I wanted to write a new story based on A Whole New Me - Literally as I thought that while Lou had an somewhat hard time, it was cushioned by her wealth. So what would it mean if it happened again to someone else without that safety net?

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I woke up in hospital and, well, I panicked as I realised something was very wrong. I Don’t remember much of it as they had to sedate me but I was told more at a later date and apologised to everyone involved.

To start with, my name is Rupert, I’m 32 years old and living in Kent, UK. I hadn’t had the best of life, and I should start at the beginning really. Not long after I was born my mother died from an overdose and my father wasn’t in a great state either, but it gave him the impetus to kick the habit himself and I was given back to him when I was three. Those early years I know very little about obviously, but life was tough. My dad was on benefits and managed to get some work which made life a little easier, but still, we were poor and living in social housing.

I won’t say I was a bad kid, but I definitely wasn't a good one either and the only person that stopped me from being a bad kid was my best friend, Penny. We grew up together and as she lived a few doors down from us in the block, she was always there for me and never once took the Mickey out of my name. Rupert isn’t a normal name for kids around here and I never got a real answer for why I ended up with it. Anyway, I grew up, went to school, managed to get five GCSEs but left at 16 to got a job which turned out to be a blessing. Penny did a lot better than me, she went on and got a couple of A levels and even went to university, not one of the big names places, but a smaller one and got a decent job as a social worker funnily enough, helping kids and families who were just like us as we grew up.

But she was part of my life and always there for me, and I held her hand at her parents funerals (much to her fiancé’s annoyance), and she was there for me when aged 18 my dad drank himself into a coma for the final time having swapped one addiction for another.

My job in the warehouse got better when I turned 17 and got a drivers license and they asked me to make some deliveries for them. From that moment on I was a delivery driver, working my way up and somehow saving up the money to get my HGV1 license (the largest lorry license you can get in the UK).

Of course, this meant long periods away from home and only back at the weekend, sometimes only a day or two during the week as I put my hours in. At 23 I met a girl and we hit it off, she didn’t even mind that I was always off on long trips around the country, and at 24 we got married, and Penny came along on my stag night, giving me a lecture the next day about how we (my fellow lorry drivers), behaved towards the stripper and she was absolutely right of course. Now I’m ashamed that I never called them out on it the same way she did to me, but we live and learn, and boy have I learned a lot since then.

Now married I stopped doing the European trips so that I was home each Friday and we had the weekend together. The first couple of years were great as we adapted and the money I was bringing in meant that we were not only able to buy a small three bedroom new built home, but also able to put a very decent deposit down.

But the hours I worked were long, and slowly we fell into a rhythm where I would get home on the Friday and be too tired to do anything that evening. On Saturday we would go shopping, then the cinema in the evening and Sunday I would be getting ready to go off to work for the next week.

We got divorced when I was 28, and I’m not even surprised it happened. She was living her own life, I was out on the road sleeping in my cab and it’s not so much we drifted apart as we are still friends (Hi Jo if you’re reading this), it was just that we were barely in each others lives at all and it was over. The divorce was quick, the house went on the market and in four years we made quite a tidy profit thanks to the slowly expanding commuter belt for London, and I brought myself a flat with a tiny mortgage.

Life for me continued with exactly the same routine, working during the week, home at the weekends and with the divorce, well, I don’t think I was embarrassed by it, it was more that our friends had stopped being ours and became hers a while ago, so I was hardly seeing anyone as I was mostly too tired to do much. Apart from Penny of course, we would text each other through the week a couple of times, she would pop round once a month for a chat but I was hardly in anyones life anymore and almost isolated from the world when not working. Penny’s daughter Evie, who I used to love making her laugh when I visited and she was little, I was hardly aware of her growing up and hadn’t seen her since she was nine, but now she was turning 12 I didn’t even send a birthday card.

Which almost brings you up to date other than how I ended up in hospital.

