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Indecent Proposal By Katie Dale ---ONE I knocked lightly on the door to our apartment, then opened the door. We lived in a tiny apartment - ever since my father was abducted and my mother had to support the family all by herself. She wasn't qualified to work in a well-paying job - she got married young and hadn't continued her education past high school. She was a simple woman, content with a life as a mother and housemaker. Dad made enough money as a doctor, so that she didn't have to work. But all that changed, the day we discovered that note. Dad, the top neurosurgeon in D.C., had been kidnapped. It was a way to get back at the American government for bombing Iran after finishing up with Bin Laden in Afghanistan. And in all the political reactions that followed, the dear American government forgot to take care of the poor family with four kids who was left behind, practically starving. Mom was too dignified to accept charity, so after about half a year or so we sold the large two-story house we had been living in and moved into a run-down two-room apartment which we were able to live in for a meager rent. Mom got a job working at a local Barnes-and-Nobles bookstore, which paid the rent and managed to buy our basic necessities. Of course we, the children, were moved from the private school we had been attending to the local public one, and we got used to living simply. Of course, we were all devastated with our father's disappearance, and prayed constantly for his return. At first we thought our new situation would only be temporary, until he was rescued and we would be able to return to our previous lifestyle. But as time went by, the news and the government stopped talking about our father's plight, and slowly we began to accept that we probably would never see him again. Mom was lucky, she had a great bunch of kids. I, Dean, was the oldest, in ninth grade. After me came Lilly who was nine, and then the twins - Mike and Leslie, both five. We all loved our parents dearly, and even though we had become accustomed to a high lifestyle, when the tough times came we all stuck together to make the best of the situation. We hardly ever complained (except about the government's careless attitude to our father's kidnapping), and quickly learned not to ask our mother to buy us things we didn't absolutely need. We let Mom sleep alone in the bedroom, and the four of us kids all slept together in the living room/kitchen, on folding cots we found in a garage sale. Today I walked in the door and found my sister Lilly sitting on the floor coloring a picture on a scrap of paper (it looked like it had been torn from a paper bag from the supermarket), using a single broken crayon that she probably found in the schoolyard. I said hello to her, and she showed me the welcome sign she was drawing for our uncle who was coming to visit that evening. I complimented her and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and then walked into the bedroom. The twins were napping on her bed, and she was sitting on the end of it reading a newspaper that was a week old. The bookstore where she worked would only let her take the week-old papers home. I gave my mother a hug, asked her how her day was, and then went back into the front room to try and work on my homework. After about five minutes my pencil broke. I looked around the house for a pencil sharpener, but the only one I found was broken. I couldn't find another pencil. Oh well, I thought, it won't matter if I don't hand in the work. The teacher's always easy on me because she knows our situation. Pity was, my marks had suffered badly since our move. I tried my best, but circumstances prevented me from succeeding properly. I looked at my sister. She had finished her picture and was looking out the window. She was a sweet little girl - it broke my heart seeing her dressed like that, in the torn shirt and skirt that my mother had patched for her. Her hair was being held in a ponytail with a plain string. And the tights on her legs had maybe five runs in them. I knew my sister suffered a lot in school from teasing, although she never told anyone about it. Still, I knew that kids are cruel and have no sense. I assume you're wondering the obvious question: if our father was so successful, why didn't he leave behind any savings for us? Well, the answer is that he did, only that his savings were only in his name. That arrangement was made by both our parents, because at the time they began investing, a joint account with my uneducated mother would lower the interest rate or something like that. My father also had a large life-insurance policy. But since we had no proof my father was dead, and "officially" the American government still believed he was alive and would be rescued and brought back home one day, we had no way of touching any of that money. My mother tried consulting some lawyers and they said that the only chance of getting access to the money was through a lawsuit, and the chances of the lawsuit being successful were slim. Without the money, my mother couldn't afford the lawsuit. So we had no choice but to live the way we were living. Thinking about all this made me mad and I quickly tried to put those thoughts out of my mind and cheer up, to make it easier on my mom and my siblings. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. I guess I slept for a couple of hours, because I woke up when I heard my uncle walk in. My uncle Ted is my mother's brother. He has a large family - seven kids, and his wife's sick with some weird illness. So unfortunately, he can't really help us out financially even though he has a good job. At one time he thought about selling his house and moving into a smaller one to help us out, but Mom wouldn't think of it. He lived in New York, but made a point of visiting about once a month. When he visited, he usually brought us small gifts. This time, though, he came empty handed. He quickly explained that his wife needed to undergo a new type of treatment and it was so expensive he couldn't spare a dime. The evening went by pleasantly. After dinner, Uncle Ted asked if he could speak with me privately outside. We went out and took a stroll around the block. Uncle Ted told me he didn't have a lot of time, so he'd explain right away what he wanted to tell me. "I know of a way you can help your family out financially," he said. "It would allow them to return to their previous well-off lifestyle, and would allow you to continue your schooling at the same time. It's 100% legal, by the way. But, it wouldn't be easy for you, and would require an enormous sacrifice." Sacrifice or none, easy or none, finish school or not, I knew I was interested. If there was a way of saving my family, I'd do whatever it took. I would even sell myself to white slavery in Africa if that would help, I thought to myself. "How should I put this?" he said. "Well, it's like this. I have a friend in New York. He's a medical scientist. And he works on top-secret experimental stuff. His main expertise is, well, partial brain transplants. Dean, my friend knows someone who would like to purchase, or at least rent, your brain." Now I was sure my uncle was nuts. The stress from his wife's illness was getting to him, I assumed. But my uncle went on, and began to sound convincing. "This person doesn't specifically want YOUR brain, she'll take any willing, functional brain. It was my friend who suggested it to me when I mentioned your family's tough situation. See, the story's like this. This rich woman has a kid who she adores. The kid went and got drowned in the family pool, and is now brain-dead. Well, the whole family is devastated, especially the woman who has this feeling that her husband secretly blames her for her child's death. The family is somewhat religious and keeps praying for a miracle. The woman