It was all but 11:00pm when he finally arrived home. Since he had only worn a light jacket to school that morning he was chilled through to his bones. There was a police car in the driveway and through the screen door he could see a policeman taking notes while his father spoke. His mother was crying. With a sheepish expression upon his face and his teeth chattering furiously he opened the door.
"Heath...," Helen cried as she flung her arms about him. "My God, you're freezing! Where on earth have you been! We've been worried sick!"
"Just where the hell have you been," Fred demanded. "You'd better have a damn good excuse."
"I... I'm sor... sorry," Heath stuttered through his chattering teeth. "I went into the woods behind the school and laid down in the sun. I fell asleep and just woke up. I came right home. I'm sorry."
"Well since he's home I'll be leaving," the police officer stated as he closed his notebook. With that he left.
"Do you really expect us to believe that stupid story," Fred demanded.
"Fred, he's frozen," Helen declared firmly ending further interrogation. "Go fill the tub with hot water while I get him undressed."
Not waiting for a response, she led Heath to his room. Fred's fury left him as concern for Heath once more surfaced. He headed for the bathroom.
As Helen undressed her shivering son, she noted the increased size of his nipples and the unmistakable beginning of a gentle swelling beneath them. Glancing at his testicles she also noted how small they seemed while his penis was only about the size of a toddler. The female hormones were taking a toll! While this excited her it also made her worry that perhaps his tale of falling asleep was true and if so did it relate to his clandestine ingestion of the illicit hormones.
In a few moments Heath was settled into the steaming water as his parents hovered beside the tub. With a sigh of resignation he sadly looked up at them. They could tell there was more to his story of falling asleep. They also knew he was going to tell them so it must be quite serious.
Heath proceeded to confess about his discovery of the old oak tree behind the school and his daily excursions to watch the cheerleaders. Almost everything came out, including his self abuse while watching the girls. The only part he held back was about the Leprechaun. His parents just listened in silence and waited as he made his confession.
"But the worst thing is that I think there is something seriously wrong with me," Heath wearily added as tears trickled down his cheeks. "During the last couple of weeks, I started having problems getting it up. Lately, I can't get it up at all. I think I'm even shrinking down there. Then last week my chest started hurting. This afternoon when I couldn't even get a reaction out of it I was so frustrated I just laid back and closed my eyes. I really did fall asleep, honest. Mom, dad, there's got to be something physically wrong with me!"
Heath was so obviously emotionally distraught that his parents knew he was telling the truth. The subtle swelling under his nipples and the enlarged areolas gave even more credence to his tale. Fred understood how important a boy's sexuality was to his well being and was very concerned. Helen knew that she was responsible for the obvious devastation Heath was suffering.
"We'll call a doctor and get you an appointment," Fred stated as he took charge of the situation. "We'll find out what's causing these problems. But that doesn't mean you're off the hook for peeping at the cheerleaders. Whatever is causing these problems is obviously punishing you already for your transgressions so we won't punish you further. However, since you are obviously depressed and not feeling well, until your problems are resolved you will not leave this house unless accompanied by your mother or me. Your mother will take you to school and pick you up. If you want to go to the mall or movies, one of us will be nearby. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Heath replied in an uncharacteristic subdued voice. It was plainly evident he was so worried and overwhelmed by the situation that he had no will to protest or resist the restrictions. Just a few weeks ago he'd have been screaming about how unfair such restrictions were to a 14-year-old boy. Now he meekly acquiesced. This further reinforced his father's concern.
A half hour later after a bowl of warm chicken noodle soup, Heath was sound asleep. Once assured he was resting, Fred and Helen sat to discuss Heath.
"I never heard of anything like this happening," Fred gravely stated. "I haven’t the faintest idea what could be causing his problems.”
"Maybe he has some sort of infection," Helen suggested softly. "He said it began a few weeks ago and grew steadily worse. That would have been about the time he was in that tree. Maybe he picked up some sort of bug in that tree. Maybe a tick bit him. Or maybe he picked up some sort of fungus. God only knows what sort of stuff could have infected him while he was perched in that tree doing that horrid stuff to himself. I just can't believe Heath would stoop so low as to sexually abuse those unsuspecting cheerleaders."
She was not about to reveal her clandestine administration of powerful female hormones to Heath. Her initial guilt about what she had done to the boy was fighting with her outrage over his spying on the cheerleaders and masturbating. Having seen him doing it in his room two months before had been shocking enough. To learn that he had not stopped but had become progressively worse in his perversion quickly overrode her natural motherly concern. The boy was getting exactly what he deserved! Who knows how far his sexual lust would have progressed if she had not derailed his testosterone express. Why he might have raped some unfortunate girl! No, the female hormones had been the right thing to do.
"You're probably right," Fred said. "That redness and tenderness on his chest might be some sort of poison ivy. Heck, if that got into his privates that might account for everything. As far as his sexually abusing the cheerleaders, he never touched them and they know nothing about what he was doing. Every boy fantasizes about cheerleaders, it's simply a part of growing up. Just find a good doctor and get him straightened out. I'm so busy at work right now I don't have time to spend on this foolishness."
"I'll take care of Heath," Helen declared while controlling her fury about Fred's acceptance of Heath's perversion. She knew full well that Fred had no idea about the double meaning of her words. "Hillary seems to be doing a good job running the business," she added in order to get him onto something else.
"For a woman she really knows her stuff," Fred stated unaware that his condescending words further raised Helen's hackles. "She's cutting a deal right now that would land us an exclusive contract to oversee the construction of a hydroelectric dam in Africa. I've been coordinating the departments to develop the quote. Hillary really likes my work, just like her father did. Hopefully she'll give me this job once we land it."
"What would that involve," Helen asked knowing that it probably meant at least four years on the site.
"Well, the preliminary estimate is one year for survey and site preparation," Fred stated. "Then four years for construction, and one year for start up, about six years all together. If I can land this management position, we'll be set for life."
"Six years is a long time," Helen stated the obvious. "I don't want to be separated that long. If you get the position, I'll be coming with you. Our only problem will be Heath. I doubt if the schools in Africa can match our quality."
"Not to seem cruel," Fred sighed. "But I think we'd be better off enrolling Heath in a boarding school. It would give him the structure he needs."
"I'm not too crazy about a boarding school," Helen declared. "They're so impersonal and seem to just foster outlandish macho behavior. I'd fell better enrolling him in a private day academy but living in someone's home where he can feel a sense of family."
"You have a point," Fred stated. "He really needs a family environment right now. But I have no idea who we could impose upon to take him in."
"I'll discreetly check around," Helen stated already knowing that she would ask Hillary Balkut. She would see that Heath got what he deserved. "Now it's well past midnight. Let's go to bed."
The next day was Saturday but Fred headed into the office to work on the African plan. Despite having slept all afternoon and evening, Heath was so distraught and worn out by the emotional turmoil of his problems that he still slept in late. After a lot of soul searching and inner debate, Helen decided to confide in Hillary all she had done to Heath, especially since Hillary had so thoroughly feminized Leslie and had offered to put her into contact with the doctor who discreetly handled such matters. Hopefully she could get Heath to that doctor.
The vague meanderings of the initial portion of the call had let Hillary know that Helen had something important to discuss. Hillary was not surprised when Helen finally spilled the beans about giving Heath female hormones. After listening to the symptoms that indicated Heath had already succumbed to the irresistible effects of the female hormones, Hillary stated that she would gladly call the doctor that was treating Leslie and have the doctor call Helen to set up an appointment.
It was a bit after noon when the phone rang. Heath was in the living room watching a SAVED BY THE BELL rerun and eating a sandwich. Helen took the call in the den.
"Mrs. Reilly, I'm Dr. Cassandra Trate," the woman stated. "Hillary Balkut called me this morning and gave me a brief explanation of your situation with your son. I might be able to assist him with his condition. Is it safe to discuss the matter now?"
"Yes, we can talk," Helen replied nervously. "My husband is at work and Heath is watching TV."
"Very good," Dr. Trate stated firmly. "I'm extremely busy so I need to be quite blunt and get straight to the heart of the matter. I'm a plastic surgeon, an endocrinologist, and a hypno-therapist. I specialize in sexual dysfunction problems. Hillary told me that Heath had been spying on the cheerleaders for two months. The fact that you've been secretly giving Heath female hormones to curb his teenage sexual explorations finally put an end to that. From what Hillary told me he has lost all function of his sex organs and is on the verge of entering puberty as a teenage girl. I need to know how far into girlhood you want to take the boy."
