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The Plan By Bill Hart Martin Jefferson sat in the doctor's office in stunned silence. He'd known something was wrong when they ordered those additional tests after he'd completed his annual physical. But, at the age of fifty, to be told you had at best six weeks to live was not what he had expected to hear. They had discovered a pair of inoperable malignant tumors, one in each of the upper lobes of his lungs. One would have been enough, but not insurmountable. The surgical technique for the removal of both lungs and the transplantation of at least one, possibly two, new ones was a an uncharted procedure. Simply put, nobody did those kinds of operations. Radiation was not an option. What would be necessary to kill just one of the tumors would be lethal. And chemotherapy might grant him a reprieve of possibly a month, but that was uncertain. The best procedure would have been the surgical removal of both lungs and the transplantation of new ones, but nobody did those operations. But even if someone had, once they'd found it had metastasized to his liver. "If we could remove everything else that's involved," said the doctor, "a liver transplant might keep you going for up to a year, but, since there are indications of it having metastasized to your liver, nobody would ever authorize it. A year in exchange for a healthy liver is an insufficient return." "But I don't want to die, doctor." said Martin. "No one ever does, Mr. Jefferson." replied the doctor. "I have things to do, places to go. Please." "I am sorry, Mr. Jefferson." said the doctor. "But there is nothing we can do _here_." "But there is _somewhere_." Martin was grasping at straws and hearing what he wanted to hear. "Isn't there, doctor." "There might be. But it may not be overly ethical. And its morality might be somewhat questionable." The doctor picked up the phone. "Miss Thomas. Please hold all of my calls until after Mr. Jefferson and I end our appointment." He turned to Martin. "I have a friend and colleague, who is a neurological research scientist. As part of his current project, which has been funded with federal monies, he requires someone with a terminal condition not involving the brain. If his experiment is successful, you'll be alive. And if it doesn't, you'll be dead. It will be just a little earlier than expected and no one will question your passing." "What kind of experiment?" asked Martin. "Outside of what I've just told you, which I know isn't much, I don't know anything. He told me that the less I knew about his work, the better off I'd be, just in case there was a breach of security. If you want, I'll call him and let him know you're interested. But unless I call him first, he won't even talk to you. He's kind of paranoid about dealing with people he doesn't know. He wasn't always that way, but then he started doing projects for the government." "I'll think about it." replied Martin. "I'll call you in a couple of days." * * * * * Two days later, Martin called the doctor's office. "May I speak with the doctor?" Martin asked the receptionist. "He's very busy. I don't know if he can pick up the phone right now." "I understand. Tell him Martin Jefferson called. He'll know what it's all about." "Don't hang up, Mr. Jefferson. The doctor told me to put your call through to him as soon as you phoned." The receptionist sounded nervous. "I'll put you right through now, sir." "Good afternoon, Mr. Jefferson." said the doctor. "Have you decided whether or not you're interested." "Yes." he replied. "I'll do it." "I thought you might, Mr. Jefferson. After you left my office the other day, I called my friend to make sure he still needed someone. He will meet with you tomorrow night at Darwin's Tavern on Beagle Road across town at nine o'clock sharp. I've given him your description. If it appears that you're what he's looking for, then he'll find you. I did tell, didn't I, that he has become a little paranoid of late. And if he finds you acceptable, he'll explain about his project and what he requires from you at that time. If you can pass his scrutiny, then you will be given an opportunity at a new lease on life, provided, of course, you are still willing to be his test subject. Good luck, Mr. Jefferson." And before Martin could say word in response, the doctor broke the connection. * * * * * Martin arrived outside Darwin's Tavern just before nine. On entering, he spotted only a couple of people playing pool. Nobody he saw looked even remotely like a doctor. He began to wonder if this were such a good idea. Maybe he was being set up for something. He sat down at one of the many vacant tables. He didn't have to wait long before a waitress approached. "What can I get for you?" she asked. "A beer." "Domestic? Or imported?" "Imported." replied Martin. "And before you ask, just pick one. It doesn't matter which." If I'm going to die, he thought, I'm going to enjoy what's left." She scurried away with his order, then quickly returned. She set a liter bottle of Kirin on the table. "How much?" he asked reaching for his wallet. "Don't worry about it." she replied. "It's been paid for already." She pointed at the lean man sitting at the bar, who hadn't been sitting there when he'd entered. The man stared at Martin, as if appraising, then stood and walked over to the table as the waitress left. The man stuck out his hand. "I believe you're expecting me, Mr. Jefferson." said the man in an odd accent, probably something Eastern European, that Martin didn't recognize. "I'm Dr. Rikkers. Dr. Jozef Rikkers." Martin took the proffered hand. "Glad to meet you, doctor." "My colleague tells me that you are dying. And yet, you do not wish to die. Is that correct?" "That's right, doctor. Is there something you can do to prevent it?" "First, tell me. What would you be willing to do in order not to die, Mr. Jefferson?" "Anything." stated Martin. "Well, anything legal, that is." The doctor grinned. "What I propose to do is not technically illegal. However, there are some who might question its morality." "And just what are you going to do?" "If you agree to be my subject," began Dr. Rikkers, "I will transfer your mind into another body." "That's _not_ illegal?" questioned Martin, as he started to stand. "Please remain seated, Mr. Jefferson. The answer to your question is no. The transference of minds from one body to another is not illegal. It is a technicality, that one day might have to be addressed. But that day is not today." "But what about the mind that's already there, doctor?" "In this particular case, there is no mind to worry about." replied the doctor. "The body, in question, is a clone. Its mind is like a blank slate waiting to be written on. That is where you come in, Mr. Johnson. With the aide of the computers in my lab, your mind will be downloaded into