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NOTE #1: If you are offended by stories that lack crude, foul, or profane language, then this story is not for you. Likewise, if you are looking for descriptions of explicit sex or violent and aggressive behavior, you will have to look elsewhere. NOTE #2: This story is my property, but you may post it anywhere that makes it available to readers for free. If you do post it somewhere, please include all of it. And please let me know at: [email protected]. NOTE #3: All comments, compliments, criticisms, and even flames are welcome. Send to: [email protected]. Dream Chaser By Sue Kidder "Good heavens, Jack! You've outdone yourself this time. I've seen you look convincing before, but if I didn't know better I would swear you really are a girl!" Tom, my best friend since grade school, knew I occasionally liked to "dress up." While he didn't really understand why, he never judged me or seriously tried to discourage me. We both knew the realities of mid-twenty- first century life. "Actually, Tom, I am a girl. This time I'm not dressing up. I'm really female," I told him. "Yeah, right, now pull the other one," Tom scornfully suggested. Ever the excellent host, Tom added, "Come on in and make yourself at home. It has been awhile, and you said on the phone that you had a story to tell." "You're right," I said, as I accepted his invitation and entered his house. "But first I am going to have to quiet your skepticism. Let me show you something." I started taking my clothes off. Soon I was completely naked. Tom's jaw started working, as if he felt compelled to say something but his brain had not quite figured out what to say. Finally he started making sounds: "I'll be dipped! You really are a female! How did you do that? Since the anti-morph laws of 2038 and the strict controls placed on nanotechnology, gender changes or any other kinds of transformations have been illegal." "Yeah, I know," I admitted. "If you are truly convinced that I am female, may I put my clothes back on?" "Uh, yes, of course. And I must say you make a beautiful girl. You've got to tell me how you did it. Did you find a rogue nanotechnician? Are you on the run from the authorities? "Wait a second," he added, "let me get some Cokes and let's get comfortable. I want to hear this story." In a few minutes I was dressed and seated on Tom's big couch. I sipped my Coke and started... *** Tom, you've been my best friend for as long as I can remember. Even as a young boy I knew I could confide in you and know that my trust was not misplaced. So you've known almost as long as I have that I wanted to be a girl. I remember our discussions and even arguments about the merits of femininity and how you tried to convince me that being a boy was better. But you never held my 'quirk' against me, and even helped me go out in public when I started dressing up. It must have been the Halloween when we were twelve years old. I decided to dress as a girl. You tried to persuade me to go as a pirate, like you, but I insisted. We made the rounds of the neighborhood, and you passed me off as your girlfriend. I was tickled and flattered when many of the people who responded to our "trick or treat" demands sympathized with me for my lack of a costume. They thought I really was a girl. I had used my cousin Sally's clothes for my costume because she and I were the same age and looked very much alike. We had often been mistaken for fraternal twins, and we were so nearly identical in size that we could easily wear each other's clothes. I regretted the day when we would grow up and apart enough to make that impossible. My greatest dream was to find a rogue nanotechnician and get him to transform me into a real girl. Of course, I always knew that even if I could find such an outlaw nanotech, I would never be able to afford his services. If I were caught they would reverse my transformation and it would all come to nothing. I'd be right back where I started, much the poorer for the experience. So it looked like I would never achieve my dream. Shortly after my sixteenth birthday we got the word that my cousin Sally and her folks were all killed in a horrible accident caused by a drunk driver. Yes, even today in the twenty-first century there are drunk drivers. My mother was their only relative, so she inherited everything. Mom decided to keep their house to turn into rental income, and she sold their boat and second car. All their personal effects were stored in our attic. As distressing as Sally's loss was to me, I had the presence of mind to store her effects on the top of the pile where they would be easily accessible. I might never be able to become a girl, but I now had a complete set of girl's clothes to use whenever I thought I could get away with it. Except for the Halloween episode, my parents never knew that I liked to dress up. As far as they knew I was the perfect example of an all-American boy, if a little small for my age. You know, of course, that dressing up was not my passion. I wanted to be a girl more than