heard about my friend, and for whatever cost, she wants to find someone willing to have their brain transplanted into the kid's body and continue the kid's life, so that her family can go back to normal." I was flabbergasted. I really didn't know what to think. "What does all this mean to me?" I asked. "Well, really what's being proposed is this. You would be adopted into another family, that's all. In return for this, your mother would receive five million dollars, and you would be given a savings account, solely in your name, with a million dollars, that would become available to you when you turned eighteen. The doctor would keep your old body on ice and give you the option, after a year, of switching back, as long as you and your mother are able to return two-thirds of the money. That's all. Of course, the condition is that you act totally like the new family's child. The woman doesn't want anyone, especially her husband, to find out that you're not really their child. That, of course, means your contact with your old family must be severely limited. That's what will probably be the toughest part of this all. But this would guarantee that you and your family would be able to live comfortably again." Immediately I knew I wanted to do it. I was willing to do anything to help my family. Even though it would be tough being separated from them, I couldn't resist the chance to try and restore their lives to normal, somehow. I asked Ted to tell me something about these people, but he didn't know anything about them. In order to assure that the transformation would be a complete success, nobody from my old family would be allowed to know who I became, and the woman, my new "mother" would not be allowed to know who I was. All the monetary dealings between them would go through the doctor as an agent. I could find out about the family if I agreed to go meet with the doctor. ---TWO Ted and I talked to my mom that night for a long time. Of course she didn't want to agree to this. By the end of the evening, my mother was sobbing, but agreed to let me return with my uncle to New York for a consultation with his doctor friend, just to find out what exactly was entailed. The next evening my uncle Ted dropped me off in front of what looked like an old warehouse. He told me that this was the place, pointed me to the entrance, and said he'd be back in about two hours. I was greeted by a pleasant looking man who appeared to be in his mid-forties. He told me to call him "Doc", for he didn't want me to know his real name. We sat in a small office and Doc explained the procedure to me. It was a partial brain graft. The parts of the brain that controlled bodily functions such as walking, using the bathroom, talking, seeing and stuff like that would be left in the new body. The parts of the brain that kept the personality, memories, knowledge would be transferred. That way I'd be able to continue my own life in a different body. Doc said he already performed this procedure successfully one hundred times, and showed me an album of "before and after" pictures - faces all blurred to protect the people's identities. Doc said he'd keep my old body "on the rocks", like my uncle told me, and I'd have the option of switching back after a year. Of course, there was a slight chance that after the year the Doc wouldn't be able to "put me back", because freezing a body properly for a whole year doesn't always work properly. If that were to happen, I'd be stuck in the new body for good, and I had to take that chance into consideration. Still, he said, there was an 80% chance of a successful reversal after a year. I asked Doc to tell me about the new body and his family, but he said he could only tell me that after my family agreed to go through with the procedure. Once all the forms were signed and I was ready for the procedure, I alone would be informed about who the new family was. Then I'd be given one last chance to back out. My old family would never know who I became. I listened to a lot more technical details. Doc said time was of the essence, both because the "buyer" was antsy and because the new body might not keep long enough. So that same night I went back home to D.C. with the consent forms for my mother. Of course, they were weird consent forms because the whole procedure was illegal anyway. If anybody found out about it, a lot of people would get in big trouble. But since I was underage, for his own ethical reasons, Doc wanted to make sure everyone was okay about this. There was a tearful good-bye the next morning. I told my siblings that I was going on a trip for a year, but I'd be back. I told my mother that the doctor promised he'd find a way to allow me to have some contact with them at a future date, only that we shouldn't expect it to happen in less than two months. I kissed everyone goodbye, and left with my uncle. "Good luck, son," my uncle said, shaking my hand firmly as he pulled away in his car and I made my way, alone, back into the warehouse. This time Doc motioned me into another room, that was divided in half by a curtain. We sat at a desk on one side of the room. I thought that my new body was behind the curtain, and he would show it to me. ---THREE "First of all, like I promised, now is when I tell you about your new body and it's family. I will leave out names. Remember, until the surgery is actually done, you can back out at any time. "The family, obviously, is quite well-to-do. The father is a successful businessman, and the mother a criminal judge. They have three kids - you, an 8-year-old boy and a 6-year-old girl. They live a very happy life. The family is very generous and donates a lot of money to various charities. They go on a lot of vacations. They buy their kids lots of presents - anything they ask for, but the kids are well behaved, not spoiled. The father was especially close to who you are to be. "Your new self is ten-years-old." That came as a blow. I hadn't really considered that I might have to go through an age change. "Will that make me dumb - give me the intellect of a ten-year-old?" I asked. "No, like I told you before, your mind, your intellect, your personality will all remain exactly the same as they are now. But you will definitely be physically smaller." I thought about that for a while. I figured, as long as my mind was my own, what difference did it make how I looked? I'd grow up anyway, and I'd still be able to read the books I enjoyed and think about "grownup" things. "Okay, I guess I'm okay with that. Go on, tell me more," I said. "Well, there's only one more detail. It's a girl. You will be a girl." I thought I would choke to death. "A girl?" I screamed. "What the..." The doc let me ponder that for a while. Then he said, "I'm sorry about that. Like I said, you can still back out. But that's all that I have available for you. The one who drowned, whose mother wants to 'adopt' a new brain in its place, was a girl. A cute, pretty, ten-year-old girl with blond hair and blue eyes, who loved brushing her hair, taking ballet lessons and gymnastics, getting dressed up pretty, and playing with Barbie dolls. You can think about it some more - you don't have to decide right away. Only, I can't let you leave here now until you make up your decision one way or another. You know too much information now. If you leave, I will not be able to do the procedure, even if you change your mind again." "Doc, this is a big one. Give me some time, please." "Okay, sure, have all the time you want." "Can I see her?" "Who?" "You know, my new body?" Doc laughed, "No, she's in the freezer right now. You'd freak if you saw her like this." "Well could I see a picture of her?" "I'm afraid that's also not possible - it could harm her family if in the end, if you decided not to go through with it." "Is she fat?" I asked. Doc laughed. "No, she's skinny and pretty. Also, her parents and