Altered Fates: Mercy free porn video

The following work is the whole property of R. C. Conrad. Posting this story transfers no license or property. No authority is granted to post this story to any pay site. This story may be posted to any free site, provided notice is given to the author. This story contains transgender images and imagery of magic. If you are easily offended, please do not continue. Persons under the age of 18 should not view this material. Altered Fates: Mercy By R. C. Conrad What can I tell you about my friends? We are all children of the sixties. We went to Woodstock; Jean was at Kent State and ran when the Guardsmen fired into the crowd. We were all part of the anti war and the back to nature movements. We formed a commune in the early seventies and finally gave up our wandering and got jobs. By the eighties we had become respectable and pillars of the community. Still, something of our lingering idealism remained. It wasn't enough to make charitable, tax deducible donations. It wasn't enough to build houses once a year with Habitat for Humanity. We wanted to do something; we wanted to make a difference again. Or at least feel like we had. I believe it was Labor Day. We had met at Greg's cabin on the lake. Greg had gone back to school after the commune and become a doctor. He had a thriving plastic surgery practice in the city. We were sitting around his living room, knocking back a few and reminiscing. Sheila, my wife, turned on the television, Jerry Lewis snapped into view on the screen and Greg grunted at the picture. "What do you think Evan? Has he made a difference?" Greg asked. I shrugged, "He's raised millions for his charity. He's raised public awareness. He keeps on doing it, year after year. I don't know if the French are right about his being a comedic genius, but he sure has made a difference." Greg grunted again in response. Jean chimed in; "Don't you think you've made a difference Greg?" Greg looked at her in silence for a moment, "Yes, I made a difference, at least I made a difference at one time." He heaved himself to his feet. Greg always was the all American. Six foot tall, broad shouldered, blonde hair, blue eyes. He was even the quarterback of our small, liberal arts college. Now his slender frame had developed a potbelly. His blonde hair had dimmed with age and I knew he favored his knees when he thought nobody was looking. Greg walked over to the picture window and leaned on the frame with one arm. "How about it Evan? Do you think you make a difference? Has real estate been a rewarding endeavor for you?" I paused briefly, "Not when you put it like that Greg. I mean, it pays the rent. Sheila and I don't want for anything, except maybe someone to leave it to." Greg turned back to the group of us. "How about you Jean? You have held closer to your ideals than anyone else has. Do you think working in the city offices is making a difference?" Jean smiled her demure smile and looked away briefly. "I'm surprised at you Greg. I thought you had turned your back on idealism long ago. How would your clients feel if they knew you weren't in it for the money?" We all laughed at her barb, even Greg. Regaining his composure Greg continued, "Hell yes, I'm in it for the money. But money isn't enough. I want to feel important. No, not important, but I want to feel like I left this world a little better than I found it. Not by donating money, not by backing the right candidate, but by doing something for Christ's sake!" Sheila piped up just then. "How about it Greg? Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?" Greg just looked at her for a second, "Yes, I mean it." He responded after a moment. "Even if it meant losing your practice? Even if it meant giving up all of this?" She gestured with one arm to indicate the vacation home that Greg owned. "Yes." Greg replied without hesitation. "Sheila, Evan, Jean, I feel like I'm losing who I am. I may not have many years left to me, none of the men in my family have made it past 65, I don't have any kids and I want to have a legacy." Greg sat down in his recliner a little smaller for his admission. "Is that so much to ask?" Sheila stood up, "I'm glad you said that Greg. Jean, come with me, we're going shopping." Greg just looked at me. I shrugged. After 25 years of marriage, I know Sheila pretty well, but at times I don't know her at all. It must have been an hour later when Sheila and Jean got back to the cabin. They had a large shopping bag from one of the local department stores with them. "Greg," Sheila ordered, "put this on." She put a cheap looking necklace down on the coffee table. Greg picked it up and started to argue, but the look on Sheila's face stopped him. When Sheila is running with a full head of steam, we all knew better than to cross her. Greg picked up the cheesy looking thing and dropped the chain around his neck. Sheila fished around in the shopping bag for a second and then paused. "Greg, this is going to be scary as hell. We've known each other for a long time, and I am asking you to trust me. I know what I am doing and this is reversible, okay?" Greg nodded his head. With that Sheila pulled a piece of clothing out of the bag and touched it to the necklace. Greg got a strange look on his face when she did that but nothing happened. After a few minutes Greg slid back in his chair and sighed. "Sheila, I trust you. But how is this supposed to make a difference?" "Just watch," She said. I think it was Jean that noticed it first. "Greg, your hair is changing color, it's going blonde again." "What?" Greg asked in bewilderment, getting up to check in a mirror. We all followed him into the bathroom, but I noticed on the way there that his pants didn't seem to fit any more. He pulled them up twice on the way to the bathroom. When he arrived with Jean and myself following right behind and Sheila trailing I noticed that the lines were no longer so deeply etched in his face. With a gasp Greg looked in the mirror, "My God Sheila, I must be ten years younger!" "Oh yes, Greg," Sheila said from behind us, "And you're going to be getting even younger." Sure enough, Greg continued to march into youth. In the space of a half-hour Greg went from a man aging poorly to a boy just entering adolescence. Greg kicked off his now poor fitting shoes and stepped out of his jeans. He looked at us and his mouth worked, but no words came out. "Come on all of you, let us go sit down so I can explain. Oh, Greg, take off that necklace and lay it on the bathroom counter if you will." Sheila's voice snapped us back to reality. Greg took off the necklace and Sheila picked it up, dropping it into a cloth sack and tying it up with a drawstring. Once we were all back in the living room and comfortably seated Sheila explained. "I was volunteering at the local charity, sorting clothing from donation boxes when I spotted it. I never for the life of me expected to ever see something I studied in college