anything in the world, and dressing up was likely to be as close as I'd ever come. Ironically, dressing up usually made my dream all the more poignant for the very reason that it emphasized the reality that I was not a girl and would never get to be one. But dressing up was as close as I could get to my dream, and going out in public and getting treated as a girl helped keep the dream alive. My secret life continued this way until I graduated from high school and went to college. You were the only person who knew of my dreams and my habit of dressing up now and then. Shortly before my twentieth birthday, I dressed myself up and used makeup to look as much like Sally as I could. Then I went to the DMV and renewed her driver's license. In the back of my mind I always thought it might someday be handy to have a set of female documents, and Sally's driver's license and social security card served this purpose very well. And now I had photo identification with 'MY' picture on it. I even sent off and obtained a copy of Sally's birth certificate. To complete the illusion I opened a bank account in Sally's name, using Sally's identification and 'my' signature. Tom, remember when you visited me just before I graduated from college? We went out again, with me dressed up, and had a wonderful evening. Back at my apartment, you again tried to persuade me to drop my obsession. I have to admit that you almost convinced me. "Jack, you're getting too old for this kind of stuff," you pointed out. "Even with your slight build, fair complexion, and long hair, you still have to use corsets, padding, and a lot of makeup to pass as a female. It has to be a lot of work and it isn't going to get any easier as you get older. The best thing you have going for you is your talent for voices. I admit you sound like a girl, but I suspect even that will get harder as the years go by." "I know," I admitted. "If only I had been born earlier in the century when the nanotech transformation fad was going strong. I could have had my body transformed into a female body almost for the asking." "If gender changes were all that people used nanotech for, it would not have become the problem it did. Unfortunately, people insisted on transforming themselves in truly weird ways. That, in turn, caused all kinds of social and legal problems. People showing up with tails, fangs, claws, stingers, and even skunk glands frightened 'normal' citizens. Old racial hatreds began to resurface, except the oppressed minorities were the transformed people. Criminals were able to change their appearance, gender, and even their fingerprints at will. Homes were broken up simply because the husband would come home to find that his wife was now more masculine than he. Or vice versa." "Yeah, I know the history," I said. "Because of the social and legal problems caused by unrestricted transformations, it was outlawed for common use and severe restrictions were placed on its use for medical or legal purposes. No matter how desirable a change might be, the odds are very nearly zero that you can persuade them to give it to you. The backlash even ended surgical gender reassignment." "They definitely overreacted," you said. "And the penalties imposed on any illegal nanotech activity are extreme, to say the least. The television stories about rogue nanotechnicians make for great fiction, but even if you could find such a person, could you trust him? You might become female, but find yourself sporting a tail and a fur coat. Or worse." "If I got caught, the penalty is reversal of the transformation. I'd be right back where I started, less whatever the nanotech cost me. And the law would inject me with nano-locks to prevent me from ever changing again." It seemed so unfair. To know we had the technology to transform me into a real girl, but aware that it would be withheld from me, no matter how much I wanted it. Frustrating! "Well," you said, "it's probably for the best. I know you want to be a girl, but think about it. If, somehow, you managed to become a girl, you would probably decide you didn't like it after all. Then you would be trying to think of a way to change back." "I don't care. It's been my dream all my life. Someday I'll figure out a way," I insisted. "Look at it. Girls are usually smaller and weaker than men. They have to wear makeup before they can be seen in public, at least most girls I know seem to think they do. They have to squat to urinate, and with the outfits women wear that can become a major logistical problem involving layers of underwear, belts, tight pants or loose skirts -- often in a stall with barely enough room to turn around. They also have to deal with their periods and the accompanying mood swings that make them appear unstable at best or insane at worst. Girls are at risk of breast and cervical cancers and are more likely to become diabetic. And I haven't even touched on the subject of pregnancy and childbirth. Who in his right mind would want to be a girl?" "Me," I said. "I know all about the differences between girls and boys. You