grandparents, and all their uncles and aunts are all naturally slim. You won't have to worry about dieting. Also, I can tell you that the women in their family have hardly any body hair so you'd be pretty-much spared the trouble of shaving your legs. And they get their periods rather late so you should have at least a good five years before that happens." "I still want to see a picture." I said. "I'm sorry," Doc said. "Impossible." "Give me time to think." In the end, thinking of my family's predicament made me decide to go ahead with it. I figured, how bad could it be to be a girl? I'd be a young one, so I'd have lots of practice. And I still had the option of switching back in a year. I pressed the call button and Doc returned. "Doc," I said, "I've made my decision. I will go through with it. But listen carefully. I fully intend to switch back after a year. 2.5 million bucks will be enough for my family to live comfortably, so there's no reason why I shouldn't switch back after the year's up. So make sure you freeze this body well. Secondly, you've got to find some way to show me a picture of my new body. I told you my answer is 'yes', but I still want to see her first and if the sight of her really makes me sick, I still reserve the option to back out. Thirdly, I need to know that my mother got the money before you do the procedure." "Your first and last requests should be okay," Doc said. "I'll do my best to keep your old body in good shape, like I promised. And we already have a system worked out so that you'll know you got the money before we do the procedure. Your second request, though, by the books, is impossible. Still, let me make a phone call and I'll see what I can do." Doc left the room and returned about five minutes later. "Okay, Dean, the woman has allowed me to show you the picture. If you PROMISE that you intend to go through with the procedure, and only if something is horribly wrong with the picture you'll back out, then I'll show it to you. Okay?" "Yeah doc, I promise. Hey - is this procedure gonna hurt?" "No, you'll of course be asleep throughout the whole procedure. Your new body might be a little sore and stiff at first when you wake up, but that should pass quickly. You're going to be sedated for about three months until it's safe for you to get up and function properly. While you're out, a machine will systematically exercise your muscles so that you won't be too stiff when you wake up, and so that you'll be able to walk right away. "Now please come with me," he said, and led me behind the curtain. ---FOUR "Okay," Doc said. "Here's how it's going to work. First of all, you lie down on this table. I get you hooked up to the anesthetic machine so that everything's ready. That means an IV drip and a mask. Next, you'll be given two things to be held in your hands. One is a button that will start the anesthetic - you'll have to push that yourself, indicating your final consent. The second is a portable phone. You'll use that to call the bank - I'll give you the number - where your mother's new account is waiting for the deposit. Now the woman who is adopting your brain needs some assurance that you aren't going to back out in the last minute and keep her money, so here's how that works. The woman - your future new mother - is sitting in another room in this facility. She can't see you like this, of course. But she does have a computer screen there in front of her that will automatically indicate once you're safely asleep. "Once you're all hooked up I will place this metal cage above the table. The cage hooks down onto the table, locking you in place, so that you can't get up and leave. The lock to the cage is controlled by a keypad that's in the room where the woman is sitting. Once you're all hooked up and the cage is in place, the woman will engage the lock by entering a seven-digit code that she will make up. The cage will only become unlocked if she enters that same code again. Once the woman locks the cage and you can't get out, she will pick up a phone and call the bank and make the money transfer. Then you will be allowed to phone the bank and make sure the money has arrived. From this point on, you can still back out, but if you do back out, you'll have to call your mother and have her call the bank and transfer the money back to the woman - only then will she release you. "Once you have heard from the bank that the money is there, I will show you the photograph of the girl, and then you will have to press the button to start the anesthetic. Of course, from that point on, you will have no way of turning back. Once the monitor in the woman's room indicates that you are successfully sedated, she will unlock the cage, allowing me to perform the procedure. She will then leave and come back in about three months when you have woken up." All this sounded complicated and I had Doc run it by me again. It seemed to make sense, though, protecting all sides. I stepped into a changing room and changed into a hospital gown and then climbed up onto the table. Doc inserted an IV into one arm, and attached heart and other monitor things to my body. He handed me a cordless phone with the phone number of the bank already programmed in (I had checked with my mother before coming and knew the number off by heart anyway, to make sure nobody tricked us). In my other hand he placed a cord with a button on the end, that would start the anesthesia. He put a clear oxygen mask over my mouth and nose, and asked me if I was comfortable. Then he lifted a silver metal cage up and over me, and secured it to the table. I heard Doc make a phone call, and a moment later I heard a noise and felt the table vibrating. I looked to the side and saw big hook things protrude out from the table and clamp down on the cage. I was now locked in, as planned. A few minutes later Doc made another phone call, and when he hung up he told me that the money was deposited and that I could call the bank to confirm. I did so, and the bank manager confirmed that five million dollars was transferred to my mother's account, and another million was placed in the account of a ten-year-old minor named Lisa Stanford. I hung up the phone. I now knew the name of my new identity. Doc then procured the promised photograph and held it above my face for me to inspect. I saw a cute little girl wearing a purple jogging suit. She had straight long blond hair and big bright blue eyes. She looked really sweet. "Okay, Dean, it's up to you now. Time for the final decision," Doc said. I thought for a while. 'Does this make sense?' I asked myself. 'Will I be able to live as a girl for a year? A ten-year-old girl? Will I be happy?' Then I thought of my mother, of my siblings, of the money, and my poor father who was who-knows-where. "Doc, just one more thing. Promise me you'll pass on a message to my mother. Tell her that I love her and that I'll miss her, and that she should enjoy the money I got for her." "No problem, Dean, I'll be sure to pass that on." I pushed the button and felt myself going under. ---FIVE It felt like I had only been out for a few seconds. I opened my eyes and saw the ceiling. I appeared to be in a different room than I had began in. The cage was not there anymore. I tried to move but realized I was restrained. So I tried to talk. "Doc, are you there?" I asked. I was surprised, because my voice was high now - it sounded like the voice of a ten-year-old girl. "I'm here, Lisa. How do you feel?" Doc asked. 'Note to self,' I thought. 