feeling worried. "You OK, kid?"

"I'm just a bit nervous, that's all. It's going to be a lot of people."

"Don't worry about that. As long as you get your message across you should be great. Just out of curiosity can I have a look at your speech?" I thought for a second, it seemed like a good idea I let someone look over it before going presenting it to the entire country. The words I was about to say will be heard by more people than anything I've said before, so it was important that they weren't completely daft. "Knock yourself out," I said handing him the diary.

Tyler read my speech quietly as Mum fussed over me. "You do really look quite nice, Gem."

"Thanks, I guess," I said, resigned to all comments about my good looks. I was going to get sick of them, but as long I remained a cute, fit teenage girl I'm sure they would come flooding in. She rummaged through her handbag and triumphantly grunted when she found what she was looking for.

"Would you mind if I shaped your eyebrows a little?" Mum asked as she held a pair of tweezers in her hands.

"Why?" I asked her, defensively. It looked like it was going to be a little painful and I avoided pain whenever I could. The determination in her hands told me that I couldn't avoid this pain.

"Your eyebrows just need feminising." As if I hadn't gone through enough feminising already. I looked at my Mum's eyebrows, they looked like they were drawn on with a pencil, but Mum wasn't going to take 'No fucking way' for an answer.

"Shit!" I screamed as she started on my second eyebrow. The first one had hurt enough and I did't think I had a second one in me. Mum sounded frustrated with my curses and fidgeting when she said,

"Oh hush! You're bloody half way now." I made my Mum hold up a mirror so I could see that she wasn't doing it too thin. I hated to admit it but it was making me that little bit cuter, something I was slightly adverse to.

"Gemma," Tyler spoke up, "This is a great speech. It's really going to go down a treat with everyone."

"Well, back when she was a boy, Gemma was a part of a debating team that won best overall debating team in the Marrang Eisteddfod," Mum gushed as she yanked some of my right eyebrow out.

"You don't have to say 'back when she was a boy'," ...I complained, "In fact I'd love it if you never used that term again, thank you very much." I was often annoyed at my mother, but I guess the fact she was pulling hair out of my face one by one wasn't helping my temperament.

"Sorry," Mum said and she actually looked sorry.

Dr. Chisholm came into the room as well. He smiled warmly as he saw me. "Good morning all!" he called out, sounding cheerful, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm OK," I said, "Healthy, just worried about this morning."

"You must be happy that your stay at the hospital is over?" That was a good point, I could finally go back home, play on my computer, go swimming at the beach, hang out with my friends without them being searched by security personnel. It would feel good to see natural sunlight again. I told Dr. Chisholm I was looking forward to leaving. "Well, we're all going to miss you."

"You're not leaving are you?"

"Eventually, but Annette and I am going to make sure you're doing well in the real world before we jet off. Dr. Nagra and Jensen will leave tomorrow." I like Dr. Nagra so it would be sad to see him go, Dr. Jensen on the other hand I always thought was scared of me and never said much to me at all.

I wasn't relishing the idea of the daily visits from Annette though. I knew I was a girl and both Nicole and Mum had a lot of experience at being ones themselves so I'm sure they could help me when problems arise. But there was no getting around it I guess. Speaking of the devil, Annette came into the room. She crept in slightly sheepishly, sporting her black eye that I had inadvertently had given her. I suddenly felt a touch guilty, "Hi Annette. I am so sorry about your eye. I feel terrible." She smiled an actual smile, not one of the ones she would plaster on to talk 'girl talk' with me. It made her seem prettier.

"That's OK, Gemma. You didn't mean it." Maybe not, but I would have done it again, given a choice.

The TV crew came into the room as well, completely filling my little hospital room. They told everyone to act naturally and we all tried to go about our business as natural as possible. Luckily for Dr. Chisholm he was already so stiff and awkward that even if he was acting normal he seemed exactly the same. Mum talked business with Dr. Chisholm and Tyler, while Annette sat on the bed beside me and began to talk to me.

Annette proceeded to give me advice on today's events, and today I did the decent thing by actually listening to her. I told her I was a little nervous about my speech. "Now that's perfectly normal. I still get nervous when making presentations," Annette nudged her glasses a little higher on her nose, "Would you like me to teach you some deep breathing exercises? They are very good for relieving stress." Partly to humour her and partly to actually control the butterflies in my stomach I agreed. Under her command, I took very deep breaths, held them and expelled them. Every time I took a really deep breath my cleavage would swallow my locket as my breasts rose up. I laughed a little at my predicament and Annette gave me a stern look.

Now that I was fully calm and everyone else was ready we could finally leave the hospital and go outside for my press conference. It was strange to walk past Dr. Chisholm's examination room and keep going. I almost waved goodbye to it, until I remembered I had a camera crew following so I had to act troubled and serious. I wondered if the cameramen would even notice me waving, because I had a sneaky suspicion they were focussing primarily on my arse.