may well be right that it is more difficult to be a girl. I could argue that as a girl I would not have to worry about prostate cancer, and the odds of getting a hernia or a bald spot are very slim. It doesn't matter. I'm not happy as a boy. I want to be a girl!" "Good luck to you," you said. "I hope you find a way to achieve your dream. Maybe the laws will someday change, or the courts will give you what you want out of the kindness of their hearts. If you do succeed, come see me. If I like what I see, I just might propose to you. There! If that doesn't scare you away from this crazy quest, I don't know what will." You didn't know it at the time, but you not only gave me the germ of an idea how to achieve my dream, you even gave me extra incentive to do it. I spent the final few weeks of the semester making and refining my plan. I graduated, knowing that if I were successful my college degree would mean nothing. After graduation I announced to my family that I was going to seek my fortune and future in Chicago. My folks had done very well over the past few years and my mother sold the house she inherited, so they gave me thirty thousand dollars for my stake. This was very generous of them, and it fit into my plans perfectly. I needed a big city and Chicago was ideal. It was far enough from home that I could be as independent as I liked, and I was not going to be running into anybody who knew me. Not that they would recognize me in any case -- when I arrived in Chicago I went full-time as Sally Morgan. I sold Jack's car and 'Sally' bought a little car in her name. Sally rented a small studio apartment near the industrial park and began job hunting, finally taking a simple assembly line job at a nearby factory. Sally shopped near the apartment and became known to her neighbors and fellow workers. Sally opened a bank account with thirty thousand dollars, proving her identity with her driver's license and social security card, as well as references from her older bank account. Sally acquired several credit cards and began using them. And Sally did not own a stitch of 'male' clothing. The only time Jack existed was in e-mail correspondence and an occasional telephone call to his folks. After a couple of months I decided it was time for phase two of my plan. During breaks at work I would remark about how easy men had it. Wasn't it too bad that I couldn't have been born a man? They don't have to use makeup, they can wear any old thing they have in their closets, and they don't have to suffer periods or the licentious attentions of men. When a coworker would point out that they have to shave their faces every day I would say so what? A face has a lot less area to shave than two legs. And a man can choose to grow a beard if he wants, and not have to shave at all. One day Shirley, a worker on the same line where I worked, said, "Why don't you hunt up an outlaw nanotechnician and get your gender changed, if it gripes you so much?" I said, "Yeah, as if such a thing existed outside of television." Shirley said, "I know a guy who knows a guy..." "Yeah, and he probably knows a cop," I sighed. "With the laws the way they are these days, who can afford to risk entrapment?" "No, this is for real. It will cost you, but they can do it," Shirley insisted. "Besides, there is no way they can entrap you. It's not against the law to want to change your gender; it's only against the law for you to actually do it. Any nanotechnician who helped you change your gender would be breaking the law himself, and the police are not allowed to do that. If you really want to become a man, I can tell you who to see." "How much would they want?" I asked her. "I'm not sure, but I think somewhere around twenty-five thousand dollars," she said. "Can you keep a secret?" I asked her. "I have already tracked down a nanotech who claims he can change my gender for only twenty thousand. But keep your guys on standby in case this one turns out to be a dud. I may have to get back to you, okay?" "Be careful, Sally. Some of those rogue nanotechs can be dangerous, especially if they don't know their business or just want to eliminate witnesses." Good advice, I knew. I was almost tempted to talk to Shirley's guys, and if they looked like the real thing let them do the job. I'd have to reveal to the nanotech that my real gender was male and I wanted to become female, but once the change was complete I could simply return to my life as Sally, with nobody the wiser. But this wasn't my plan. Even though I had only been on the job a few months, I asked for a week's vacation. The production line was going through a slow period, and the boss was happy to let me take the vacation early. I withdrew twenty-one thousand dollars from my (Sally's) checking account. I put twenty thousand of it into a packet and mailed it to you, Tom. I enclosed a letter telling you to hang onto it for me and promising to explain it later. ["I have it here for you," Tom said.] ["I knew you would," I replied.] Then I took a three-day drive. I just went wherever the impulse took me, but