I was on a trip and sitting in traffic on the M25 when I felt a bit, well, weird. I managed to pull into a service station and started to climb out the cab when I passed out. Someone must have called an ambulance, but when I woke up I was alone in hospital. It didn’t take long to realise something was very wrong and I started screaming for help. My whole body ached all over, my hands looked weird and small and the two bumps on my chest and complete lack of meat and two veg freaked me out. When the nurses and doctors arrived I was frantic and pulling at them and myself anything and they knocked me out.

Not physically of course.

When I next woke up Penny was sitting in the seat next to the bed and said, “Don’t scream your head off again or they will put you under. At least this time I’m not in the toilet, I think you woke up the dead in the morgue!”

I was confused about so much and still quite groggy from the sedative, so she carried on, “The first thing you should know is you’re safe and well. The people here know what’s going on and will be back to talk to you soon so drink some water and wait.”

I was about to ask her the one question that’s on my mind, ‘what’s happened to my penis and why do I have tits’, but she held up a finger to stop me talking. She wouldn't say anymore but I could tell from how I felt that something was very different about me.

The doctors and nurses arrived soon after and rather than go through the whole thing again when Lou explained it so much better than I could, what happened to her has happened to me. Something triggered my junk DNA do do some weird shit and now I’m a young girl. The doctors explained it was an advantage for me as when they spotted what was happening and someone remembered reading about it in The Lancet, so they spoke to the same team that dealt with Lou and everything started moving at pace, even the therapist who dealt with what happened to her last time is ready to talk to me when I’m ready and consult with the one they will assign to my case.

Once they left and stopped fussing over me, Penny helped me to the little en-suite toilet thanks to my private room and knelt there whiled I peed. I said, “This takes me back to us being kids.”

She started to laugh and while I was sitting there making a noisy stream she gave me a hug, saying how worried she was when she got the call I’d been admitted and thought I had been in a major accident. I had forgotten that I put her as my emergency contact and apologised profusely for worrying her.

Once back in the bed she said she needed to drive home now she knew I was as ok as I could be, but would be back tomorrow with some things for me wear as Evie might have something that fits, and a quick hug and she was off to collect her daughter from her ex’s parents. The ex is a loser who ran away when things got tough, but at least he pays what he should.

Sitting in the bed and thinking things over, the nurse came in to talk to me. He was called Graham and was a nice guy and not trying to sugar coat anything, but he translated what the doctors had said into English, what I can expect over the next couple of months while I hopefully settle down the same as the last time this happened. I vaguely remember reading about it six or so years ago but heard nothing after it, so had very little to go on, but Graham really helped.

The next day two women arrived in the morning to talk to me, one called Annette the other was called Rose. Annette was really nice, really kind and talked to me about what happened last time this occurred and that her role will be in consulting with Rose who the hospital has assigned to me as a therapist. Normally I would have rejected a trick cyclist (cockney rhyming slang for psychiatrist), but I had been on the verge of tears since I woke up for the second time, and both women took a packet of tissues out of their pockets to hand to me and the dam broke.

Half an hour later I stopped crying with both women sitting each side of me holding me till I calmed down. I felt kinda pathetic really, while I might now be a girl in my mind I was still a lorry driver and stuck in that culture. Annette asked if I would like to talk to the other person who went through this and I nodded a yes, so she sent a quick text and told me they would be here tomorrow. After a good couple of hours of talking where I won’t say I calmed down so much as felt more reassured that the doctors knew what was going on, I was left alone again. Then Graham came back to tell me what would happen the next day, which basically meant I was going to have a lot of tests and feel like a pincushion.

In the evening Penny arrived carrying a bag and she emptied it out on the bed and I looked at bras, panties and a couple of jumpers which were in fact dresses and she told me that I will grow into, probably quite soon based on what the doctors told her.

I said, “Why no trousers, or jeans?”

She pulled me into a hug which now I was standing felt very weird as her boobs were at my face height and I felt my new little boobs getting squished against her.

She said, “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to your boobs getting crushed in a hug.”

I started to laugh, not a deep laugh, but a little one, a snigger really which slowly turned into tears and she held me as I cried. I said, “I can’t believe how much I’ve cried since I woke up. I am sorry you know.”

