Operation Rescue - The New Co-Ed - Chapter 1 free porn video

This is part 1 of a story in my new mini-verse. I hope you like it. It's only the beginning - this threatens to get out of hand as I've been writing. (Kind of like riding a tiger - hard to get off, but you know you don't really have control.) Many thanks to Jezzie Stewart for helpful comments and editing, and also to Ellie for the same. Couldn't have gotten it this far, or in this state, without their help. ElrodW ********************** Operation Rescue: The New Co-Ed By ElrodW Chapter 1 version 2 (edited 08/21/10) A young man gets in trouble and loses his scholarship. It looks like his dream of college to escape a poor future is doomed - until he sees an ad recruiting 'surrogates'. [email protected] ************************************************************ Operation Rescue: The New Co-Ed Tom Wilson sat silently, his gaze fixed on his books, pausing only to occasionally turn the page or scribble some notes in his open notebook. Outside, he could hear the sound of guys tossing a football in the quadrangle. The noise didn't seem to be any bother to him. Neither did the sound of the opening door interrupt his studies. Only when his roommate cleared his throat, did Tom look up. "What's up, Bill?" Bill glanced at him and shook his head. Bill cut an impressive figure - moderately tall, with a solid muscular build and rugged looks. With his close-cropped hair, he looked like a serious athlete or weight lifter. He didn't seem to fit the dorm image, especially since he was a sophomore. "I should ask you the same. What are you doing studying on a day like this? We're not going to have many more days like this before it gets cold." Tom sighed. "You know. I have to keep my grades up if I want to keep my scholarship." While not the stereotypical 98 pound weakling, at 5' 8" and 150 pounds, Tom did not present the buff college jock look of his roommate. A mop of unkempt brown hair didn't help his appearance. He was also a freshman. Bill tilted his head back and laughed aloud. "Why are you even bothering? After Friday night, you're going to be kicked out anyway." Tom frowned. "Maybe not." Bill shook his head. "Naive little country boy. You were screwing the dean's daughter! His daughter! Of course he's going to kick you out." He shook his head. "Although, I have to wonder about her taste in men. Then again, I heard she likes the bookish type." Tom chafed at the implication that he was a nerd, while simultaneously shuddering at the memories of being caught. He and Kelly were really going at it in the back seat of her car when they'd been caught. No doubt, the story had made it back to the dean. "She started it," Tom protested weakly. "Besides, she's over 18, and I didn't know she was the dean's daughter." Bill laughed. "Like that's going to matter. Dude, you're dead meat. You'll be lucky if she doesn't press rape charges." Tom paled. "She wouldn't, would she?" Bill shook his head, roaring with laughter. "Nah! She didn't with the last two guys. Look, you didn't know, but she's a rather 'friendly' girl, and that pisses off the dean. Since she's over 18, there's not a lot he can do, except to make your life a living hell until you drop out." Tom gulped; the last thing he needed was to have trouble. At that moment, the phone rang. Tom stared at it for a moment, then glanced at Bill. Bill shrugged. "You'd better answer it." "Hello," Tom answered meekly into the phone. "Speaking." He listened, then paled. After a few seconds, he hung up. "Well?" Bill's curiosity echoed in his simple question. "That was my department chair," Tom answered, his voice shaking. "On Sunday?" "Yup." "Bad news?" Tom swallowed hard. "Yup. They took away my scholarship." Bill whistled. "Wow. The dean got to them pretty quick. Did they give an excuse? I mean, your grades are pretty good." Tom shook his head, still in shock. "They said they found an irregularity in my scholarship application, and they had to end the scholarship to make sure there wasn't any fraud." Tom dropped his head into his hands. "Well, I guess that's it. After this semester, I can't afford to stay in school." Bill frowned. "What about work-study? Or a student loan?" Tom sighed. "I guess I can try," he said weakly, not sounding in the least bit positive. ********** Tom slunk into the dorm room and flopped down on his bed. His heavy sigh let Bill know that he didn't have good news. "Well?" Bill asked anyway. Tom shook his head. "No joy." "Bad?" "Worse," Tom