there. Never mind all that, this is an ancient artifact called the medallion of Zulo. According to legend it is supposed to have the power to transform the wearer to fit anything that is touched to it. If I had touched a dress to it, Greg would have become a woman, as ugly as that thought is." We all laughed nervously at her joke. "Anyway," She continued, "I reasoned if we picked up some clothing that would have fit a boy, Greg would turn into a young version of himself" "So, what would have happened if you had touched Jean's shirt to me?" Greg asked. Sheila paused for once, "Logically, you would have turned into Jean." We all exchanged glances, unnerved by the power of this thing. "So, how do you change me back?" Greg asked "The legends speak of a resting period between transformations, perhaps a day, then we should be able to change you back." "How does this make a difference? Sure we can make people younger, or turn them into someone else, but how is that substantially different from plastic surgery?" Greg asked "Simple," Jean chimed in, "What if you had a patient that was burned? You could graft on more skin, but it would still be other people's skin. You can't replace an amputated limb; you can't heal a birth defect with surgery. But this thing can." We all sat there, stunned by the implications. Finally, I found my voice. "Greg, I think you are going to leave your lucrative practice in the city, and open your own clinic." I looked at Greg. Greg looked at Sheila. Sheila looked at Jean. Jean looked at me. We all smiled. Sure enough, that's about how it started. Greg sold his practice off to another doctor. Within six months he was free. In the mean time Sheila used her investment acumen to turn all of our savings into a tidy little nest egg for the enterprise we planned to launch. Jean really wanted to do more. She stayed at her position in the city offices. I hate to say it, but having a friend in the right place did more to speed along the permit process than anything we could have possibly done. We wound up purchasing a small lodge not far from the city, but still in a rural area. It had good access from the highway, and the county airport was only twenty minutes or so away. I handled the negotiations and overseeing the work the contractors did. We had to have a 12-bed facility, with rooms for recreation, an "operating" theatre and recovery area, plus kitchen and service areas. Since the lodge was not on one floor, an elevator had to be installed. It required almost constant attention. In short order my job began to suffer and Sheila confronted me about it. "Look Evan, make sense. Your business is suffering; you're spending all your time at the clinic anyway. Why not look for a buyer for your real estate agency and take a position as the clinic business manager?" I had to admit Sheila made a strong argument. At the next meeting of our provisional board of directors I was voted in as clinic administrator, a 3-0 vote, with myself abstaining. With my business sold and the proceeds going to our little nest egg, I began full time work at the lodge, in fact, I began spending more time there than at home. Sheila was busy too, although I don't know what with. Greg told me that she and Jean were spending weekends together cooking something up, but he didn't know what. I love and trust Sheila, but I missed our time together too. We were all so busy with the work we had thrown into the clinic that we almost missed Christmas. Greg, Sheila, and Jean came up to the lodge the weekend before Christmas to surprise me. Jean, always the motherly type had brought along the fixings for an old style Christmas dinner. With a light snow falling and our bellies full Greg and I sat down in front of the roaring fire to discuss the progress of the clinic. Sheila and Jean were busy cleaning up in the kitchen and this was the first chance in many weeks I had a chance to talk to my friend, plus, I had a feeling the ladies were up to something and I wanted to corner Greg on it. Greg estimated that he could be free of his obligation to his practice by mid March. I thought the lodge would be ready by then, but we still had to get funding and line up staff. Finally, when I asked Greg what Sheila and Jean were up to, he couldn't tell me more than they had been hanging out in Jean's office after hours. Just then the swinging doors to the kitchen opened and two women walked into the main room of the lodge, two women that we did not recognize. The first was a tall, leggy blonde, with large firm breasts that must have been a DD cup. The other was a petite honey skinned brunette with almond eyes the color gold. They were very young, barely twenty barely dressed, and what they were wearing left no question as to their intentions. The brunette was wearing a red teddy and crotchless panties. The blonde was wearing a white bra and panty set, white hose and suspenders. Both of them were wearing tall stiletto heels that matched their outfits. Greg and I just stood there with our eyes and mouths wide open. "Hi boys," the brunette said "Is there anything fun to do around here?" the blond finished, while leaning forward to give us an unhindered look at her cleavage. "Who, who are you?" I managed to stammer Both of them looked hurt. "Why, we're Sheila and Jean." The blonde said. "And we're yours for tonight." The brunette said while glancing away demurely. "Uhm, which one of you is Sheila and which is Jean?" Greg asked. "That is for us to know." The blonde said before beginning to suck on the index finger of one hand suggestively, her other hand began to dip into the front of her panties. "And for you to find out." Said the brunette, cupping her breasts through the gauzy material of her teddy. "One thing though boys." The brunette continued. "Evan had better pick right." The blonde finished, playfully running her wet fingers through Greg's hair. I have to admit, I couldn't tell who was who. I picked the honey-skinned brunette. I had a fifty-fifty shot at being right, and I got lucky. Afterward, I asked Sheila why the change. She looked at me as if I lost my mind. "Honestly Evan. You'd think you had not been married to me for all these years. A woman wants to feel desirable and more importantly, desired by her man." "But, what about Jean and Greg?" I asked Again, I got the "Have you just fallen off a cloud?" look. "Jesus Evan. Jean has been after Greg since college. They've slept together, but Greg just isn't interested, or the timing is wrong, I don't know. Jean figured maybe it was her, so she wanted to try something different. You have to admit, that the earth mama we know, doesn't look anything at all like that blonde bombshell. I had to admit the blonde looked nothing like our Jean. "Funny thing though. I hope Greg survives. Jean says that when she is in that body she is almost always ready to go. I guess that woman is little slutty." Sheila grinned with her new flashing smile. "That's