She gave me a squeeze and said, “Firstly, don’t apologise for crying. Secondly, well, there’s no easy way to say this but I think you might need to get used to it.”

We stood there just hugging and it felt nice, I felt safe and she said, “Did you hear what they said about how you look?”

I nodded. I was trying not to think about it but they had said I will likely grow a couple of years at least over the next couple of weeks, but based on the only other case I was likely to be remain a woman for the rest of my life. It’s a lot to get used to, not to mention some of the tests that Graham talked about I will be having, let alone all the questions about my life over the last year to try and track down what might cause this. Penny later told me she let a load of doctors into my flat to run a load of tests for anything in there that might have triggered the change for me.

The rest of the evening she just sat with me and held my hand until she needed to go home, handing me a get well card from her bag as she left. There was no name written on the envelope or even inside it, but I smiled when I read what Evie had written.

‘Mum said you’re not well and have changed, but I wanted you to know we love you. Get well soon.’

I cried myself to sleep.

In the morning Graham woke me up and told me take a shower as they need to take some photos of me, weigh me and measure me before breakfast. I jumped in and the water felt great but I avoided looking at myself in the mirror, I just wasn't ready for it yet. I had seen my reflection in the window, even as I walked past the mirror but I just wasn’t ready to confront my new self.

Once out with my hair still wet and making my hospital gown damp, I was told to strip and get on the scales. I’m not used to being naked around people and I was trying to hide myself from them, but he told me to get over it, adding, “Apart from seeing it all before many times, I’m gay so you have nothing that interests me in any way.”

Well, in my head I was still a 32 year old lorry driver, one who was admittedly over weight and under exercised thanks to my job, and while I know medical people are safe to be naked around, it was still very hard for me as he took photos go me next to a height scale.

Previously I was 5 foot 11 inches tall, now I was a lot shorter at 4 foot 8 inches or 142cm and my weight at least had gone down quite a bit and while I wouldn't recommend this as a diet, I was now 39 kilos, which I think is around 85 pounds or a bit over 6 stone.

Anyway, I was a lot lighter and I felt it, but a shocking amount shorter.

After breakfast I was put in a wheelchair and taken off for my first visit to a gynaecologist while I was awake. There were a few things that happened during this visit and all of them surprised me. The first was I went very, very shy around the doctor and felt very exposed with my feet in the stirrups as he looked at me. Then when he touched me down there I found out just how sensitive my new body parts were, not to mention the unexpected feeling of fingers inside me, including for some reason one in my but and one in my new vagina. He did tell me he was about to do it, but still, everyone else he’s ever seen has had the equipment longer than I have!

Oh, and the speculum was interesting as well, and the lube was really cold.

They did an ultrasound of my, well, my reproductive organs and pointed them out to me on the screen. From having my balls hang outside me to see a blurry image on the screen that the doctor said were my ovaries was a very weird experience, and something in the back of my head made me laugh as I wondered if they ever need scratching like my balls did.

I guess that’s one less thing to worry about in public.

After getting wheeled back to my room I was strangely exhausted, but they did say I can expect to ache for a week after all the physical changes my body has been through, and I lay back on the bed and fell asleep.

When I woke up there was a young woman in her late twenties with brunette hair sitting in the chair looking at me. She said. “Hello, I’m Lou and I’ve been where you are right now.”

I sat myself up and said hello back, and then she told me her story, well, a shortened version of it and it turns out she flew in from LA the moment the story broke about me. She passed to me one of the redtop newspaper with a photo of me taken from my employers website smiling out the window of my cab with a thumbs up. The headline said, ‘Man turns into woman - again’.

They dug into my life and even spoke to my ex which surprised me, but scanning the article she had only said nice things and that she would support me no matter what. There was some stuff from my employer, and some anonymous comments from some other drivers about me, questioning how I will be able to do my job when my drivers license looks nothing like me and that I will now be a useless driver when I go back to work.

I looked at Lou and said, “Oh fuck! What am I going to do about my job!”