"I'm not really sure," Helen replied sheepishly. "I haven't really thought this through. I just know I'm totally disgusted with Heath's stubborn macho behavior. I'm also quite captivated by Leslie Lynn Balkut. She is such an adorable young miss. I've always wanted a sweet daughter like her. When Hillary told me Leslie was really a boy I was stunned and wondered if my Heath could be made into a pretty girl. At first I pushed that idea right out of my mind. But when I discovered how perverted he was becoming, I just flipped out and put him on the hormones. Now they've shut down his boyhood and he's on the verge of entering puberty like a girl. Last night Heath broke down and confessed to all his perversions and the problem with his sex organs. While I'd truly love having him become my daughter, my husband would never allow Heath to become a girl. He's really upset about what's happening to Heath. I did manage to put the idea in his head that maybe Heath came down with an infection or fungus while spying on the cheerleaders from the tree, or that it could be from a tick bite. Fred thought that seemed plausible and even suggested that it might be some type of poison ivy."
"That was quick thinking," Dr. Trate chuckled. "I'm sure I can use those ideas as a basis to explain Heath's loss of masculinity and his unwanted entry into girlhood. With a little research and a lot of medical mumbo jumbo I should be able to convince both Heath and your husband that the boy's transformation into girlhood is irreversible and the result of an infection. Of course I'll only do this if you want a daughter."
"Yes, I want a daughter," Helen stated firmly. "What do we do to get things moving?"
"You've already accomplished that," Dr. Trate laughed. "I'll just continue the changes. My last appointment is at 1:45 today. Can you and your husband bring Heath in at 1:30 to fill out a health history and sign treatment forms?"
"I can get Heath there," Helen replied delighted with the prompt appointment. "I'll call my husband to see if he can meet us there."
"Tell him I insist on speaking with both parents in a case like this," Dr. Trate insisted. "I'll see to it that my receptionist gives him and Heath a beverage with a mild sedative coupled with a trance inducing drug. If your husband and son are typical red-blooded males, they'll be so captivated with my receptionist they'll never notice the drug. Your husband will be too busy drooling to read the permission to treat forms. Once the drug has taken effect, I'll be able to hypnotize them before I explain my theory about what's happening to Heath. While they'll be upset, neither will question my diagnosis. They'll accept the irreversibility of Heath's transformation into Heather."
"You can do that," Helen asked incredulously.
"Of course," Dr. Trate chuckled. "It's quite true that you cannot hypnotize someone to do something against their will. But it certainly is possible to give them a plausible explanation for symptoms and results of treatments. I can make them believe what I tell them. In this way, they simply accept as fact the changes and their irreversibility. Then I tell them that rather than struggle with the changes, if they truly want to avoid undo mental stress and anguish, that I can hypnotize them to accept and even enjoy the changes. Once they do this they are willingly allowing me to make the changes through hypnosis. It hasn't failed yet."
"I don't want to sound ungrateful," Helen asked sheepishly. "But to how many boys have you done something like this?"
"I don't mind that question," Dr. Trate laughed. "I'm proud of my record in converting rowdy males into sweet docile females. Heath will be the 39th teenage boy that I've changed into a teenage girl. Then there have been 52 rough and tumble little boys that I've changed into darling little girls Leslie is one of those. Then there have been 65 men that I've changed into women. Of those 155 males, 143 never wanted to become females yet all are now completely at ease as females and quite happy with their feminine lives. My record speaks for itself."
"I'll say it does," Helen agreed. "You certainly seem to enjoy your work."
"That I do," Dr. Trate chuckled. "I need to know what beverages your husband and son like so I can make sure my receptionist gives them something they'll drink."
"Fred likes coffee and Heath likes Coke," Helen replied.
"We have those on hand," Dr. Trate answered. "I'll see you about 2:00."
Hillary had gone into the office to work with Fred on the final details of their African proposal after calling Dr. Trate. They were hard at work when Fred's phone rang.
"That's great, Helen," Fred stated when his wife told him about the appointment with Dr. Trate. "I'm kind of tied up right now. I'm reviewing the African proposal with Hillary so I don't know if I can make it."
"But honey," Helen complained in her best hurt little woman voice. "The doctor said it was important we both be there with Heath."
"All right," Fred sighed. "Let me check with Hillary."
"Hillary," Fred said as he cupped the mouthpiece of the phone. "Heath's feeling under the weather and Helen managed to get an appointment with a specialist for this afternoon. The doctor wants both parents there. Do you think we could finish reviewing this later?"
"Of course, Fred," Hillary replied knowing whom Fred was going to see. "I hope Heath isn't seriously ill."
"I don't think it's too serious, “Fred answered, "But it is to a 14-year-old boy."
"Then by all means, go," Hillary replied. "I like a man who is willing to put family before business. It shows me his priorities are in the right order. It also has convinced me to offer you the management of this project when we land it."
"Are you serious," Fred exclaimed. "I'll get the job? Hillary, you have no idea what this means to me! Thank you!"
"It's I who need to thank you, Fred," Hillary replied. "Now go home and take care of Heath."
"Honey, I'll be right home," Fred said enthusiastically into the phone.
"I heard, darling," Helen explained. "Congratulations! I'll see you in a few minutes. I'll have Heath take a shower and change into clean clothes. We should be ready by the time you get here."
Heath and his mother were waiting on the front steps when Fred arrived home. The car had hardly come to a halt before he leaped out and ran across the lawn to hug Helen. Heath had never seen his father so happy. Once in the car, Fred explained what Hillary had told him about getting the African job and how it meant six years in Africa.
Heath knew his father had wanted to manage a big project for years and ordinarily he'd have been happy for his father. It was the chance of a lifetime, a big promotion. Yet it was exactly what the Leprechaun had pronounced in his bizarre dance about the fire in his cave! With a shiver of dread he recalled the exact phrases:
“I know! Mother and father about him sob;
so send the parents away to a new job!
Then Heath with Miss Hillary Balkut will live;
a new life in girlhood to him she will give!”
When nothing but silence from the rear seat greeted this news, Helen turned to look at Heath. She knew that he was well aware of how much his father wanted this job and should have been delighted. As she looked at him, she could see that Heath was pale and sweated.
"Heath, are you all right," she asked with motherly concern.
"Yeah," Heath muttered. "I'm sorry. That's great news, dad. I'm just nervous about going to this doctor. Will he have to check my private parts?"
Those words shifted the concern back to Heath. "Of course the doctor will have to check your private parts," Fred explained. "They do it for every physical. They may even give you a prostate exam."
"What's that," Heath asked sensing it wasn't something too pleasant.
"Well, it doesn't really hurt," Fred began. "But it is embarrassing as hell. The doctor puts on rubber gloves, has you drop your drawers and bend over, then after using Vaseline to grease your butt, slips a finger inside to feel the prostrate gland to make sure there is nothing wrong."
"You mean the doctor is going to stick his finger up my ass," Heath exclaimed in horror! "No way! I'm not gonna do it. I'm no fag!"
"Just calm down," Fred stated firmly. "I've had it done several times and I'm no fag. It's not pleasant but it is necessary. Every doctor I've gone to has been very professional about it. After all, they're guys too. They know how embarrassing it is. It's an unpleasant but necessary ordeal."
Heath folded his arms and sank back into his seat. Now he had to worry about some stranger sticking a finger in his ass. This entire thing was just too strange. What if he hadn't dreamed about the Leprechaun? What if it was all real? Was he going to become a girl?
Helen could see Heath was lost in a deep funk. She certainly wasn't about to tell Heath or Fred that Dr. Trate was not a man but a woman. That would only make matters worse.
They arrived at Dr. Trate's office at 1:30. The plaque on the door read: C. Trate, MD. Plastic surgeon, Endocrinologist, Hypnotherapist. Upon entering, Fred and Heath were awestruck by the receptionist. She appeared to be about 18 years old with long, silken honey blonde hair that reached to her waist. The name tag pinned to her blouse at her left breast identified her as Candi Trate. They all assumed she was the doctor's daughter. Helen was more than a bit miffed at the puppy dog expressions on the faces of her leering husband and son. Since the males were too tongue tied to speak, Helen identified themselves. Candi gave them a medical history form several pages long as well as several legal documents giving Dr. Trate legal permission to treat Heath.
