Rob has had a lifelong dream to transition, but has always been too chicken to own up to it. Now he is married…and stuck... Then he is offered an opportunity he can’t refuse.
Shauna
My cell phone rings and I take a look at the caller ID – it is a restricted number—so, as usual, I don’t answer it. Ninety-nine percent of the time, those are just telemarketers… A few seconds later, the phone plays the sound I had assigned to my voicemail—indicating that someone had left a message. Curios, I reach for my phone. They don’t usually leave a message… I hit the button for the voicemail and listen to the message start playing… There is a bit of static, then a deep male voice says, “This message is for Gwyneth…” I hit the delete button without listening any further. Danged wrong numbers…or misinformed robodialers, more likely…
I go back to my computer and continue the latest thread on my favorite roll-playing site…
I shut down my computer a few minutes before I know Cindy, my wife, will get home. I start getting things ready for supper. A few minutes later, she comes in and kisses me on the cheek, since I have my hands wrist-deep in a raw hamburger and egg mixture. She says, “Hi Honey, how was your day?” I respond as I continue mixing, “It was fine. Working from home is so awesome—although the commute is a killer!” She groans at the old joke between us and says, “Rob! You really do need to get a new joke!” She looks at my mix and says, “Looks like meatloaf! YUM! Let me get changed and I will be right back to help.”
Cindy comes back and we joke around with each other while we finish preparing supper. We have not been married long, and we are still deeply in love. I look at her as she finishes setting the table and have a small sinking feeling, though. I DO love her—I just wish I could tell her my…issue… Of course, that will never happen. That secret will go to my grave with me.
The next morning, after Cindy leaves for work, I stretch in bed. It is actually my day off and I plan on just enjoying the day. After I finally get up about thirty minutes later, I fix my coffee and eat a small breakfast—then I log on to my computer and onto my favorite website… I enter in my username—GwynethR; and then my password…
I check my threads and don’t have any new posts, then I post the latest chapter in my story, and finally, I log into the chat room. No one else is currently on, so I log off. I check my email and am surprised to find an email sent to my account, but addressed to ‘Gwyneth Rousseau’. I look at it, confused…and worried. I have taken GREAT pains to ensure that there is no connection between me and my online persona…as Gwen…
I stare at the email…and finally click on it… It is an advertisement for Cialis…I groan and send it to the recycle bin… Something is still bothering me, though… First the voicemail…then the email… It is a little too much for coincidence… Something is not right… Afraid of what might come…I close out my accounts on my favorite website and delete everything from computer. I run several different antivirus scans and let out a sigh of relief when nothing pops up…
I restart my computer, just to be on the safe side… While it is rebooting, I go to refill my coffee cup and nearly jump out of my skin when there is a knock on the door. I grimace at the burn on hand from the hot coffee that had spilled out when I nearly dropped the cup. I set the cup down, quickly run my hand under cold water, and go to the door. I look through the spyhole and jump back as a guy in a black suit holds a badge up in front of the viewer.
I open the door, leaving the chain engaged, and ask, “Can I help you?” The man with the badge looks at me and says, “Gwyneth Rousseau?” I look at the guy and nearly faint. I pull myself together and say, “Do I look like a Gwyneth?”
The guy in the suit says, “I think you look like Rob Stephens… a.k.a., Gwyneth Rousseau. Now let me in before I bust that puny little chain that you are hiding behind.” I jump back, but open the chain and the suit comes in. He says, “I am Greg Grover—I am with the NSA. Your government needs your help, Son…or maybe I should say, Hon…”
I look at the guy, Greg, and fall into a chair at the kitchen table. I ask, “What the Hell are you talking about?” He snickers and says, “You know what I am talking about, Gwen. I am from the NSA. I know everything that you have done online…” He gives me a look and says, “Including that you just wiped your accounts on a certain website and that you just ran six different anti-virus checks on your computer.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. I ask him, “Wha…wha…what do you want from me?” He shrugs and says, “We want you to be who you want to be…Gwen…” I look at him like he has suddenly grown a second head. I lick my suddenly dry lips—with my suddenly parched tongue—and ask, “What do you mean? First…I…don’t want to be…well, Gwen… And…even if I did, I am married and that would not be an…option…”
He looks at me; it almost looks like he feels sorry for me. He says, “Well, you work for the government. We own you, whether you realize it or not—on top of that, you have a top secret security clearance; one that you stand to lose if you don’t play ball with me. If you lose that, then you lose your job, and you will be disgraced…never to get a job again… You will be black-balled… The NSA will wipe you away…destroy you… You were saying something about being married…?”
I sit back, stunned, and ask, “Why would you…?” He just shakes his head and says, “Like I said, your government needs you. It is a single job, then you are free and we will forget your little…activities…” I look at him, and roll my eyes as I say, “As Gwen? What the Hell?”
He sits back and says, “Why don’t you offer me a cup of that coffee, Sweetie?” I say, “Go to Hell! What is this all about?” He gets up and pours his own coffee; somehow he knows right where the mugs are. He smiles smugly as he sits back down at the table, mug in hand, and says, “Well, the short version—we will get to the details later—is that there is a clinic/spa/retreat set up by a certain organization that ‘specializes’ in transgender ‘treatment’. People that have the money can sign into this facility, if they meet certain requirements, and undergo the entire process of transitioning in much less than the normally required time. A man can enter and within a year come out a fully credentialed woman…with a completely new—and legal—identity. Now, all of that sounds great, but we have mounting evidence that the real reason for this organization is to illegally change the identity of major criminals that are on the verge of being brought to justice…and worse…not just common criminals, but terrorists… Now, the obvious price they pay, besides huge sums of money, is their sex; I would likely say most are not transgendered. But can you imagine how much that would throw law enforcement or the intelligence community off their track if a criminal suddenly disappears…some sort of deadly ‘accident’ perhaps…and continues to live on in a new identity of the opposite sex?”
I listen, fascinated in spite of myself, and nod. I shake my head to bring myself back to reality and ask, “So, what does that have to do with me?” He takes a long slug of the coffee, grimaces—it is starting to get a bit cold…and strong since it is a couple of hours old. He shakes his head, gets up, pours out the old coffee, and puts on a fresh pot—again, exactly knowing where everything is. He pours out his mug into the sink and sets it down next to the pot.
He sits back down to wait for the fresh brew and says, “We want you to go in undercover and dig up some evidence of this criminal activity. Get some shots of known criminals or terrorists… The place is walled up like Fort Knox…and you can only get in if you work there—or are a client. It is also completely off the grid. We have been unsuccessful at getting someone in as an employee…so we need a client, someone that is believable; but that also has sufficient…motivation…that we can control…”
He gets up and pours a cup of the fresh coffee still dripping into the coffee pot. He sighs and says, “Ahh…the good stuff…the first of the pot…before it is finished dripping…” He comes and sits down with the steaming mug and looks at me. He takes a careful sip of the coffee and says through the steam, blowing little wisps of steam towards me as he speaks, “Come on, admit it, Gwen, you want to transition… This is your opportunity to test some things out at government expense…and help your country at the same time… If you cooperate, it will make things, so much easier…” He takes another sip and sets the mug down.
I sit there deep in thought. What do I do? He obviously is not bluffing that they have my online activities somehow on file. I have not done anything illegal, but it could cause a lot of…issues…if it comes out. Should I call his bluff? But, then there is the threat of destroying me… I have no doubt that they can plant things online, change some things…a tweak here and a tweak there…and suddenly I am on the FBI’s most wanted list…
“What about Cindy,” I ask. He looks at me and asks, “What about her?” I say, “I don’t want to lose her… But she does not deserve this…she has nothing to do with any of this…” He simply smiles and says, “Leave her to us. I think you will find that we can be quite convincing that this is in her interest, too.”
I blanche and say, “Don’t you dare threaten her or blackmail her, you bastard!” He just smiles smugly and sits there. After another couple of sips, he asks, “So, are you going to come along peacefully? It is the only way to prevent a catastrophe for you and your wife…”
At that moment, I hear a key in the lock…and Cindy walks in…
She has a look of surprise on her face, but quickly recovers. She says, “Oh, I am sorry, Rob. I didn’t know you would have a business associate here? I will get out of your way…something happened to our computers at work…they all went down and won’t be back up until at least tomorrow…they just sent us all home while they try and figure out what happened.”