She told me to calm down and not worry about that at the moment, but it was a worry. For the first time I reached for my phone and of course my new face wouldn’t unlock it, but there were some messages in there from work telling me not to worry. There was also one from my ex saying the papers had been round and before she realised who they were, she talk about me, but then told them to get lost. Well, those aren’t the words she used. But you get the idea.

I started to cry again and Lou sat next to me and gave me a hug. Once I had calmed down I noticed there were two coffee cups and it appears that Rose arrived with them for us both, but left us alone. After all, what can anyone else say to me that Lou isn’t already aware of.

While we drank Lou was great. She gave me some advice and put her solicitor at my disposal at no cost to me, and gave me some advice to deal with what was going on with the newspapers, giving me some numbers to pass to the solicitor to reach out to. She said, “I’m not recommending you sell your story, they will dig into every part of your life, but if you do it will stop all the others bothering you and they will only reprint the story you sell. It gives you some small control and also a little money.”

I had refused the offer of money from her to help me out, working class ethics and all that, beside I reckoned I had enough in the bank to survive for at least six months. But after that was a worry for another day, clearly I would need to work to make some money, but the problem is I’m currently about 12 years old physically and it’s true, I just won’t be able to drive a lorry. At least I don’t need to do the mandatory training for five years having just done it, so maybe my license will be ok when I can reach the pedals?

Lou walked with me when I went for an MRI in the afternoon, and I was surprised when she went in for one right after me, explaining that I’m likely to have a lot of these checks in the next couple of months and then every few months for a few years. She’s now down to one a year, and as she was here she was getting ahead of schedule, adding, “Plus they want to compare your body to mine”.

When we got back to my room, we swapped numbers and she told me to reach out any time I needed to talk and she would be available, but that if I did sell my story I was to keep her name out of the press, which I understood, I don’t even want my name out there!

She stood up and said, “Right, I really need to go now as I need to pick up my daughter.”

My eyes went wide and a smile crossed her face. “Yes, my daughter. She’s at her grandparents right now, my husbands parents.”

She gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, “You might find you like the idea of becoming a mother one day yourself, it surprised me when I wanted it.”

With a smile she left me saying she would reach out before she went home, and I sat there stunned. She said she was a straight man, but when everything was rewired in her new body, so was her sexuality, will mine? I sat there thinking this over then looked at my phone buzzing away as it vibrated making me wonder why they call it silent mode, when I realised I actually need to answer it.

After a chat with Lou’s solicitor who apologised for reaching out first, he arranged to come up in the next few days and I was finally ready to accept my fate and go have a look at myself in the mirror. What I saw surprised me.

Looking back was a young girl, about 12 years old with the same haircut I had before. I don’t know why my hair surprised me as I hadn’t bothered getting it cut in a while, I was always either on the road or too tired to do anything about it so just used a rubber band to tie it back while working. Now it was hanging down to my shoulders and I was still strawberry blonde.

Was I pretty? I don’t know, it feels wrong to judge yourself in that way, but here was a 12 year old girl in the mirror looking back at me.

And according to Lou I just need to accept it, and the quicker I do the better it will be for me.

Which is why the next day after being measured, weighed and photographed, I put on one of the jumper dresses Penny left for me. The underwear was easy to put on, just the same way as before, one leg at a time, but the bra, getting that hooked behind my back made me feel like I would dislocate a shoulder, but at least that got easier over time. More tests followed and the days flew past and Penny took my clothes away to wash and dropped of some more. She did say that Evie wants to visit me, but I’m not ready for that just yet.

I said, “I do have a question for you. What should I pick as a name? I can’t really be called Rupert anymore and as I’ve always hated it, so now is as good a time as any.”

She sat there thinking for a while and said, “Well, you should pick something on the same theme, so maybe Geraldine?”

I threw a pillow at her. “Seriously, from everything I’ve been told this is me going forward, I’m going to age a couple of years in the next month or so, then grow up just like any other girl. I need a new name.”