okay, it's only temporary. And besides, my mama always told me a lady should be a lady everywhere but in bed." It was a memorable Christmas. I had that devil's own time setting up financing. We finally had to appeal to local charities to fund us. That and a few big donations from industry sources gave us enough capital to get us going for the first six months. We opened on March 15th. I laughed off Jean's dire pronouncement of the ides of March. It turned out more prophetic that we could have realized. We actually had our first patient three days later. A young boy came in suffering from extensive second and third degree burns. Greg had heard about the case from a colleague of his that had done some of the grafting work in a marathon session. The burns suffered in the fire, and subsequent hospitalization, in addition to the invasive procedures and the drain of healing his injuries had stunted his growth. His body was just wearing itself down keeping him alive. His mother came along. Fortunately, she was a registered nurse, and had been able to attend to his medical care when he came home, but the loss of her income, plus the around the clock care needs of her son were wearing her family down. We met little Nicky Samuels and his mother Sarah at the entrance door to the clinic. The ambulance ride from the city had taken its toll on Nicky and he looked drawn and pale. Greg escorted him to his room while I talked to Mrs. Samuels. "Mrs. Samuels, I am Evan Gustafson, administrator of the Glick clinic. Dr. Glick will take care of your son. I just wanted to take the time to explain our procedures here to you once again." "Thank you Mr. Gustafson. " Sarah replied, "We are so very grateful to you for helping Nicky. Whatever it takes we are willing to work out payment arrangements with your office." Savoring the feeling I smiled and held up a hand, "Payment is not necessary Mrs. Samuels. The Glick clinic is totally free. We are totally funded by donations from individuals and charitable organizations. Nicky will receive the best care money can buy, and we feel confident that we can expect an amazing amount of progress in a very short time." Mrs. Samuels stopped walking and looked straight at me, "Don't take me for a fool Mr. Gustafson. I'm a nurse. I know people with Nicky's sort of injuries rarely make a full recovery. I'm afraid he will be living with those scars the rest of his life." Mrs. Samuels's voice broke on the last word and tears began streaming down her face. Irritated and upset she began digging in her purse for a tissue. I sent up a quick thank you to my own mother for always making me carry a handkerchief. Quickly, I dug it out of my pocket and handed it to Mrs. Samuels. "Here, at least let us have a chance. I believe we can certainly offer Nicky the chance to live a normal life. Wiping her eyes Mrs. Samuels offered, "I hope so, I really hope so." Nicky's grafts had begun bleeding from his trip in the ambulance. The skin covering his body was so fragile that even the pressure of sitting in a reclined position while the ambulance hit bumps in the road had opened the skin on his back and buttocks. It took three more days before Greg was willing to allow Nicky to be "operated" on. Finally the day arrived. Nicky was wheeled into the "operating theatre" and Mrs. Samuels walked alongside his gurney holding his hand. Nicky was already groggy from the anesthetic. His small body, wrapped in compression bandages to keep the skin covering his burns looked pitiful. Worse even than that, were the pink and ghostly white grafts showing against his chocolate skin. Greg had to stop Mrs. Samuels at the door to the operating theatre. "Nicky is in good hands Mrs. Samuels. Just let us do our job." Mrs. Samuels stood rooted to the spot as the doors to the operating theatre swung closed. Carefully, I guided Mrs. Samuels to the waiting area. Jean was there already. Together, we kept the vigil with Mrs. Samuels. In order to provide the appearance of a complicated medical procedure we had to keep Nicky anesthetized for most of the day. Then perform the procedure on him and allow him to wake up in the recovery room that night. It was about 6 o'clock that evening when Greg walked into the waiting area. He was smiling broadly. Mrs. Samuels's body was rigid in fearful anticipation. "Mrs. Samuels," Greg began, "It was a little touch and go, but Nicky is fine. What is more, we can expect a complete recovery." Sarah was speechless. Finally she managed to say, "Oh, thank God. Can I see him?" Jean stepped up to guide Sarah Samuels to her little boy. Meanwhile I gave Greg the raised eyebrow. As Mrs. Samuels was lead away Greg stepped over to me. "We discovered a hole in our plan today. I almost lost Nicky in there." Greg said. "How the hell could that be?" I asked sotto voce, "It wasn't like you were really operating on him now, was it?" "No, but he was really under anesthetic." Greg explained. "Shit." Was all I could think of saying? Greg continued, "We need to get a real anesthesiologist in here to make this a little safer." Nicky made a full recovery. Sarah Samuels declared it nothing short of a miracle, but also cornered me one day in the hall. "Mr. Gustafson, I know about medicine. There is no way you could have done what you did to my Nicky in a few hours." I felt like a trapped rat. "But I want to thank you for it anyway." It only seemed natural to say; "You're welcome Mrs. Samuels." Greg solved the problem with the anesthesiologist. He advertised discreetly in medical journals for an anesthesiologist willing to work without pay. I had to wonder at the quality of the professional willing to work without pay. Of course Sheila, my lovely wife reminded me that I was working without pay myself. After that I shut up and ran the clinic. Rex Tarone was the only anesthesiologist to apply for the position. We invited him out to the clinic to take a look around and get to know him better. He walked through the doors to the clinic and I had to wonder if he wasn't a patient. He was a stoops shouldered old man, perhaps 65 or so. He walked with a cane. And most prominently, bore large discolorations on his nose and lower jaw. I managed to cover up my expression of disbelief and welcomed him to the Glick clinic. Greg and I spent the day with him. In the formal phase of the interview we asked him why he was willing to work without pay. He collected his thoughts for a moment before explaining, "Gentlemen, I don't have much time left. I am not as old as I look. I am 50, but I have always been a hemophiliac. Unfortunately, I have also contracted AIDS due to that condition. I am not in the final stages, so I want to dedicate my life to doing some good while I still can." Greg and I gave each other meaningful glances. Jean, Sheila Greg and I discussed it at breakfast the next morning. "Rex has a skill we need to operate this institution safely. We have a way for him to live long enough to help us help others. I think we should not only hire him, but use the medallion to heal him." Greg summed up. Jean and Sheila agreed, and so did I for that matter. Rex was incredulous when we made our offer. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I may look old beyond my years, but I am not senile. There exists no method in science that can change a person so completely." Rex demanded. "That is exactly where you need to change your point of view, " Jean interjected, "This isn't science, this is magic. Just imagine who you want to look like, what you want to be and we will help you become that person, physically at least." "So, you are saying that I can be anyone, look like anyone?" Rex asked. "Yes, I don't think we would want to make you a younger version of yourself though, your hemophilia would still be a problem." Sheila offered. "Alright, I will think about it overnight. In the morning I will give you a list of attributes, change me into that person and I will work for you for as long as you will have me." Rex offered. We hastily agreed. At that point I would have promised him the moon to keep this dream alive. In the morning Rex was already at the breakfast table when we arrived. He had a piece of paper folded on the table in front of him. As we approached the table, he wished us a good morning. "So, Rex, do you have the requirements for your new body?" Jean asked "I do Jean. Change me into that person and I'm yours." Rex handed Jean the piece of paper. Jean had a confident smile on her face as she unfolded the piece of paper and read Rex's requirements. I began to worry when her face fell. Jean looked at Rex. "Are you sure Rex?" "I believe so Jean." Rex responded. Jean looked at Sheila. "Sheila," She said, "We're going shopping." I think that's when I began to dread those words. The ladies turned to leave the table, only to have Jean turn around and come back and hug Rex. Then they were off in a cloud of sales flyers. Greg and I just gave Rex the raised eyebrow. Rex was as quiet as the sphinx. Jean and Sheila came back with the mother load of bags. I think they shopped all day. They may have hired other shoppers to help them. All I know is their minivan was full and they would let Greg or I near the van to help unload. Then they took Rex into another room and locked the door. We didn't see them until the next morning. Greg and I were the first ones down to breakfast. Halfway through my plate of eggs Sheila came up behind me and asked me if I was ready for the grand unveiling of Rex. Jean was doing the same thing to Greg. I of course said yes. Sheila put her hands over my eyes and had me turn my chair around. Once we were situated Jean said, "Boys, I'd like to introduce you to our new anesthesiologist, Regina Tarone!" And Sheila took her hands away from my eyes. Regina was about 5' 5" tall when she wasn't wearing the three-inch heels on her feet now. Narrow waist, flaring hips, womanly, but not overly large breasts, high, aristocratic cheekbones, dainty, upturned nose, big bee stung lips, caf? au lait skin, beautiful brown eyes with a slight almond shape and jet black hair hanging in loose ringlets cascading around her shoulders. I love my wife, but our anesthesiologist gave me a boner. "Well, what do you think?" Regina asked in her new voice. I was speechless. I think Greg was unconscious. Finally, practical matters brought me back to my senses. "So, you are going to be our anesthesiologist?" I asked. Regina laughed a musical bell tone and said, "Yes!" We celebrated our new staff member with toasts of orange juice and coffee. Later on I got a chance to ask Regina why the drastic change. She sighed then answered, "I've always been sick, always been a bleeder, you know. I knew that I had a strong chance of passing that on to my children. I wanted children; I wanted a marriage, family, all of that. But I never got a chance to have that. I lived my whole life as a man and it was very unsatisfactory to me. I just wanted a change. I want to experience life from the other side. I thought, 'if you can give me a new life, it should be as different from my old life as possible.' So, I was a sickly, decrepit old white man. Now I am a healthy, young, attractive, black woman. Its not like being female is going to interfere with my profession more than being a different person and not having a certification is. " She smiled impishly, "Plus, I didn't think you could do it. You did, and I am grateful. Now, let's help some people." The next five months are the most satisfactory time in my life. What should I tell you about? The number of children with scars birth defects, and injuries that we healed? Or should I tell you about the man with both hands missing who had never held his daughter holding her in his own hands for the first time? We never had a patient at the clinic stay longer than 5 days. We had many patients, or their parents ask us how we had accomplished an apparent miracle. We steadfastly refused to explain. Since we accepted no money for our services we skirted the accountability issues. Our curious patients went away with curiosity unsatisfied, but grateful anyway. Money was always a problem. Our staff people were the best. Once they understood we were doing something fantastic everyone from the handyman to the nursing staff to the dietician started putting in extra hours. Sarah Samuels came back and worked volunteer hours on our nursing staff. With her son not needing special care, she could return to work and wanted to do something to pay us back, even if it wasn't with money. Donations came in, first in a trickle, than a steady stream. Some from grateful relatives, some from charitable causes, even a few business people made substantial donations. We had to set a cap for the size of donation allowed. In part for tax purposes, in part to keep our hands clean. We didn't want to be accused of showing favoritism in selecting patients. Eventually, the paperwork and administration just became too much when added to the selection process for patients. Where we had needed to go hunting for patients at first, we quickly had too many applicants to deal with. Even with our odd sounding requests for parents to bring articles of clothing or toys that children had owned or worn prior to their accidents. Anyhow, it wasn't long before Sheila quit her job and joined the staff as the office manger. We needed the extra hands that knew how our operation really worked. Jean kept her job and it proved useful in an unexpected way. Regina or Gina as we had become used to calling her needed a legal identity. Jean went into the city's database of birth certificates and created one. Then created the paper copy, forged the signature of the person who held the office of clerk of records twenty years ago and as soon as the ink dried, Gina now was born twenty years ago. A slight technical difficulty, as she could no longer drink in bars. Gina's identity was not airtight, but it