answered morosely. "I got rejected by the Financial Aid Office." "What do you mean, rejected?" Bill frowned. "They don't reject anybody." "Except when the dean tells them to, apparently," Tom answered bitterly. "They somehow 'lost' my financial aid records, so there's no way to get aid. When I asked about re-applying, they told me that the deadline was past, and there wasn't any more money anyway. And if they don't have an application on file, which they won't accept late, I can't get a student loan." Tom sighed again. "The dean got to them." "So?" Bill tried to sound hopeful. "So when this semester is over, I go back home." Tom sighed yet again. "I'm out of options." Bill frowned, then turned back to his computer. A few keystrokes later, his printer buzzed and a paper spat out. He handed it to Tom. "What's this?" Tom asked as he glanced at the paper. "What the hell is this? 'Pro-Life Adoption Facilitator', What the hell is that?" Bill shrugged. "I don't know. I just saw it when I was reading the campus daily e-paper this afternoon, and figured it might help you." "Thanks." Tom sat up, staring at the paper. "Yeah, but.... This job pays pretty well. Very well. But they don't quite say what it's for." Bill shrugged. "You find anything else for jobs?" Tom sighed. "No. Maybe I should check into it." He paused as he read more. "Pro-life. Hmm, some of these groups are kind of pushy, aren't they? You suppose it's some bunch of paid protesters or something? That'd be all I need ? more trouble." Bill glanced over Tom's shoulder. "Nah. With the law these days, there's not a lot of protesting, and not much trouble a guy could get into." Tom shook his head slowly. "I don't know. It sounds too good to be true, and I really can't afford any more trouble." Bill glanced at his roommate. For some reason, he liked this kid, even though they were totally different. "How long ago did your dad die in the mine?" he asked softly. Tom swallowed hard and closed his eyes, fighting back the sudden surge of tears. Bill had just played dirty with him, reminding him of what his future would be if he dropped out of college. A dangerous, dirty life as a hard-rock coal miner, until he died in the mine or of black lung disease. He dropped his head. He knew that he was running out of options, and very quickly. ********** Tom felt out of place as he sat in the office, waiting for his interview. The phone interview had been rather curious, a lot of questions about his personal life and views on abortion. Then a very long on-line 'test' for compatibility with the job, followed by an extremely detailed physical exam that left him scratching his head. Now, as he sat in the office, he was left wondering exactly what the job was. It seemed that he was the only male in the facility. There were three secretaries working behind their desks, and they were very pleasant to him, all smiles and happiness. Two of them were obviously pregnant, and Tom wondered about the third. He glanced at the magazines, and turned away again. Nothing at all for men, no hot-rod or sports magazines. Just women's magazines about health and beauty and pregnancy. For some reason, this sent a shiver down Tom's spine. As he watched, trying not to fidget, a door opened and a woman stepped out. The woman looked to be in her mid-30s, and was very definitely pregnant, like she was going to give birth any time. "Mr. Wilson?" Tom practically leaped to his feet. "Yes, ma'am," he answered crisply. The woman smiled, almost chuckling. "Hi, I'm Rachel McKnight. We don't go on formalities around here, so please call me Rachel. If you would follow me, please." She led him into her office, and gestured to a chair as she shut the door. Tom waited, looking straight ahead, as she eased herself into the chair behind her desk. In front of her, a folder was open. A thick folder. 