the clone's mind. At present, the transference procedure is a destructive read, which will result in your original mind being wiped clean. Should you consent, your consciousness shall, after its transference, awake in a completely healthy body approximately twenty years of age. "Have you done this before?" asked Martin with growing interest. "Not with people. However, It has been successful with animals." replied the doctor. "I have a cloned cat who barks at other cats from time to time. And also a cloned dog who now and again gets chased up trees by other dogs. The procedure worked perfectly on them. More importantly, there appear to be no side effects caused by the procedure itself. I am ready to test on a human subject." "And you'd like me to be that subject?" asked Martin. "If it works," he thought aloud, "I'll be healthy and thirty years younger. How could I say no to such offer?" "But there is one more thing you must know before you decide." said the doctor. "It is about the body I have cloned and where your mind will be transferred. It is female." "Couldn't you clone a male body for me?" "Even if I had the resources available, it wouldn't be possible to clone another body, male or female, before you were dead. I only had funds available to create one clone and since there are more females in the world I decided to create a female." Hesitantly, Martin agreed. He would have rather remained male and, had it been an option, would have waited for a male body to be cloned. However, Martin realized that becoming female and being alive was a far superior option then remaining male and being dead. * * * * * Having agreed, Dr. Rikkers took Martin to the lab. Once inside, the doctor locked the door. Then the two of them walked through the hall to the laboratory. He pointed to a covered form laid out on the table. "Would you like to have a look at your soon-to-be new body, Mr. Jefferson?" He pulled the covers away. Martin stared at her. Her naked form appeared to be sleeping on the table. And a catheter dripped a fluid into her arm. Martin couldn't help but think that she was gorgeous. With her soft and silky long red hair, he'd bet on her having green eyes, when her eyes opened. Her body appeared to be both very feminine and very exciting. Just looking at her was more than enough to arouse Martin. Under other circumstances, and even knowing she was thirty years his junior, he knew he would have had to pursue and possess her. But he would, hard as it was for him to imagine, soon be her. It was an unsettling thought. And somehow, the thought of pursuing and possessing her felt almost incestuous. "Neither of my assistants are here at the moment." Dr. Rikkers removed the catheter. "I was not certain you would agree. Would you help me move her?" he asked. "Certainly, doctor." replied Martin. "Where do you want her moved?" "We need to place her in one of those chairs." The doctor pointed towards the two chairs connected by several wires to the odd looking contraption standing behind them. Carefully Martin reached under her prone body and lifted her from the table. In doing so, he immediately knew why the doctor had asked for help. She might have weighed in the neighborhood of one hundred, twenty pounds, but since she couldn't assist him it was all dead weight. Fortunately, it wasn't a long distance from the table to the closest of the two chairs. And after finally reaching the chair, he set her gently in the chair. "Would you fasten all those straps about her, Mr. Jefferson?" Martin reached down and fastened the straps around her ankles. Then he set each of her arms in the bonds attached to the arms of the chair before tightening the leather straps. The final strap ran beneath her breasts. As he tightened it, he was surprised to notice that her breasts looked larger and somewhat fuller than they had when she been sleeping on the table. "I'll get the helmet." said the doctor. Except for all the wires coming out the top that connected it to the odd contraption, it looked remarkably like a normal hockey helmet, but with a tighter fitting chin strap than normal. "Is all this restraint really necessary, Dr. Rikkers?" "Of course it is, my boy. We wouldn't want to hurt her ... or you, for that matter." He pointed at the other chair. "If you'll take your seat." Martin sat down in the other chair. He watched as the doctor strapped first his ankles and then his arms. Then the strap was pulled tightly across his chest. He couldn't move. And finally, the doctor set the helmet on his head and pulled the chin strap tight. "We're almost ready now, Mr. Jefferson. I just need to set the mind transference control to be initiated from your chair and directed towards hers." He turned a knob on his contraption. "We're all set now, Mr. Jefferson. Are you ready?" "I guess I'm as ready as i'll ever be." replied Martin. Just as he flicked the switch on his machine, Martin saw Dr. Rikkers begin to smile. And then the lights went out. * * * * * Martin opened his eyes. And had absolutely no idea where he was. From what he could see of it, he knew he'd never seen this room before. He was comfortably laid out in a bed and covered by several blankets. But beyond that, he was lost and confused. He tried to move, but instead of being able to lift his arms or move his fingers, they just sat there and shuddered. And the rest of his body wasn't responding to anything it was being told to do either. Had he been injured somehow? Sitting beside the bed was a woman, he didn't recognize, reading a magazine. When she glanced up and saw that Martin's eyes were open, she leaned over and pushed a button on the box next to the bed. As she did, Martin heard a far away buzzing sound. Shortly afterward, Dr. Rikkers entered the room. Martin tried to smile at the doctor, but quickly discovered that he couldn't. "How are you feeling?" asked the doctor. Martin tried to answer 'okay,' but his voice sounded odd. Since he seemingly had little control of his muscles, his voice sounded muffled, almost as if it came from deep in his throat. His answer was definitely mumbled, he hoped the doctor could understand what he was saying. And even stranger, his voice sounded higher pitched than it should have. He blinked his eyes. And suddenly, he remembered the experiment. He was still alive, so it must have successful. That was why his voice sounded so strange. He was supposed to have that girl's form now. Again he tried to move, but, as before, his body wouldn't respond. "That sounded like 'okay' to me." said the doctor. "I'm sure you've recovered from your initial disorientation by now. I'd also guess you're worried about not having much control over your new body now. Don't. It seems to be the normal reaction to the mind transference. Both my cat and dog went through something very similar when I transferred their minds into new