would stand a casual inspection. The most gratifying part was the patients though. The kids who came in sick and injured left laughing and smiling. Some left carrying scars where we could not heal them and those we had to refer to that other great healer, time. We also found unique ways to use the medallion. The gentleman who had lost both hands we touched a pair of men's gloves to the medallion and his forearms and hands were re-grown. We would sometimes have to revert a child to a much younger version, before their accidents and keep them asleep for twelve hours, the minimum time span for a change we discovered. Once the time span had expired we could return them to their proper age by touching a piece of clothing that had never been worn to the medallion. One thing that we began doing after a month or so, was videotaping the operations. We needed some sort of proof that we had some documentation that this was magic, not science. Jean, Sheila Greg and I walked around with perpetual smiles on our faces. We were making a difference in a lot of lives. One Friday our receptionist rang my office to inform me that there was a gentleman here asking for the clinic director. I came to the front desk to find a short balding gentleman standing there. I introduced myself and asked him what I could do for him. "Mr. Gustafson, let me get to the point. My name is James Hillier and I am from the state facilities board. We were not notified of your facility being put into commercial operation. We oversee all medical facilities in the state and we have received complaints about your operation." He said. I was dumbfounded, "I don't know who you might be receiving complaints from Mr. Hillier. Every one of our patients has been extremely satisfied with the work we have been doing here." Hillier looked a little taken aback by that, "Where the complaints have come from is immaterial. The fact is, we have received complaints and it is my office's job to make certain the public is being protected." I held up my hand as if to stop him, "Hold on now, this is a private facility. We do not charge for our services and we do not solicit patients. Therefore you must show cause as to why we represent a threat to public safety." I watched his neck and face actually color at that remark. He gobbled air for a second, as if he wasn't used to being stymied when he was throwing his weight around. "You will regret that Mr. Gustafson. I can make things as hard or as easy as you like. You obviously want to make them as hard as possible." With that he spun on his heel and marched out the front doors of the clinic. I watched him go with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Turning to the receptionist I told her to page Greg, Sheila, Jean and Gina and ask them to come to my office as soon as possible. Over the course of the next hour my friends came to my office. As one would arrive I would begin to tell the story of my confrontation with Hillier. Then begin again as another arrived. Jean was the last to arrive and I went over the whole story again. Jean shook her head. "I know this Hillier. He shut down a nursing home for three cockroaches found in the kitchen. Never mind that he turned 50 elderly folks out on the street, some with no family to take them in. Social services do not like him. Unfortunately, he carries a lot of clout with the state. I also understand he is chummy with a judge, which is how he gets his court orders. If he shuts us down, even to do an investigation, there is no telling what charges he might trump up." Everyone was feeling tense and edgy; we all started talking at once. Finally, Gina was able to get us all settled down. "Look, all of you are overreacting. This is bad, and Hillier might be able to shut us down, but what can he find? We're not using experimental drugs or machines on our patients. We are anaesthetizing them, and then nothing that can be proven is done. The courts most likely don't recognize the existence of magic. All we need to do is have you disappear for a while and let Hillier make a fool of himself. Then you can come back after he's been discredited and everything will be fine." "So, we go on the lam, is that what we are reduced to?" Greg asked bitterly. "No," Jean responded, "We stay right here." Greg looked at her in question, not understanding what she meant. "Simple, we use the medallion to become new people. I can go back to work and throw together some documentation. We won't have licenses, but I think Gina can let us use her car to take the exam on. If we even need to use these identities that long. We even have the lingerie Sheila and I used at Christmas, all we have to do is come up with something for Greg and Evan. Do you think you can handle that Sheila?" Jean asked. "Certainly. It means I get to go shopping again." Sheila grinned. Jean continued with instruction, "Greg, you Gina and Evan get all of our patients processed. It will take me a few hours to get the paperwork forged and cover my tracks. Sheila should be done by then. Let Hillier come back and find those patients gone and the managerial staff missing. Then see what he does." We sprang into action. Okay, we walked into action. But none of us were as young as we once were, with the exception of Gina. We had 9 patients in house at that point. 5 kids 4 adults. 2 kids had birth defects affecting limbs. One was a spinabifida case the other 3 were scars or amputations. Of the 4 adults one was a woman who lost her sight in an auto accident. Another woman had lost her feet in a climbing accident and the last two were our most challenging case to date. They were conjoined twins. We had figured out how we were going to approach every case but the conjoined twins. In our emergency situation we had to move with some speed. Greg walked around from room to room, letting the patients and their parent know that there was a situation brewing that did not have a bearing on their treatment, but would prevent us from treating them if we did not do it now. Everyone agreed to go ahead with the treatment, even in the rush situation. We set up an assembly line. Greg prepped the patients. Two of our nursing staff would roll them into the operating theatre. Gina would anaesthetize them. Then I would use the amulet, and our store of unworn clothing, to treat the patients. Everything was running smoothly. As one patient was treated, another would be wheeled in and anaesthetized. The second adult patient was brought in and anaesthetized. Then Greg brought in our conjoined twins. I explained to them, "You need to see this, then decide if you want us to proceed. We've never done something like this with two people like you and you are the only ones who can decide if you want to take the risk." Our twins, Bob and Doug Herrero watched quietly. They were conjoined at the abdomen just below the ribcage and shared a liver, urinary and digestive tract, as well as only a pair of legs. Science offered them