'My name's Lisa now.' "I feel fine, Doc. Are you going to untie me?" "Sure, right away. Let me just check you over first to make sure everything's okay. Okay, here you go," he said and unbuckled the restraints. The first thing I did was to lift up my hands and look at them. They looked so small and fragile, so feminine. It was quite fascinating - I had never seen myself like this before. I began feeling my body all over - everything was all so much smaller. Between my legs was the biggest surprise, of course. I had never been so close to female anatomy before. It was amazing. My most "prized" possession was gone, yet I was still alive. Fancy that! I felt it a bit more - hoping that maybe I'd get turned on or something, but nothing happened. I was still way before puberty. Oh well, I thought. That'll come. Next Doc helped me sit up and I had a look at my legs. They were skinny and perfectly smooth and hairless. They looked short, but long in comparison with my new body. Then Doc handed me a mirror and I got a look at my face. The prettiest, cutest, sweetest looking girl smiled back at me. It made me happy. I don't know why - I mean, I was expecting this transition to be real traumatizing and stuff, but seeing that cute little face smile at me in the mirror just made me want to smile some more. Moments later I was on my (new) feet. I guess those exercises they did to me while I was sleeping worked well because I felt really light and it was quite easy to move. Doc told me that my new mother would be there in about an hour. He warned me that she had no idea that I used to be a boy, and that she shouldn't find out. She's the only one in the family that knows I used to be someone else. The rest of them think I just made a totally miraculous recovery. Of course, it was understandable that after such a massive accident I suffered from severe amnesia and couldn't remember anything about my childhood. I was anxious to meet my new family and it seemed like hours before my new mother finally came. In the meantime I took a hot bath and brushed out my hair. Finally she arrived. She was a beautiful woman, pretty and youthful. When she saw me she squealed with joy and ran up and gave me a tight hug - I thought I'd break a rib. Then she broke away and held me at arms' length. She looked me over and, with tears in her eyes said, "Oh, my beautiful Lisa, I missed you SO much! You had us all SO scared!" I didn't know this woman at all but she seemed nice and sincere so I did my best to return her sentiments. We spent maybe half an hour just hugging and chatting a bit. Then she said, "I HAVE to call your father! He'll be so happy!" Doc handed her a phone and she dialed. "Dean, is that you?" she asked. ('Interesting,' I thought. 'My new father has my name. This is gonna be a bit tricky!') "Listen, Dean, you're not going to believe this! It's Lisa. She's awake! She's alive! Oh, Dean, it's a miracle!" Then she began crying and didn't say anything for a while. "I tried to call you as soon as I got the call from the hospital but your secretary said you weren't around or something, and I just had to see her, so I got on the first flight to New York, and here she is! She's so beautiful, Dean, just like always... No, you don't need to come here right away because the doctor told me that she can come home! I'm going to bring her home to Chicago on the next flight - it's in two hours. You can pick us up at the airport. Oh Dean, I miss you so much!" A minute later I was handed the phone. "Hullo?" I said. "Lisa, is that really you? How are you, honey?" "Daddy, is that you?" I said. "Daddy, I'm okay and I feel fine but my head hurts a little bit and I feel like I can't remember anything really, it's so weird, like I can't even remember how many brothers and sisters I have. Daddy, will I get all better? When am I going to see you, Daddy?" I did my best to imitate my 9-year-old sister on the phone. I was always a pretty good actor. "Don't worry, honey. You were in a bad accident so that's why you can't remember stuff. Over time, though, it should come back to you. In the meantime we'll help you out when you can't remember stuff. I'll see you in the airport in a few hours, okay, sweetie?" "Bye Daddy," I said. Then Mom gave me a present. I opened the wrapping paper and inside was a big white fluffy teddy-bear. My real self wasn't at all into teddy bears, but I put on the act. "Oh, thank-you Mommy, it's so cute!" I held it and hugged it for a while, and let its legs tickle my bare legs that were still sticking out under the hospital gown. "We'd better get you dressed, Lisa. We have a flight to catch soon." Then she took out the shopping bag she had brought with her. Inside it were the clothes she had picked out for me to wear. Seeing that the tags were still attached, I assumed that she had bought the especially for me, today. "We want you to be exceptionally pretty for when your Daddy sees you - it's been six whole months since the last time he saw you!" I smiled. This is gonna be new, I thought. I took the bag from my new mother and peaked inside, then got up and headed for the bathroom. ---SIX "Where're you going?" asked Mom. "Oh, I forgot you're a big girl now. You probably want privacy to change. Well, if you need some help, though, just call, 'cause remember, I AM your mother." I kissed her on the cheek and went into the bathroom. It's been years since I was dressed by someone else! Then I realized that it's possible that I won't know how to put on these girls' clothes. Well, I'd give it my best shot, I told myself. I closed the door and set the bag on the counter. I looked inside for underwear, and found a matching brief and camisole set in soft pink. I slid the panties up my legs, under the hospital gown. Then I removed the gown altogether and put on the camisole. Realizing my nipples were visible, I figured it must be on backwards and turned it around. It ended a few inches above my navel. I looked at myself in the mirror. Cute, I thought. Next I looked in the bag for some socks, as my bare feet were cold on the tiles. No such luck, of course. Instead of socks there was a brand-new pair of cotton tights, still in the package. I opened the package and took out the tights, looking at them carefully, trying to figure out how to put them on. In the end I bunched up the legs, put my feet in, and then pulled it up - all the way up - until it was snugly hugging my feminine behind. 'What a new feeling,' I thought, as I rubbed the smooth fabric up and down my legs. 'It's kind of nice, actually,' I had to admit. There was a pair of shoes at the bottom of the bag. Normally I wouldn't put my shoes on before my pants, but realizing that I wasn't going to be wearing pants anyway, I figured I'd put on the shoes and protect the tights from getting dirty. I was surprised at how small the shoes looked, and they fit just right! Shiny black leather flats. They fit really comfortably. Next I pulled out the dress, and then I noticed that there was something else in the bag. It was a shirt. I looked at the dress and noticed that it was actually a sleeveless, low-cut jumper. The dress went back in the bag and out came the shirt. It was white and stretchy, made of spandex, I guessed. It hugged my chest and arms tightly, and ended just at my navel. Now it was time for the jumper. It was a lightweight fabric, red plaid. There was a zipper and a belt that I guessed was meant to be in the back. So I unzipped the zipper and pulled it over my head, fitting my arms in the arm-holes. The jumper ended mid-thigh, allowing for a nice view of my skinny tights-enclosed legs. I couldn't get the zipper up behind my back, no matter how hard I tried. 'This is stupid,' I thought. 