'His folder?' he wondered, which caused him to swallow hard; this was very strange, almost conspiratorial. "How much do you know about our operation?" she asked pleasantly. She seemed quite warm and friendly, and apart from being pregnant, was moderately attractive. Her clothing was stylish, unlike Tom's second- hand rumpled outfit, and she had her hair done neatly and professionally. Tom shook his head. "I assume the job is some kind of clerical staff." Rachel laughed. "Oh, no! Not quite." Tom frowned, puzzled. "So what is an 'adoption facilitator', then?" Rachel smiled. "Women who do what I'm doing. Making it possible for babies that would otherwise be aborted to be delivered and adopted by a loving family." She saw the confused look on Tom's face. "What do you know about the Morris-Henderson process, and the Morris Foundation?" Tom frowned at her seemingly confusing turn of the conversation. "Doesn't that have something to do with organ transplant? And the Foundation, I think it's a big pro-life charity." Rachel nodded approvingly. "Very good. You're right on both counts." She glanced at the file. "Aren't you at all curious about the pre- interview test you took?" Tom shrugged. "I figured it was standard." Rachel laughed again. "Hardly. And the physical and psych evaluation didn't cause you any alarm?" Tom frowned. This wasn't quite like he'd expected. "It _did_ seem kind of strange. In a double-O-seven kind of way, I mean," he said sheepishly. "But I didn't figure it was my place to ask, since I was applying for the job. I figured you had a good reason, like maybe screening out people who'd try to sabotage what you're doing." Rachel smiled. "A little bit, but not completely. We had to make sure you were physically and psychologically compatible with the job requirements. Also, we had to make sure you had no chemical dependencies or serious medical issues." Tom frowned again. "Ma'am, I just came here for a job interview. You make it sound like I'm applying to be a spy or something." "Or something. Have you heard of the names Brian Morris? Or Charlie Henderson?" Tom shook his head. "Nope. Remember, I'm just a simple country-boy from backwoods West Virginia." Rachel glanced at the file. "No, you're not. You have a very strong aptitude in math, and you're a remarkable history buff. Maybe science wasn't your strongest point, but you still got very respectable grades." Tom fidgeted in his chair, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Ma'am, this is making me nervous." Rachel smiled again. "Sorry, but we have to be very sure of our candidates." "And the job is..." "To help a baby go from pre-born and unwanted to someone's living, loved child." Tom frowned. "Huh? How?" "By providing a home for the baby to grow to birth." "But... pre-born is ... during pregnancy!" Rachel smiled. "I thought science wasn't your strong suit." "But ... how?" Rachel's gaze narrowed as she focused on Tom. "Those few men who work for us are given the means to carry a baby to term." Tom's eyes widened. "You mean, like turn me into a girl? So I can deliver a baby?" Rachel bit her lower lip; this part was _always_ tricky to explain. "Our mission is to save babies who would be aborted. To do that, our foundation helps have an unwanted baby transplanted from the mother who doesn't want it to a volunteer 'employee' who will carry it to term so the baby can be adopted into a loving home." "Yeah, I got that part," Tom interrupted impatiently. "And?" "We _strongly_ prefer women to volunteer. In fact, if we had enough women volunteers, we'd _never_ do the more ... extreme ... procedure with men." Tom's eyes narrowed a bit. "But..." Rachel smiled sadly. "We've got pretty thorough statistics on how many babies we can save, and that lets us know how many volunteers we need. You see, it takes a month or two for a woman to be prepared to be ready to carry a baby. The average for an abortion rescue is three and a half months of development. Then, after the baby is born, we have to wait at least two months before the volunteer would be ready to carry another child. That is, if she so desired. It takes a while for her hormones to get back to normal after pregnancy, you see." "I'm still waiting to see what that has to do with me." "There _just_ aren't enough women who want to help, who believe strongly enough that they'll ... put their wombs where their mouths are," Rachel explained, a tiny tinge of bitterness in her voice. "Even at the salary we pay." Tom nodded slowly, not sure if he completely understood. "So you find guys who need money..." "Oh, no!" Rachel countered quickly and vehemently. "This is _more_ than just a job. We can't take just anyone." "So you get suckers like me who need money _and_ are compatible with your psych tests, is that it?" Tom sounded angry. Rachel closed her eyes and sighed. She wondered, from time to time, about the accuracy of the psych tests. "We _try_ to carefully screen applicants, so we can find those who are open-minded, have a ... view of life that is amenable to this type of ... noble sacrifice." She was afraid that she'd lost him. She knew that her speech sounded a