All Changes yet Remains the Same

I’m Hermione Clearwater and I’m about nineteen maybe twenty. I have an IQ that’s off the scale and a drop dead gorgeous body most women with give all they have to possess and all men would give even more to possess my body too, which can be seriously inconvenient.

I used to be Harry and was definitely thirty-six. I was moderately bright, skinny, and uncoordinated. Despite holding down a good job as a middle manager in a large chain of city centre department stores I’d never managed to get a girl to even talk to me about anything other than work. The female sales assistants had laughed at me for years. Maybe they thought I didn’t know that, but I suspect they did and just didn’t care. I’d had a bad start in life and it had never improved. Left on the steps of a police station as a new born I’d been reared in a government orphanage. I’d never been appealing enough for any to be interested in fostering never mind adopting. As a result I’d never had any self esteem. Sure I did okay at school and university, but that was all I did, just okay.

The truth is I was desperately lonely, but I couldn’t be bothered enough to try very hard to talk to anyone male or female. I lived a completely isolated life in a high end apartment flat, which I could easily afford. My only companions were my thoughts and regrets, which I knew were turning me bitter because I would never be able to afford the prohibitively expensive body changing medical treatments I so desperately wanted, nay needed. Only multi billionaires could afford them.

Then the deadly airborne uterine papilloma virus struck. UPV had been around for centuries, or so the authorities said, but this was a new variant. UPV had always been considered to be a highly contagious sexually transmitted infection that was trivially easy to treat. But the new variant was as I said airborne and deadly. UPV was a naturally occurring variant of the original Human papillomavirus. HPV had been eliminated a century or more ago. Similar efforts had been ongoing with UPV but with little success. Naturally enough UPV only affected those with a uterus, women, and they died rapidly in their millions. The five percent of women who had a degree of immunity survived, but less than a hundred per million could live a normal life and bear children.

For once the government actually did some joined up thinking. They offered free DNA manipulations to any man who was willing to become female. Naturally enough the trans stepped up immediately. There were fewer of them than the government had hoped, but eventually some eight percent of the population was female and a goodly proportion were pregnant within twelve months. Let’s be quite clear about it I was not trans. I never had any thoughts about being female, but I was spectacularly unsuccessful as a male and it occurred to me that since I couldn’t see how my life could be any worse as a woman it was a gamble worth taking. I thought about it for a few weeks and decided that since the government were desperate and accepting all and any volunteer for the treatment with few or more likely no checks I had nothing to lose and possibly a lot to gain.

I said I thought about it for a few weeks. Hindsight informs me that I clearly didn’t do much thinking and none at any depth. I had no idea what being a woman was like. The truth is I knew next to nothing about women in any respect at all. All I considered was that I would be able to deal with menstruation, after all that’s what the datablock was there online for wasn’t it? To find out about stuff you wanted to know about. I knew nothing about sex other than the porn I watched, which though I suspected most of what I’d seen was over acted it seemed easy enough for a woman to play her part in. Pregnancy I admit was a closed book to me, so I watched pregnant porn which taught me next to nothing. The datablock instructional videos for women concerning pregnancy were more helpful, but mostly aimed at making women aware that modern medicine made the entire process safe and enjoyable. I was not aware at the time of the subliminal soothers that such videos carried, so I was calmed by the videos too.

The one thing that had never occurred to me was what kind of a woman I would become. I had no known relatives, the DNA computer records had never managed to identify even a distant relative, though it appeared virtually all my ancestry was Scandinavian which was not obvious since I had brown eyes and brunet hair and was a short skinny apology for a male. I just wished to be a pretty woman that men would desire.

I remember every detail of my changes. I don’t suppose there were many men who grew six inches [15cm] in height when they became women. I even became more substantial as I changed. I could feel myself lifting off the bed as my posterior rounded out. I watched in fascination as my arms and legs became shapely. My hands and feet felt weird as they shrank and became pretty. As my penis, scrotum and testicles became even smaller than they had always been and finally disappeared inside my vagina leaving tiny labia, and an even tinier clitoris inside its delicate hood I discovered I was giggling due to the tickling sensation. I’d never had much body hair and had never shaved, yet I was surprised to discover that as a woman I had none, and I had no pubic hair or underarm hair either. I watched as my hips widened and my stomach flattened. I could see that I was far nicer to look at than any of the porn goddesses of my masturbatory fantasies, but it was my breasts that truly took my breath away and I was amazed when they just kept growing. Oh they were nothing outrageous like some of the silicone enhanced balloons that some of the porn stars sported, but they were large, thirty-eight double D or even E large. Firm, and like the rest of my skin alabaster white with perfectly circular pale pink aereolae topped by slightly deeper pink thimble like nipples.

I was aroused by my new body and regretted the loss of my penis, for suddenly I had a need of it. However, that was the point at which the major changes started to occur which were all going on inside my head. Indeed I had the need of a penis, but not my own, and it wasn’t the violent urges I was used to I was experiencing. It was something much gentler and I needed much more long before I had need of that penis. Suddenly I was aware I was naked on a hospital bed and the doctor was smiling at me. She said, “We have some clothes that will fit you, Miss Clearwater. Your transition is over now, so if you get dressed I’ll have someone take you to the stores for some starter outfits and then to the offices to finalise your paperwork. They will provide you with new identity documentation and assist you to establish yourself as your new you.” To my surprise she hugged me and said, “I was in your position not so long ago, though I was a doctor here before. Good luck, but looking like that I doubt you will need it. Your mother must have been a remarkably attractive woman.”

New clothes, new apartment, new me. I didn’t like the idea of my old job, so I registered for work with the authorities who tested my aptitudes. They insisted I enrol on a degree course in theoretical physics which I did and I finished it inside a year knowing I had no interest in that as a career. Eventually I took work modelling and acting, but I wrote my own contracts and walked away from any who could not accept that. Eventually I became extremely wealthy, wealthy enough to employ a team of round the clock bodyguards who are mostly ex special forces. However, before that I spent a disproportionate amount of time avoiding and getting rid of unwanted attentions from loathsome men who considered themselves to be irresistible. Yes life became much better as a woman than as a man, but I am still just as lonely, and I remain virgo intacta. Before none was interested in me, now all are, but now I’m a living masturbatory fantasy for other men, rather than living via my own. My own sources are now romance movies rather than porn which somehow is much nicer and doesn’t make me feel dirty. I’m sure I’ll find someone who loves me for being me, and I’m certain I’ll want to bear his children, but I am resigned to it taking a while. So be careful what you wish for, for you just may get it.