It was a good thing Helen was with her husband and son since both were obviously so infatuated with the coquettish receptionist they heard little of what she told them. Fred and Heath were both taken in by the overt sexiness of the receptionist. Her big innocent green eyes sparkled and her little upturned nose wrinkled cutely as she gave them a dazzling smile. The white sheer satin blouse she wore allowed a virtually unobstructed view of her full firm breasts which were barely contained in a lace bra that clearly revealed large erect nipples. Helen had to nudge both Heath and Fred to draw them away from Candi to their seats.
When Candi saw Fred beginning to read the legal forms, she left her desk to ask them if they'd like a cup of coffee or Coke. The guys were now awed by her shapely nylon clad legs that disappeared so enticingly beneath her micro-miniskirt. The four inch heels she wore clicked across the tile floor in a heart pounding staccato the fellows found irresistibly sexy, especially since it was accompanied by a full view of her undulating hips. Neither objected to the beverages and eagerly drank the concoctions.
Helen knew the receptionist was only doing her job but it was clear that she enjoyed flirting and teasing the males with her vivacious body. Still, she was upset by the reaction of her husband and son. Candi proved that they were totally male chauvinist pigs. Helen smiled inwardly knowing that they were ingesting the hypnotic inducing drug that Dr. Trate had the receptionist put in their drinks. It served the horny males right.
The number of pages and forms was a bit overwhelming to Fred, especially when coupled with Candi's overt sexuality. Thus quite distracted, Fred merely skimmed through the legalese of the consent forms and hastily signed on the appropriate lines. Helen signed the consent forms with a secret grin. She knew that she was signing away Heath's masculinity. Fred had no idea that he was sentencing his son to life as a girl.
Little did the Reilly's realize that the lovely receptionist had once been Dr. Trate's husband. When she discovered he was cheating on her, she decided to fix him... permanently. He was the first male she transformed into a female. The man had not wanted to be a woman but Dr. Trate's treatment left him no choice. He was now a wanton woman in every way. The thrill Dr. Trate received from transforming her husband into a woman had been the impetuous to begin treating males to convert them into females. It was now a very satisfying and lucrative sideline to her practice.
A beautiful well-proportioned woman with fiery red hair cut in an easy to care pixie style entered the waiting room a few moments after Candi took the completed forms into the doctor. She too had green eyes, but her eyes blazed with an inner glow that left no doubt she was not a woman with whom to trifle. An open immaculate white lab coat revealed that she wore a form fitting white mini dress that revealed the outline of her generous curves but effectively hid all details. Long, powerful yet shapely legs emerged beneath her short skirt. Unlike the receptionist she wore sensible white flat slip on shoes. A stethoscope was suspended about her neck and she carried the clipboard Candi had taken into the back. She appeared to be about 38 years old and quite self-confident.
"Mr. and Mrs. Reilly," she said as she held out her hand to Fred. "I'm Dr. Cassandra Trate."
Fred's eyes grew wide as he drank in the dominant femininity of the woman. He looked at the left breast of her lab coat to see Dr. Trate embroidered there as he meekly accepted her powerful hand shake. The surprised man had never expected a female doctor.
Helen smiled and accepted the warm handshake Dr. Trate offered her. The reassuring squeeze just before they parted went unnoticed by the males. Helen was truly impressed by Dr. Trate.
"You must be Heath," Dr. Trate smiled as she reached out to shake the startled lad's hand. "Your case looks quite interesting and I'm sure I can straighten everything out for you.”
Heath quivered with apprehension. If this woman was the doctor then she had to do the examination! Desperately he looked to his father for guidance.
"Ah... I don't want to sound sexist but there's really no other way to say this," Fred began as he realized Heath's concerns. "With the nature of Heath's problems we were expecting a male doctor. I'm afraid Heath will be too embarrassed to undress before you and submit to a thorough examination."
"I understand," Dr. Trate replied with a smile. "I know how I feel when I had to go to a male gynecologist for an examination. There really is no need for concern. I'm a professional and the patient is my concern, regardless of sex. As an expert Endocrinologist I've successfully treated hundreds of males for various sexual dysfunctions. I'll tell you what, let's go back to an examination room. I'll do the normal portions of the physical before getting to the nitty gritty. If by then you still doubt my professionalism, I'll be glad to refer you to a male Endocrinologist. Dr. McCrae is as qualified as I am. Unfortunately, he's affiliated with Mercy Hospital and quite busy so it would probably take at least six to eight weeks to get an appointment with him. If you prefer to wait, I'll set you up."
"Thank you Dr. Trate," Helen replied. "I apologize for my sexist husband and son. I knew you were a female when we spoke on the phone. It's like you said, many women, including myself, go to a male gynecologist. Having you exam Heath is no different. Heath's concerns about his condition warrant immediate attention. We can't wait six to eight weeks. Let's go back and get started."
Fred and Heath really had no choice but to follow Helen and Dr. Trate. Once in the examination room, Dr. Trate handed Heath a hospital gown and told him to step into the adjoining restroom to put it on after removing all of his clothes. She also gave him a small cup with snap on lid in which to place a urine sample.
Heath nervously took the cup and entered the room to change. Fears about exposing himself to the woman doctor continued to fester as he stripped. Worries about the veracity of the Leprechaun dream continued. Filling the sample cup was no problem. Getting into the hospital gown proved to be quite a struggle.
"Mr. Reilly," Dr. Trate stated firmly as soon as Heath had left. "Do you want your son cured?"
"Of course," Fred replied. "Why wouldn't I want that?"
"You tell me," replied Dr. Trate. "You're the one who brought up the male-female issue. Are you such a chauvinist that you'd endanger your son's life?"
"Endanger his life," Fred gasped. "Do you think there's something seriously wrong with Heath? How can you tell?"
"Mr. Reilly, I'm one of the best Endocrinologist in the state," Dr. Trate replied. "I keep up on the latest research. I'm extremely busy and it normally takes a patient six to eight weeks to get an appointment to see me. When I was appraised of your son's symptoms, I decided to try to see him immediately. Now I don't want to say anything more until after I've had a chance to examine him. I know he'll be nervous to have me checking his genitals and prostrate. I need you to tell him it's all right. If he refuses to cooperate, I'll do my best to get him in to see Dr. McCrae as soon as possible. But I will not be held responsible for the consequences."
Fred was sweating. He looked at Dr. Trate and blinked his eyes in fear and concern. Helen had silently watched the exchange marveling at the way Dr. Trate so easily manipulated Fred. Of course, she knew a great deal was probably due to the effects of the drug he'd ingested with his coffee. But still, Dr. Trate had effectively cut off Fred's concerns about a female doctor, instilled the fear that something serious was wrong with Heath without being specific, and then wrapped it all up by insisting that he support the doctor or be responsible for the possible consequences which he naturally assumed to be dire.
"Fred, we have to let Dr. Trate examine Heath," Helen insisted with a touch of panic in her voice as she played along following the doctor's lead.
"Yes... yes, of course," Fred stuttered as he pulled out his hanky to mop his brow. "Thank you Dr. Trate. I never suspected this could be so serious."
"It may not be serious," Dr. Trate responded softly. "But the only way to find out is to examine Heath."
When Heath sheepishly emerged from the restroom, he felt silly. Wearing the examination gown was almost like wearing a dress. The thoughts of the Leprechaun's predication that he would become a girl gave him the willies.
"Relax, Heath," Dr. Trate stated softly as she smiled at him. "I've been talking with your parents and they agree that I should give you a complete exam. I'll be gentle and you can ask me any questions you want. If what I'm doing disturbs you, please ask me to stop and I'll explain what I'm doing and why. Many times knowing those things will make the exam go easier. Now, do you have any questions before I start?"
Heath looked at his parents to confirm Dr. Trate's words. His father had tight lips which meant he was prepared to back up the doctor's words. His mother just smiled and nodded her head. "Okay," he finally agreed.
The initial portion of the exam was quite routine. Taking his blood pressure and pulse, listening to his heart and lungs, checking his ears, eyes, and throat were all accomplished with ease. Dr. Trate's bedside manner was gentle and patient. The smile on her face and her gentle instructions put Heath at ease. This was greatly aided by the drugs he had ingested in the Coke.
Finally it came down to the nitty gritty. Heath timidly climbed up onto the examination table. Dr. Trate pulled out a white sheet and draped it over his legs up to his waist.