I look at the suit and he just winks. I cringe, but look back at Cindy. “It is alright, Honey,” I say as calmly as I can, “I think Mr. Grover was just about to leave.” He smiles and says, “Hello, Mrs. Stephens. May I call you Cindy? We just made a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t you join us while I finish mine—a short break won’t hurt us, will it, Rob?” I feel beads of sweat forming on my brow… I say, “If you think it is OK…, Greg…”
Cindy smiles and says, “OK, sure. Thank you, a cup of coffee would be lovely! And yes, Cindy is fine, Mr. Grover.” Grover gets up, gets one of Cindy’s favorite cups out of the cabinet, like he had done it a thousand times, and pours it full of coffee. He looks at me with a gesture and I shake my head no—I need a clear head—no more caffeine, at the moment. Grover hands Cindy her cup, as well as the creamer from the refrigerator. It is a clear signal that he knows her, too.
Grover says, “Please, call me Greg. I think we are going to become wonderful friends. I am about to tell you something that is Top Secret. We don’t usually read the spouses in on these things, but we have vetted you and know that you are OK. I am from the FBI and we need your husband to go on a mission for us. Actually, we would prefer if we could count on both of you.” I gasp, but a harsh look from Grover and a slight tap on the creamer shuts me up. He gives her the basic outline of the clinic’s operation and the suspicion that it is a front to cover up terrorism—something that Cindy despises, since one of her family was killed in the New York Trade Center bombing. He doesn’t give her the full reasoning behind why they want me, though.
He tells her, “Rob here has…a special skill set…that we think will guarantee him entry into their program. The only thing that would make that even more of a guarantee is if we try and get you into the couples program.” I gasp. He continues, “That is not what it sounds like… It is a program where one spouse wants to transition, but the other is very conflicted about it. There is a lot of therapy, counseling, and support to help the non-transitioning partner understand. From what I hear, they have a high success rate. About eighty percent of couples remain happily together after the transition is complete.”
Cindy has a mixture of surprise, disgust…, and fascination reflected on her face. She asks, “So you are saying that if Rob signs up as a transgendered male…one that is supposedly truly a female…and I sign up for therapy to support his…her…transition, we can stop a bunch of terrorists?” Grover nods. She is thoughtful for a moment, then asks, “But, wouldn’t that mean that Rob would transition?” Grover says, “Well, yes…and no… We think that it won’t take long to gather the evidence that we need—a couple of months maybe, or maybe longer. So anything that happens would likely be reversible. But, yes, we would expect you to stick out the program as long as it takes to gather the evidence needed… There is a slim chance that irreversible changes could happen… But isn’t it worth that risk?”
Cindy looks at me in deep thought for a couple of minutes. I sit there pale—hoping that she will tell him in no uncertain terms where to stick his ‘offer’. At the same time, I am praying that she will say ‘yes’…
I nearly faint when she asks, “Where do we sign up?”
Two days later, I have been put on a ‘detail’ from my normal government job. Cindy has been put on an undetermined leave-of-absence from hers. She works as a contractor for the government, so it is not hard for Grover to make that happen…
We are sitting in a non-descript building that I am absolutely sure is not NSA—it has to be something deeper even than that; Cindy is told it is an undercover CIA center. It all makes me wonder who Grover really does work for…
We are being briefed on the mission. A new suit is in the room with us, Zack Brewer, as well as a Dr. Jill Thompson. She has already drawn blood from me and put me through some psychiatric tests. Cindy, also had to undergo some psychiatric evaluations, but without the blood draw.
Brewer looks at us and says, “I will let Dr. Jill tell you about your medical and psych evals in a minute. What I want to say first is that we are trying to keep your covers as close to real life, as possible. We are not sure what kind of resources they have at their disposal. We have taken the liberty of setting up some things in support of what is needed. Rob, there is an…existing…online presence…a Gwyneth Rousseau…that you are going to…take over. We will let it leak that it is you that is the real person behind the transgendered persona online. It is…an actual account that already exists and has been maintained by one of our…operatives. There was a recent glitch and it was almost deleted, but we were able to save it. We will make sure that you become…intimately familiar with the content.”
I fight to not pale, or sweat, or blush. At least he is keeping Grover’s promise and keeping Cindy in the dark on that one… I can’t believe that they actually resurrected the information…I guess it is true that nothing ever dies online. I just nod. He continues, “That will be part of your backdrop. It is important that you have a credible history. The rest will be some cosmetic changes that we will put you through…things that would make you feel better as someone that is transgendered, but the true cause would be ‘hidden’ from your wife.”
He looks at Cindy and says, “You are going to be the slightly suspicious wife. You will have allowed some of the cosmetic things and let them go. You will be slightly suspicious of the other things.” He looks at us both and says, “Finally, Cindy has confronted you Rob. There were just too many things for her to ignore and then she finds a major clue. You admit to it. After a lot of fighting, you both agree to sign up for this program—using money from an old family trust of Rob’s. Of course, that is a fund that has been established by us…complete with the untraceable and appropriate history.”
Cindy and I are both a bit speechless—overwhelmed by all the information. Dr. Jill speaks up now, “Gwen.” She looks straight at me and continues, “Yes, you need to get used to that name, for now. So, Gwen, I will work with you on making sure you respond to their questions appropriately and get in. Cindy, your evals were perfect; they show that you are open-minded and can be made to understand and come to grips with the situation—understand that Gwen is the same person as Rob--even if you are distrustful and resistant. That will be the type of results that their psychologists will be looking for. Just be yourself on the tests.”
She looks at both of us. We both nod, still numbed by everything that we have been put through today. When we don’t say anything, she continues, “So, Gwen—you have to play the transgendered person… You are looking forward to what is happening, fully embracing your femininity. I will work with you on that in private, a little later. Cindy, you will just play yourself, as if you are really in this situation. I can’t stress that enough. You have to convince yourself that Gwen really is transgendered and you are facing the decision of whether you will support her…and whether you will stay with her once she has fully transitioned. Can you do that?”
Finally, Cindy speaks up, “I don’t know…it is so hard for me to think of Rob that way.” Dr. Jill nods and says, “We will work on that. As we prep Gwen, I think it will become easier for you. As a matter of fact, I need to meet with Gwen in private for about thirty minutes, then we will start the prep... From now on, you are both in your roles…even at home. Gwen is ecstatic about transitioning. Cindy, you are cautiously supportive, and very confused…”
I sit alone in a room with Dr. Jill. She looks at me and says, “I know you don’t like deceiving Cindy, Gwen, but it is for the best, at this point. This whole thing could actually work out well for you…both. Anyway, your test scores were perfect for this mission. You scored high enough on the female side to show that you are clearly transgendered—yes, you really are—but not to the point that you would be suicidal. Just be yourself on the tests and you will be perfect.”
I look at her and say, “You are right, Dr. Jill… I really hate deceiving Cindy. I mean, if she ever finds out… I really don’t want to lose her…” She nods and says, “I understand, Gwen…but this whole thing really is not about what you want…either of you. Just follow the plan… Now, come on. We need to start prepping you. By the way, please just call me Jill…”
I follow her out into the main area of the building. Brewer and Cindy are waiting for us. Jill says, “OK, we are going to start prepping Gwen. Remember, Gwen, you are transgendered and ecstatic over all of this. Cindy, you are conflicted, but deep-down want to support Gwen as much as you can, even if you can’t understand any of it… You are maybe a slight bit hurt, too.”
I am introduced to Janie…my cosmetologist… First, Janie waxes me…all over… It hurts like Hell, but it feels awesome to be smooth. Jill tells us, “OK, Cindy, Rob has convinced you that this is all about his love of mountain biking…and that he is planning to start working out and just likes the look… You are, of course a little…concerned, but go along with it…”
I can’t believe that I am actually rid of the hair that I have wanted to lose for so long now… It is so awesome! Janie, then starts shaping my eyebrows…I sneeze a few times as she yanks out hairs… I look over at Cindy who has a…shocked…look on her face. When Janie is done, I look at myself in the mirror and…smile big. My brows are highly arched, thin, and tapered to a fine point…perfectly feminine. I tell Janie that I love them! Cindy gasps…then looks at me and shakes her head…
Janie marks my ears…twice each… A couple of minutes later, I am sporting sparkly new cubic zirconia studs in both ears—two in each… I love the look and tell Janie so… Cindy seems to be in shock… Jill explains that, for our cover, I had convinced Cindy that this is the cool thing to do for forward-looking guys…
Janie hands me a pair of silky, lacy women’s panties and tells me to put them on. I follow her instructions and love the feel. Jill explains that I had convinced Cindy to let me wear women’s underwear for that exact feel…since there is no equivalent for men…
Janie gives me a mani-pedi. When she is done, my previously unkempt nails are borderline a little longer than men’s usually are, and painted a neutral pink…to ‘strengthen’ them, since they are split and thin… Then she styles my slightly longish hair in a manner that is clearly a feminine pixie cut, but could be a men’s style… Cindy is about to have a stroke and I am loving every minute of the look…
Finally, Janie gives me a pair of women’s jeans and tells me to wait before I put them on. She tells me that I will only wear women’s panties and pants from now on—at least until I enter the program. I hold the jeans in my hands, wondering why I can’t put them on. Jill picks up a couple of syringes and tells me to bend over…and injects the contents into my butt. She says, “You can put the jeans on now, Gwen.” I am a little confused as to what just happened, but put on the low-rise jeans that are soft and have a little stretch to them and feel so good on my smooth legs… Jill smiles and says, “You may feel a little nauseous in the morning, Gwen. I just gave you a hormone blocker and a high dosage of estrogen. Of course, in your cover story, you are sneaking those as pills… I will give you some to start taking—one at the same time each day. In your cover, Cindy, of course, does not know… When she accidentally discovers the pills is the straw that breaks the camel’s back and is when she finally confronts you.”