I was careful to pay for everything with cash. No checks or credit cards for this trip. After I had gotten a couple of states away from Chicago, I found a secluded area in some woods and buried all my corsets, padding, and breast forms. Before I returned home I stopped at a barbershop and had my hair cut to a very masculine style. Back to Chicago and the stores near my apartment. I bought a wig similar to my original hairstyle, then went shopping for men's clothing. I explained to the salespeople in a falsetto voice that I was buying clothes for my brother who was visiting from Florida while his luggage went to Wyoming. I apologized for my voice, saying I must have picked up a virus somewhere that was affecting my throat. For the rest of the week Sally was not seen. When I was noticed coming out of her apartment I would introduce myself as her brother Jack. And wasn't it amazing how similar we looked? Yeah, it is easy to see that we are siblings, isn't it? The following Monday my vacation was over and I, or rather Sally, was expected to appear on the assembly line. I dressed in Sally's clothes and the new wig, stuffing my bra with wadded up paper towels. I looked terrible. I was ready. I went to work. Naturally, I got some strange looks. Several people remarked on the changes. Did I change my hairstyle? Was I wearing different clothes? Did I (gasp!) gain a little weight over my vacation? And I do hope your throat clears up when you get over that awful virus! Of course, I confided in Shirley. It was too good a secret to keep from my best friend! I had achieved maleness, but had to keep it under wraps to avoid getting in trouble with the law. Also, with her 'connections,' maybe one of her guys could help me obtain some identification to go with my new gender. I needed a driver's license, social security card, etc. She was very understanding. She promised to make some inquiries on my behalf. And She also did exactly what I expected and wanted her to do... "Miss Sally Morgan?" a voice behind me said. I turned around to find a large man in a dark suit standing behind me. "Yes?" "Raymond Zygroff, Chicago police detective," he introduced himself. "I have a few questions for you, if you don't mind." He followed me to the plant's dining room and sat across from me at a table. "You have the right to keep silent; you have the right to have an attorney present during questioning," he started. I interrupted him, "Am I being arrested for something?" "That will depend upon the answers to some questions," he said. "You didn't let me finish the reading of your Miranda rights. Do you understand them or do you want me to finish?" "Of course I understand them," I said. "What are your questions?" " My first question is will you submit to a gender test?" he said. "Do I have to?" I asked. "If you don't submit voluntarily, I'll get a court order. One way or another we will determine your true gender." "Well, since you put it that way." I extended my arm. Detective Zygroff placed a small instrument on it and pushed a button. The little display on top of the instrument showed "male." "Can you explain that?" he asked. "It must be a mistake," I said. "If I were male, why is my name Sally? Explain that!" "These gender detectors are not one hundred percent accurate, but they are accurate enough to justify an arrest on suspicion of gender changing. You will be properly examined at the jail. Stand up; you're coming with me." Naturally the examination proved that I was male. They confiscated my clothes, including my bra and the wadded up paper towels, and issued me a set of prison overalls. I was booked on suspicion of gender changing and advised to get myself a good attorney. I found an eager, but inexperienced, young attorney who was willing to represent me. Detective Zygroff questioned me again before the trial with my attorney present. He offered to cut a deal if I would identify the nanotechnician who performed my gender change. I refused to identify the nanotech, even though my attorney advised me to. Both of them warned me that my reticence might influence the court to include the nano-locks in my sentence. After a heated argument with my attorney he agreed to let me waive the jury trial. He thought that by appealing to the jury and pointing out the cruel and unjust laws that forced me to seek out an illegal nanotechnician, he might be able to persuade them to acquit me and allow me to keep my male gender. He thought that convincing seven or eight jurors would be easier than convincing one judge. He just might have been correct, but I couldn't risk it. I didn't dare tell him that I was counting on being convicted. My attorney almost quit when I informed him that I would not testify on my own behalf. He argued that I was tying his hands. If he only knew! We drew Judge Marcus Landry. He was reputed to be a stern, no-nonsense judge. After the preliminaries the prosecution called Detective Zygroff to the stand and asked him to describe his investigation and his conclusions about the case on hand. "We received an anonymous