"Before I begin the physical portion of the exam, I need to ask you a few highly personal questions," Dr. Trate informed Heath. "Let me begin by saying that it's quite normal for a boy you age to masturbate at least once a day and many boys do so more than once day. This is nothing to be ashamed of since it's a normal biological consequence of male puberty. Now I need to know if, in that sense, you were a normal boy until these problems began."
Heath blushed and nervously bit his lips. After a sheepish glance to his parents he tentatively nodded his head.
"Thank you for being honest," Dr. Trate praised him. "I need to know all the facts before I can determine what the problem could be. I certainly can't begin any treatment until I understand the cause."
After having Heath lie back on the table, she lifted the examination gown to reveal his chest. Heath anxiously watched her face as she touched and prodded his chest, especially the puffy areas beneath his nipples. He winced when she pinched the enlarged nipples and was embarrassed to see the nipples responded by swelling and standing erect.
"There is definitely something out of the ordinary," Dr. Trate stated as she looked Heath straight in the eye. "I'm not sure what's causing this situation but it looks as if you're developing breasts. Your development and sensitivity is almost like that of a young girl entering puberty."
Heath blushed and lowered his eyes. "Can you stop it," he asked softly.
"I don't know," Dr. Trate replied with compassion as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "First I must complete the exam, get blood samples and have your urine sample tested, then combine the results to try to figure out what's happening. Are you ready to let me check your genitals?"
Heath glanced apprehensively at his parents. Fred and Helen were holding hands and smiling bravely. They nodded their heads. Heath swallowed and nodded his head.
"All right," Dr. Trate replied as she slipped on a pair of rubber gloves. "I know it won't be easy but just try to relax."
With that she restored the examination gown to cover him to the waist. Then she slowly slid the white sheet to reveal his groin. Heath clenched his eyes shut and held his breath.
"It might be easier if you watched," Dr. Trate stated softy. "I'll explain what I'm doing as we go."
Heath cautiously opened his eyes and looked down at his exposed crotch.
"First I need to examine your testicles," Dr. Trate stated as she gently grasped first one and then the other small ovid to squeeze and prod. "Your scrotum seems quite underdeveloped. Your testicles are small for a 14-year-old boy. You said you masturbated at least once a day and told your parents that you began having problems about four weeks ago."
"Yes," Heath whispered. "The problems have gotten steadily worse since then."
Holding onto his sac with one hand, Dr. Trate began to manipulate his penis with the other. "Has your penis gotten smaller during this time," she asked. Upon seeing his embarrassed nod she continued. "I'd guess it's been at least a week since you were able to even become erect. Is that about right?"
Heath blushed a deep red and meekly nodded his assent. He couldn't even look at his parents.
"Thank you," Dr. Trate again praised him as she released his genitals and once more covered his groin with the sheet. "Now the next part is a bit intrusive, I need to examine your prostrate gland."
Heath drew in a quick breath and glanced nervously towards his father. Fred grimly nodded his head. With a sigh of defeat heath lowered his head.
"I need you to lie on your side and raise your knees to your chest," Dr. Trate ordered as she opened a tube of K-Y jelly.
Heath followed the instructions and waited.
"Please try to relax," Dr. Trate ordered as she raised the sheet to reveal his butt. After squeezing some jelly onto her gloved finger, she gently applied it to his puckered anus. "If you tense up, this may hurt a bit. I'm about to insert my finger," she said as she applied a steady but unyielding gentle pressure.
Heath caught his breath as he felt the pressure. Embarrassed, he screwed his eyes tightly shut.
Suddenly her finger slipped inside his rectum up to the second knuckle. Heath gasped and opened his eyes in shock.
"Just relax," Dr. Trate soothed as she held her finger steady. "Now that doesn't hurt, does it?" With her free hand she was tenderly stoking his buttocks.
Much to Heath's amazement it didn't really hurt. It did feel quite unusual, but was only slightly uncomfortable. The gentle stroking helped calm his taut nerves. Gingerly he relaxed and shook his head.
"Excellent," Dr. Trate enthused as she began to once more apply pressure. "Now just stay relaxed. I need to push in just a bit further. There, now you can feel me probing your prostate."
Heath shivered as he felt her gentle prodding. The insistent contact felt good, almost like it did when he climaxed.
"Everything seems normal," Dr. Trate stated as she picked up a test tube with her free hand. "I'm going to slip a test tube over your penis," she explained as she did exactly that. "Now I'm going to apply pressure to your prostate gland to see if I can retrieve a sperm sample."
Heath caught his breath as he felt the pressure increase inside his bottom. A most pleasant sensation began, just like it did before he shot his wad. Suddenly there was a churning in his testicles and he felt a discharge erupt from the tip of his penis. "Oh... oh...," Heath gasped, instantly knowing that he had come without becoming erect!
"Very good," Dr. Trate praised him as she withdrew her finger and the test tube and restored the sheet to cover his groin. "Here are a few tissues to clean yourself."
Heath blushed as he cleaned both his damp penis and his greasy rectum. When he was done, he rolled over to look at the doctor. He saw her holding the test tube before her where they could all see it. There was about half an inch of clear fluid in the bottom. If that was his cum, Heath knew there was something very wrong with him. In the past his cum had always been a pearly white. From reading the porno magazines and ribald conversations with his buddies, Heath knew that all cum was that white. The expression on Dr. Trate's face spoke of great seriousness. Heath grew worried.
"I'll send this out for a lab check," Dr. Trate stated as she shook the test tube a bit. "But to judge by the looks of this, his sperm count has to be practically zero." With that she capped the test tube, placed a tag on it, and put in a carrier with the urine and blood samples.
"Heath, you told your parents you would climb a tree to spy on the cheerleaders while they practiced," Dr. Trate stated gently when she turned around to face him. "You also said that you would masturbate while you watched the cheerleders."
Heath sheepishly nodded is head.
"What happened to you sperm when you climaxed," Dr. Trate asked.
"I guess it shot onto the tree," Heath whispered after a few moments of thought.
"So your sperm just went onto the tree." Dr. Trate queried.
Heath nodded.
"Did you usually do it at the same spot," Dr. Trate asked.
"Yeah," Heath sheepishly replied.
"Was there a lot of moss on the bark where you did it," Dr. Trate questioned.
"Yeah, it was thick and soft," Heath answered.
"Did your sperm soak into the moss," Dr. Trate asked.
"I guess so," Heath replied. "I never really paid attention. It just seemed to disappear."
"Well, that could be the reason for your problems," Dr. Trate stated. "Of course I need to get the results of the lab tests to verify my suspicions."
"What do you think it is," Fred asked. "Is it serious?"
"If I'm right, and I'm not saying I am," Dr. Trate sighed as she looked from Fred to Heath. "It could be fatal if left untreated. Fortunately I'm certain we've caught it soon enough to allow treatment. I'll begin by giving Heath a powerful antibiotic which must be started immediately. If my suspicion is wrong taking the antibiotic won't hurt, but if I'm right it will save his life."
"What is it," Heath begged near tears.
"Moss is a fungus," Dr. Trate stated. "In a tree where it's thick and moist, it is a breeding ground for bacteria and germs. Semen is almost all protein, so if your sperm landed on nearly the same spot every day, you were in effect fertilizing that breeding ground. What I think happened is that the fungi, viruses, and germs thrived, multiplied, and mutated by reacting to each other and the fertilizing semen. By doing it every day at the same spot you also exposed yourself to whatever resulted. When your penis is erect, the urethra is a perfect conduit into your body. If you placed your hand unto the spot where this hodge podge fungal/virus was growing as you settled in, you got some of it on your hand. When you stroked yourself to climax, you smeared it all over your penis. I think it entered your urethra and traveled down to your testicles. If I'm correct, since semen was the primary food for it's growth and mutation and your testicles are the source of semen production, that is where it would head. In addition, since it fed on your sperm, it ingested your DNA so when it re-entered your body, your immune system would not recognize it as foreign so it wouldn’t attack th infection. It's been growing there ever since, literally devouring your manhood."
It took all of Helen's will power to keep a serious expression upon her face as Fred and Heath gasped with horror. Heath reached down to his crotch as if to protect his genitals.