'Why would they make them with the zipper in the back?' I figured I'd have to ask my mother for help with that. I took one last look in the mirror. There was no doubting it. I DEFINITELY was a girl! I had never in my life imagined I'd be dressed this way one day, but since it looked so cute, I didn't feel like complaining. I opened the door and left the bathroom, asking Mom if she'd mind zipping up the zipper. She did, and the dress closed around my tightly, leaving no imagination as to where my waist and hips were kept. And as if that wasn't enough, she then tied the belt tightly around my back, in a bow, further emphasizing my waste and my round behind! "My, you look GORGEOUS!" she said. I looked at myself in the mirror, turning from side to side, smiling. What can I say? I liked the way I looked. Mom opened her purse and took out a gold necklace and bracelet set, and a pair of earrings, setting them all in place. Then she brushed my hair again. "Your hair sure has grown while you were sleeping. It's nice long like this," she said. She did some things to it, put a few clips in here and there, and when she was done - it looked really cute. "Your lips look kind of dry, try putting on some of this," she said, handing me some lip gloss. I put it on - it wasn't lipstick, it didn't add any color to my lips, but it gave them this wet, delicious look. I stopped to think. I couldn't believe I was having so much fun looking like a ten-year-old girl! I mean, really, I was a fourteen-year-old man, I shouldn't be enjoying this! Thinking about it, though, I think that it was because I was so used to wearing old torn clothes that barely did their primary purpose of covering my nakedness, but never actually making me pleasant to look at. For the first time in a long while I was dressing attractive - pleasant, pleasing to the eye, and - boy or girl - that made me feel proud. I wanted to do some more thinking, but Mom said it was time to go. She gave Doc a check and called a cab. Before I new it, I was sitting beside her on the airplane. I had a bit of time to do some thinking now. Mom was drifting in and out of sleep, and the movie was a kids one, and thoroughly boring. I asked Mom if she carried a mirror with her in her purse - of course she did! She gave it to me and went to sleep. Now I looked at my face in the mirror again. It was really cute, pretty in a ten-year-old way. Smooth, flawless skin (as a boy I had a lot of zits), big blue eyes, small nose, slightly rosy cheeks, perfect little pink lips. My hair was styled fashionably. I looked down at my clothes. My legs looked adorable in the smooth white tights. The jumper that was about mid-thigh when I put it down, rode up now that I was sitting, exposing two thirds, or maybe even close to three quarters of my thighs. I tried to pull the jumper down a bit but it was of course impossible - that was as far as it would reach. I had no way of shielding my adorable legs from any stranger who pleased to look at them. That thought seemed funny to me and I giggled a bit, feeling even more girly. 'It seems to be fun. So what is the problem with all this?' I thought to myself. 'What's wrong with this? Why doesn't everyone, including men, dress cute like this?' I realized what the problem was. I looked cute - too cute. I looked pretty. I wasn't human anymore. I wasn't a person - I was an object, a sculpture, a painting. People wouldn't take me serious anymore - they wouldn't care about what was going on inside my head, as long as they had something pretty to look for. By the way I was dressed I was announcing to everyone - that I was here for their visual pleasure. Nobody would care if I could solve a difficult trigonometry question anymore. The thought of all this pained me, puzzled me, made me kind of nervous. After all, I DO have substance to me. I have all kinds of ideas - and I want to be someone, not something. How could I be a philosopher or something important in this kind of body, with the expectations society puts on me because of it? I imagined someone saying to me, "What? You think you've found the solution to the ozone layer's problem? Well that's nice, but why don't you leave that up to the big, strong, smart men to figure out. I got this outfit for you that I think you'd look adorable in - why don't you go try it on and I'll take a few pictures to send to all your uncles? I bet they'd love to put them up on their walls!" I began to feel a little worried, a little depressed. I began to regret my decision. 'But you had so much fun getting dressed this way,' I told myself. 'You liked dressing in a way that would make people look and smile. Of course YOU know that there's a person under all that clothes with real great ideas - that's what's important - that you know it - what do you care what other people think? Take a look at yourself again. Look at the dimples in your cheeks! You're absolutely adorable! Don't waste that! Enjoy it - it's fun!' In the end I figured that since I was sure I'd switch back in a year anyway (my latest philosophical discovery about the way girls are thought of just emphasized the fact that I definitely was going to change back), it wouldn't hurt to enjoy this feminine lifestyle for a year. After all, at ten-years-old, nobody was expected to do anything meaningful or serious anyway, so there was no reason that I should want or expect people to take me seriously. I decided to enjoy it for a year. In fact, I figured that this year could help me. I'd get a taste of how girls are treated first hand, and then when the year's up I could write a paper about how bad and unjust it is (even if it superficially seems enjoyable). There - I had decided that that's what I'd do. I'd write a paper about it at the end of the year. And in order to gather as much data as possible, I decided to do my utmost to be as feminine as possible, and to do my best to enjoy it. ---SEVEN Mom woke up. "You're not watching the movie?" she asked, noticing that I wasn't wearing the headset. "No, Mom. It's not my type," I said. "I've just been thinking, that's all." "What about?" I didn't really want to tell her. "Oh, just something philosophical," I said. That made her laugh. "Oh, how cute!" She patted my leg and gave me a kiss on the cheek. During the flight I made a trip to the bathroom. Mom wanted to come with me but I told her I was big enough to do it on my own. I still wasn't quite used to having to urinate while seated. And the type of glances I got while walking there and back (especially from a group of four boys who looked about eleven years old - two of which were shorter than me) "helped" remind me of what I was now. (As if the clothes I was wearing and the way they felt as I walked weren't reminder enough!) I just smiled and kept going. Dad was waiting for us in the airport, along with my new brother and sister. Of course, I had no idea what Dad looked like, but I guessed it was him when all of a sudden a big man with a mustache picked me up and hugged me, kissing me on the cheek. He held me for maybe five minutes. Once I was back on my feet, I gave Mike and Sarah hugs. I walked to the car while holding Dad's hand. What a house! A house is an understatement - it was a palace! I told Mom that I couldn't remember where anything was so she quickly took me on a grand tour. Finally I ended up in my bedroom. It was decorated very prettily - very feminine. Pink walls, white bed, pictures of puppies and kittens and flowers on the walls. Dolls and stuffed animals on the shelves. A bookcase with lots of books (well below my reading level), and lots of other stuff. There was a small TV, but no computer, to my dismay. "Wow, what a lovely room I have," I said to Mom, with a smile. I wasn't really too thrilled with the room, truth be told, but I put on the act for Mom. It was livable. I started looking through my room in more detail. I examined my closet, seeing all the different dresses, skirts and blouses I had available to wear. I had two or three pairs of pants as well. I looked through the drawers, seeing all kinds of girls clothes - underwear, camisoles and tights; pajamas and nightgowns; shirts, bodysuits, leotards, leggings, bike-shorts and of course - swimsuits! I must have had eight or nine, in various styles - one and two piece suits. Some of them looked really, really cute, and although part of me was very nervous about the thought of having to appear in public wearing them, another part of me couldn't wait