Past Dr. Chisholm's and the myriad of waiting rooms I was put into on my first day. Past Nurse O'Neill at her Nurses' Station. "Good luck, Miss Taylor!" she called out, flashing a smile. Past the old people dying and the babies living. Past reception and the front door. Jets of sunshine poured onto my face and I gasped in relief. The sun was beautifully bright and reenergized me with a warm sense of power. It was like the sun had been waiting for me and tried to make up for the fact we hadn't seen each other in 2 days.

But the sun wasn't the only thing waiting for me outside. A phalanx of photographers and journalists popped up all over as if they were rocket-powered spring-loaded. The quiet echo of the hospital halls melted into the shouting and clicking of just outside the hospital entrance. I suddenly became very aware of how much shorter I was now, as photographers towered over me. Tyler walked in front of me trying to keep the press from crowding me too much. If this is what being a celebrity is like, I didn't like it. They kept calling my name out, trying to get me to look at them. I guessed it worked because I looked around wildly, trying to hide my fear inside a shy smile.

My flirt with sunshine and the paparazzi was brief. We crossed the road and entered a tent in the Botanical gardens within a few seconds. The tent was pretty bare, some outside furniture and some electronic equipment and that's about all. "Welcome to the backstage area," announced Tyler, "It's not much, but it'll shield you until it's time to bring you out onstage. Would you like some water?" I nodded and Tyler handed me a bottle. It was just Tyler, Mum and me in the tent.

"I might go and watch you with Nicole," Mum said, giving me a kiss on my cheek, "Good luck, honey." Then it was just Tyler and me in the tent. He ran a hand through his hair and said,

"Well, let's get things started, shall we? Gemma, if you wait by the curtain you'll hear me calling you to stage." With that he disappeared behind the curtain.

I could only hear muffled voices through the tent. But I heard Tyler welcome the press and talk a bit about the history of SGR. He urged the press not to use the term Pussy Envy, which I thought was a nice thought to include. He then talked to the gathered audience a bit about my history and the electronic pulse procedure that was used for the 3rd time in the world. I discovered things I didn't even know about a SGR and the electronic pulse technique. "…and ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to introduce the world to Gemma Mae Taylor."

Gemma Mae Taylor? Shit! That's me! I grabbed at my diary and scrambled up the stairs to the stage. At the top of the stairs an ocean of people confronted me. Not just a sea of people but a vast ocean. And a lot of those people had cameras. Cameras that were there to show a lot of other people what I was about to say. "Keep your composure, stand up straight, don't rush," I told myself as I walked to the microphones. I took a deep breath and flipped open my diary. Not knowing my own strength it went tumbling out of my hands and onto the floor. Nice work, dickhead! I quickly bent down to pick it up. Then remembered my trails in the bathroom, as I squatted there, picking up my diary, the ocean of people and their cameras could see straight down my top! I blushed a deep red, stood up and looked down at my notes.

I was about to confront the world. On Monday the ocean of people didn't know or care about me. I was just a regular guy living out my regular life, I could have lived out my life without an ocean of people caring about me, most people do. But something happened to me that made these fine people and the thousands of people they wanted to show me off to stand up and notice me. I was special. More to the point, I found my self in a special situation.

I cleared my throat but a cute cough sound came out, hardly the authoritarian command I was looking for. "Hi," I began, "My name is Gemma Taylor and I know a lot of you have been waiting for a long time to see me. Thank you for your patience. This last week for me has been a total roller coaster, like you could never imagine." I looked out over the crowd, they all stared back at me, hanging on my every word. "Being a teenager can be tough, it's the time where you learn who you are and who you want to become and how the world treats you. Just as I thought I had it all figured out something came along to change who I was. I knew how to be Michael Taylor, he was a 17-year-old dork who liked musicals and was nervous talking to cute girls. I'm not sure how to be Gemma, a girl cute enough for me to be nervous around." The audience politely chuckled.

"And on top of that, I am also a national celebrity, with millions of people wanting to know more about me. But the truth is, I don't know a lot about myself yet. So I ask you for some privacy while I find out exactly who I am, please. If you keep this relationship friendly, so will I." As I smiled to the audience, I actually began to enjoy all the attention. "I'd like to thank Dr. Chisholm, Dr. Nagra and their crew for all their heartfelt work and for looking at me more as a person than a unique science experiment. I would like to thank my Mum and sister and all my friends for all their support. And all of the public who have sent me cards and gifts. This period of time for me has been real tough for me and I'm sure the next couple of months will not be a walk in the park. It's only now I can begin to comprehend what John Draffen must have been going through. Sadly, John did not have the luxury of the transition being as slow, painless and private as mine was." I seriously hoped John was watching this. I had thought about the terror he must have gone through a lot while alone in my hospital room.