"I'm going to be perfectly blunt," Dr. Trate stated. "Your testicles are probably already dead. That means they are no longer producing testosterone. Your body was accustomed to a high level of sex hormones due to your regular masturbation. When your testicles were attacked and devoured by the fungal/virus they stopped supplying those sex hormones. Your brain sensed this loss and sought alternative sources to produce sex hormones. Your brain sent out signals to your entire body to drastically increase the production of sex hormones. Unfortunately, testosterone is produced only in the testicles. The other sex hormone producing spots produce estrogen and progestogen, the female sex hormones. Normally the testosterone normally keeps their production limited. However, without the testosterone, your body went nuts. Every organ in your body that can produce sex hormones went into maximum overdrive. Your body has been and will continue to be flooded with female sex hormones. Your breast development is like that of a girl entering female puberty because YOU are entering female puberty."
Again Helen struggled to appear sincerely concerned as Heath and Fred gasped.
"I'm afraid there is more you won't like," Dr. Trate continued in a gentle compassionate voice. "The antibiotics cannot stop the fungal/virus, it can at best slow it down and keep it from spreading. However, since it is in a highly mutative state, it will only take a few days to overcome the antibiotic. Once it has devoured your testicles and penis, it will enter your body proper. Once it gets inside, I'm afraid there is nothing that can be done. It will kill you. During the few days the antibiotics are effective, I'll get the lab results. If my theory is right, the only way to save your life will be to surgically remove the infection. We'll need to completely remove your penis and testicles as soon as possible if the lab results confirm my theory. If we hesitate, it could be too late to save your life."
Helen bit her lip to keep from laughing. Fred sank back into his seat, totally shocked and defeated by Dr. Trate's hypotheses. Heath clutched his genitals and began to cry.
"Isn't there something you can do to save my balls," he sobbed in a plaintive voice.
"Well, if I'm proven right, there is only one way we could save your balls," Dr. Trate said as Heath and Fred perked up. "Once they have been removed from your body, I could sterilize them to kill the fungal/virus. You could then have them bronzed to keep as a memento. Otherwise they would be discarded in the infectious waste trash and incinerated. I've had several men who have had their family jewels preserved in that way when it was necessary for them to be castrated. A few even had the bronzed beauties gold plated and made into earrings."
Helen burst out laughing when she saw the looks of abject horror on the faces of Heath and Fred. Fortunately she was quick witted enough to fake a coughing spell to cover her loss of control. They were so shocked neither guy noticed her faux pas. Helen wondered how Dr. Trate was able to keep a straight face as she spun her tale. She also wondered how many sets of family jewels had been made into earrings.
"That's horrible," Fred gasped. "Why would anyone want to do that?"
"A lot of people have a major hang up over preserving the family jewels," Dr. Trate stated calmly and seriously. "Most men have spent all their lives reaching between their legs several times a day to adjust their testicles. At night many males lie in bed and idly play with their testicles. They claim it's quite relaxing."
Fred and Heath blushed revealing that both had often played with their balls. Dr. Trate knew exactly what she was talking about.
"As you have already sensed, losing your testicles can be quite traumatic," Dr. Trate continued after a brief pause. "By bronzing them, you can keep them. I have several patients who keep their family jewels nearby so they can fondle them and recall the times they hung between their legs. It's sort of like a charm. I highly recommend it."
"I think that sounds like a good idea," Helen proclaimed as Fred shook his head while Heath softly sobbed and longingly squeezed his balls. "Once they're in the trash, they're gone forever. By having them bronzed you can keep them. If you change your mind, you can always throw them in the trash later."
"Mom," Heath sobbed. "I want my balls where they belong!"
"I'm sorry Heath," Helen rebuked him sternly. "But if you had been behaving yourself none of this would have happened, now would it?"
"No," Heath sobbed quietly with great chagrin.
"So you have no one to blame for this but yourself," Helen continued. "Now it's no use crying over spilled milk... or in this case spilled sperm. There is also obviously no sense in punishing you for your transgressions since your fate is more than adequate punishment. What we need to do is find out what will happen once the fungal/virus is removed and destroyed."
"What does it matter," Heath moaned. "Without my balls and stuff what do I have to live for?"
"Heath Reilly," Helen scolded. "You'll have just as much to live for as you had before you began to play with yourself. When you were younger, you liked to play games. You liked to read. You liked to learn. You liked to go places and explore. Do you remember doing those things and having a good time?"
"Yeah," Heath whispered cowed by her forceful manner.
"Well you only stopped doing and enjoying those things when you discovered masturbation," Helen proclaimed. "Now you can go back to doing the things you liked. There is a great deal to live for."
"Your mother is right, son," Fred added weakly after being nudged by Helen. "Most of the things I do have no bearing on whether or not I have my male genitals."
"Heath, it is a proven fact that the majority of crimes of passion are the direct result of testosterone," Dr. Trate stated. "It's been a joke amongst women for years that many men think with their sex organs rather than their brains. From what your mother just said you had fallen victim to thinking with your sex organs. If you hadn't been so consumed by your lust, you would have never been in that tree. Every male I've castrated has benefitted by the loss and moved on to become a happier and more fulfilled person."
"That all sounds good," Heath cried. "But what am I supposed to do about gym class. If the guys see I don't have my male stuff, they'll harass me to no end. What about dating? How am I supposed to date a girl knowing I have nothing between my legs? What about getting married? What girl would want a man without sex organs? What about all that?"
"That's an entirely different situation and one that you will never have to face," Dr. Trate stated firmly but with great compassion. "You must remember what has already began. Your body has already adapted to the loss of male sex hormones by switching over to the production of female sex hormones. Your entry into male puberty was stopped cold and permanently. Your body reacted by realigning itself to continue entry into puberty. But since the possibility of continuing male puberty has been eliminated by the fungal/virus, the only option open was to convert to feminine puberty. The breast development already evident on your chest is just the beginning. It won't stop there. You will continue through puberty as if you were a girl. You will develop all the secondary sexual characteristics of a normal girl. Without you male parts between your legs, you will appear to be a normal girl. When I remove your male parts, I must create a way for you to urinate. Since I'm a qualified plastic surgeon, it will be quite easy to take the flesh from your scrotum and penis and refashion it into a functional approximation of female genitalia. You will look like a girl between your legs. You will relieve your bladder like a girl. You will even be able to engage in sexual intercourse as a girl. In effect, you will be a girl. The only difference is that you will not have monthly periods and can never become pregnant. Since you will in effect be a girl, there is now way you would be allowed to go into the locker room with the guys. You'll go into the girl's locker room. Since you will be a girl, you'll date boys. If you marry, you'll be the wife. That answers your questions about what you'll do about gym class, dating, and marriage."
"Y... you're going to t.. turn me into a g... girl," Heath stuttered. "But I don't want to be a dumb girl!"
"I won't be turning you into a girl," Dr. Trate stated coldly. "You did that when you played with yourself in the tree. All I'll do is save your life by completing what YOU began so that you can live a normal life. Another thing, young man, and I use that term VERY loosely, girls are not dumb. You don't see girls thinking with their genitals. You don't see girls showing off to prove their vaunted masculinity. You don't see girls getting into fights or starting wars. No, those are male things. It's the women who pick up the pieces after the men have screwed things up. It’s the men who are dumb! If women are dumb, it's because we put up with men in the first place! Mr. Reilly, tell me honestly, am I right or wrong in this matter."
Fred was caught completely off guard. His mind was lost in thoughts of losing his son. He had followed Dr. Trate's reasoning that Heath had already begun to change into a girl and that having her complete the transformation made sense. But that was on the logical level. On the instinctual level the entire idea was repulsive. To transform a boy into a girl was simply atrocious. Yet Fred realized it was the only practical alternative for Heath.
Seeing that Fred was momentarily befuddled, Helen jumped into the fray. "Fred, tell Heath that women are not stupid and that being a female is not repulsive," she stated in a firm, authoritative voice. "You're a mature male, you've been through puberty. You know how testosterone makes guys do stupid things. Tell Heath that if you faced his situation knowing that it was all a result of thinking with your sex organs, you would accept your fate and make the best of becoming a girl."