tip that a woman named Sally Morgan had undergone an illegal gender change," the detective began. "I met 'Miss' Morgan at her place of employment and asked her to submit to a gender test. The test showed that the subject was male, so I arrested him. Later tests at the police station confirmed his gender." "Did you do any further investigations?" prompted the prosecutor. "The subject's coworkers claimed that 'he' was female until September 20, when she took a week's vacation. The following Saturday, Sunday, and Monday we could find no trace of her movements. On Tuesday, 'she' reappeared and started buying men's clothes at various shops, claiming that her brother was visiting but had lost his luggage on the trip. We obtained a search warrant for her apartment." "And what did you discover?" "It appeared to be a typical single girl's apartment. Lots of ladies' clothing, makeup, and other stuff. Frilly decorations. Pink sheets and bedcovers. Lots of cheap jewelry. We also found some men's clothing, but it was obviously all new, much of it still in the store's bags with the price tags attached." "Did you check anything else?" the prosecutor wanted to know. "We looked at her bank account. Just before she disappeared, she withdrew twenty-one thousand dollars in cash." "And what did she do with that money?" "We haven't been able to find a trace of it," Detective Zygroff admitted. "Cross examine?" the prosecutor asked my attorney. "No questions," he said. "Clifford Samson, forensic nanotechnician," answered the next witness after being sworn in. "What do you know about this case?" the prosecution asked. "I was asked to examine the defendant. My tests confirmed that the defendant is a fully functional biological and genetic male." "Were there any signs that this person had undergone a gender change?" the prosecutor wanted to know. "None. If the defendant had a gender change, it was a very professional job. There would not necessarily be any evidence left if the nanotech programmed the 'bots to self-destruct and purge themselves from the system after their job was completed. An illegal nanotech would do that to avoid leaving his 'signature' behind." "Did you find any indications elsewhere that the defendant had undergone a gender change?" "I was asked to examine some personal effects of the defendant. On a hairbrush I found very similar hairs, some with male DNA and some with female DNA. The DNA on the male hairs was a perfect match for the defendant. The DNA on the female hairs showed enough similarity to the defendant's DNA that I feel comfortable saying they came from the same person," Clifford said. "If the defendant is convicted and sentenced to gender restoration, would the female DNA from the hairbrush be enough to do the job?" the prosecution asked. "Oh, yes, definitely," Clifford said. "Your witness," the prosecution offered. "You said there was some 'similarity' between the DNA on the female hairs and Mr. Morgan's DNA. Just how similar are they?" my attorney asked. "Similar enough that if they didn't come from the same person, allowing for changes introduced by the nanobots during the transformation, then they would have to be from a very close relative." "No further questions," my attorney sighed. I mentally thanked him for driving another nail into my coffin, metaphorically speaking. And a great big thanks to Sally for being such a close relative. Since our mothers were sisters I knew we shared a lot of DNA, but I didn't know how useful that would be. Still, I'm very glad I kept her hairbrush. Much of the rest of the witnesses' testimony confirmed the detective's and nanotech's evidence. "Of course she was female when she took the job. Her proof of citizenship included her driver's license, social security card, and her birth certificate." - from my boss. "She once told me that she didn't have any brothers or sisters." - from my landlord. "Yes, she shopped in my store often, but that last time she looked very different. Sort of like a man in drag." - from a store clerk near my apartment. "He asked me to use my 'connections' to get him some male identification. Driver's license, social security card, and the like. I have no idea why he thought I had connections with those kinds of criminal elements!" - from Shirley, of course. Happily the judge bought it all. "I find you guilty of changing your gender in violation of Statute C-23753-2038 and I sentence you to be restored to your original form and gender using the DNA found on your hairbrush. Sentence will be carried out one week from today. This will give Doctor Samson time to prepare the nanobots and it will give you time to prepare an appeal if you choose to do so. We will meet back here in one week to review this case before the sentence is carried out. Until then, court is adjourned." He banged the gavel. I was crying as hard as I ever had. No doubt the onlookers thought I was upset and despondent because I would be stripped of my masculinity, but I was really crying tears of happiness. It took all the acting I could manage to keep my joy from