Cindy falls to the floor in a dead faint. I run to her, concerned, and Jill checks her out. She says, “She is fine. She will come to on her own in a bit. So, how do you feel?” I look at Cindy with concern, and say, “I feel terrible…but also never better…”
We arrive home a couple of hours later—once we are sure that Cindy is OK… It was just a little fainting spell…
I am still stinging from the waxing—especially from the ‘Brazilian’ part of it. My ears are not painful, but are a little hot from the piercing. My brows still sting a bit and are slightly red. Most noticeable, though, is that I can barely sit from the injections in my butt…
Cindy looks at me with tears in her eyes after we get inside the apartment. She says, “Rob, I am not sure I can go through with this… I mean I know it is for a good cause, but look at what they did to you!” I go over and hug her and say into her hair, “First, you can… You have always been the stronger of us. Second, you need to get used to the fact that I am ‘Gwen’ now… Third, this may be all over very quickly…we just need to get the info they want… I can’t deny that I was a little stunned that you were so willing to go along with this. I was going to tell them to forget it… But, I am glad you made me…see the light…”
She starts to say something and I put my fingers on her lips and mouth, “Bugs”… She pales and nods… She gets herself into character and says, “I don’t understand any of it… But if it helps…you…then we will get through it…” I give her a kiss and we get ready for bed…
I look at her and put on some puppy-dog eyes… I ask, “Cindy, can I wear one of your silky nighties? My skin is so irritated from the waxing… I am sure that it would feel really nice on it…” She looks at me with a jaundiced eye and says, “I think you are trying to push me, Rob…I mean, Gwen…” And she starts to cry… I hug her and kiss her on the forehead. She quietly gets up and gets me a black, silky nighty and hands it to me, before going into the bathroom to clean and moisturize her face.
We go to bed a little after that... I find that the nighty is not exactly what I had dreamed of; it feels like heaven, yes—but it rides up and bunches under my arms, leaving my bottom conspicuously bare…and cold. Of course, that only means that we cuddle more; my waxed and moisturized body up against her shaven and moisturized body is a whole new sensation for both of us…
That first week is very strange—for us both. I feel ecstatic at having a hairless and smooth body, pierced ears, and perfectly shaped eyebrows. Wearing silky, lacy panties is a bit of heaven. Women’s pants feel so good on my smooth legs. Cindy, is however freaked over the same things… She does, to her credit, help me get into the habit of moisturizing my body and face…and taking care of my pierced ears. I also start taking my pill at the same time she takes hers…
After the week is up, we are picked up in another limo to go back to the same non-descript building. By now, we are both fully ‘in character’. I easily pass as the ecstatic transgendered guy that is getting to transition—easy enough for me. Cindy is in the roll of the freaked out wife—not knowing what to think or do. Easy enough for her… Even though she still claims to, deep down, not really believe that I am transgendered, I am not sure that she is not beginning to suspect.
We arrive and Jill is waiting for us. After about an hour of interacting with us, she is satisfied that we are ready. Without warning, we are on our way to the complex. Jill just says, “We thought it would be better if you did not dread it…”
Many hours later, the private jet lands on a small runway in the desert—I have no idea what country we are even in, though…there was a lot of ocean on the way. We disembark and a large black limousine is waiting for us. The chauffeur opens the door and we both climb in on the same side and sit in the cushy seats. The chauffeur shows us the bar and closes the door.
I take a bottle of water and hand one to Cindy as we drive down a dusty road for a mile or so. We enter the gates of a heavily-walled complex and…it is like we leave Hell and enter Paradise. It must be some sort of natural oasis in the desert…and it is beautiful. No wonder the walls are designed to keep people out…
Cindy gasps at the same time I do when we see the beauty; I can see the chauffeur grin in the rearview mirror at our reaction. We pull up to the entrance of the main complex and a valet opens the door for us. We are escorted to a posh business office where a beautiful black-haired woman in a white lab coat greets us, “Hello, Gwen and Cindy. My name is Dr. Barbara Ginger. Welcome to Trans-G Enterprises! I hope your trip was comfortable? Yes? Great—then we can right to the testing…”
Several grueling hours later, Cindy and I are sitting in front of Dr. Ginger again. She is looking at the results of our tests on a computer screen. She smiles at me and says, “Well, we will start with you, Gwen. Your test results indicate that you are highly transgendered and in need of transitioning. It is also clear that you have been taking hormones…but not for long. Were these prescribed? There is nothing in your medical files to show they were.” I blush and shake my head no. I say, “No…when Cindy found out that I was taking them is when we…discussed…my issues. I had really just started taking them…they are fairly easy to get—even without a prescription—if you are willing to pay.”
Dr. Ginger looks at me seriously and says, “Well, if we accept you into our program—you will follow instructions and not venture out on your own on things. Are we clear?” I nod nervously. She seems satisfied that I am contrite enough and looks at Cindy. She glances at the monitor and says, “I know this has come as quite a shock to you, Cindy. Understand that this is not your fault—nor is it Gwen’s. It is simply the way it is. I am sure that we can help you better understand Gwen and hopefully decide to fully support her in the process.” Cindy says, “I hope so… I am so lost, and a little angry, right now…”
Dr. Ginger clicks on some keys on her computer and fiddles with her mouse. After a few minutes, she says, “Well, the good news is that you meet our criteria for the couple’s package. Congratulations! The…less…good news is that we don’t have any vacancies in the program for about eight months. We can only handle so many people at once in the compound. A year is quite a long time to go through the program…” She clicks some more and slowly says, “…unless… Well, we do have an immediate vacancy for our semi-experimental, advanced plan… It is considerably more expensive, but we are currently giving a price break, since it is still somewhat experimental.”
I blink. “Experimental,” I ask, “how so? And…how much more is ‘considerable’? I would have to check with my broker to confirm I have the funds…” She smiles and says, “Well…it is triple the cost. We usually only offer this to our VIP clients, but…well…it is the holiday season and all… As for the ‘experimental’ part of it, …” She makes air quotes around ‘experimental’ with her fingers, “…well, you would be given some special supplements that enhance the overall transition experience. The phase that you would be in is in the final stages of experimentation and really carries insignificant risk. The payoff is a much better outcome and a savings of twenty-five percent of what will be the routine cost.”
I excuse myself and send a text to ‘my broker’ and get a very quick response back. YES! You are covered. Getting in as ‘VIP’ is PERFECT—that is the client experience you SHOULD have… I read between the lines and figure that the VIPs are likely the criminals and terrorists… I go back to Dr. Ginger and say, “My broker says it is fine.” Cindy gasps when she thinks of the cost…
Dr Ginger smiles and says, “Great! Sign here…and here…and here…and…”
After signing more papers than buying a house, Cindy and I are escorted to our suite. It is very posh and much nicer than I had expected. Our escort, James, explains that we are on the VIP level and that we had the best accommodations available. He gives us each a key card that gives us access to both the floor and the room. He shows us around the suite. It is equipped with a full kitchen, fully equipped, although, we have a full dining facility available to us in the complex. There is a large, jetted tub that will easily fit the two of…and more. A large bed…and two walk-in closets. In one, there are two large suitcases with Cindy’s things—we had no idea that we even HAD luggage. I look at Cindy and she just shrugs.
James says, “Miss Cindy, Ma’am, your luggage was brought from the plane as soon as we knew where to put it. Marissa, your maid, will unpack it for you shortly. Miss Gwen, Ma’am, we have some initial things in your closet here. There a few sizes that are sort of one size fits many. Marissa will measure you and bring a starter wardrobe within the hour. Why don’t you take a quick rest and clean up. Supper will be served in the main dining hall between five and nine.” He bows slightly and leaves us to ourselves in the huge suite.