Fred stared at Helen as her words sank into his fevered brain. Thanks to the trance inducing drug he had ingested, he responded to the commanding tone of Helen's voice as well as to the meaning of her words. He felt and was in fact compelled to agree with her. "Heath...," Fred began hesitatingly as he sought the right words. "I know this all hard to grasp and has come as a complete shock, but Dr. Trate and your mother are right. Women are not dumb. In many ways they are superior to men. You were thinking with your sex organs when you did this. I thought with my sex organs many times. Most men do. Most times when we guys think with our sex organs we screw things up. While I would not want to give up my sex organs, if I faced a situation like yours where I had no other option but to give them up, I'd gladly accept becoming a female. It is certainly preferable to dying or going through life as a eunuch."
Heath cried. He too was under the compulsion factor of the trance inducing drug he had ingested. All that had been said burned into his brain, boring through the stubborn macho horror and repulsion that he had about losing his prized masculinity and becoming a girl. "I don't want to become a girl," he blubbered helplessly.
As he cried the memory of his encounter with the Leprechaun flooded back into his mind. Had it happened? It seemed so bizarre, yet everything the man had said was coming true with a heated vengeance. The little man had cursed him;
“Then Heath with Miss Hillary Balkut will live;
a new life in girlhood to him she will give!
The wish for a long, rich, happy, healthy life;
and good looking... all possible... as a wife!
As a cute girl he'll be sad for quite a while;
but some day Heather, a pretty lass will smile.
That last line said that he'd be unhappy as a girl for a while but that he'd soon be smiling as Heather. That fit right in with everything Dr. Trate and his mother said. The Leprechaun had also said that the changes would take time and that happiness would not be possible all the time but that he could and would be happy most of the time and that the good would heavily outweigh the bad. This was little consolation. Heath still didn't want to become Heather. But then what choice did he have.
"I'll rush these out to the lab today," Dr. Trate promised. "I should have the results by Monday afternoon. I'll contact the hospital now and arrange for Heath to be admitted immediately. We'll begin an IV antibiotic treatment right away and put him on complete bed rest. I can also administer sedatives to keep you relaxed and calm. If I don't, your anxiety could cause the fungal/virus to mutate faster and spread. If the lab results confirm my suspicions, I'll do the surgery Monday afternoon."
Helen was amazed by the nonstop barrage of ideas, orders, and suggestions that Dr. Trate created. Fred and Heath were so overwhelmed and dazed they merely nodded their heads acknowledging their hapless consent with her recommendations.
"I recommend you contact the school and notify them that Heath is ill and will be out for a while," Dr. Trate continued. "I'll provide an excuse. If we operate, Heath will become Heather. Once he... SHE, has recovered it will be virtually impossible for him... HER, to return to his old school as a girl. It would be best for him... HER, to be enrolled in St. Patrick’s Parochial School as a young lady. The nuns on the staff have been quite cooperative in the past about enrolling my patients. They'll simply tell the secular staff that Heather was a confirmed tomboy who with the advent of her puberty is now ready to learn how to become a proper young miss. The change in school environments and the stricter routine of St. Patrick’s Parochial School will make the transition into girlhood easier. During HER recovery I can use my hypnotherapeutic skills to assist Heather in adapting to life as a girl."
"That sounds like a satisfactory game plan," Helen commented as Fred and Heath exchanged bewildered helpless looks. "Heath, get dressed so we can get over to the hospital. The sooner we get you on the antibiotics the better I'll feel."
"I'll call ahead and make the arrangements," Dr. Trate stated. "Then I'll be over to make sure he receives the proper medications."
Heath continued to sob as he dressed. When he emerged, his mother was waiting.
"Your father went to get the car," Helen told Heath as she embraced him. "Everything will be all right, darling. We won't let anything bad happen to you. Now dry those tears and let's go," she added as she handed him a tissue.
Fifteen minutes later they entered the hospital. Upon identifying themselves at the desk, Helen and Heath were escorted to a ward while Fred entered the admissions office to begin the task of filling out the required paperwork. By the time Fred joined his family, Dr. Trate was already there. Heath was stretched out on a hospital bed with an IV in his left arm that was hooked to a bag of saline solution that hung by the bed. Heath appeared totally wiped out and just stared at the steady drip of the clear fluid from the bag into the tube.
"Dr. Trate put the antibiotic into the saline solution and injected a sedative into the line," Helen whispered as she clasped Fred's arm. "As you can see, it's already taken effect. His blood pressure and pulse was quite high until the sedative hit, now he's back to normal."
"That should take care of everything," Dr. Trate assured the adults. "I've left instructions for the nurses to keep the saline solution and antibiotic flowing continuously. They'll also give him a dose of the sedative every six hours. It should keep him pretty well out of it until Monday. I'll check up on him tomorrow."
"Thank you for everything you've done, Dr. Trate," Helen stated with firm conviction. "I don't know what we'd have done without your assistance."
"Ahh... yeah, thank you," Fred added after Helen jabbed him in the ribs.
"I'm always glad to help a boy find a way to live a better life," Dr. Trate replied. "Heath will be fine, the nurses will take special care of him. I strongly suggest you both get something to eat then go home and get a good night's sleep. Things will be pretty hectic by Monday and you'll want to be rested."
Helen understood that Dr. Trate was still using the trance inducing drug to make Fred amenable to the situation. "Dr. Trate, do you have something you could give us to help keep us calm and get some rest until Monday," Helen asked quite innocently.
"Of course," replied Dr. Trate giving Helen a wink while Fred was forlornly watching Heath. "I'll write out a few prescriptions and leave them with the nurses to fill. You can pick them up when you leave."
"Fred, you MUST take the medication I'm leaving," Dr. Trate ordered in a firm voice. "The gravity of Heath's condition and loss hasn't fully hit you yet. You will need this medication to stay cool and calm in order to be able to make rational decisions as the needs arise. Helen will handle the medication and make sure you both receive the proper doses. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Fred replied softly.
"Good, then I must be going," Dr. Trate added. "The medications should be ready in half an hour. If we miss each other tomorrow, I'll see you Monday."
After the doctor left, Fred stepped up to Heath's bed and placed a hand upon the boy's hand. Heath tore his eyes away from the steady dripping of the IV and sadly looked at his father.
"Daddy," Heath softly began using the term of address he'd abandoned when he reached school age. "It really is my fault. You see, I didn't tell you everything that happened yesterday."
"That doesn't matter, son," Fred declared as he fought back tears. "What's done is done. We'll get through this. Everything will work out, I promise."
"Thanks daddy," Heath giggled and smiled up deliriously. "But I really have to tell you everything about yesterday. It's really important!"
"All right," Fred acquiesced. "Tell me what happened."
"Well, you know those stories grandpa used to tell about the Leprechauns back in Ireland and how some of them came to this country with the Irish immigrants," Heath began.
"Yes," Fred replied as Helen joined him. "But what has that got to do with what happened yesterday"
"Well, I wasn't asleep in the tree for that entire time," Heath explained gently. "A cackling noise woke me up while the cheerleaders were still practicing. I looked down from my perch and saw a little man about two feet talk all dressed in green standing at the base of the tree. He was watching the girls and playing with himself. I knew he was a Leprechaun and that if I caught him I'd get three wishes just like grandpa said. So that's what I did. I caught him."
Heath continued to babble on telling all that had happened including the verses. At first Fred and Helen gently humored their son assuming his prattling was the result of the sedative. But once he began reciting the long rhymed verses of the Leprechaun's poem-speeches, they began to grow concerned. Heath had never shown any poetic leanings and to now have him come up with such elaborate verse was inconceivable. The only semi-logical explanation was that Heath was telling the truth and had encountered a Leprechaun.
"I should have listened to Great grandpa when he warned me to never mess with a Leprechaun because they're so tricky," Heath sobbed quietly. "It's all my fault.”
"Leprechauns are only fairytales," Fred began. “They don't really exist. You had to have dreamed the whole thing."
"Then how did I know that I was going to be changed into a girl," Heath whispered as tears filled his eyes. "How did I know you were going to get a job that would take you and mom far away to a place I couldn't go? I did want to make out with Leslie, I did want to get into her panties. Now it looks as if I will. It had to be the Leprechaun! There is no other explanation!"
"Anything is possible," Helen soothed her son. "But what's done is done. There is nothing we can do but go on. The Leprechaun did say you would learn to be happy being a pretty girl and that you would marry. So things can't be all that bad. Just think of that as the end of the rainbow."
"Yeah, I guess I should," Heath whispered as he settled beneath the covers. "I think I'm going to sleep now."
In seconds the boy was out. Fred and Helen exchanged bewildered looks.