homes. Your mind is trying to control your new body by firing your motor neurons just as it has always done in your old body. Only now, the required sequencing is different. As a result, your body is receiving conflicting and often confusing information from your new brain." "How long?" mumbled Martin. Dr. Rikkers smiled. "You want to know how long, I imagine?" Martin tried to shake his head in confirmation but it only moved slightly. "You should be capable of reasonably intelligible speech by the end of the day, possibly even sooner. However, your motor coordination will probably take at least a week to sort itself out, although there might be something I can do to speed that process up a bit." Martin yawned. "But we'll talk about that later, Mr. Jefferson. Right now, it would be best for you to get some more natural sleep. It should help your new brain and your old mind assimilate faster." "Okay." mumbled Martin again. And he closed his eyes. * * * * * When Martin re-opened his eyes, he felt much better. He was fairly certain that he was in the same room and the same bed, but now, judging by the light coming through the window, it must be morning. But whether it had been only a few hours, or several days, since he last woke, he had no knowledge. But, for all that it mattered, it might just as well been the morning after. So, unless he was told differently, he'd treat today as the morning after. "How are you this morning?" asked the woman he remembered from last night. "I'm fine." Martin grabbed at his throat, totally surprised at the melodious sound of his new voice. "Is Dr. Rikkers here?" "Not just now, Miss Jefferson. He had some things to do that required his immediate attention." replied the woman. "My name's Ingrid. I'm one of his assistants. But he left instructions for me to call him as soon as you woke. It shouldn't take him very long to get here." Martin watched the woman leave room. He wondered how much, if anything, she knew about the doctor's experiment or him. After all, Ingrid had called him _Miss_ Jefferson, which would be completely normal and perfectly understandable, if the experiment had worked as was expected. Martin raised his hand and stared at it. It was a woman's slender hand with a woman's slender fingers. And it was attached to an arm that unquestionably belonged to a woman. He wiggled his toes and realized he could feel the blankets move across his legs. He felt a hand slide across his breasts and was surprised to realize that the hand was his. And from that quick pass, he could also tell that his breasts were covered by some kind of flimsy material. He wondered, if he should get out of bed, but common sense prevailed, as he remembered the doctor saying something about impaired motor coordination. "I'll talk to with doctor first." he said to himself, just wanting to hear the sound of his new voice again. "There's no sense breaking my neck before I get a chance to see my new body." He was startled as the doctor entered, "I can see you're feeling better this morning." "Yes, I'm feeling pretty good." "Your voice certainly sounds better than it did last night. I told you that your body would adjust with a little sleep. Can you lift your arms, Mr. Jefferson?" Martin lifted one arm, then the other. "Very good." observed Dr. Rikkers. "Let me see you wiggle your fingers." Martin raised his hands and alternately wiggled the fingers of both hands. "Excellent." exclaimed the doctor. "Can you feel your toes?" "Yes." replied Martin. "I can also feel my legs when I wiggle my toes." The doctor walked to the outer door. "Ingrid, would you come in here?" He returned to Martin's bedside. "This is for both of our protections, Mr. Jefferson." "What?" he asked confused. "Ingrid should be here when I uncover you?" "Why?" "Because, Miss Jefferson," answered Ingrid as she entered the room, "it isn't proper for a young female patient, like yourself, to be alone and undressed in front of a male doctor like Jozef." "It prevents me from taking advantage of you." smiled the doctor. "And it also keeps me from molesting you." laughed Martin as Ingrid and the doctor joined in. The doctor, as Ingrid watched with eagle eyes, pulled back the covers exposing Martin's bared legs. "Would you wiggle your toes, please?" Martin wiggled his toes. "That is very good. The adjustments are proceeding faster than I thought they would." said the doctor. "Can you move your legs?" "I'll try." replied Martin. With concentration, he was barely able to move his legs. "That's about I'll I can do right." "That's alright. Ingrid, would you go get Frank." "Who's Frank?" asked Martin nervously. "Frank is another of my assistants, Mr. Jefferson." replied the doctor. "How come you call me mister and Ingrid calls me miss? Wouldn't it be easier for everybody, especially since I'm going to have to get used to it anyway, if everybody called me miss." "I suppose it might at that, _Miss_ Jefferson." answered the doctor. "And while we're on that subject, we really shouldn't call you Martin anymore." "I didn't about that?" replied Martin. "Some of the guys I went to school with used to call me Marty. That can be either a boy's or girl's name." "That's perfect. For now." The doctor wrote something on Martin's chart, then handed it to Martin. On it the doctor had written his name and filled in his sex. He was now Marti Jefferson, female. Ingrid returned with Frank. "What's up doc?" he asked. "I'm not sure that Miss Jefferson is ready, but I'd like to try something more difficult than just toe wiggling. And I'm sure that she would like to see herself in the mirror. Let's see if you can stand up, Marti." "I'll try." With much effort, he was able to push his legs out of the bed, but he couldn't move them into a position where he could gain his feet. "Frank. Would you help her stand?" "Sure thing, doc?" Frank picked the young woman's body up as if she were weightless. Just as easily, he set her down on her feet gently beside her bed. Martin stood very wobbly. He was afraid he would fall. "I'd like you to try and take a step or two towards the mirror, Miss Jefferson." said the doctor. But as he did, he lost his balance and fell into Frank's waiting arms. "Are you okay, miss?" asked Frank as he lumbered toward the mirror. "You want to see yourself in the mirror, lady?" Martin looked at himself in the mirror. Next to Frank, who wouldn't put him down on the floor, he looked positively tiny. He could see, for the first time, that the experiment had actually worked. He was now that beautiful redheaded girl he seen earlier. But if he could have changed anything, he would have made his ample breasts smaller. "That's enough for right now." said the doctor. "Frank, would you put Miss Jefferson back on her bed." As soon as Martin was laid on the bed, Dr. Rikkers re-covered him with the blankets. "I'll call for