I look at Cindy and grin. I ask, “Can you believe this place. I think our apartment would fit in here twice!” She nods and says, “But, can you believe the cost… Are you sure it is OK?” I nod and say, “Yes, Grover, confirmed that we have the funds… He even said that the VIP program is where we should be… I guess it is hard to get into… It was a stroke of luck!” Cindy rolls her eyes and there is a knock on the door.
I stroll over and open the door to see a cute maid standing there. She curtseys and says, “Hello, my name is Marissa. You must be Miss Gwen. I have come to unpack Miss Cindy’s things and get some measurements so that we can get you a starter wardrobe going.” I step back and let her in. She introduces herself to Cindy and gets started right away with the unpacking of her things. Cindy indicates where she wants things—Marissa insists that she not help… After that, she takes a tape measure and writes down my measurements.
Before she leaves, she asks, “Would you like for me to draw you a bath?” I look at Cindy and shrug, “We have plenty of time and it might be nice to soak a bit. What do you think?” She nods, still wide-eyed at all of the pomp and Marissa starts the water running. It must run in in a fire hose, since it only takes about ten minutes to fill the tub. Marissa explains that there is an elaborate water recycling facility as part of the complex, since water conservation is a must. Marissa asks us to put our dirty clothes in the chute in the wall and leaves us to our bath.
Cindy and I undress and throw our clothes into the chute, as requested. We soak in the jetted water for close to an hour. The water never gets cold. I later find out that the water is heated as it is recirculated through the jet pumps. We reluctantly get out and put on the robes that are hung on the door. They are both thick, luxuriously soft terrycloth—and unmistakably feminine; pink and scented. Marissa must have put some sort of bath oil in the water, because we are both soft and smooth when we get out…and have a floral scent. I go to my closet to see what is available.
There is not much selection. Several caftan-style dresses in several sizes and matching flat sandals in several sizes. Then I look in my wardrobe and find basic women’s lingerie in a few different sizes. I shrug my shoulders and put on a clean pair of the silky, lacy panties. I bypass the matching bra, since there is nothing for me to stuff it with. I go into the closet and find a Kelly green dress that fits. I pull the waist tight with a belt that is hanging in the closet. I strap a pair of the sandals on and look at myself in the mirrored wall of the cavernous closet. It is the first time that I have worn a dress of any kind… Not bad…I guess…
I step out of the closet and Cindy gasps. “Ro…err, Gwen… You are wearing a dress?” I shrug and say, “Well, it is what women wear… I mean, look at you…” She is in one of my favorite dresses of hers. I continue, “Besides, it is all that is in the closet.” She sighs and says, “That is all they packed me, too… I guess there is a dress code, or something around here…”
I look at the clock—it is 5:30… I ask, “Ready to go get dinner?” Cindy looks at me with a weird look and asks, “You really don’t mind going out in that dress?” I shrug and mouth, “Remember”… She looks a little abashed and I say, “Why not? Does it look bad?” She shakes her head and says, “No, it looks surprisingly OK on you….”
We leave the room just as Marissa is exiting the elevator. She is pushing a rolling cart with lots of clothes on it towards our suite. She just smiles and we get in the elevator. I look at Cindy and say, “Did you see all of that? Do you think that is for me?” Cindy shrugs and says, “I would suppose so… At the price they are charging…”
We exit the elevator and go down a long hall to the dining hall; we look around confused. A hostess comes by and says, “Oh! You are new! You can either sit where you like—or, I can find you a nice table to get to know some of the other clients.” I shrug and say, “We are good with either…” The hostess, Amber, smiles and says, “Follow me… You look like you could use a little private time…” She takes us to a private table for two…
Our server arrives and we order a bit later. There is a huge selection and the food is awesome, although the portions are small… After we eat, we go back up to our suite. I am curious to see what Marissa had delivered. As suspected, my closet has a large number of dresses, skirts, blouses, shoes…basically, everything a girl needs—as long it is not related to pants. My vanity is now covered with more cosmetics that Cindy’s…
I look at Cindy, embarrassed, and say, “I hope they don’t expect me to actually use these without some…guidance… Will you help me? You are really good with makeup…” Cindy turns a little red and says, “Why don’t we wait and see what they have in mind… I am still having trouble thinking about my husband putting on makeup…”
It is still early, but we are both tired from the day’s events and decide to go to bed early. I look around in my new supply of things…the only sleeping options I have, it seems, are either naked...or sexy women’s lingerie. I pick out a black silk, baby doll outfit and get into it. This really does feel amazing! I wish I could have done this a long time ago! Cindy looks at me and shakes her head. I shrug and give her a grin…I hope it looks like I am a bit embarrassed…although, I am not in the least!
I wake up to an insistent knocking on the door. I am entwined with Cindy in bed; my top bunched up under my arms… Cindy’s is perfectly down where it belongs. How does she do that?
I say, “Just a minute… Coming!” I untangle myself and go to the door. Marissa is there and says, “Miss Gwen, you are due with Dr. Ginger in fifty minutes. Miss Cindy has her therapy session in a about two hours. You need to start getting ready!” She curtseys…and leaves. I say as I watch her leave, “But…where…?” But she is gone…
I hurry back in the suite and shake Cindy awake. I jump into the huge shower and quickly rinse off. After I towel off, I go into my closet and look at my new wardrobe… I decide on a simple sundress and sandals… I dry my hair and brush it out, then I attempt some simple eyeliner and mascara. Cindy watches me and shakes her head as she puts on her full face…
I leave the suite and ask my way to Dr. Ginger’s treatment room. She smiles at first when she sees me…then she frowns a bit. She says, “I see we have a lot of work to do to get you up to speed on being a girl. Is Cindy not helping you?” I sigh and shake my head. I say, “She is still having trouble dealing… She wants to support me, I know she does…” Dr. Ginger nods and gives me a sympathetic smile…
Then she says, “OK, Gwen. We are going to start your treatment today.” She gives me two pills and a large capsule. She says, “You will report here every day at nine a.m., one p.m., and eight p.m. and receive your meds. I will monitor your progress from here. Now, I think you need to start with Angi right away… You need help with your cosmetics in the worst way…”
I follow Dr. Ginger’s directions to the spa. I enter and ask for Angi. I am led to a beautiful brunette and introduced. She smiles and says, “Welcome Gwen. Let’s get started, shall we? First…some extensions and highlights in that hair…”
An hour later, I have shoulder-length, copper blonde hair… It is cut in a ‘chop’ and scrunched in wild curls… Then she sits me down to show me how to my makeup. She does it once, and I look HOT. I smile… She wipes it from my face and makes me practice it a couple of times. The second is not too bad. She fixes a few things, then goes on to my nails. When she is done, I have quarter-inch nails in a peacock blue—my toes match (with flower designs on my big toes).
I meet Cindy for lunch in the main dining hall. She is waiting for me at the same private table that we had had supper at last night. She almost drops her water glass when she sees me. She gasps, “Ro…Gwen? Is that you? What happened…?” I smile and say, “Dr. Ginger sent me to the spa. What do you think?” She looks at me with a mix of surprise, disgust, and…envy(?) She says, “It looks very nice! It will take some…getting used to… I mean when I left you this morning, you had brown hair that was in a short…pixie cut. You had a little eyeliner and mascara. Now you have shoulder-length copper-blonde hair…in a very feminine chop. You are professionally made up… And you look…hot! What am I supposed to think?”
Our server arrives and we order. When she leaves, I look back at Cindy and ask, “How was your session?” She shrugs and says, “It was a group session. I met some really nice wives… It is good to know that I am not the only one…”
We both fall quiet. After a few moments, our food arrives and we eat in silence…
I go back to meet with Dr. Ginger again. She complements me on my hair and makeup, then gives me another huge capsule. I swallow it and it nearly gets stuck in my throat, it is so big. I cough and get it down with nearly a full glass of water.
She asks, “How was lunch?” I shrug and say, “The food was great.” She says, “But…” I shrug again and say, “Cindy is having trouble with…this…” I gesture towards my face and hair…
Dr. Ginger says, “She will get used to it… It is just external. She has probably shocked you at least once with a major hair change.” I nod. “Did you quit loving her?” I shake my head and grin, “No…after about a week, it became…’normal’…” She nods…
She has me take off my dress and lay down on a table. She says, “This will feel a bit cold…” She spreads some stinky stuff on my chest…it smells like an adhesive… Then she takes two large breast forms and twists and presses them down on my chest. After a bit, she tells me to sit up. I do and marvel at the weight on my chest…
She says, “She may need a bit longer to get used to your C-Cups, though…” She hands me a bra that matches my panties.