"But like John I will be strong and confident and I will not let this occurrence stop me from achieving my dreams." My voice crackled a little bit as I held back some tears. "At this point, I was going to ask you to donate some money to help find a cure for Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration but there are a lot of worse things out there. If the Doctor said 'Michael, you have cancer,' I would be suffering alone in the hospital now instead of having all of Australia hanging onto my every word. It could have been MS or Parkinson's disease or Muscular Dystrophy. Growing a vagina and big boobs," I gestured to the boobs just in case people couldn't see them, "is scary but nothing about becoming a woman can stand in the way of me living a great life. So I ask you not to donate a lot of money to cure this bizarre disease that has only affected two Australians so far. But I ask you to look around your own communities and discover the real problems and help fix those. I'm going to be just fine. Thank you."

The crowd cheered and clapped and I blushed once more. It felt to get that off my chest, although there were other things I would quite like to remove from my chest but all in good time. I was about to bow when I remember the view while I picked up my diary. From side stage my Mum and Nicole came running onto stage and hugged me, which made me cry. "I love you guys," I gasped between sobs. It was slightly embarrassing to be having such a private moment in front of the entire country but I guess it made good TV. It was one of the most surreal moments in my life but I knew that it wouldn't be long before being trumped.

The clapping subsided as Tyler approached the microphone. "Thank you Gemma, thank you very much. Now Gemma has agreed to answer 3 or 4 questions. Is that still OK, Gemma?" I dizzily nodded. At my affirmation, I heard the sound of 1,000 hands simultaneously going up. I approached the microphones as Tyler took a cordless mic into the crowd.

"That's a very nice name, Gemma. Can you tell us why you chose it?" Not exactly the hardball question I was expecting. "Well, me and my friends got out a big baby name book and we poured over it for hours. I almost named myself Lucy but then I figured out that parents usually name their children and Mum said that if I was born a girl she would have called me Gemma," Mum, still on stage gave a big wave to the audience, "I really liked it, so I kept it."

Tyler scurried around the crowd, darting past questions left and right. I wonder what his selection criteria were. "Hi Gemma, Laura Ruby from 3AW here. Was the transformation actually painless?"

"Well, it was a mite painful now and again, I don't know how one could completely change shape without a little bit of pain. But all the medical staff were very knowledgeable and I'm pretty sure the pain I felt was nothing compared to those who have to go through the transformation without the electronic pulse procedure."

"Can you tell us you plans for the future?"

"Well, learn to be a girl, go back to school, finish my VCE, go to university and from then on I don't know."

"Do you plan on having a family?" asked the same person.

"Whoa! One step at a time!"

"So, Gemma," asked a journalist, "Which do you like more: being a girl or a boy?"

"Boy," I said without pausing for a second, which made some of the audience laugh. I decided I needed to clarify my answer before the members of my new gender were offended, "But I'm not writing off being a girl, I'm sure it has some advantages. At least I can get some one to buy me drinks now."

Mum leaned into the microphones and said, "When you turn 18…"

"Yes, when I turn 18." The audience seemed to like our comedy double act.

"OK, last question," promised Tyler as he handed the microphone to somebody else.

"What," began the journalist, "would you say to Mr. Draffen if he was here?" I actually had to think about that answer.

What would I like to say to the only other person in this country who I have this bizarre thing in common with, "Ummm… I guess I would say, 'Hi. It's a strange world, huh?'" Tyler thanked everyone for coming and whisked me offstage into the tent. It was there he gave me a massive bear hug, which threatened to squish my boobs forever.

"I'm so proud of you, Gemma. Really good job! Really good!" Frankly, it was a weird outburst from the usually cool Tyler Perry. I was too surprised to hug him back, "Thanks for everything, Tyler."

The very nice car sped into the distance mere seconds after I got off stage. Inside was Nicole, Mum, Tyler and me. Tyler was going to drop us home and then return to deal with all the other press things. There was a buzz in the air and I couldn't help but put on the sunglasses that I had tucked into my jeans, playing the part of the celebrity. "You did so good," Nicole reviewed me, "Everyone was fucking loving it! And you looked so hot doing it!" Nicole had different review criteria than me for 'hot' but I was happy that she was proud.

"You are such the little star!" Mum agreed, "When you were saying that people should support other medical problems, there wasn't a dry eye in the house!"

"That was a nice thing for you to say," Tyler added. And for once I felt remarkable for something I did, rather than what had happened to me.

****

Hi, the author here. Thanks so much for reading so far. If you want you can send me an email at [email protected] Thanks so much.