you, if I need either of you." he dismissed Ingrid and Frank. He turned back to Martin. "We have plenty of time for your brain and mind to come to some amicable agreement on how to walk. It makes no sense to rush things, if you don't have to." "How long will be I like this?" "I'd guess at least a week. And possibly ten days or more." replied the doctor. "But we're walking on unknown ground, so to speak, anything is possible." "I'd hate to be confined to a bed for the next ten days. Didn't you say something last night about there being something you could do to speed up the assimilation process." "That's what I said." replied the doctor. "But I've never tried it before." he hedged. "However, the theory that explains how and why your mind could be transferred implies it should be possible." "Implies what should be possible?" "I should be able to use my machine to help your mind and brain adjust to one another. Now that your mind has been completely transferred to your new body, it should be possible for me to actually edit or even replace portions of your old mindset with complementary portions more compatible with the functionalities inherent within your new body." Martin was shocked. "Wouldn't that I mean I wouldn't be me anymore." "No. Not really." replied the doctor. "The changes would be essentially localized to your autonomic functions, which in turn would result in vastly improved motor functionality. There would be no change to any of your conscious memories, because none would be required. Consquently, you would still be you, since none of your conscious memory would be affected." "How would that work?" asked Martin. "I try to make it simple. Before I transferred your mind into this body, I recorded its basic autonomic functionalities. For one of my other projects, I recorded the neural activity of several women as they walked about or sat around or whatever else they did while I was there. "I've taken the autonomic recording made of your body and the neural recordings of those other women and mixed them together like you would in a musical recording studio. In effect, I've created a totally new neurological recording by a phased modulation of the recorded neural activities that allowed me to seamlessly overlay them over the autonomic recording. And that result has been stored on a CD. "To make this work, all you have to do is sit in one of the chairs again. I'll strap you in as I did before, pop the CD into the appropriate input device, turn the knob to switch from total transfer to edit using automated input, and flip the switch." "You had that already prepared?" asked Martin. "I find it is better to be prepared, Miss Jefferson. I had expected to transfer another woman's mind into this body. In that case, I probably wouldn't have needed this recording, because the necessary assimilation time would have probably been far less." explained the doctor. "So I made the recording, just in case. It must be the old boy scout in me." "Okay." said Martin. "Let's do it. I can't wait to be able to get out of bed and move around by myself." Frank, who had been summoned by the doctor, picked up Martin from the bed as if he were a feather and carried him to the chair the doctor had indicated. Frank set him gently into the chair. Once again, the doctor fastened all the straps so Martin couldn't move, then slipped the helmet on his head. He walked over to his odd contraption, opened a small door on its side, and removed one of the CD's stored inside. After removing it from its holder, he pushed it into the slot on his machine. Martin watched the little light above the slot flare brightly for a moment. Then the doctor turned the knob to another setting. "Are you ready?" asked the doctor. Holy deja vu, thought Martin. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be." The doctor smiled, then flicked the switch. A strange sense of fogginess pervaded Martin's mind and clouded it for a moment. But then, as quickly as it had come, the fogginess faded. It was over." "Are you alright, Miss Jefferson?" "I'm fine, doctor." she replied. "I've never felt better." Dr. Rikkers quickly removed the helmet and undid the straps. "How do you feel, Miss Jefferson?" He waited for her reaction. "I feel simply wonderful, Dr. Rikkers." A quick flick of her head tossed the hair that had fallen across her face away from her eyes. "Would you please try to stand?" asked the doctor. Marti was clearly frightened. "Here's hoping that everything worked like you thought it should." She rose slowly from the chair. "Wow." she exclaimed. "It must have worked, doctor. I'm not wobbling at all." "There's a mirror over there, Miss Jefferson. We need to verify the status of your walking ability and, I suspect, you'd like to have a better and more complete look at your new body. Would you mind walking over to the mirror?" "Of course not, doctor." Marti strolled over to the mirror as if she'd been walking in this body her entire life. She was so excited about being able to walk without tripping over her own two feet, that she failed to notice the doctor staring at her exaggerated feminine gait. "That was really easy, doctor." She stared at herself in the mirror and liked what she saw. Putting one hand on her hip and the other behind her head, she struck a pose in the mirror. Wondering why she'd ever thought her breasts were too big, she pulled her shoulders back, which, in turn, pushed out her breasts. "Hey beautiful. Do you come here often?" she asked her reflection as she began to gigle. Doctor Rikkers only smiled. "It has just worked perfectly, Miss Jefferson." But to himself, he added, especially those brand new mannerisms she'd exhibited and failed to notice. ******* With little else to do, since Dr. Rikkers had confined her activities to the lab, Marti stood in front of the mirror silently admiring her body. Since she still didn't feel overly comfortable with or very confident about wearing something feminine, she wore only a plain light-green sweatshirt with matching sweatpants. But she was absolutely amazed at how good she actually looked wearing these baggy clothes. She struck an exotic pose in the mirror, then pulled the sweatshirt tight, so that her breasts stuck out prominently from underneath. She smiled at herself. "Looking good, babe." she whispered. "How are you feeling today, Miss Jefferson?" asked the doctor as he entered and saw her posing in front of the mirror. "I feel utterly fantastic, Dr. Rikkers." Placing her hands on her hips, she turned to face him,. "It's hard to explain. But I actually feel better than I've ever felt in my entire life." She ran her nimble fingers through her silky red hair. "That's excellent." he replied. "But by now I'm sure you're grown tired of seeing just these four walls. I thought you might like to go outside and walk around to get some fresh air, as