As expected, Cindy is less than enthusiastic about my new bust line. She looks at me with a sour face and says, “I would say you look ridiculous, except I know I am supposed to be supportive to you. Is this really necessary, though?”
I shrug and say, “It wasn’t my choice. Dr. Ginger just glued them on without asking.” Cindy gasps, “They are [b]glued[/b] on? Are you kidding me? Well, I guess you are about to have a better understanding of what it is like… Just wait until they get in your way of everything…”
I know better than to press it. I know that she will get used to the sight in due time… I just need to give her time and not push it… So, I go about the day as if nothing is different… Except she is right—the danged things get in the way of everything! I don’t grumble or groan, though—I can’t expect any sympathy from her on this one.
We get dressed for supper. I put on a dress that shows off my new assets—not that I have any others in my closet that would hide them, even if I wanted to. Cindy just harrumphs as I freshen up my makeup. I still ask her what she thinks and she grudgingly says I look nice and fixes a few small mistakes I had made on my makeup. I kiss her and we go downstairs.
There is a new hostess tonight, Gabi, and she doesn’t ask our preference; she just takes us to a table with another couple. Cindy smiles and says, “Hi, Margret! How are you tonight? Ro…err, Gwen, this is Margret—she is in my support group.” I say hi to Margret and she says, “Hello, Gwen. This is Georgia, my…umm…my…significant other, I guess is the best term, now. Husband won’t do.” She giggles a bit. Georgia is beautiful… She is obviously further along than me and much more feminine than I ever hope to be…
We all sit down and start talking. Cindy and Margret are fast becoming good friends. Georgia and I talk while they gab. I find out that she is in the experimental program that I am in, as well; and is a VIP. I say, “You look marvelous! How much longer do you have?” She tells me that she just has a couple of weeks left before the final surgery and shows me a before picture. I gasp. It is a picture of a guy that looks [b]nothing[/b] like the girl sitting at the table with me. She tells me it is all in the experimental drug and a lot of cosmetic surgery; that I will have the same to look forward to.
Unfortunately, there is no way for me really scrutinize the picture. I can’t tell if this is one of the criminals or a terrorists I am supposed to be looking for. Somehow, I don’t seem to be making any progress, at all…
We talk for quite a while and share a bottle of wine. I can’t help but notice that Margret is much more supportive of Georgia than Cindy is of me. I can’t help but ask, “Margret, have you always been this supportive of Georgia?” She giggles and says, “Goodness, no! It is like I told your wife. In the beginning, I thought it was the stupidest idea she could have ever had. Now, though…well…I can’t wait until the program is complete!”
Cindy looks thoughtful but stays quiet. We finish another bottle of wine and all go up to our rooms, since it is getting late. Cindy and I get ready for bed. After we climb in, she says, “It is not that I am not supporting you, R…Gwen. It is just that your case is different.” I raise an eyebrow and ask, “How so?” She blows out a lung-full of air and says, “You know…” She seems to think about what she was going to say and finishes with, “…well, it just is…”
I roll my eyes and turn out the light.
The first week goes by quickly. It is filled with me practicing my makeup until I can do it perfectly. I also have to practice walking in my heels and sitting properly; all of the basic feminine actions and gestures. Cindy and I get to know Margret and Georgina much better and meet a few other couples, but I don’t see any of the individuals that I am supposed to be looking for. Although, everyone I meet seems to be very close to the end of the program and bears very little resemblance to their former selves—and few are willing to show their ‘before’ pictures…
Cindy is starting to loosen up a little about the whole thing. I think it is a mix of her support group, the one-on-one interaction with Margret, and her just adjusting to seeing me like this. That is, she was loosening up until she hears today’s news from Dr. Ginger.
It is early Monday morning of the second week. We are both sitting in a room with her and she is asking how we are doing. After we assure her that things are going well, she says, “Good! I am glad to hear that. Gwen, I have you scheduled this afternoon for your first feminization surgery.” Cindy gasps and Dr. Ginger continues, “We will have to do several before it is over with, but this will go a long ways towards feminizing your face. We will work on your nose, your forehead, your chin, and remove your Adam’s apple. We will also plump your lips bit and lift your cheeks. Later we will work on your vocal chords and a few other things, along with tidying up things from this surgery. We may have to do another smaller procedure or two after that. I promise that you will be beautiful when we are done.”
Cindy looks like she is going to have a stroke. Finally, she can’t stand it anymore and asks, “Doctor, isn’t it awfully early in the process for surgery?” She says, “Quite the contrary. There needs to be sufficient time to heal between surgeries…and for both Gwen and you to adjust to the changes. I promise, you won’t be disappointed in the results! Oh, we will likely do a bit of body-sculpting today, as well. Which reminds me, how are your breast forms doing?”
I shrug and say, “I don’t notice them as much anymore. At times I still feel the weight as being unusual—and I still bump into things.” I giggle a little. Dr. Ginger nods and says, “That will get better. When we are done, you will be a little larger even… OK, you are free to go and do whatever you want for a couple of hours…except eat or drink. Sorry.”
We leave and Cindy pounces on me, as soon as we are out of the office. “Are you nuts,” she asks. She is near hyperventilating when she continues, “You can’t have that surgery…that is way permanent!” I shrug and say, “I can’t very well not have it if I want to be a woman, now can I?” She starts to retort and just turns on her heels and marches off towards the dining room.
I sigh and go outside to get some fresh air.
“Just relax, Gwen,” Dr. Ginger says, “and this will be over before you know it.” She gives me an injection through the i.v. set and I drift off into blackness…
I come to and feel like a semi has run over me. I groan and Cindy comes over. She pats my hand and says, “It will be OK, Sweetie. You were very brave to go through with this. I know I gave you shit before, but…well, I know you have to do this. How do you feel?” I groan again. She laughs and says, “That good, huh. Well, I hate to say you look like shit in mummy-chic.”
That is when I notice that my face is all wrapped up in bandages. I have also have some of corset-type thing on my body. I can barely move.
Dr. Ginger comes in and smiles as she says, “Good! You are awake! How are you feeling? I am sure you are in pain.” I nod. She says, “I will give you some pain meds. But only for a couple of days, OK? You will have to start moving around in a couple of days.”
And so, the next couple of days are a medicated blur. I just remember the feeling of laying on clouds…
Unfortunately, I fall through the clouds on the fourth day post-op and hit the ground hard. Dr. Ginger takes me off the pain meds and insists that I start moving around. I get up and groan—my whole body hurts. The corset-thingy does not help any; Cindy tells me that it is because they had done lipo and a tummy-tuck on me. My breasts feel different, too. When I look down, I discover that I no longer have the glued on version, but the implant variety…and they feel huge. My face is still wrapped in bandages and I can’t breathe through my nose.
Cindy holds on to my arm and we walk down the halls to get my blood flowing and my legs working again. There are a couple of others in similar shape to me in the hallways. Of course, there is no way for me to see any of them to compare them to my mental list.
I spend the next few days in this ward doing the same thing. Walking around and slowly getting over the major pain—the swelling must be getting better, since I can breathe through my nose a little again. The Monday following the surgery, Dr. Ginger asks, “Well, Gwen, are you ready to get rid of those bandages?” I nod enthusiastically. She warns me, “Now, the swelling will not be completely gone—and there will still be a lot of bruising, so don’t be shocked. It will take another week, or so, for that to all go away.”
I nod and she starts taking off the bandages. Cindy gasps when she sees me. I can’t see in the mirror, yet, so I am not sure if it is because of my new face, the bruising and swelling, or both. Dr. Ginger finally finishes getting the bandages off and hands me a mirror. I look in it and now it is my turn to gasp.
Yes, I am black and blue and green all over from the bruises…but I look like a woman! My forehead and brow are much less pronounced. My chin is smaller and rounder. My cheeks are higher and my lips fuller. My Adam’s apple is gone. And my nose doesn’t resemble my largish one of old at all anymore—the only way to describe it now is…a cute little button-nose!
Overall, the effect is stunning—and I barely would know myself anymore. Dr. Ginger says, “Like I said, the bruising has to go away…and when the swelling goes completely down, the effect on your face will be even more striking. You will have to leave the corset on for a few more weeks to let your skin heal back onto your body correctly. We removed quite a bit of abdominal fat and cleaned up your lines. Oh, and how are the implants doing?”
I say, “They feel funny…still sort of tight…and like they are in my face.” She nods and says, “They will settle in a few weeks…and your skin will stretch. Then we will add more saline. You still have two cups to go.” Cindy gasps again and says, “Won’t that be awfully large?” Dr. Ginger says, “It will be on the upper end of normal, but it is standard for transsexuals to go a little larger to fit their frames…”
She finishes a few notes and says, “OK, Gwen. You are free to back to your suite. You will need to take it easy for the next week still, but then it will be back to a full schedule of feminization!”