showing. My attorney wanted to start the appeals immediately, promising me that we might get a sympathetic jury next time. I told him not to bother. I had been caught and would take my punishment "like a man." A week later I faced Judge Landry again. "I see you have accepted the judgment of this court and are ready to submit to your sentence. I have yet to see any signs of contrition or remorse for your illegal actions, but I will give you another chance. Will you give the name of the nanotechnician who performed your gender change?" "No, your honor. I believe his work to be helpful and a benefit to his fellow humans, regardless of the law. I cannot betray such a wonderful person." I wondered if I was laying it on too thick. "Then you give me no choice but to add that your sentence include nano-locks to prevent you from ever transforming again. Bailiff Carson, take Mister Morgan to the Police Clinic and see that the sentence is carried out." At the clinic I was strapped to a bed and an IV drip was started in my wrist. Doctor Samson injected a milky looking solution into the drip. He said, "These nanobots have been integrated with the DNA taken from the female hairs on your hairbrush. They will overlay your current DNA with the DNA they carry, then they will restructure your body to conform to your new DNA. I've programmed the nanobots to speed up the growth of your hair so you won't have to spend months growing it back to its original length. And I've also added a sedative so you will sleep through the transformation. When you awaken tomorrow it will be finished." "Thank you, Doctor," I said. "I don't often get thanks in my line of work, but I'm glad you don't hold this sentence against me," he replied. "Do you want me to bring some clothes from your apartment for you, honey?" Bailiff Nancy Carson asked me before I drifted into unconsciousness. "Yes, please. And thank you, too," I told her. "I'll be here tomorrow when you wake up," she said. I barely heard her. Waking up was strange. I lay still, trying to sense my body without movement to see what I could discover without looking. Oddly enough, the first differences I noticed were in my mouth. Jack had his wisdom teeth removed when a couple of them got impacted, and his incisors didn't align perfectly. Sally's mouth was full of teeth, all of them perfectly aligned. This proved to me that the transformation had worked and it encouraged me to open my eyes. The weights on my chest were a familiar feeling, but this time the breasts were real - not just realistic breast forms. "I see the sleeping beauty awakes," said a voice nearby. "Hello, Bailiff Carson," I mumbled. My throat was dry and my voice sounded strange, even though I had been trying for months to emulate that very effect. "Hello, Sally. I must say Doctor Samson did a splendid job with you. You are very beautiful. I can't understand why you ever wanted to be a man. And call me Nancy. Here, let me get those straps off." She released the straps that were holding me onto the bed. The IV drip was already gone. As soon as my hands were freed I started exploring my body. I was a girl! I started crying again, and Nancy held me as I bawled. "Surely it isn't that bad," she said. "And anyway you got to experience manhood for a while. That's more than other girls ever get to do. Here, get dressed." She handed me some clothes she had brought from my apartment. I dressed quickly, amazed at how well the clothes fit without padding. My breasts easily filled Sally's bra, and they looked and felt great. My shoes were too large, but I tried not to let Nancy notice that. Obviously, my feet are much smaller than they used to be. My hair was full, luxurious, and hung down past my rear. Doctor Samson wasn't kidding when he said my hair would grow fast. "Am I free to go now?" I asked the bailiff. "Not yet. Are you forgetting the rest of your sentence?" she asked. Shortly Doctor Samson appeared with a hypodermic. He had me bend over the table and drop my panties so he could inject the contents into my butt. As I stood back up and rearranged my panties and skirt he said, "That was the nano-locks. Do you understand what they are and why I was ordered to give them to you?" "It's supposed to prevent me from ever transforming again. I don't really understand how they work, though," I admitted. "It's true that they will prevent you from ever transforming again," he said. "They work by residing inside your body, watching for invading nanobots. If you ever try to transform, the nanobots will be destroyed before they can do anything. So you are locked into this form and gender for the rest of your life." "Couldn't somebody create a nanobot that could destroy the nano-locks?" I asked. "I'm afraid not," he said. "The nano-locks are a very special kind of nanobot that contains a copy of your DNA. Any offensive nanobots would not be able to distinguish between the nano-locks and your natural cells. In other words, any nanobot that could destroy the nano-locks would also destroy you." "So I am well and truly stuck?" I asked. "Yes. But