"Do you think he did find a Leprechaun," Fred asked. "Grandpa was dead serious when he told those tales. I always thought he was trying to frighten us kids. Now I'm not sure."
"It has to be his imagination," Helen declared with greater confidence then she felt. "The problems with his body began before yesterday."
"Are you sure," Fred asked. "The Leprechaun said the wishes would come true as nature made minor changes to reality. The only way we know that Heath was having sexual problems before yesterday was because he told us he had been having them. What if the magic made him remember having problems when none existed. This entire fungal/virus could be a result of the magic. Heath never knew we were talking about leaving him here while we went to Africa. He never even knew about the possibility of me getting such a job until we were in the car riding to see the doctor. The idea of Hillary Balkut taking him in isn't all that outlandish, especially once she discovers he's becoming a girl. That would put he and Leslie in the same grade. Dr. Trate said we should enroll him in St. Patrick’s Parochial School, the same school Leslie attends! Then there's the entire deal about him getting into Leslie's panties. That can easily happen when two girls the same age live together. There are simply too many coincidences here. He had to have encountered a Leprechaun!"
"It does seem like a lot of coincidences," Helen agreed warily. She began to wonder if perhaps the magic could have made her remember giving Heath her hormone pills. It would only be a minor alteration in reality to make all that appear to have happened. "But what about the Leprechaun stating that the changes had to be small and secret so as not to disturb nature's fabric?"
"So who would believe Heath's story," Fred explained. "We only have doubts because we heard his tale first hand. The more the story is repeated, the more far fetched it will sound. No one will believe us. It will be like spotting a flying saucer. They'll write the entire thing off to our nerves. Who knows, they may be right."
"Yes, you're probably correct," Helen replied as she thought about how she had no choice but to keep quiet about giving Heath the hormones. "I guess we'll never know if he encountered a Leprechaun. However, the idea of asking Hillary to take him in sounds quite good. We know and trust her. Living in the same house with Leslie would surely help Heath adjust to being Heather. He'd have a friend and classmate in his new school. I think I'll call Hillary when we get home and explain all that's happened."
"That sounds like a good idea," Fred added. "I guess we'd better go home."
Helen made sure to give Fred the medication Dr. Trate prescribed. After they ate supper, they called the hospital to make sure Heath was doing all right. Then Fred turned in for the night.
Helen began checking her receipts from the drug store to make sure she hadn’t imagined giving Heath the female hormones but everything was there as she remembered. Still, it all could have been a part of the magic. She began to wonder if she had done all that she did. Finally she called Hillary.
Hillary listened as Helen spilled everything, including Heath's tale about the Leprechaun. "Well, Heath certainly has a wild imagination," Hillary laughed. "I never saw that side of him. But his idea of coming to live with me sounds perfect. I'm sure Leslie would be VERY understanding and helpful as he makes the transition into girlhood. Joyce would simply love to have another delightful cherub under her motherly wings. I guarantee that Heath will become a thoroughly delightful and happy Heather in short order. Isn't Dr. Trate marvelous? She certainly knows how to manipulate males! Her imagination is as good as Heath's when it comes to creating scenarios that preclude a male from continuing in his gender while forcing him to become a female. I'll bring Leslie and Joyce to visit Heath tomorrow while you and Fred are there. I'll make it a point to invite Heath to live with us when you and Fred go to Africa. Now it sounds like you've had a full day. Please get some rest. See you tomorrow!"
Helen hung up the phone and shook her head. Things were moving too fast, much faster than she had anticipated. It seemed as if Hillary was just as anxious as Dr. Trate to convert Heath into a girl. Her doubts grew, her concerns about Heath's Leprechaun grew, but so did her fear of what would happen if she attempted to derail Heath's projected sex change at this late point. She'd go to jail for what she did if the truth came out. But what if the Leprechaun had created the entire thing? Had the Leprechaun magic really created a fungus/virus infection in Heath's testicles? Was Heath's life in danger if she stopped the surgery? There was no way she could take that risk. She could only go forward and transform her son into her daughter. With that unsatisfactory conclusion, Helen took a sedative and crawled into bed beside Fred.
Early the next morning Helen and Fred went to the hospital. Heath was awake but still pretty well out of it due to the sedatives and tranquilizers placed in his IV. The family sat making small talk, reading the Sunday newspaper, and watching TV. Abut mid-afternoon Hillary, Leslie, and Joyce arrived.
The pretty girl was a vision of girlish loveliness wearing a vibrant yellow satin empire waist dress. The long sleeves ended in a ruffled cuffs trimmed with delicate white lace to match the lace edged ruffles of the Peter Pan collar. Matching lace edged ruffles delineated the princess seams of the body hugging bodice that piquantly outlined yet fully hid Leslie's pert breasts. The skirt saucily flared out from the empire waist. The knee length full skirt, hemmed with a lace-edged ruffle that matched the other cute ruffles, was obviously held out by several crinkly bouffant petticoats that rustled sweetly with even her tiniest movement. Rose patterned yellow tights accentuated her shapely legs. Yellow ankle strap yellow patent leather pumps with two inch heels adorned her dainty feet. Leslie's face was made up to accentuate her youthful innocence while revealing her burgeoning femininity. A soft blue eye shadow accentuated her baby blue eyes. A slight touch of rose blush made her cheeks appear virginally pure. A soft yet glossy baby pink lipstick detailed her pouty full lips. Cute softly curled bangs whispered gently against her the delicate arches of her eye brows. Her long blond hair was parted own the center. The silken tresses were gathered into identical bunches just above and behind her ears. Yellow satin ribbons tied into perky bows secured the bouncy ponytails so that her shimmering locks seemed to erupt from the sides of her head and cascade past her shoulders like golden water from a magic fountain. A small yellow patent leather purse hung from her left shoulder. Taking all aspects of her appearance together, Leslie presented an image that was childishly pure and innocent yet bespoke of an enchanting teenage sexiness.
At first Heath smiled drunkenly when he saw Leslie, then unexpectedly he began to cry. The girl of his dreams had become the girl of his nightmare. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean any harm," he blubbered. "It's all the Leprechaun's fault. I really like you, Leslie, but I don't want to be like you. I'm a boy, I don't want to be a girl. I meant it as a compliment when I said I wanted to get into your panties. Please, I want to be your boyfriend, not your girlfriend. Don't let them change me into a girl."
"I accept your apology, Heath," Leslie assured the crying lad. "But from what I understand you turned yourself into a girl. The doctor will just be finishing what you started. Your mother told my mother and she told me all about your dream about encountering a Leprechaun. You either have a pretty good imagination or you're psychic. I hope you're psychic, we could have a lot of fun," Leslie giggled as she wrinkled up her nose.
"My mother thinks your idea about moving in with us when your parents go off to Africa is just great," Leslie declared. "After your surgery when you're a complete girl we'll be like sisters! We'll be in the same class at St. Patrick Parochial School. We can even share a bedroom! I think we'll even be able to exchange clothes. So you see, you will be able to get into my panties every day! We'll be best girlfriends!"
"But Leslie, you don't understand," Heath wailed. "I'm a boy! I don't want to be a girl. I'll never get used to wearing skirts and stuff."
"Of course you will," Leslie laughed. "Besides, just because you WERE a boy doesn't mean you can't become a girl. There are lots of girls who used to be boys."
"Yeah, right," Heath sobbed. "If there are girls who used to be boys they probably look real ugly."
"Am I ugly," Leslie asked softly as she took Heath's hand in hers.
"No, you're real pretty," Heath sniffled sadly. "But then you are a real girl. Oh I so wanted to be your boyfriend."
"You were my boyfriend for a while," Leslie cooed softly. "But you're wrong about me being a real girl. I was born a boy just like you. Only my mother raised me as a girl. It was only last June after school left out that Dr. Trate operated on me to make me a complete girl. You think I'm pretty? Well, I think you'll be just as pretty as I am when your surgery is completed. I'll be with you every step of the way as you learn about being a girl. I'll help you adjust. I understand how you feel now and how you will feel once you accept being girl. I'm sure the Leprechaun in your dream was right when he said you'll learn to be happy as a girl."
Fred gaped at Leslie. Then he looked to Helen and Hillary to see both women nod to affirm what Leslie had announced. Fred felt his heart flutter as he thought about how crazy everything was becoming.
Heath just stared at Leslie in disbelief. "You're just trying to make me feel better," he sobbed. "There's no way you were ever a boy!"