well as a welcome change of scenery." "I'd love to. But I can't go outside dressed like this." she exclaimed. "I'd just die if anybody else saw me dressed like this." "You have plenty of other clothes in your room that you could wear, Miss Jefferson. If you don't want to wear what you have on outside, then you should change into something else. When you come back, then we'll go for our walk." "I can't." she replied nervously then began to pace. "I really don't know how to wear any of those clothes. And they're all women's clothes. They're just not comfortable like my sweats. And I'm sure I would feel completely uncomfortable and totally out of place wearing any of them." "I see." replied the doctor. "Perhaps I can help you again." "How?" she asked. "With your contraption?" "As a matter of fact, yes. As a precaution, and just in case, I made another CD that should solve this little problem for you. On this one, I have overlaid your body patterning with all the knowledge you need to know about women's clothes." the doctor told her. "You will gain a completely instinctive knowledge of how to wear anything you own, as well a feel for what goes with what. You will not feel out of place wearing anything feminine. In fact, you should feel as equally comfortable wearing a dress outside as you do now wearing your sweats around the lab." "And I would still be me?" asked Marti. "Of course you would, Miss Jefferson. Just like the last time, no changes are required in your conscious memory." "I suppose we better do it then and get it done with." Marti said. "I just can't stay hidden away in the lab forever." "No. You can't." Dr. Rikkers tried to reassure her. "You must learn to face your new life. Or you'll be forever running away." Marti walked over to the chair and sat down in it as she had already done twice before. She reached down and fastened the straps on her ankles. "You'll need to do the rest of these straps, Dr. Rikkers." He came over and fastened the arm straps, then gently put the helmet on her head. Quickly, he went over and opened the little door on his contraption where he'd removed the CD before. After reaching inside and removing another CD, he slid it into the input slot, as Marti watched the little light above it flare once again. He left the knob positioned where it was set. "Are you ready, Miss Jefferson?" he asked. Wow, she thought, more deja vu. "I suppose so, Dr. Rikkers." Again he smiled. Once more he flicked the switch. And once again that strange sense of fogginess clouded her mind for a few moments. Then, just as before, the fogginess vanished as if it had never been there. Once again, it was over. "Are you alright, Marti?" asked the doctor. "Yes." she replied hesitantly. "I think so, doc." As he had done before, the doctor removed the helmet and the straps binding her arms and legs. "How do you feel now, Marti?" he asked, then waited for her reaction." "I don't really feel any different than before, doc." she replied as her hand quickly swept her hair away from her eyes. "What is about that helmet thingy of yours? It seems that it's always messing up my hair." "Are you ready for our walk, Marti?" "Not yet, silly. I really must change first. I certainly wouldn't want anyone to see me dressed like this." She popped out of the chair and strolled in the direction of her room. The doctor smiled as he watched her leave. Once again, his device had worked perfectly. And, even if she hadn't, since she wasn't supposed to, he had noted the few changes in Marti's behavior. But he wondered how long it would take before the full effects of her increased hormone production kicked in. When Marti returned, she was wearing a tight form-fitting sweater, which revealed her every curve and prominently displayed her ample breasts. The pants, also skin tight, barely reached the tops of her knees. Below her knees, she showed off smooth and sexy feminine legs, perched on open-toed shoes with two inch heels. "How do you like this look, doc." she smiled. "I think it's perfect for our walk, Marti." he replied. "You look fantastic." "Oh, thank you, Dr. Rikkers." she said coyly. "You know, I can't believe just how sexy these clothes make me feel." She started to giggle. "And I just can't believe I didn't even want to try wearing them earlier." She giggled again. "They're just so perfectly perfect for me. Don't you think so, doc?" "You're a beautiful young woman, Marti." said the doctor. Marti blushed, but said nothing in return. After all, what could she say, since she knew what he'd said was totally true. "You know, doc." she suddenly said. "If we're going for a walk, then we'd best be getting a move on." Then she grabbed the doctor's arm and pulled him out the door. * * * * * When they returned from their walk, Dr. Rikkers held the lab door open for her to enter. Because it somehow felt like the right thing to do, Marti reached over and gave him a quick little peck on the cheek that was accompanied by a girlish giggle. "That was really loads of fun, doc." she told him from behind her wide grin. "We just must do that again sometime real soon." "Of course, Marti." he replied. "We can take another walk tomorrow afternoon, if you'd like." "That'll be just super, doc." She tried to suppress a giggle, but couldn't. "But tomorrow, can we go someplace where they aren't so many boys hanging out? Did you see all of them? They were always staring at me like they didn't have anything else to do. It made me really nervous and nearly freaked me out." "That's something you'll have to get used to, Marti." he told her with an almost fatherly tone. "After all, you're a beautiful young woman now. And boys love looking at beautiful women." "That may be, doc, but in spite of everything's that happened, I'm still me. And deep down, I'm still a man." One of her hands came to rest on her hip, while the other swept across her face to move her hair away from her eyes. "Regardless of what _I_ look like, doc, I'm still me. And I can absolutely guarantee that I'm definitely and positively never going to like boys staring at me all the time." "Of course not, Marti. And you should never have to worry about any of those things happening. If they're meant to be, they'll come naturally in time." The doctor looked at his watch. "How would you like to have dinner with your old doctor tonight?" he asked. "Are you sure that's what you want?" asked Marti shyly in return. Of course, I'm sure. Why do you ask?" "Well ... It's probably nothing ... I'm sure you noticed that a lot of girls looked at me funny when we were out walking earlier. And when we stopped for that soda, I overheard a couple of them talking about me." A tear rolled down her cheek. "They think I'm weird and some kind of geek because I don't wear any makeup and I was hanging around with an old dude. You don't think I'm weird or a geek?" she