We leave the room and I gasp as I see a patient being wheeled out of a room. The nurse is in my way of a full view and they are at the other end of the hall but I am almost certain that the person on the gurney is Ben Staden… One of the major terrorists that I am to look out for.
The next week is a mix of frustration and…more frustration for me. I tried a number of different ruses to get back in the surgical area to see if could really identify the person as Ben Staden. I am no spy—not really… My nerves don’t hold out when I try to sneak in. I try a cover story to get back in—that I had forgotten something in my room. The charge nurse tells me that it had been thoroughly cleaned and there had been nothing left behind.
I fight with myself on what to do. I am not certain that it was Staden… I can’t blow my cover to try and get a message out on that uncertain glance alone… I know they know everything I send out; they control all information going in and out of this place, since they are off the official grid and we have to send everything through their system…where it is manually transcribed to a system ON the grid… Even a coded message is too risky on such little info…
I stew on it some more and decide to wait some more. I am sure I can come up with something better…
Cindy has also been really testy since my surgery. She is really mad that I let them do something so drastic and permanent to me. I, of course, play my ‘role’ and that just frustrates her even more—because she still thinks that I am only doing this for my ‘role’. She still gasps every time she sees me… The swelling from the surgery is all gone now, and the bruising is to the point that some good makeup covers it up decently. I actually look pretty stunning—or at least I think so.
I could easily pass as a woman right now…with what has happened alone. I still wonder that the big deal is all about on the ‘experimental’ piece that I signed up for. So far, it has all been rather conventional… I am musing about that and trying to figure out how to smooth Cindy’s ruffled feathers—she had stormed off after our last ‘discussion’ about my really going through with ‘this whole thing’—when I get a page to go back to Angi’s station at the beauty salon.
I shrug off my black mood and go to see what is up. Angi exclaims her approval when she sees the new me, “Gwen! You look absolutely stunning! We have two things to work on today—well, actually three, I guess. First, I want to touch up your roots. Then I am going to do your nails and start showing how to take care of them yourself. You may well likely continue to have them professionally done in the future, but a girl needs to know how to do emergency repairs—at the very least. Then I am going to show you how to emphasize your new facial features… Your makeup right now is fine…I am going to show you how to make it stunningly perfect.”
While my roots are ‘cooking’, she shapes and repaints my nails, showing me step by step what she is doing. She tells me that I will actually practice it all later, in another session. She finishes up my hair, giving it a quick trim while she is at it. Then she starts showing me different makeup techniques for my new facial features and has me practice them to perfection. When I am done, I have everything down—from colors to day time versus night time looks… I am particularly fond of my new ‘butterfly’ eyelashes… Now, if I could only get them to be fuller and longer without extensions or false eyelashes…
I am admiring my fluttering lashes when Angi says, “Dr. Ginger is waiting for you now, Gwen. Good luck. Your experimental phase is about to begin!”
I am sitting in Dr. Ginger’s office—waiting. After a few minutes, Cindy comes in and gasps when she sees me; but she seems to quickly recover…better than before, anyway…
Dr. Ginger seems to notice Cindy’s reaction, though. She looks at me and says, “You are looking very lovely, Gwen.” She looks at Cindy and asks, “Cindy, you seem to still be struggling with your wife’s progress?”
Cindy gasps again (and so do I—I am not used to being called her ‘wife’—it is the first time anyone has called me that…) She says, “Yes, I am still struggling with all of this.”
Dr. Ginger nods and asks, “So, is it the fact that Gwen is becoming Gwen? Is it the fact that you now have a wife instead of a husband? Are you having trouble loving the new Gwen…or trouble loving another woman? Or…both?”
Cindy says, “Yeah…those are the same questions we deal with in group… I still love the core ‘person’ that is underneath the outer ‘Gwen’. I am just having trouble dealing with the new packaging. To be honest—I don’t know HOW to deal with having a wife. I have never considered myself bisexual—let alone a lesbian… I am really struggling with that…with losing the relationship I had with my husband. I am struggling with the fact that he…she…is doing this at all…would even want to…”
Dr. Ginger nods and says, “Believe it or not, Cindy, you are making progress. It is good that you know what your inner struggles and the questions are. We can help you find the answers. But tell me… Are you willing to do whatever it takes to love ‘Gwen’—the full package? If so—we can help. The rest is…well, icing. We can help you there, as well…if you are willing to have an open mind…” She looks at me and says, “And that goes for both of you.”
I nod as Cindy looks pensive. Finally, she says, “Yes, I think I am… I just don’t know how to get there.”
Dr. Ginger nods and says, “Good. I will set some things up for you. The important thing is that you have to start seeing Gwen as ‘Gwen’—your wife. Start actively engaging in helping her learn her new role as a woman—and as your wife. Start being happy for her—compliment her when she looks good; just like you would have when you thought your husband looked good. It is still the same relationship, believe it or not…”
She looks a little stunned and frightened…but there is a new determination in her eyes. She looks at me and says, “You look very pretty, Gwen. I love the makeup… Maybe you can show me how to get that look?”
I go over and hug her and say, “Of course, Sweetheart! I am sure Angi can give us some pointers for you, as well!”
Dr. Ginger nods her approval. After we finish hugging, I wipe a tear from my eye—careful not to smear my mascara and sit back down.
Dr. Ginger looks at me and says, “OK, Gwen. We are going to start the tech phase now. I wanted to wait until we had pre-shaped you a bit. We could have done this without that, but it would take longer.” She gets up and picks up a large syringe full of an iridescent blue-green ‘liquid’. It looks more like mercury—swirling and moving in the syringe. It almost looks alive.
I give her a skeptical look as Dr. Ginger comes over and takes my hand.
She pats it and puts a tourniquet on my arm. Then she place a catheter into a large vein and quickly tapes it down. She wordlessly takes the syringe and hooks it up to the catheter, which has a very large caliber needle. She pushes on the plunger and the thick, viscous ‘liquid’ slowly starts crawling up the catheter’s tube and then…into my vein…
I start to feel hot.
Dr. Ginger finishes injecting the last of the ‘liquid’ into me, which takes several long minutes, before she speaks. She removes the catheter, places a cotton swab on the spot where it had been inserted and indicates that I should put pressure on it. As she tightly tapes the cotton ball down, she says, “I am sure you are wondering what I just did. You are likely a bit frightened. You also likely feel really hot right now—maybe a bit nauseous…or like you have ants crawling in your veins…”
I nod. I am sweating by now. I do feel a little nauseous. I want to jump up and run off, though. It DOES feel like I have ants crawling through me. It is crazy. I stop myself from screaming, but say loudly, “Yes! Make it stop! What have you done?”
Cindy looks at me in alarm. She starts to come over to me.
Dr. Ginger holds her back and says, “The sensation will stop in a couple of minutes. I just injected you with experimental nanobots. Aside from wanting to wait until after your reconstructive surgery, we had to program and generate them which takes a lot of time. We got the samples we needed from your reconstructive surgery. Don’t worry. It is like I told you when you signed up—these are basically production units. We are only awaiting final approval from corporate to use them full scale. We just need your results to complete the clinical trial—which has been completely successful over the past twenty-four runs. You are number twenty-five.”
I nod as the sensation subsides—still ready to bolt like a frightened rabbit.
She continues, “Now, I told you this is phase one of our experimental program. These nanobots will reform your bones into a fully female structure. We have been unsuccessful creating nanos that work correctly on the soft tissues. The last trial was not pretty…” She looks pensive and shakes her head—a horrified look on her face.
She pulls herself together and says, “It will be a slow process. Restructuring the bones has to be a slow process, by definition. By already doing some of the work, surgically, we have given you several months head-start. The process will be complete before you leave here, though…”
I am in my ‘deportment’ class. Currently I am the only attendee. Alexis, my teacher welcomes me with a slight hug and a kiss to each cheek—the traditional French greeting. I follow suit, since I know that is what she expects.
She says, “Welcome, Gwen. You are the only student today, since everyone else has either graduated—or isn’t ready yet. You should have some company in a couple of weeks, though.”
And we go through the endless exercises of walking, sitting, holding my hands correctly…all of those feminine gestures and mannerisms that I never developed growing up as a ‘guy’…
After two grueling hours, she declares the session over. I hug her and bid her goodbye. I can’t help but notice that I am holding my posture more upright, my shoulders back and chest out, my hands held at a more feminine angle and my elbows close to my body as my arms swing while walking… And all without having to really think about doing it too much. Of course, my homework is to maintain all of this—to ingrain it into me…do it completely without thought.