"Oh I beg to differ," Dr. Trate declared as she entered the room. "Leslie was a boy with all the sex organs of a boy. I changed her into the girl she is today."
"Well... that's because she was raised as a girl,” Heath declared indignantly. "No boy who wasn’t raised as a girl could ever become a pretty girl."
"You're wrong, sweety," Dr. Trate laughed. "I've changed dozens of boys into girls and quite a few men into women. They all look beautiful."
"Baloney," Heath declared with a weak trembling voice.
"Do you remember meeting my receptionist yesterday," Dr. Trate asked.
"Yeah," Heath replied apprehensively.
"She is quite pretty, isn't she," Dr. Trate persisted. "She looks to be about 18 or 19 years old, doesn't she?"
"Yeah," Heath answered hoarsely. "You're not going to tell me she was your son are you?"
"Of course not," Dr. Trate laughed. "If I had a son that I converted into a pretty girl she wouldn't need to work. No, Candi was my husband until I caught him cheating on me. Now Candi is a lovely girl, complete in every way, and she loves to date men. I made her look so young and pretty it's hard to believe that she's really 38 years old."
Heath just stared at the smiling doctor in disbelief. Fred choked. He too had a great deal of difficulty believing that sexy young Candi was 38 and had once been man. Helen was equally stunned by the revelation.
"Candi was the first male I transformed into a girl," Dr. Trate proudly declared. "I did him out of anger for betraying my love and discovered I enjoyed doing it. When I heard other women complaining about their problems with males, I offered my assistance. I'm proud of my record in converting rowdy males into sweet docile females. Heath will be the 39th teenage boy that I've changed into a teenage girl. Then there have been 52 rough and tumble little boys that I've changed into darling little girls Leslie is one of those. Then there have been 65 men that I've changed into women. Of those 155 males, 143 never wanted to become females yet all are now completely at ease as females and quite happy with their feminine lives. My record speaks for itself. If you ever see that Leprechaun of yours, send him to me. I could use some of his magic to help me transform boys into girls."
With that she began to examine Heath while the boy sobbed and blubbered. Leslie stepped to the head of the bed and took his right hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly and smiling.
"I can verify all that Dr. Trate has told you is true," Hillary explained as she drew Fred and Helen to one side. "Helen already knew about Leslie but I had asked her to keep it a secret. After what my father did to me I hated all males entirely too much. When Leslie was born, there was simply no way I could bring myself to raise a son. Joyce had been my friend at the home for unwed mothers but her baby was stillborn. She was devastated, so when Leslie was born I hired her to be Leslie's nanny. I used the money I received after I blackmailed my father into supporting me. We've been together ever since. Over the years I've learned to handle my hatred for men but I'll never be able to become intimate with a male. I guess since I've told you this much I may as well tell you everything. Joyce and I are lovers."
Fred shook his head in disbelief. "This is simply too bizarre," he whispered as he tried to assimilate all that was happening.
"Hillary confided in me that first day when she returned," Helen confessed. "But she made me promise to keep her secrets. I'm sorry dear."
"Leslie was correct about my offer to take in Heath," Hillary stated. "I received a telegram late last night. The African's have tentatively approved the deal. I'd like you and Helen to be in Africa by Friday. You can sign the deal for Balkut Engineering and get started on the project. Heath will be awake by then so you can say goodbye. When he's discharged, I'll bring him home and settle him in Leslie's bedroom. Joyce will look after them. She'll take them to St. Patrick’s Parochial School and pick them up. She'll escort them to all extra curricula activities. She'll see to it that Heath learns to be Heather. Pack what you want to take with you. I'll have movers come in and remove Heath's boy things and donate them to charity. Then I'll have the movers pack up and label everything else and move it into storage, all at company expense of course. Then I'll hire a rental agency to rent out your home until you return. The agency will see that your home is properly maintained and pay for any needed maintenance out of the rental. Naturally, all the profits will go directly into your accounts."
"I don't know," Fred declared shaking his head. "This is all happening so fast. I think Heath needs us more than I need that position."
"That's quite admirable," Hillary praised. "But reality dictates otherwise. Heath will be a girl. You will not be able to look at her without seeing your lost son. Your presence, your masculinity, will hinder her ability to adapt to and accept her new life. By allowing her to make a clean break with the past, you are giving her the freedom to accept being a girl. In my home there will be no reminders of masculinity. Heather will be surrounded by femininity and have three females who care a great deal about her to help her make this difficult transition. If you do this for Heather, she'll be comfortable with her girlishness by summer. She can come to you in Africa and spend the summer. By the time you greet your daughter, she'll be so girlish you'll have no choice but to fully accept her femininity. Of course, we'll keep in touch during this time. Weekly phone calls and daily e-mail will keep you and her abreast of the changes in your lives. Think, Fred, you know I'm right."
"Why pick on me," Fred snapped. "It seems as if you two have already settled this."
"We discussed it last night," Helen stated as tears filled her eyes. "But I never agreed to do it. However, all that she's said is true. I will hate to leave Heath but it's really for the best."
Fred sighed and hung his head. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Then he looked up at Hillary with steely eyes. "I thought your father was a shrewd businessman. You've got him beat by a mile."
"That's because I consider the human side of every business deal," Hillary explained. "Just as I'm doing with you. Considering human feelings and emotions is not something that can be discounted. I honestly believe in making deals where every party comes out a winner. I promise to love Heather as if she were my own daughter. I promise to give her back to you a happy, healthy pretty girl."
"What if Heath doesn't need the surgery," Fred asked after a few moments of thought. "You can't take him in if he's not a girl."
"No, I can't," Hillary agreed. "But think how obnoxious Heath will be if he comes through this debacle with his masculinity intact. You must agree he was a horror as a teenage boy. Think what he'll be like with an invincibility complex. If he doesn't kill himself in a car wreck or with drugs, he'll probably end up in jail."
"Hillary's right, dear," Helen agreed. "Look how angry you were with him when you found those drugs in his bedroom. You know how rebellious he had become. This shutdown of testosterone has shown that he can be a decent person. What will he be like as an arrogant teenager with a drivers license?"
"I don't believe this," Fred exclaimed. "Let me get this right. You're both saying we should transform him into a girl whether or not it's warranted?"
"Yes," the women said together.
"That's nuts," Fred stated with astonishment. "You're both as crazy as Dr. Trate! Why would I want to destroy my son?"
"To save his life," Dr. Trate declared as she joined the group. "Think about his chances for survival to 18 if the lab tests don't show a fungal/virus. He'll surely kill himself one way or another. There's a good possibility he could take some innocent people with him. How would you feel then?"
"But how will he feel if he finds out the surgery wasn't needed," Fred asked.
"Why does he need to know," Dr. Trate declared. "Why do YOU need to know? If you both think he needed the surgery because of the fungal/virus, it gets done and you'll accept his life as a girl. If you know he didn't need the surgery, you'll emotionally rip yourself apart. If you don't change his sex and he kills himself, how will you feel then knowing you passed up an opportunity to save his life? It's far better if you never know the truth. I'll tell you he has the fungal/virus whether or not he does and do the surgery. I can use hypnotherapy to help you accept his fate and to believe that I told you the truth. So, do you want to save the life of your child?"
Fred shivered. "I don't know," he mumbled. "This is all giving me a headache."
"Come down the hall with me, Fred," Dr. Trate ordered as she placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "There's a private consultation room there. We can talk this over. I'll give you a little dose of a trance inducing drug so we can try a little hypnotherapy. If it makes you feel better, we'll give you a stronger dose and a longer session."
"Helen...," a much bewildered Fred asked as he stumbled after the doctor.
"Give it a try, honey," Helen suggested. "If you don't think it will help after a short try, we'll think of some way out of this mess."
Hillary smiled and hugged Helen as Fred disappeared though the door. "Dr. Trate will convince him the test results will come back positive. By tomorrow night you'll be the proud mother of a lovely teenage daughter."
"I just hope I'm doing the right thing," Helen declared nervously.
"Of course you are," Hillary declared as she took Helen's arm. "Maybe you should join Fred and let Dr. Trate alleviate your concerns too."
"I...I don't know," Helen stuttered as she followed Hillary down the hall.
Comments
Heavy
It is a good story if a little far fetched. I have enjoyed reading it. But then I never was a boy.
Hilltopper