After looking up baby names and throwing out some really weird ones, I picked Nicola, or Nicky for short. She called in the duty nurse and notes were put on my record and from that moment on everyone called me Nicky. I texted Lou and told her and she sent back a screenshot where she changed my name on her phone.

Penny of course had to go home and I found myself searching for famous Nicola’s just because I was bored. The next day there were more of the usual tests and Lou’s solicitor came to see me. Paperwork was started for my name change and as he was talking to people on my behalf the process had begun for selling my story. For me I just didn’t want to end up in a redtop tabloid, but also some of the other papers either. That left a few magazines and I went for the offer of £60k from one of those that are a bit like Hello and OK magazine. Lou said it was quite a lot and to check in detail what they wanted as part of the exclusive.

On the plus side it would keep me going for maybe two years if I was careful and didn’t overspend too much. You see, I had another visitor yesterday, my old boss. He was really shocked when he saw me, but I officially handed in my notice and he was kind enough to say that they would pay my basic salary until I was out of hospital. It was nowhere near what I would normally get while driving with the mileage bonus, but it extended the time I needed before I had to really worry about money.

The next day the journalist arrived to begin interviewing me and shadowing me while I went about my day of tests. She was there the moment I woke up and left when I went to bed exhausted. It was truly awful but I understood why she was asking what she did. Every part of my life was covered and the worst parts of my upbringing made her very happy, saying how great the story was for the readers. The horrible stuff started in morning when she was in the room when they weighed, measured and photographed me naked. She said, “Blimey, I haven’t seen a hairy bush like that since I picked up a bit of rough!”

Apart from being embarrassed by it, I mean, I’ve barely touched myself down there since this happened, then she asked me about shaving my legs and if I had ever thought about it. I mean, technically I’ve just started puberty again and the hair down there is just a carry over from, well, my old body, and here’s a woman throwing beauty standards at me to conform to, and I could feel the pressure to do it.

Then when I was in the stirrups and she saw the gynaecologist she said to me, “I hate it when they’re hot and poking about down there. I always feel self conscious and then wonder if it’s the lube making me wet or them.”

So overall the day was quite horrible, but I will say the final article was actually quite good and I found myself getting tearful with it. Penny had said wonderful things as had my ex. Even my boss was saying how hard it will be without me being there as I was always a good worker. But the photos were the worst, and not just looking at the photos of the old me. They brought in a make up artist but I hated having it put on me so much they went for just a light touch, took a couple of photos in the room and a few more outside, some of me walking through the hospital but it was hardly a modelling shoot. I was nervous and felt stupid about the whole thing, but they seemed happy with the results.

The day after all that, Rose my therapist came to visit again to see how I was doing, and while I won’t say she was useless as she really isn’t and having her there is a great help, but texting with Lou was the thing that got me through it all. She not only understood what I was going through, she was also able to guide me with the journalist and their story.

I had now been in hospital for four weeks, three of them awake and I had grown a little, developing at the same rate as Lou had according to the doctors, and I was being allowed out on Saturday and Penny was coming up to visit. I had asked her not to bring Evie as I didn’t want to confuse her, plus I had a lot of questions for her to help guide me as a growing girl. We went shopping and I picked up some things I needed, saying, “I do really appreciate you coming all this way, so please pick something for you and Evie that I can buy you to say thanks.”

She told me it was ok, but the money from the magazine was in my account and I wanted to treat her, she really is a good friend. She also gave me some tips for shaving my legs and once we got back to the hospital we went into my little ensuite to do the deed.

When I dropped my knickers she said, “Oh my god you’re a yeti!”

I splashed her, then asked, “But seriously, what should I do with this?”

I pointed at myself and then we went into a discussion on the merits of different styles down there, with me saying I liked the idea of a heart shape, but she nixed that quickly, pointing out, “All of those are great, but they all require you to maintain it and you could barely be bothered to shave your face once a week.”

“Good point. The lot comes off and then once a week I do a touch up.”