I go to our suite from there. Cindy is not there. Dr. Ginger had kept her back when I left after getting…the shot. That floods the memory of that event back into my mind. Deportment class had distracted me completely from thinking about it.
I sit and think about how I feel… Physically…there is a slight itch in certain areas of my body…especially my feet and hands… Other than that, I feel OK… Mentally…I am scared… Who wants to have little robots in their body doing things to you that you have no idea about… I shudder…and Cindy walks in…
I look at her and she has a…dreamy…look on her face… I go over and hug her.
She hugs me back and says in a dreamy, sort of distracted, voice, “Hi Gwen. How was your class?” Before I can respond, she continues, “Dr. Ginger signed me up for some special therapy sessions…and I don’t really remember the last couple of hours…but I feel…good…”
I look at her with a mixture of alarm and curiosity. I ask, “You don’t remember anything about the session?”
She looks pensive, concentrates a minute, and shakes her head. “No,” she slowly says, “nothing… I just feel…good… So, you never answered my question… How was your class?”
My alarm is growing… “Cindy, my class was fine… Forget about that for a minute… You don’t remember what they did to you in that session? You don’t remember what you may have told them?”
She looks confused for a minute, then a light comes on in her head and she takes on a terrified look as the implications of what may have happened dawn on her. She whispers, “OMG, what are we going to do? What if…if…?”
I take her hand and slowly stroke it in that manner that I know calms her down. “It is OK,” I lie, “I am sure it will all be fine. We just need to be extra careful… I have no idea what these nanobots may do to me… And we don’t know what they have done to you, either…”
The next two weeks are scary. My days are filled with more deportment lessons…and as an added bonus…ballet, voice, and speech. It is all geared towards undoing all my years of male conditioning…and ‘reprogramming’ me to act and sound like a complete woman. The scary part is that every time I am in one of these classes, Cindy is one of her own…and can’t ever remember anything afterwards…only that she feels ‘good’…
The only difference that I can tell, however, is that Cindy is becoming more and more accepting of the new ‘me’. We spend hours trying on clothes, doing each other’s nails and hair, practicing different make-up looks… It is like we are both teenage girls…
I keep a careful eye out for signs that there is anything sinister about the ‘classes’ that Cindy is attending, but no one at the center seems to be treating us any differently—so I start to relax a little. I had briefly discussed with Cindy her quitting the sessions, but she was oddly reluctant... It would be suspicious if she did so, I guess…
Four weeks after ‘the shot’, I still haven’t really noticed any difference in myself—other than my shoes are really loose…and my feet hurt if I don’t wear at least four-inch heels. Marissa is in our suite, making the beds and I go to the closet looking for a comfortable pair of heels. I can’t seem to find any that will stay on my feet, though.
I am grumbling when Marissa asks me what is wrong. I shrug and tell her about the mystery of my shoes. She smiles and goes to her maid’s cart. To my surprise, she pulls out a foot gauge… You know, one of those things, like in shoe stores, that you step on to measure your foot size. To my added surprise, my foot is a full size smaller…a woman’s ten…
That probably explains why my rings are so loose on my fingers, too…my hands and feet have been really itching lately…you know down deep…the bones there must be restructuring…and shrinking. I shudder, but feel an elation at the fact that the old side-effects of my testosterone from days-gone-by on them is being undone…
The only thing I can’t understand is why I am much more comfortable in heels than flats…
Marissa quickly goes and gets me a pair of my favorite five-inch heels in a size ten and tells me that she will exchange the rest of my shoes later on. I smile and thank her as I take Cindy’s hand and we go down to breakfast. I don’t even notice how really comfortable the shoes are now…
When we sit down, I notice that there are some new arrivals…a new couple; and one looks vaguely familiar… Could that be Shadem Hussy-Ain? It is hard to tell with the makeup and woman’s clothes… I make a resolution to meet them later, since we are already seated and I don’t want to draw attention to the meeting…
To my surprise, Cindy notices the newcomers right away and gets right up and rushes over to them. She greets them like they are old friends and waves me over. What is with Cindy? She is never like that with strangers…I always have to force her to meet new people… I shrug and move over to the new table.
Cindy says, “Gwen, meet Linda and Jacqueline…or Jacky as she prefers to be called… They just arrived last night. We have company again. Isn’t that wonderful?”
I just nod and give her a quizzical look. I turn my attention back to the newcomers and greet them. I carefully eye ‘Jacky’ throughout breakfast and am near fully convinced it is Shadem by the time we are done. Now, I have two new mysteries…find out if this really is Shadem…and figure out why Cindy did not shut up the whole time we were eating… Why is she suddenly this social butterfly?
Cindy and I are both sitting in Dr. Ginger’s office. We had been paged there right after breakfast, which was a bit of a surprise, since we were normally scheduled for our joint session in the gym…
A couple of minutes later, Dr. Ginger comes in and sits down behind her desk. She has a strange look on her face, but quickly replaces it with a smile as she looks at Cindy. She says, “Hi Love, you are looking radiant today!”
Cindy smiles and blushes. She gushes back, “And so are you, Ginge.”
I do a double-take and Dr. Ginger turns her attention to me. As she does, her face darkens again. She says, “And you, Gwen, have been a naughty girl.”
I feel the blood drain from my face as I fear the worst. Cindy must have said something…
Dr. Ginger turns on a small music box and Cindy’s face goes blank. She continues, “As you know, Cindy has been having some special sessions with us. Those sessions were designed to reprogram her very self. I am sure you have noticed that she is now much more outgoing. She is also now very much a deep-seated bi-sexual with a strong desire for naughty girls…and well-hung guys…” She pauses, then continues, “The way that she was reprogrammed, was a mix of special drugs, hypnosis, and physical practice sessions; you know with real guys and girls. You will find her very adept at all sorts of…games with both sexes… And I have just confirmed with her that you are one of her special ‘toys’…”
I look at Cindy’s blank face and shudder.
Dr. Ginger continues, “Remember, you both agreed to do whatever it takes. As for you, we have remotely made some slight tweaks to the programming of your bots. You see, Cindy has a certain image of a ‘naughty girl’… You have likely already noticed that you can’t get quite comfortable in flats… That your feet hurt after a while… That will get worse…as your feet become the exact opposite of what women normally experience…comfort in flats and pain in heels… You will, of course, be able to wear flats…but pay the same price as normal women that wear six-inch heels all day. You, on the other hand, will be right at home in those six-inch heels…something that fits into Cindy’s naughty-girl image…”
She lets that sink in for a minute. When I don’t say anything, she finishes, “Oh, there will be a few more surprises along the way…but they will remain, overall…benign…to a friend of the Center… You should also know that Cindy’s absolute allegiance is now with the Center’s friends…she will never do anything to harm a friend… That’s all for today…” She turns off the music box and Cindy comes to.
As we are leaving, Cindy whispers in my ear, “I can’t wait to have some fun with my new naughty girl…”And she winks at me.
After we leave Dr. Ginger’s office my mind is in a whirl… What have they really done to Cindy? What do they know? What did she mean by all those references to ‘friends’? And that parting shot at me…benign surprises for friends of the Center…? Was I just imagining things…? Making a mountain out of a mole hill?
I go to my scheduled classes and am surprised to see Jacky in deportment. It is absolutely clear that ‘she’ is a guy…and not really all that interested in becoming a girl. That explains some of the things they do in this special program. It is geared towards making passable women out of men that deep-down really don’t want to be women…only have the perfect disguise… The fact that I want to be a woman is just icing on the cake…
By the time class is over, I am also certain that ‘Jacky’ is Shadem… The question is, what do I do with that information, now? Can I trust Cindy? What will happen to me if I get this out to the Company? If the Center falls? DAMN! SO close to success…to getting out from under the sword of those blackmailing bastards…
I shake my head and go back to our suite. Marissa is just finishing putting my shoes away… There is nothing with less than a five-inch heel…
I decide to test out my theories about Cindy. We meet back up in our suite after my deportment class. Cindy is in a negligée that would have made the old male me blush—it is even doing a pretty good job on the female me—although, I don’t really know how *I* feel about just being a lesbian anymore…
She pulls me into the bedroom and starts undressing me. It is all very erotic, the way she goes about it. I whisper in her ear, “What about our mission?”