began to pout. "Do you, doc?" "Of course not, Marti." he replied. "You're just fine the way you are. Those other girls were just jealous." "_Just fine_?" she repeated his words. She pouted again as tears welled in her eyes. Then unexpectedly, her mood turned somber and very serious. "Do you think that contraption of yours can teach me everything I need to know about makeup and how to apply it?" she asked. "Certainly, it can." answered the doctor. "I made a CD ..." "Oh, I just knew that you had." she exclaimed with glee. She rushed over and, without thinking, excitedly kissed him squarely on the lips. "And I'd still be me, just like those other times, wouldn't I?" she said barely able to contain her excitement. "Of course, Marti." She quickly rushed over and sat down in one of the chairs. Just as quickly, she strapped her ankles, then put on the helmet and tightened its chin strap. After binding her left arm to the arm of the chair, she turned back towards Dr. Rikkers. "Well." she said in a calm voice. "You'll have to do this one for me, doc." She started to giggle again. "It seems I can't do this _all_ by myself." Dr. Rikkers fastened her right arm into the strap, then retrieved his latest CD from the small compartment in the machine. He inserted it into the slot. "Are you ready, Marti?" Holy deja vu, she thought. "Would you hurry up already, doc. _I_ really don't have all night, you know." He smiled. He flicked the switch. Marti's mind was clouded once again by that strange sense of fogginess she'd experienced before. Just like the other times, it lasted for only a moment, then vanished without a trace. "Are you alright?" "Yes. Just fine." Dr. Rikkers removed the helmet and undid the straps. "How do you feel?" he asked his charge. "Actually, doc, I don't feel any different than I did before." She swept her hair away from her eyes. "That thing still makes a total and absolute mess of my hair though. But I really don't think it worked this time, doc?" "Then, I take it you're ready to go out for our dinner." "What? With a naked face?" she said in disbelief. "Oh, heaven's no, doc. Whatever could you have been thinking? I absolutely must put my face on before I can even begin to think of being seen in public." She leapt to her feet and bounced cheerfully to her room. Once again, the doctor smiled as he watched her leave the room. Were the truth being told, even he would have been unable to deny the total enjoyment and sheer excitement he felt in watching the sway of her tight ass as she walked. For a moment, he thought about the kiss. Sometimes he wished he could be younger. But he couldn't start thinking about that now. There were other things in need of being done. And his device had worked perfectly again. He wondered if Marti would think to thank him for what he'd also downloaded into her mind from the CD this time. But then, she would probably never realize that anything of significance had changed. Depending on the level of external stimulation she'd encounter at dinner, Marti would, by no later than tomorrow morning and very likely sooner, show a marked change in her sexual preference. Despite her earlier denials, she _was_ going to like boys and all of their attentions towards her. After all, it just wouldn't do to have his creation liking other girls _that_ way. When Marti returned, she had expertly applied blush to her face and both shadow and liner about her eyes. And her lips were painted dark red. "How's this look, doc?" She ran her tongue lightly across her lips. "Do you like it?" she smiled. "It's perfect, Marti. Just like you." "Why thank you, Dr. Rikkers." she said coyly. "I just knew I'd look better wearing some makeup. Don't you think so, doc?" "You're beautiful." Marti blushed. As she realized that the doctor didn't express himself with much variation, she smiled at his compliment. Besides, what did it matter anyway, since she knew what he'd said was true. "If we're going to dinner, doc, then we'd better be on our way." She grabbed the doctor's upper arm. "And wherever we end up, doc, we need to find a table sitting in the center of the room so that all of those jealous girls, who will undoubtably be there, can get an eyeful of the new competition." And she led him by the arm out the door. After they'd returned from their dinner, Marti had rushed off to her room to change her clothes. And that had given Dr. Rikkers time to reflect on what had happened that evening. There could be little doubt that both of them had had a very interesting time. But it was debatable which of them, in the long term, had had the better time. As they'd entered the restaurant, he had noticed several males of varying ages openly staring in Marti's direction, only to quickly avert their gazes when she turned towards them. But with that sixth sense that only women seem to possess, Marti had known they'd been checking her out. She had no need of catching them in the act to know what they'd been doing or thinking. But still, it was obvious to the doctor that their stares made his companion quite nervous and very uptight. And when the waiter, a young man probably close in age to Marti's body, had come to take their order, he had openly flirted with her. Totally embarrassed by his flirtations, Marti had blushed brightly, her face turning redder than her hair. She had turned away and tried everything she could think of that might discourage him. But all of her efforts was to no avail. And when the waiter returned with their meal, he shamelessly began flirting with her again. But if he'd expected the same reactions from her, he'd probably been disappointed. At that moment, she seemed to be far less embarrassed by his attentions and, while she had still blushed, her color was no where near as bright as it had been. And it probably made him wonder when she neither attempted to turn away nor tried to discourage him in any way. But as Marti had eaten, the doctor had been observing her closely. She began to steal furtive looks at many of the young men sitting at the other tables. At first she had seemed nervous, as if afraid of what the doctor might say. But as the hour grew later, her looks grew increasingly bolder and more appraising. And when the waiter brought him the check, it wasn't Marti who had blushed brightly and run off hurriedly from openly flirtatious and extremely suggestible advances. The doctor smiled, as he remembered the young couple, who had just entered as he was paying the check. Marti had casually bumped into the man. As she and the young man had made eye contact, they had smiled at one another. But as the waitress had taken them to their table, the young woman had turned back to stare daggers at Marti. As she did, she mouthed the words "Back off bitch. He's mine." And Marti had merely smiled in reply. His recollections of the evening were interrupted as