no hope of living separately and their parents had opted not to sacrifice one to save the other. We placed the medallion over the head of the woman who had lost her feet. Greg drew back the covers to expose her legs. Gina monitored her breathing and blood pressure while she was under. I selected a pair of ladies heels, size 5 we had decided, based on what she had told us about her feet before the accident. "Doug!" Bob exclaimed, "Do you see what I see?" "I know Bobby, I see, but I don't believe." Doug replied. The climber's stumps were extending from the point just below the knee that the surgical team had removed them. In the next few minutes a new pair of lower legs and feet, good as new re-grew. Bob's eyes were wet with emotion when he looked at me. "How is this possible?" He asked. "Call it grace of God if you must. Just know that it is possible. But there may be risks for the two of you. We have never tried this. You must decide if you want to try it. Take a few minutes to consider." I knew they were going to have a tremendous decision to make. On one hand they would be separate, something they had never been before and probably very frightening. Yet living separately would be better than dying together, as they have had a long, troubled medical history as conjoined twins. After a few moments aside, they rejoined us. "We came here to be separated. We want to try your treatment." Said Doug. Greg, Gina and I all looked at each other. "Please, sit on the table." Gina asked. While Bob and Doug jumped up on the table, Greg selected some clothing in an appropriate size from the unworn clothing pile. The chain on the medallion would barely fit around both of their heads. Greg came back over with a man's shirt and touched it to the medallion. Bob and Doug both gasped as the shirt touched the medallion. "I felt a tingle." Doug announced. Bob nodded his head in silent agreement. We all watched silent anticipation. Greg noticed the change first. He had been watching the junction of the men's bodies. As he pointed it out I could see that it was slowly creeping down toward the hip. Jean and Sheila arrived just then. We silently called them over to watch. Bob and Doug had been hugging each other in order to get close enough for the chain to fit around their necks. As the separation point marched down their bodies the angle of their hug changed, going from their torsos being almost 45 degrees apart, slowly changing to front to front. Bob and Doug were excited and chatting. Judging by the sound of the sniffles, there were a few tears as well. Finally, as if we were watching someone holding a mirror up to their leg, Bob grew a right leg and Doug grew a left. At the last, only their toes were conjoined, and then even they grew apart. Sheila put down her packages and stepped forward and took the necklace from the neck of the twins. We all stepped back to give them some space. I think that was a fitting way to end our clinic. Just then Hillier stormed into the room. In his hurry, he kicked all of Sheila's packages all over the place. He tripped and fell over the bags and began cursing. "Damn it, that is the last straw!" He cursed from the floor, "You people should have known better than trifle with James Hillier. I'll see all of you in jail. The State Police are on the way and I intend to have you all arrested for obstructing a government officer!" Just then, lying there on the floor he didn't look so threatening. I looked at Greg, Greg looked back and it was one of those moments when you know your friend is going to do something even before you know you are going to as well. Greg and I jumped on Hillier and began punching and beating him. I don't know why. Maybe it was because he was threatening something near and dear to us. Maybe it was because he was a reflection of the worst sort of government officer we had seen too much of in the sixties. Whatever, we beat him senseless. Jean was trying to pull us off of him and stop us. By the time she did Hillier was quite unconscious. "Wonderful!" Gina screamed at us, "Do you two bozos realize what you have just done? That is at very least assault and now it may be impeding justice as well! How do you two intend to cover this up, huh? Can you tell me that?" "Simple," Sheila said She picked up Hillier's head and dropped the necklace around it, then let it drop back none too gently to the hard concrete floor. Then she turned and strode into the unworn clothing closet and selected something. Coming back into the operating room, she touched the item to the medallion. We all knew what to expect, but gasped when Sheila held up an infant's dress for us to see. Gina was the first to laugh and I admit, it was funny, or maybe I was nervous. Anyhow, yes, Hillier regressed to a child. His features softened, he lost more hair as his head shrank and his clothing began swimming around his body. Finally, Gina picked up the baby lying in the man's suit. "Oh, he's a little angel!" She exclaimed while divesting Hillier of the last of his man's clothing. "Correction," Gina said, "SHE's a little angel." "Now what do we do?" Greg asked. "The State Police are coming. Sooner or later they will be getting curious as to what happened to Mr. Hillier, then what?" "Okay, here's what we are going to do." Jean ordered. "The three of you are going to go down the laundry chute into the basement. Hide in the laundry baskets. We only have to buy a couple of hours. I will stay up here and use one of the clothing sets Sheila put together to change into somebody else. The documentation I have is in my car, when we are all changed, we can leave and hide out until this all blows over." We all nodded agreement. Jean was always the practical one in our group and I was glad she kept a cool head in a crisis. Greg went first, hanging by his fingers and then letting go to slide into the basement of the clinic. Then I helped Sheila get into the laundry chute. She hung on by her hands and let out a little shriek as she fell. Finally, it was my turn. I clambered into the chute clumsily and held onto the edge. When I let go the little square of light receded quickly as I built up speed. With a clump and a thud I went through the hatch in the basement and landed in a pile of soiled sheets from the brief visits our patients had made to the operating room. As I stood up, I was hit in the head by three cloth drawstring bags of clothing that Sheila had collected during the evening. Sheila and Greg came over to me to help me back to my feet and gather the bags. "Now quick, hide." Sheila ordered "Who's bag do I have?" I asked, not relishing the possible ramifications of having the wrong bag. "Doesn't matter, we have the medallion, we can change back in a little while." Sheila observed. Shrugging, I accepted that. I didn't appreciate the thought of turning into a woman, but as long as I could reverse it, I could live with it. We all found hiding spots in the dark basement. I thought about turning on a light, but decided that if the State Police showed up, we didn't want to tip them to our hiding place. About a half-hour later the medallion came clanking down the chute. I heard someone fumbling around in the laundry for the medallion, and then Sheila saying, "I've found it. Here goes nothing." Then silence, for perhaps ten minutes I heard nothing, then a strange voice, only sounding slightly like Sheila saying, "Oh dear, this is different." Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a male voice said, "Greg or Evan, come over and get the medallion. I'm right under the chute." Greg and I held a brief, whispered consultation and Greg went for the medallion. If we were thrown in jail Greg's license as a doctor, the only thing that kept us going as a legitimate clinic would be in jeopardy. Not too long after I heard Greg find his way to Sheila, I heard a feminine exclamation of surprise. I grinned. It seemed obvious that Greg had one of the ladies clothing articles. Finally, a woman's voice said, "Evan, where are you? It is your turn." About that time we began hearing heavy footsteps upstairs. Quickly, I stumbled over to the chute. And collided with Greg's new softer form. A strong male hand steadied me and a man's voice said, "Hurry, the police must be here. It is only a matter of time before they find us." I felt someone hand me the medallion by the chain and I dropped it over my neck. I opened my sack of clothing wondering why I didn't check it earlier to see if we could have coordinated things. I figured quickly that I had a 50/50 shot at remaining a man. As my hand withdrew something from the bag my heart sank a little. The article of clothing was soft and I could feel lace under my fingers. 'In for a penny, in for a pound.' I thought. As my hand touched the article of clothing to the medallion I felt an electric tingle run through my body. It was hard to tell what was happening in the dark. I recall feeling hair begin tickling my neck, I also noticed fingernails had grown on my hands. But when breasts started growing on my chest, and didn't seem to stop that I became alarmed. What I took to be Sheila's new voice told me to calm down and she would find the light. The blinding light wiped out my vision, then gradually faded in. My vision was obstructed by the large protrusion sticking out from my chest. I felt trapped and turned around, only to find myself staring squarely into the chest, shoulders and throat of a man. A very hairy man. I looked up at him. He looked down and me and scowled. "Don't just stand there, get dressed for Christ's sake. We have to get out of here." He said. I began stripping off clothing with difficulty. I turned and saw a familiar honey skinned brunette peeling out of her clothing behind me. Logical deduction and the evidence of overdeveloped mammary led me to believe that I was in the body of the blonde bombshell. Hastily we all dressed. Sheila had been undressed because her clothing no longer fit, and had nearly cut her in half during the change. We had practical clothing to wear. Sweat pants or loose fitting trousers and polo tops seemed to predominate. The female underclothing was not unfamiliar to me, but putting it on my body was. I managed, as did Greg. Once we were dressed, Sheila herded us upstairs. We were immediately greeted by the sound of a wailing child. An unfamiliar man in sweat pants and a polo shirt walked up to me. "Hi, whoever you are. We need to get the medallion for Gina." Somewhat dazed, I removed the medallion and handed it to him. He immediately turned and handed it to Gina, who was holding a screaming baby in one arm. She smiled and disappeared into the operating theatre. The man turned back to us and said, "We're shut down. The State Police have arrived and have a court order to evacuate the patients and seal the doors. The staff is helping the patients pack and arrange transportation. We need to leave now. Just then, Bob, one of the twins, came up to our little knot of people. "Look, I know who all of you are, and I just want to say, if you have any legal of money troubles, come to us. Our family is very wealthy and you know how grateful they will be. You have done something fantastic for Doug and me and I will never forget you." The crying of the baby ceased and Gina walked back into the room. I noticed that her small chest seemed much more filled out and her scrub top was pulled up. The baby was pressed to one breast and Gina had a rapturous look on her face. After a moment she managed to focus on us. We must have all been standing there with our mouths open and she just smiled a Mona Lisa smile at us, then reached up with one hand and removed the medallion. "Hillary was hungry." Was what she said in way of explanation, before returning her attention to the child at her breast. This was all too weird, I felt like I had stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone. Sarah Samuels walked up to us and said, "Look, you all are pretty hot right now. Why don't you go someplace and cool off. Like for a few days?" We all looked around. I thing all of my friends could picture Rod Serling stepping out of the wall any moment as well. We took Sarah's advice and left. I think we made it to the highway before anyone asked the man who was driving, Jean it later turned out to be, where we were going. He indicated that he knew where a motel was, and that was a good place to lay low for a few days. Jean arranged for 4 rooms. Sheila and I in one, Greg and Jean in separate rooms and Gina and Hillary in another. It must have been 2 am by that point. I was approaching mental exhaustion. As I finally lay down I discovered that it was difficult getting comfortable. I had nothing to sleep in so I was nude. I tossed and turned and I guess I finally pissed Sheila off. When I was lying on my side she put one of her big, burly arms over my side and under my breasts and pulled me to her so we were spooning. This had two immediate effects on me. First, it made me lose my breath a little and second, I felt my ass press against her crotch. Thinking about it, I knew her male member was pressing against my ass. Thinking about that, my nipples stiffened in response. I remember Sheila telling me that when Jean was in this body, she was always hot and bothered. I wondered why I hadn't noticed it before. I wiggled my bottom experimentally, no response. I did it again, this time adding a little bump to the grind. Just doing this made my groin begin to feel warm. Sheila said in an irritated voice; "Can't you just go to sleep? I'm beat!" Damn it! I don't know why, but I sure wasn't sleepy. I raised one of my hands and began brushing my fingertips across my new nipples. They immediately stiffened even further. I tried flicking one of my fingernails across them, that felt even better and I shifted and made a noise deep in my throat. Once again Sheila said in irritation; "Can't you just let me rest?" I don't know why, but that really bothered me. I threw back the covers and got up. Sheila looked at me groggily from the bed. "Where do you think you are going? She challenged. "Somewhere else. I'm just too edgy to sleep." I fired back, as I grabbed my clothing, more than a little irritation in my voice. Taking my room key, I opened the door and left the room. The nighttime air was thick and hazy with fog hanging in the air. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't sleep. I needed a sounding board; I needed to talk to Greg. Picking one of our rented rooms at random, I knocked on the door, hoping Greg hadn't gone to sleep yet. Jean answered the door. For some reason my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I had to struggle to say something intelligible. "Uhm, can I come in Jean?" I managed finally. Jean said nothing, just opened the door wider and held it there, as I had to walk under her arm. Once inside Jean secured the door and said, "What can I do for you Evan?" I sighed; this was so unlike me, "I don't know Jean. I know women and men are two different creatures, but I just can't get comfortable in this body. 12 hours can't pass soon enough." Jean uttered a short bark of a laugh, "If you only knew what I know, you'd probably understand why you are so uncomfortable." I gave Jean a quizzical, 'come on, spill the beans' look. "Okay, okay, confession time." She explained, "You remember last Christmas? You and Greg had a lot of fun, right? Well, sorry to bruise your male ego, if you have any left, but Sheila and I weren't exactly thrilled. We figured that we had cobbled these bodies together to satisfy you, well, we put together these male bodies to be the fantasies of ours, when we were wearing these bodies." I just stared at Jean open mouthed. "You mean that you and Sheila are the men these bodies want?" I found the thought, not disturbing, something else. "That's right. When I was in that body, and Sheila was in my fantasy body, I could barely contain myself. I mean, it was my best girlfriend in a man's body, but I wanted to jump her bones right then." I snorted in disgust, "That was hardly the case. I tried doing something back in my room and Sheila just wanted to sleep." Irritated I began pacing, the room was awfully warm and some moving air helped me cool off a bit. "I'm not surprised by that. Sheila's not in your fantasy body, I am." I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at Jean. My nipples were ready to cut glass and I felt oozing warmth in my crotch. Jean must have noticed something about my pose, because without a word, she pulled the band of her sweatpants down to reveal her rising member. I oohed in response to this. I could feel my skin tingling; I could literally feel myself turning on. I wanted Jean and it didn't matter that I was a woman and she was a man, all that mattered was he had a cock and I had a place to put it. A place I wanted it very badly. Hours later as we lay in bed exhausted I could hear a rhythmic noise coming from the next room. If we listened quietly we could hear a woman's expressions of passion. Jean and I giggled to ourselves. I hope Sheila and Greg were having as much fun as we had. The next morning we all went to a restaurant for breakfast. Gina had to make a quick stop at a convenience store for diapers for Hillary. As we sat around the table planning out our next move I noticed the odd seating arrangements. Jean, me, Sheila, Greg, Gina with Hillary. Even though Sheila and I were sitting together it was clear that Greg was sitting with Sheila as a couple and I was sitting with Jean. I didn't feel jealousy toward Greg; I didn't feel anything at all toward her, just as I didn't feel attraction for Sheila. This had to end. "Who has the medallion? I really need to change back this morning." Jean looked at Gina, Sheila looked at Greg, then Gina. Greg didn't look up. She had her head buried in Sheila's shoulder. Gina finally looked at us. "The last place I can recall having it is at the clinic, right after I used a nursing bra to give myself some milk for Hillary." She replied. "I'm sorry. I may have forgotten it there." We quickly paid for breakfast and piled back into the van to drive back to the clinic. After twenty minutes we arrived to find a State Police cruiser parked in the lot. The office turned us away; explaining the clinic was being treated as a crime scene. The facility was sealed by a court order and nobody could enter. It was a gloomy ride back to the motel. I just wanted to shut down. I was losing touch with the person I thought I was. The things Jean and I had done last night would have killed me if I were still a man. Now, they made me feel like singing. And I wanted to do them again, as often as Jean could manage. We wound up taking the offer Bob Herrero made last night. We needed cash, we needed political help and we needed some help establishing these bodies as long as we had to wear them. It turned out that Hillier had received complaints from doctors practicing in the surrounding region. It wasn't that we were taking business away from them; it was the fact that they wanted to know how we were doing what we were doing. After a six month legal battle we got the right to reopen the clinic. Unfortunately, we had no way to open the clinic. The medallion was gone. We scoured the entire facility once we were able to legally enter the building again. No medallion. The facility had suffered a break in during the shut down period and anything of value had been carried off. Insurance covered anything we could document was missing, but the medallion was still gone. With that done we had no choice but to get on with our new lives. We decided to reconvert the clinic into a lodge and conference center. Gina and her daughter Hillary live at the lodge. Gina is the hotel manager now and sees that things run smoothly. She is everyone's mother and gives the place a nice, homey touch. Gene is the chef in our kitchen. Every time I think he has hit his plateau, he out does himself. Sean is our horse wrangler and is studying to become a veterinarian. He loves riding his horse and maintaining our riding trails. Lupe is our housecleaner. She has undergone a total change in the past months. She is very mild and submissive. She even let Sean choose her new name. Lupe has confided in me that Sean wears the pants, and that is just fine with her. And I am the hostess in the restaurant. I love catering a banquet, it really gives Gene and I a wonderful chance to collaborate and compete, food versus d?cor. He usually wins, but as long as the customers are happy I don't really mind. Are we happy? I think so. We had a second chance to make a difference. And we did, in so many lives. The one thing that Jean, Greg, Sheila, Evan and Rex were missing was family. Gina has her daughter, Lupe and Sean are trying and Gene says that when our daughter is born we will name her Evelyn, after her mother.