We looked at each other and burst out laughing, and then while I shaved the bush away, we talked about my reluctance to touch myself down there until now. I couldn’t really explain it, I mean, you would think I would jump at the chance to go to town with something, but the truth is I was nervous. I won’t say the desire wasn’t there, I had played with my boobs (it felt wrong to call them tits now they were attacked to me), and I did enjoy that a lot, but I’m in a hospital and anyone could walk into my room at any moment.

In fact, much later Lou told me what happened to her when we face timed and I laughed so hard I wet myself a little.

Penny left to go home and my day out of hospital had been great, even if not that exciting really, but now I was hair free, when I got back into bed the sheets felt amazing and I felt so sensitive everywhere, so I decided to have a little feel of myself.

It was nice.

Monday was not nice.

Going out shopping I had forgotten everything that had happened to me recently and I actually felt normal for a change, but today the magazine dropped and my phone was buzzing non-stop. The only three people I replied to were Penny, my ex and Lou, everything else was ignored and I was trending on social media.

Oh, and I had my first ever period.

I tried to ignore what people were saying about me as much as possible but from what I did see is that there were a lot of requests coming in for interviews with me. I didn’t want that and neither did the magazine as it was part of the contract, the one thing that Lou suggested was included and over the next few days the requests stopped, but they article remained a talking point. At the end of the week I was allowed to go out, but I wanted to stay in the hospital. At least in here I was safe and apart from a few looks while moving about inside, I was left alone.

A week later a lot less people were talking about me, hardly anyone looked but I still didn’t want to go out till at least the end of this week. And on the Wednesday my solicitor came to visit. He told me that another law firm had reached out to him saying that one of their clients wanted to meet me, not for an interview but a chat and were willing to pay me £10k for thirty to sixty minutes of my time if I signed a very binding non disclosure agreement.

“What does that mean?”

He said, “Well, you can’t tell anyone abo…’

“Yes, I know that part, I mean why do they want to meet me?”

He told me he had no idea but he added into the contract that none of the conversation could be shared by either party and they instantly agreed. I talked it over with him and he thought there was no risk of breaking any deals already in place, it’s probably just someone very rich who wants to learn more.

I said, “Yeah, tell them I can visit on Saturday as I will be allowed out for a bit then.”

He fired off an an email and a contract came back for me to sign electronically and half the money appeared in his work account within seconds.

He left for the drive back home and I sat there wondering what it was all about, but pleased they had an office nearby rather than needing to travel into London for the meeting, and I headed off for another visit in the stirrups.

Once I was laying there with my legs up and the gynaecologist walked in, I looked at him and knew what they journalist was saying; I was wet down there. Graham was standing at the business end so to speak, but leaning against the wall as I watched the doctor and he put on his gloves and then applied some lube to his fingers. He was talking to me about what he was going to do, but I was only thinking other things, mainly hoping he didn’t notice that I seemed to dripping down there as I watched him. When he put a finger in my bum and another in vagina I couldn't help it.

I moaned.

He didn’t notice it, or at least he thought he hurt me and said ‘sorry’ and then changed the position and depth of his fingers and went back in the to same depth again but slower this time. He was moving his fingers about inside as he felt for whatever he was telling me he was feeling for, but when I opened me eyes Graham was looking at me with a smile and raised eyebrow.

He knew.

The walk back to my room was done in silence and once we got in and he closed the door he said, “Oh my god girl! You loved that!”

“Shut up, I couldn't help it, the lube was cold.”

“Yeah right, I know that moan, and don’t worry, he had no idea you were loving it.”

I sat on the bed and hid my face while I tried to regain my composure and turned to face him. “Ok, yes, it wasn’t awful. I think my body is waking up to that, but remember, my body is only just about turning 13 as a girl so all this is really new to me.”

He sat down and talked about how when he realised he was attracted to men and not women it was a wake up call for his body as well, and that I needn't worry too much about it, but maybe talk to Rose so she’s aware. So I did, but not about getting off on my gynaecologist putting two fingers in two holes at once, more that I was becoming aware of my new sexuality. To be honest, I had already talked to Lou about it, or at least she had told me about her own discovery of it and mine seems to be following the same route.