Marti, wearing a skimpy nightie, returned. "So, Marti. Did you enjoy your dinner and evening out?" "Oh, yes, Dr. Rikkers." she replied. "I had lots of fun tonight." "And how about that young man - our waiter?" "I thought he was kind of cute." she grinned sheepishly. "Did I embarrass you when he brought the check?" she asked. "If I did, I didn't mean to. You know, I can't understand why he made me so nervous at first. And neither can I understand why I ever tried to discourage him from paying attention to me." "You must still be adjusting." suggested the doctor. "I suppose that must be it. It does kind of make sense." She tossed her head to one side. "I'm going to bed now, doctor. Its been a very long but highly enjoyable evening, and I need my beauty sleep." She turned and skipped out of room, seemingly without a care in the world." As he watched her leave, the doctor smiled. "All is definitely well." he said to himself. * * * * * The next morning, Marti woke with a wide grin on her face and her legs spread apart. Never having been so aroused as a women before, the dampness she felt came as a complete - and pleasant - surprise. She'd been dreaming of last night's waiter. And even as she laid in bed, her continuing thoughts of him aroused her. But he hadn't even told her his name. Then again, maybe he had, when she'd been strangely trying to dissuade his attentions. And she hadn't told him her name either. She went and stood in front the mirror. She stared at her reflection and couldn't help but smile. "You look mighty fine this morning." Then suddenly she frowned. "There's something wrong with someone as pretty as me having a simple name like 'Marti.' It was an okay name at first, I guess." She posed for herself in the mirror. "But now it definitely lacks something. It's just not sexy enough for me. It's certainly a hell of lot better than 'Martin,' but who'd ever believe my name was really Martin anyway. There just has to be a better name for me now." Then she smiled again. "I wonder if the doc made another of his magic CD's for all occasions." She dressed quickly. Then she went out to seek out the doctor. She found him sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. "Good morning, doc." she said in a sexy voice. "Good morning, Marti." he replied without looking up. Sitting on the table was a magazine with a cover that caught her eye. For several seconds, she stared at the muscular naked man, before she picked it up and starting scanning through it, only to stop every few pages to stare with evident lust. And when she finished with it, she casually tossed it back on the table. "Anything interesting?" asked the doctor. "No. Not really." she answered with a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin. "It's just the same old stuff you see every day." The doctor smiled. "How are you feeling today?" "Okay, I guess." she sighed. "I was thinking of going and apologizing to that waiter we had last night. He probably thinks I'm really some kind of space case. But before I go, I was wondering if you had another one of your CD's." She looked at the doctor with pleading doe eyes. "What for?" he asked. "I thought you might have one with a brand new sexy name for me." she explained. "I mean 'Martin' certainly isn't me anymore. And while 'Marti' is definitely better, it's just not right for me anymore either. Please tell me you made another CD to take care of this little problem for me." "If we changed your name," began the doctor, "wouldn't that mean you wouldn't be you anymore?" "Why wouldn't I be me?" she asked back. "Isn't a name just a name. I'd still be me, but I just have a different and more suitable name." she defended. "Didn't someone once say 'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.' If that's true, wouldn't me with any other name still be me." "I suppose that might be true, Marti." replied the doctor. "But this time, I don't have another CD prepared." "Oh pooh." she pouted. "But there might be another way." "Really." she squealed with delight. "There really is. Please tell me what it is." "I could hook you up to the machine just as I've done before. But this time, I'd set the machine to receive manually supplied input. Since you want a new name, I'd begin by asking you your name and you'd tell me 'Martin.' I'd correct you, then give you a new name, let's say 'Melody' for example. Then I'd ask you your name again, but this time you'd respond 'Melody.' And you'd have no knowledge or memories of ever being named anything other 'Melody.'" "What about all my _other_ memories?" "Nothing else should change. This technique is exactly like the CD input, except its a hell of a lot slower. And it's more specific. "For the most part, only those thoughts corrected would change. If I tell you your name is Melody, then your name was, is, and will be Melody, but you'd still think of yourself as a male housed in a female body." "Would it work, doc?" she asked in anticipation. "It should. It was actually developed first, even before the CD input. But I've never been able test it. I wasn't able to use it on the cat or the dog because they can't communicate verbally. The CD transfer device was a logical extension of both the theory and the technology behind the manual transfer device. And, as you can attest, the CD device works. Logically, so should this." "Can we do it now?" she asked eagerly. "Of course." he replied. "Have you chosen a new name for yourself?" "Oh." she sounded surprised. "I guess I should have done that before I came looking for you. But I thought you'd just pop a CD into your contraption and I'd get a new name. I guess I wasn't thinking." She thought for a few moments. "You know, Melody sounds pretty good, but I just can't picture myself as a Melody. My mom always told me she would have named me Mary had I been a girl. But that sounds pretty plain. Maybe I should choose something exotic ... something like ... Marlana. Yeah, I like the sound of that. It sounds so exquisitely exotic." "Very well." replied the doctor. "Let's go into the lab and get you hooked up again. * * * * * Marti, strapped and helmeted, sat in the chair once more. Dr. Rikkers turned the knob on his contraption another notch. "Are you ready?" he asked. Here we go again, she thought. "I suppose." she replied. And she was surprised to see the doctor frown as he flicked the switch on his contraption. Once again that strange sense of fogginess clouded her mind, but unlike the other times it didn't quickly pass. The doctor walked over and stood in front of his glassy-eyed subject. This is the end of the experiment, he thought. And it is the stage I've always feared they'd ask of me. But those who pay the bills, call the shots. And, at least, they left it to my discretion, within certain boundaries, how to implement this phase. "Let's start with something simple. Why