to see how I looked in them. ---EIGHT Over the next few days I discovered that it was fun being a girl - even though I still thought of it as only temporary; that I'd switch back by the end of the year. I enjoyed wearing skirts and dresses much more than pants, and Mom taught me how to style my hair in various different styles. I even got used to wearing the bathing suits. I didn't know how I'd bring myself to do that, but one day one of my cousins showed up - a thirteen-year-old boy named Sam. Sam was an only child, and Mom mentioned that before my accident, Sam and I had been very, very close. Of course, I couldn't remember a thing about Sam, but I liked the idea of having a friend close to my real age who I'd be able to talk to about stuff that interested me. He came over and told me how excited he was that I was alive and healthy, and gave me a big strong hug. We sat alone in my room for a long time and talked for a long, long time. We talked about everything, and I enjoyed it SO much! He was really nice; he didn't treat me like a child the way my parents and everyone else had been treating me. After we had talked for an hour or two he asked me if we could go for a swim in our indoor pool - he didn't have a pool at his house and loved swimming. I couldn't let him down - I valued this new friendship so much. I opened up the dresser-drawer with the swimsuits and looked for a nice one, deciding on a modest, one-piece green suit. I didn't notice Sam looking over my shoulder; when I took the green one out of the drawer Sam said, "Hey, you wore that one when you had the accident... it brings back bad memories to me. Do you know that I was swimming with you when it happened?" I didn't say anything. I forgot that "my" accident happened in our pool. Poor Sam - must've been hard on him to see that happen, and think I'd never come back alive. Little did he know... Sam rummaged through the drawer and pulled out another suit. "Here, wear this one - it used to be your favorite and it always looked really nice on you," he said, handing me a modest, two-piece mauve suit. I couldn't say no. A moment later I came out of my bathroom dressed in the swimsuit, with my bathrobe on over it, tied shut. I liked the way I looked in the mirror but still felt pretty silly and embarrassed. While I was in the bathroom Sam had already changed - he was wearing a long, baggy boxer-style swimming shorts with a funny design and the words "girl catcher" printed all over it. Must be a new style, I thought. Sam took his shirt off. He had some chest-hair: not much, but more than I had before my switch. His arm-muscles were definitely bigger than mine had been. Sam looked at me in the robe and laughed. I felt funny dressed like that when he was already ready to go jump in the water. So I took the robe off. "That's my cousin I missed so much," he said. He grabbed my arm and we walked to the pool together, stopping by the linen-closet to grab two towels. As we entered the room with the pool I asked Sam, "Sam, how exactly did my accident happen? I can't remember it - should I be afraid of swimming now?" Sam and I sat down on a bench and he started telling me the story of my accident. "You were always an excellent swimmer - you were strong and fast, and could do all kinds of neat strokes, dives, flips and stuff like that. We were swimming together, one day - alone. You wanted to try out a new move you learned in gymnastics, adding a dive into the pool at the end. You started over by the wall over there and began running towards the entrance to the shallow end. You did a hop, skip and jump, did a mid-air splits, and some other tumbles and who-knows-what - it was quite impressive. At the end you were standing on your hands by the edge of the pool and your hands slipped. Instead of flipping over again and entering the water feet first as you planned, you ended up slipping into the water - the shallow end - headfirst. Your head got bumped on the bottom of the pool and it took you about a minute to surface - face down. "I was sitting on the other end of the pool, on the edge of the diving board, watching this. Although I thought you messed up a bit I didn't realize the extent of your mistake. When I saw you floating face-down I thought you were looking for a hair elastic that you might have lost or something - man was I stupid. A few seconds later when I noticed you weren't moving, I got scared and jumped into the water to come save you. By the time I had reached you, you must've swallowed a lot of water. I tried to resuscitate you but it was hard - I couldn't get the water out of your lungs. I was the only person here and there wasn't an easy way to call for help. Since then, your parents installed an intercom and a phone here beside the pool, for emergencies. By the time the medics came you hadn't been breathing for a long time. Eventually they got you hooked up on life-support machines. But you were brain-dead, or so they said. It's really a miracle that your alive. "Look, you used to love swimming so much and were so good at it! You can't stop now! Just be more careful, that's all - don't run by the side of the pool, and don't try diving in from the shallow end. Be more careful. But you've GOT to continue swimming!" With that he stood up and held his hand out for me. I gave him my hand and he pulled me into a standing position. Before I knew what had happened, he had picked me up and slung me over his shoulder. He was holding my ankles firmly and my face was resting on his back. "Let me go - put me down!" I squealed. It was actually kind of fun and thrilling, but I knew I was supposed to protest. "Oh, I'll put you down alright," he said, climbing up the rungs of the ladder leading to the high diving-board. "But I don't know how to dive! I can't remember! Please, put me down!" I began to feel a little nervous. He continued climbing the ladder. "Don't worry, I'll show you how," he said with a laugh. By now he had released his grips on my ankles so that he could hold the railing with one hand. His other hand held my bare side tightly, so that I wouldn't slip off his shoulder. Now I could've tried kicking my feet but I was afraid to throw him off balance when he was on the ladder. So I just remained still, resigned to suffer whatever he intended for me. We reached the top of the ladder. Sam let me down on close to the edge of the diving board. He was standing between me and the ladder, blocking my access to it. I waited nervously for what was to come. Sam asked me, "Which do you prefer - head or feet first?" "FEET," I almost screamed. I was scared now. "Okay, feet it is," he said. Sam smiled at me. He was cute. I couldn't help smiling back. I felt a little less nervous now. Then Sam reached out and grabbed my shoulders. 