Part of me is horrified, the male lorry driver in my head and the world I’ve inhabited for years where women are objectified and any weakness is seen as girly. But now I’m very much straddling both worlds and all is took was two fingers knuckle deep. Seriously, I could feel the web of his fingers as he moved about down there.

Anyway, this led to me learning more about my new body’s erogenous zones and what turns me on. It wasn’t the two fingers if you’re interested, it was the man. I have a crush on my gynaecologist, and I can’t wait till they let me out and I go home to be seen at a hospital closer to me there, and maybe a less attractive doctor as well.

On the Friday at hospital they did tell me they were going to release me in two weeks as I seemed to be slowing down in growth and becoming a bit more stable quicker than it was for Lou. They think it might be to do with me being younger than her, but after her experience they know that the risk to me is minimal and I can be an outpatient instead.

The next day being Saturday I had a trip out, and it had been arranged that I would go to the meeting I needed to sign an NDA for. I was intrigued about the whole thing, I mean, what could they want to talk to me about that required so much secrecy on both sides?

One thing that was good though is I had become a lot more comfortable in, well, dresses. When I had been out shopping with Penny or by myself, I had picked up more things and while the photoshoot for the magazine had a very limited wardrobe, I had picked up things that now sort of allowed me to hide in plain sight. In each of the photos what I was wearing didn’t exactly fit me very well, and what I had brought for myself did. It probably only gave me the illusion of being invisible as maybe people were looking for someone who looked uncomfortable in what they were wearing, but my recent digital voyage with my body has made me feel a bit better about it. Yes I no longer have a penis, but I think what I have in exchange is a lot better, it just takes a bit more than the hint of nudity to get going.

It’s funny to think that when I was the physical age I am now, just a hint of bra strap would give me a raging erection. Now, well, lets just say it take more than just a hot doctor. Although of course I did know that he was going to put something in me, so who knows!

So in an effort to hide I have been buying clothes more suitable to a girl my physical age, in fact Lou suggested it early on as a way to feel less self conscious when people look at me, so today I was wearing a pair of buckle up boots, thigh high socks that now I’m out in daylight look a lot thinner than they did in the hospital. A short pleated skirt, ok, it’s a mini skirt and I also later learned about safety shorts for when the skirt is this short but it’s too late now, and v neck top. I’d even started to look after my hair a bit and brush it a lot more often with an actual brush and not my fingers.

They had sent a cab to pick me up outside the hospital and when I arrived at the law firm offices I was pleased to be away from the creepy driver trying to look at me, and I just tried to ignore him as much as possible. I guess it helped telling him I had an appointment with some lawyers and they had booked the ride that kept him from saying anything and made me feel safer.

There were hardly any cars outside, and one casually dressed young man at the reception desk. Before I said a word he told me I was the only visitor today and to follow him while they set up the meeting. He led me down a corridor and there was a single chair, a surprisingly cheap one sitting in the hall and he asked me to wait here as it shouldn’t be long.

I sat there feeling quite nervous, I mean the building is almost empty and I’m here alone, but then my phone vibrated and it was a text from my solicitor telling me the rest of the money had arrived and if I needed any legal advice afterwards to give him a call.

Finally the door opened and a well dressed woman came out and said, “Hello Nicky, nice to meet you and I’m glad you came. My client really wanted to talk to you about something, not even I know what it’s about, and… I’m sorry, I’m talking to you as if you really are a child and you must be sick of everyone forgetting that you’re actually an adult in there. Follow me.”

I stood up and walked after her, wondering what she was on about. I didn’t think she was treated me like a child and wasn’t aware that anyone had been. Anyway, she led me into an office and pointed to a door saying the private meeting was to take place in there.

I waked over and it all felt very cloak and dagger, almost silly really and I stifled a giggle.

But when I opened the door and the woman in there turned around to look at me my mouth dropped open. I knew who she was, and all I could think is why does a massively famous Hollywood actress want to talk to me?