She giggles and says, “Our mission is to have fun, enjoy life, and protect the sanctity of the Center. Dr. Ginger offered me a job today—as the Center’s hospitality manager. Isn’t that great? I accepted. She told me she has some openings for you, too. If you want one…”
I groan inwardly, I am so screwed now… They HAVE done something to her… But, I don’t get to think about it very long—she IS good at being the new naughty her…
I spend the next day trying to figure things out. Cindy is off doing her new ‘hospitality’ things; rubbing up to the clients and generally being the social person she has strangely become. It makes me wonder if they have plans to change me…surely they must at least suspect something…
With no particular plan in mind, I gather as much evidence as I can on Shadem; still not sure what to do with it. I am just pretty sure that I need to get it to the Company. I don’t like EITHER of the organizations at this point—but, I am still a patriot…
A couple of days later, just as I fully decide on a plan to get the information out, I get a splitting headache and body aches… I lay down on the couch to try and let it calm down. Cindy comes in a couple of hours later and comes over to me, gently waking me up.
She giggles and coos, “My you ARE my naughty girl. But, I know what those mean—you have some choices to make, I think. Either, me and a nice life—or them and, well…” She takes my hand and places it on the top of my head. I feel small, pointy…Horns?!?!
I jump up and ask, “What is going on?” That is when I feel the swishing behind me…. I say in a small voice, “A devil’s tail? What the Hell?”
Dr. Ginger walks in at that moment and says, “Well, the path you chose today made you a naughty little devil…it was your choice… These changes don’t have to be permanent, but…well, you are going to have to provide me some incentive to reverse them—or, at least to mask them…”
I look at her shocked, then run into the bathroom to look at myself. Sure enough, I have about three-inch devil’s horns sticking out from my hair. My tail is about as long as from where it comes out right above my pert little butt to the floor. Overall, I am a hot and uber-sexy devil-girl…nothing like when I went to sleep…
I stumble back out into the living area. Dr. Ginger and Cindy are sitting on the couch, locked in a steamy kiss.
Dr. Ginger looks up at me and asks, “So, what will it be?”
My tail swishes angrily. I ask, “What have you done to me? How is this possible? Aside from these horns and this tail, I don’t even look like myself…if they were gone, I would be any guy’s wet dream…”
She smiles and says, “And with them—you are every KINKY guy’s wet dream… You see, we found out from Cindy what you were really up to; at that point, we considered your contract null and void. You signed it under false pretenses. We had to get OUR money’s worth out of the deal, though, so we gave you the fully experimental third generation of the nanotech. It was largely untried on humans, but showed promise. It seems that, so far, it is working well on you. As for Cindy, don’t blame her. She hated the organization that forced you to come here—that was ‘forcing’ you to become a girl for ‘their’ purposes. It was easy to turn her with a little proper stimulation…”
She turns around and gives Cindy another deep kiss and they both start moaning… I feel myself getting hot…and wet between the legs… I reach down and find that I now have a full vagina… My head swims…
Dr. Ginger turns back to me and says, “Along with the naughty look, I think you will find that you have the naughty needs… With the new tech, we can completely change your body within a few hours. It is painful, as you just found out a bit ago, but we can change you into something a little more…human… IF you decide to become a double agent for us… Just to be clear, though—this has been programmed into your DNA to be your ‘default’ form. If we don’t send the proper signals at the proper intervals, this is what you will revert to, every time. AND, you think that you can just have the horns and tail amputated…? They will just grow back…along with some extra additions… Cloven hooves for feet maybe? Who knows? The choice is yours…”
And they lock lips again—Cindy starts pulling off Ginger’s clothes…
My needs start rapidly growing… For some reason, MeatLoaf’s ‘Paradise by the Dashboard Light’ starts playing in my head…
I groan and join them…
The next morning, I am in Ginger’s office, tail literally in my hand… Marissa had brought me clothes that fit my new, petite frame…and accommodate my tail…while I was getting ready.
Ginger looks at me and says, “There is no need for a written contract here, the tech is all the guarantee that we need that you will fulfill your role. You will just have to trust ME, I guess—but that is your own fault for being duplicitous to begin with—oh, I know that a certain organization forced you into coming HERE…but not into actually playing the transgender role… That is the REAL you—one that you were not being honest with Cindy about. No, you only have yourself to blame here…”
She pours herself a cup of coffee and offers me one. I decline.
She continues, “Just so you know, we are not a bad organization. We are actually doing the world a favor by removing terrorists from the active scene. Yes, they come here thinking that they will just get the perfect disguise…to get away with their dastardly deeds. In reality, they are retrained to become productive members of society—ones that have the ultimate goal of making the world a better place using PEACEFUL methods… Some of the world’s leading philanthropist women are actually former male terrorists… But, we can’t let that get out… Then the terrorists would stop coming to get their ‘disguise’… which others think IS perfect, since the terrorists disappear…sending out ‘signals’ to the ‘network’ that they really ARE fine… We actually glean information about other terrorists from the ones we have here, send out agents to flush them to us because they think they are about to be caught, then we clean them up…”
She takes a sip of coffee and continues, “So, you see—we can’t let your government, or any other for that matter, find out about our real work…or it would eventually leak… As for the agents that came here before you—they are fine…”
I sit there in shock—taking in this fantastical story. Can it be true? Does it matter—she has me by my former balls… I say, “I think I WILL take that cup of coffee, now.” She pours me a cup and slides it over to me. I continue while it cools, “So, assuming this is all true, what do you want from me? You said something about being a double agent?”
She nods and says, “Yes, you will become Lilith Gwendoline Empusa—and will prefer to be called ‘Lilith’ or Lil. We will appropriately program you to ensure that is the case and you don’t slip up. You will go back to your ‘employer’ and let them know that the rumors are all false—that you could come up with no evidence that the Center is actively changing terrorists for the purposes of disguising them, which is the truth—just not how they will take it. You will provide them with some evidence that a terrorist DID actually infiltrate the Center once and was changed—but that was without the Center’s knowledge of the terrorist’s true nature—or intent. We will provide you with documents that ‘you were able to gather’ to back that up… That will close the door on this chapter for them then.”
I take a careful sip of the dark coffee and ask, “And then? What is to become of me?”
She smiles and says, “You don’t think that particular organization is really going to let you off the hook, do you? They have a successful agent...and will send you out on missions. Only, in reality, you are working for us. We will feed you information from time to time…and it will look like your government is closing in on a terrorist…who will ‘catch wind’ of our ‘services’…and, well, you know the rest… Of course, we will have to actually let you catch SOME of them to keep your credibility up…”
She takes a drink of her, now cold, coffee and continues, “We will be able to disguise you, as needed, by actually changing your body. If we want, no one will be able to find you, because ‘you’ will not exist…”
I sigh and take a drink of my coffee…and nod…
I look at myself in the mirror. I am in the women’s bathroom of a non-descript ‘federal building’, waiting for my appointment time with Greg, my ‘handler’… The image that is looking back at me is without horns, there is also no tail sticking out of my skirt. I look like a beautiful red-headed vixen… My new ‘normal’ form—as long as I ‘behave’…
I look at the time on my ‘watch’. In reality, it is what sends the untraceable signal back to my ‘true’ bosses that I am ‘behaving’… Without that signal, I will turn back into a horned and tailed ‘devil-girl’ in twenty-four hours…
I sigh, it is ‘go’ time. I exit the restroom and make my way to conference room 344b. It has glass walls and several cameras and mics… It seems my performance is going to be recorded. I don’t sweat it, at all, though… My new identity has been well-programmed into me… ‘Rob’ no longer exists—I am Lil…
I smile sexily at Greg and say, “Hello, Greg. Long time no see…”
His jaw drops. He outright stares at me…almost drooling. He stutters, “R..rr..rob? I mean, Gwen?”
I smile wider and grin as I just shrug and say, “Actually, I prefer Lil, now… You like?”
He nearly falls out of his chair. He takes a deep breath and says, “Ummm…maybe we should get the business part of this over with? You sent that you had closed the case?”
I nod and give him the prepared package. I go through the ‘story’ of being transformed and what I had learned about the organization, that it just is very cutting edge and paranoid about its trade secrets being stolen. I show him the ‘evidence’ of the lone terrorist that was changed ‘without’ their knowledge… I give him the whole spiel and he swallows it hook, line, and sinker…
After two grueling hours of debrief, Greg looks at me and asks, “OK, now that we have the business piece over with, we will get to the pleasure part. Will you have dinner with me?”
I look at the balding, fat, disgusting guy that pulled me into this mess. I SO want to say, ‘HELL NO’… Instead, I say, “Greg, you naughty boy! You know I am married… But, I guess what Cindy doesn’t know won’t hurt her…”
Greg just smiles and says, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship…”
NOTE: If there is interest, Lil may show up in additional stories…