it is not totally a curse. Since the nano-locks are programmed to prevent you from ever transforming again, they will also help prevent aging, heal injuries very quickly, destroy any invading microorganisms, and even cause any lost limbs to regrow. They will attempt to correct any alteration to your body that causes it to vary from your DNA blueprint. As a result you will probably live for a very long time, and you will retain your present vitality and appearance all your life. The only thing the nano-locks will not interfere with is a normal pregnancy," the doctor added. "Sally, now you are free to go home," Nancy told me. "I'm going off shift in a few minutes. If you need a ride I'll be happy to take you home." I accepted her generous offer and was soon back at my apartment. Somebody had moved my car from the plant parking lot to my apartment, and I found that the battery still had enough charge to start the engine. I found a severance check in the mail from the plant for the half day I worked before I got arrested, and figured there was no point in trying to get that job back. I packed everything I owned into my little car, released my apartment and settled with the landlord, and canceled my utilities, cable, and phone. Then I called you and told you I was coming for a visit. *** "...and here I am," I concluded. I noticed that my Coke was finished, but Tom had barely touched his. "Unbelievable!" he said. "I read in the newspapers about that case, but did not connect it to you. After all, the story was about a girl who became a man, not the other way around. You may not be aware, but you stirred up quite a storm. A lot of people were thrilled to learn that rogue nanotechs really existed outside of lame television dramas and soap operas. I hear that thousands of people are searching for your nanotech, and more thousands are pressuring Congress to repeal the anti-morph laws, at least as far as gender switching is concerned. You've become an icon of hope for many people and a misused hero to the whole country. It would surprise me if somebody isn't already making a movie of your story." "Yeah," I laughed. "But they only know part of the story. You know the whole story." "What are you going to do now?" Tom asked. "That depends," I said. "In our last conversation you suggested that '...or the courts will give you what you want out of the kindness of their hearts.' This was what gave me the idea for my plan. I just had to give the courts a reason to give me a gender change. Do you remember what else you said that day?" "Yeah, I do," Tom said. "I told you that if you succeeded and I liked what I saw I just might propose to you. I figured that would change your mind about wanting to be a girl." "On the contrary, it made me want to become a girl all the more." I stood up, twirled around, and stopped, facing Tom. "Well?" "Oh, I definitely like what I see. And I admit that I've always loved you, as much as any man can love another and remain heterosexual." "I've always loved you too," I said, "and I knew there could be nothing between us as long as we were both male. That was one of the main reasons why I always wanted to be a girl." "Then there is no reason to deny ourselves any longer. Jack, if you'll have me, will you consent to become my wife?" Tom said. "Not Jack," I insisted. "Jack is dead and buried. I'm Sally, and Yes! I'd be proud to marry you!" For the first time in my life, I embraced and kissed my best friend. *** We had a hard time breaking the news to my folks, but since they already knew Tom, and I was a perfect clone of their niece, they finally accepted me. We had to swear them to secrecy because we didn't want the whole world to know my real story. So our wedding was just a small civil ceremony with only my parents and Tom's parents attending. Tom booked a very nice hotel in San Antonio for our honeymoon. We could hardly keep our hands off each other on the drive to Texas. We were two very eager newlyweds! Our wedding night was everything I had ever dreamed or hoped it would be. No doubt every girl has her dreams about this special night, and I can readily say that I was not disappointed in the least. Lying entwined together, enjoying the afterglow, I whispered into my new husband's ear, "Darling, I have a confession to make. Remember when you told Jack that if he ever succeeded in becoming a girl that he would probably change his mind and decide that wasn't what he wanted after all?" Tom stiffened a bit as he rolled to face me on the bed. "Are you telling me that you don't want to be a girl? You know you're stuck, don't you?" "That's right. I don't want to be a girl. I realized it almost before the doctor injected the nano-locks. There was one more transformation I wanted to go through and you, my darling, helped me do it. I am no longer a girl!" "You're nuts!" he said. "You look like a girl to me. Even if I had the power to transform you, I wouldn't do it. You..." suddenly he grinned, and grabbed me. "That's right," I giggled. "I am no longer a girl. I'm a woman! I'm your woman!"