'This is it,' I thought. But it wasn't - not yet. He held my shoulders and spun me around, so my back was facing him. Then he moved up close to me and placed an arm around my bare tummy and lifted me up so that my head was almost level with his. I could feel his bulging 13-year-old muscles against my skin. He placed his other arm around my legs, just above the knees, pinning them together. I tried to move them a little and realized he was too strong; I was truly pinned. I actually liked the somewhat helpless feeling; I felt safe and secure in his arms. "Okay, plug your nose," said Sam. "And with your other hand, you could plug mine too, if you don't mind." I giggled and did as he requested. A moment later we were under water. Instinctively I tried to kick my legs to bring myself up to the surface but Sam was still pinning them together. A moment later Sam's feet hit the bottom of the pool and with a jerking motion he bounced of the floor, then kicked until we reached the surface. Sam loosened his grip but continued holding me up above the water until we reached the edge of the pool. "How was that?" he asked. "Fun," I admitted with a smile. Then I heard someone clapping. I looked and saw my parents and Sam's standing at the far end of the room, applauding us. They were all smiling like proud parents. "It's so nice to see the two of you playing together like you used to," Mom said. The other adults nodded their heads in agreement. Then they stripped into their swimsuits and joined us. Everyone took turns holding me and tossing me into the air, especially Dad and Uncle Lou. But I didn't mind - it was fun. But I had the most fun with Sam. ---NINE Over the next few weeks I spent a lot of time with Sam. We swam a couple of more times, but usually when together we just talked. Sometimes we played video games or surfed the Internet. But mostly we just talked. We talked about 13-year-old interests, stuff I couldn't talk about with many other people. Sam commented on how grown-up I seemed. He enjoyed talking to me too. He acted really nice, big-brotherly towards me, and I enjoyed his company. Two months went by. It was decided that I had "recovered" sufficiently to return to school, but first we needed to fly to New York for a checkup with Doc. Mom and I flew alone. Doc did a quick physical, then asked Mom to step out so he could talk to me alone. Doc showed me a letter that my old family had sent to him, to pass on to me. They wrote about how the money helped them so much. Mom wrote that she was careful to save half of the money so I could switch back at the end of the year. There were pictures of the new house they were living in, and pictures of my siblings - wearing decent clothes, for a change. Mom had written the new address and phone number in the letter but Doc had blacked that out - he said that I wasn't allowed to know that. I asked if I could keep the photographs but he said that was impossible. Then he gave me a sheet of paper and told me to write back. But he gave me a list of things I couldn't mention - any personal details that might reveal who I now was. I couldn't tell them where I was living, or what my new age OR SEX were now. So I wrote that I missed them but was okay and happy and that I was glad they were enjoying the money. I signed Dean - I hadn't used that name in ages! I handed Doc the letter and went out to Mom. Mom and I did some shopping in New York at some of the finest, most expensive girls' clothing stores. I got some new school outfits - all with either skirts or dresses - no pants. Mom said I could get some pant-suits if I wanted but I said I didn't like pants - they were too confining. I started school. It was a lot different attending school as a girl. So many different things were SUPPOSED TO interest me. And I developed friendships with the other girls - a different type of friendship than I had with my male friends before. And I made a few enemies too, like most girls do. The schoolwork itself was fairly boring - it was all stuff I had learned already, so I sailed through it easily. Almost every day, if I didn't go visit Sam or if he didn't come visit me, we talked on the phone for a long time. I made Sam tell me everything that happened to him in school, and everything they learned. That was I kept up to date on what should have been happening to me if I really was my intellectual age. In that way I saved myself of dying of boredom. Months went by and I was quite used to being a girl by now. I still remembered everything about being a boy - and I still felt kind of excited when I saw an attractive woman (although those feelings did begin to die down somewhat). But being a girl came naturally to me now, and I was enjoying it, I couldn't deny. Every once in a while I thought about those thoughts I had back on the airplane. And although theoretically, intellectually, I still agreed with my ideas about why it was bad to be female, practically I enjoyed it so much that I couldn't care less anymore. It was fun - I enjoyed the attention I got. I liked being able to manipulate people with my smile. I liked the way I looked. I decided it wasn't really so bad being a girl. But I still wanted to go back to being a boy. Summer came and school was out. School was going to start in a few weeks again. One day I called up Sam on the phone for our regular phone conversation. "Oh, hi Lisa," his Mom said. "Sam's not here. He's out on a date! His first date - with Karen Abercome!" I cried myself to sleep that night. I felt betrayed. I never thought Sam would be interested in other girls. I mean, I realized it was silly of me - I was his cousin, after all, not his girlfriend. He maybe felt more like a brother than a cousin to me, but I new that we'd never be boyfriend and girlfriend, and I never was interested in him in that way, anyway. So why was I so upset? I realized that I was afraid of losing my friendship with him; of someone else occupying his time instead of me. I new it wasn't fair of me to feel like this - I new if I was still a boy, almost 14-years-old, I'd want to date girls my age as well and not just hang out with my ten-year-old cousin all the time. Still I couldn't help feeling hurt and mad. 'He could have at least told me,' I thought! The next day when he called, I refused to talk to him. And the next day. And the next. A week went by and we hadn't spoken - every day he tried calling and every day I told Mom that I wasn't talking to him and to tell him to go away. I really DID want to talk to him but I couldn't bring myself to do it now. Mom didn't understand what happened - but Sam did. ---TEN After a week went by, I was sitting in my room sulking. I was feeling like such an idiot for messing up my friendship with Sam - after all, he only made himself unavailable for a single night, and I had turned it into a week, or more! How stupid and immature I was! I was sitting on my bed wearing a T-shirt and spandex bike shorts, with no socks. I was thinking of painting my toe-nails, and had held the bottle of polish in my hand for maybe half-an-hour, but hadn't unscrewed it. Instead, I spent the whole time thinking. I felt so miserable and I tried to figure out how many days were left until the end of the year, when I could switch back to being a boy. The door opened and Sam stuck his head in. "Can I talk to you?" he asked. When I saw him I quickly looked away. "I'm NOT talking to you," I said, trying to use my meanest voice possible. It sounded kind of silly with a girls' voice, though. "I didn't ask you to talk to me, I said that *I* wanted to talk to *YOU*. He came into my room and sat on my bed next to me. I turned my back on him. He started talking. I didn't really hear everything he said. He apologized. He apologized for not warning me before his date. He told me that nothing would change between us, that I'd always be his favorite cousin, blah blah blah. Then, while continuing to talk, he began playing with my hair a bit. It felt nice but I didn't let on. Then he began tickling my back and I jumped, and tried to swat his hands away, still without turning around. When my hand was behind my back - he took advantage of that and grabbed it. "PLEASE, Lisa, lets not be like this. Let's be friends! I really miss you!" Well, I couldn't take it anymore. I guess my girly emotions got the better of me. I started crying. No, crying's an understatement - I started bawling! And I turned around and looked at him through the tears. Then I climbed up onto his lap and hugged him. He hugged me back. He patted my head and kept telling me I'll always be his favorite cousin and we'll always talk about everything and stuff like that, and eventually I calmed down. I got off his lap and sat down beside him again. "I missed you Sammy," I said. He looked at me and got this weird smile on his face. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked. "What's that?" I asked innocently. I had no idea what he was thinking. Then, before I knew it, I was slung over his shoulder again, and he walked out of my room holding me like that. I enjoyed it but played along, kicking my feet slightly and shouting, "Put me down!" He just grabbed my legs with his other arm and pinned them to his body. We walked past my mother, who just smiled as we walked by. "Hi Auntie," Sam said. And - before I knew it - we were soaking wet, in the pool again, clothes and all! The surprise was a lot of fun. We laughed and raced and played like we always did. But it was a little annoying swimming in my clothes. Sam had already taken off his T-shirt and tossed it by the side of the pool, and he was wearing shorts anyway so it didn't make much difference to him. He jokingly invited me to take my T-shirt off as well, but I wasn't about to do that. After we played like that for a while I got an idea. I told Sam to wait for me in the shallow end and not do anything dangerous until I came back. Then I climbed out of the pool, and shivering in my wet clothes, walked into the pool bathroom. Once I closed the door I stripped out of my wet clothes. I put my hair up in a bun with an elastic that was there in the bathroom, and then I put on my new bikini. The day before I went shopping with my mother and my eye caught sight of the coolest bikini - and I just HAD to have it. It was a hot pink string bikini that tied behind the neck and back, and on the sides of the bottom part. The top part was padded, and in the last month I had started to develop tiny little mounds on my chest, and together with the padding on the top it looked like I really had small breasts, which I thought was too cool. The material was so smooth, shiny and stretchy, emphasizing just about everything that could be emphasized. I saw it in the mall and knew I just HAD to have it. All the bathing suits I already had were fit for nuns to wear compared to this one. Of course, my mom told me that I was too young to wear something like that, but I begged her, and since I had been so depressed all week long, she relented and bought it for me. BUT she told me I'd never be allowed to wear it in public - just at home in front of my parents and siblings. I agreed. Last night I had swam in it - just my Mom, Dad, and me. Dad also said it was nice but forbade me to ever wear it in public. He started telling me that I don't know what boys think when they see girls dressed like that, but Mom told him not to get into details now. That was funny, because I know only too well! When I finished swimming I had left the bikini hanging to dry in the pool bathroom, making it accessible now. And now I just had to show it to Sam! I had to prove to him that I was a "big girl", not just a little ten-year-old. I knew that my parents probably wouldn't want me wearing it in front of Sam but I figured that if they found out and asked, I could just say that I thought that in front of family was okay, and Sam's my cousin. If that didn't work I could tell them I had no choice because it was the only swimsuit around after Sam threw me into the pool with my clothes on. So I got the bikini on and tied the ties the best I could. I had a bit of trouble with the one behind my back until I figured out that I could tie it around myself backwards, with the strings in front, and then turn it around and put the cups in place and tie the other strings behind my neck. When I was done I left the bathroom back into the pool room. Sam's jaw dropped when he saw me. "Where did you get that?" he asked. "Oh, I got it at the mall yesterday. What do you think?" I asked, holding my arms out to the side and turning around slowly allowing him a good look. "You look... great! Really grown-up!" he said, with a smile. I smiled back and ran back to the pool and jumped in cannonball style, splashing him. We played in the water together some more, and I forgave Sam. "So how was Karen?" I asked. He told me a bit about her, about the boring movie they saw together. He didn't kiss her, though. And he never saw her again after that. ---ELEVEN About two weeks later I got another surprise from Sam. My days were pretty busy now and sometimes a day or two would go by when I wouldn't see Sam. I was going to private gymnastics lessons three times a week - I needed to learn back what I used to know how to do. My body was still as flexible, or almost as much, as it used to be, and my muscles were pretty good for a girl, and before long I wasn't too bad at the somersaults and jumps and other stuff I was supposed to do. I also went to a jazz dance class, and was getting good at that too. Once Sam came along with my parents and siblings to one of my dance performances and afterwards he snuck backstage to find me. Some of the girls shrieked because they were starting to change. Poor Sam didn't know what he was getting into - he didn't think they'd be changing here. I was still wearing my leotard and hadn't started changing yet so I ran up to him and pulled him out of the room and into a stairwell backstage. "What's up?" I asked him. "Oh, sorry about that whole mess there in the change-room. Man I feel stupid! I didn't think the girls changed there - I thought they'd just be resting or hanging out or something. All through the show I've been planning on sneaking back here and surprising you." "Cool! Thanks!" I said, giving him a hug. "You were really fantastic, you know, the best of the whole group!" Sam said. I smiled. "Look, I've got a surprise, a present for you." Then he fished an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to me. It was a return-trip ticket to the Bahamas, by cruise-ship, in my name! "What's this?" I asked. "Well, this coming winter our family's planning this vacation to the Bahamas. They've been planning it for a while. It was supposed to be just me and my parents, but I asked them if you could come along too and they said that you could - if you wanted to, and if I'd pay your way myself. So I saved up some money, and here you go. That is - if you want to come with us. I hope you do - we're gonna be gone for almost three weeks, and I'd be really lonely without you." "Oh Sammy, that sounds great! Thank you so much! But you shouldn't have to pay for that yourself! Let me pay." "No, it's my present to you. My treat. I still feel kinda guilty about the misunderstanding we had about that Karen thing, and this is my way of apologizing." "Oh Sammy, you don't need to do that." But he wouldn't hear of it any other way. I was delighted. "Oh, and if it's okay with you - there's one catch. See, my parents had to reserve the hotel rooms and the rooms on the ship a long time in advance and they only reserved two rooms. So if you don't mind, we'll have to share rooms. My parents and yours said it's okay as long as we behave ourselves and sleep in separate beds. They'd rather us be together anyway, and not sleep alone in a room in a strange country. And my parents want a room all to themselves - I can't understand WHY! So is that okay with you?" "Sure, Sam, that'll be fun! Thanks so much!" ---TWELVE The months leading up to the trip seemed to crawl by really slowly. I had a few more visits to New York and exchanged a few more letters with my real parents. It was annoying not being able to talk to them for real and tell them what really was going on, but I didn't let it bother me because in only a few months' time I'd be switching back. I started sixth grade and made some new friends - even became a little friendly with a popular boy named Jack who I thought was cute. But my friendship with Sam still remained the closest. Finally it came time to leave for our vacation. I packed up a suitcase. Mom said I couldn't take my new string bikini with me, but I managed to stick it in the suitcase when she wasn't looking, anyway. I packed summery clothes and my cutest pajamas and nightgowns. I said goodbye to my family, told them I'd send them postcards, and we left. It was amazing spending so much time with Sammy and his famil