do you now have a female body?" "I now have a female body because you transferred my mind into it from my dying male body." she replied with no emotion. "That is an incorrect answer. You have a female body, because you were born female. Once again, why do you now have a female body?" "I've always had a female body." she replied. "What was your sex at birth." "Female, of course." "Tell me the month and the day of your birth and the age you'll be on your next birthday." "I was born on September 23. On that day, I'll be fifty-one years old." "Incorrect." replied the doctor. "You were born May 12. On your next birthday, you'll be twenty years of age. Now, tell me your birthday and your current age." "May 12." she replied. "I'm nineteen, almost twenty." "Tell me, young lady, your name and place of birth." "My name is Martin Daniel Jefferson. I was born in Columbia Heights, Minnesota." "That is wrong, young lady." said the doctor. "Your name is Gretchen Alene Trelker. You were born in Modarnia, a small town in the old country. Would you repeat your name and birthplace for me again, young lady?" "My name is Gretchen Alene Trelker. I was born in Modarnia." she replied, still emotionless, with a light accent similar to the doctor's. "Are your parents living or dead, Gretchen? "They're both alive and living in Minneapolis." she replied, "Wrong. Both of your parents are dead. They are buried in the old country. Tell me again, Gretchen, are your parents living or dead?" "They have both passed on." she replied. "They are buried in the old country." But, even though her response was coldly unemotional, a tear rolled down her cheek. "Who am I?" he asked. "You are Dr. Jozef Rikkers." "That is correct." he replied. "But, I am also your mother's brother, Gretchen. You came to live with me after they died. Do you know who I am?" "Of course, I do. You're Uncle Jozef. And you're a doctor, too. My mother always spoke of her brother with much pride. And she was very proud of you, Uncle Jozef, when you graduated and became a doctor." "Are you married, Gretchen?" "Not now. My wife ..." she looked puzzled for an instant. "No, my husband - I'm a girl and could have never had a wife - divorced me a couple of years ago." "Incorrect." said the doctor. "You have never been married, Gretchen. But you are currently engaged to a fine young man from the old country that I introduced to you. Are you married?" "No." she replied. "Not yet anyway. I am engaged, though. Does that count?" "Do you know why you are here?" "Certainly. After father and mother died, you took me in to live with you, Uncle Jozef. And now that I'm old enough, you've even found me a fine young man from the old country to wed." Dr. Rikkers walked slowly towards machine. "That should be more than sufficient for this to work." He reached inside and took out the last CD and put it into machine. He twisted the knob to an unmarked position. "This should fill in your memories of names and places as keyed on your newly altered memories. I wish things could have been different." He tossed the switch, then stepped back to watch the flashing lights as his 'contraption' did its thing. * * * * * The sense of fogginess clouding her mind dissipated. "Are you alright, Gretchen?" asked the doctor. "Yes, Uncle Jozef." she replied, as he removed the helmet. "I'm fine. But you really must do something about that stupid helmet. It makes such a mess of hair." Jozef smiled as he undid the straps on his niece's arm and legs. "Weren't you going to see someone this morning." "Oh, yes. I almost forgot. And thank you, Uncle Jozef." She kissed her uncle on the cheek. "I'm supposed to go see Petr and his uncle about our wedding plans. I wouldn't want to be late." She gave her uncle another peck on the cheek. "And I can't begin to thank you enough Uncle Jozef for introducing me to Petr. I just know he's going to be such a wonderful husband." she beamed with pride. "I'll see you when I get home." And Jozef smiled, as he watched his niece excitedly amble out the door. * * * * * Gretchen Alene Trelker was a beautiful blushing bride. Her hand in marriage given away by her uncle, the eminent Dr. Jozef Rikkers. Her new husband, Petr Drachan, was the nephew of one of the doctor's oldest and closest friends from the old country. "Your niece is very beautiful, Jozef." said Pavel Drachan. "You must be very proud of her." "I certainly am, Pavel." replied Jozef. "But your nephew is a handsome young man. Together they make a wonderful couple." "That is true, my friend. But I still find much of this difficult to believe, Jozef." "Why is that, Pavel. The theory was sound. But, as always, it was the financing that required creativity. Who would have believed there would be two opposing sides begging to fund our experiment. Neither of them alone would have provided sufficient resources, but together we have a surplus." "But even though I know it to be true, I still have trouble thinking of Gretchen as ever having been male. When I look at her, she is so feminine, so perfect. And as many have said today, she and Petr are the perfect couple. I'm am certain that those funding your work must have been impressed, Jozef." "Making her so feminine was their idea. They wanted to see if the theory would hold. The mind transfer was successful. And each adjustment proceeded as planned. I just don't think anything was accomplished by totally erasing her old sense of self." said Jozef. "But tell me, Pavel, were your people as impressed with Petr as mine were with Gretchen." "How could they not be, Jozef." smiled his colleague. "To be able to take the mind of dying seventy-year old grandmother and transfer and remold it into one of a healthy and handsome virile young man is an impressive feat. Some of them were even more amazed that he could attract, and be attracted to, a beautiful young woman like Gretchen so quickly." "I know what you mean. Some of mine thought the same thing of her catching Petr." Pavel smiled. "They never guessed that it was always planned for our perfect couple to be the perfect couple from the start." "Everything went exactly as we planned, Pavel." said Jozef. "It does, however, make you wonder about the correct usage of the term _intelligence_ in the title of any agency operated by any government." "_Government Intelligence_." chuckled Pavel. "It has always seemed an oxymoron to me, my friend." "By the way, Pavel. Our perfect couple may soon be the perfect trio. Gretchen told me last night that she thinks she's pregnant. She's very excited and looking forward to being a mother." The two men's conversation was interrupted as they were each handed a glass of champagne for the wedding toast. "To the bride and groom." toasted Pavel. "To the bride and groom." toasted Jozef. And in a voice so low that only Pavel could hear, "To the perfect execution of our plan." END