little too preachy. After a long pause, Tom surprised her. "So what would be involved? For me, I mean? How does the process work?" he asked quietly, his voice even, even a bit inquisitive. "We use your genetic material to build cloned organs. Female organs. It's not easy. We have to make your donor cells into XX instead of XY." "How does that work?" Tom interrupted. "I don't know a lot about the process." Rachel smiled. "Curious?" Tom nodded. "Yeah, a bit. I mean, if I'm going to do this, I'd kind of like to know what's happening." "Well, I'll try to explain, but bear in mind that I'm no bioengineer, so this is going to be kind of high-level. When they tried to explain it to me, my head almost exploded," she added with a wink. "If you want a more technical description, we can get one of the doctors to explain it in as much detail as you want." Tom's eyes widened, then he shook his head. "No, I'll be okay with a summary." "The cell sample is genetically manipulated to make it female, two X chromosomes. It's also made young again, a stem cell. While that's happening, other scientists create a scaffold, if you will, a porous framework of biologically compatible material. The cells are introduced to the scaffold, with some proprietary chemical treatment, and they attach and grow into the desired organ." Tom frowned as he pondered the information. "But ... the organs need blood vessels and such." Rachel nodded. "Ah, you see, you _did_ learn something in science. The new organ develops just like it would if it were growing in a fetus, including vascularization. An artificial heart supplies oxygenated blood to the new organ." "So you make my cells into blood cells too?" "Yes. One big benefit of the process is that we can grow an inexhaustible supply of blood. You did notice that the need for blood donors has really dropped, right? It's because we can supply blood from cell samples. It's a lot safer for recipients, too." Rachel seemed proud of the spinoff technology. "Oh. That sounds ... complicated. And time consuming." Rachel shrugged. "You'd be surprised how fast the organs grow, when we use the accelerated methods. Replacement organs can be completed in a few weeks. Drs. Henderson and Morris are geniuses. In fact, they assembled probably the brightest and most innovative bioengineering team in the world, bar none.. Every time they hit a roadblock, they invented new procedure or process around it. Once we have the organs grown, they are implanted. Even with the fast-healing processes and drugs that our founders developed, you'd be on complete bed-rest for a few weeks." Tom frowned. "That could play hell with classes, studying, and tests." Rachel nodded. "But your college allows tele-study. You're not the first student from there to volunteer, and we've had no problems helping arrange tele-study for them. After the bed-rest, we'd have to wait a few months to ensure that the ... female organs ..." "_My_ female organs?" Tom interjected. Rachel flinched. "Uh, yes," she answered carefully, watching to gauge his reaction. "We have to make sure they're working properly, that the hormone levels are correct for supporting pregnancy." Tom nodded. "And afterwards? I mean, how long?" "Average is four months between first surgery and implant, then six months to delivery. After that, a month and a half to two months to stabilize post-partum, and then you'd be able to be ... restored." "A year," Tom said softly, mostly to himself. He closed his eyes and tilted his head down; he drew a couple of slow deliberate breaths to focus his thoughts, then he looked up again. "So you make me completely a girl? All the parts?" Rachel tried to smile reassuringly. "Not completely, no. Just enough internal parts to host and deliver the baby and to keep the hormone balance for the pregnancy. That allows you to have a fetus transplanted to your womb, where it can grow until delivery. But otherwise, you're completely genetically male." Tom's eyes widened as he considered her words. "What organs? I mean, what makes the hormones? And, um, delivery, that's a ...." He was clearly embarrassed. Rachel smiled to herself. She _knew_ what he was thinking. "It's a vagina. Also known by a lot of slang terms." He was clearly thinking, like every male employee, about what having a vagina meant. Could he have sex as a woman? "The hormones come from ovaries. So you'd have essentially the core female reproductive system: ovaries, fallopian tubes, a uterus, and a vagina." Tom gulped. "And ... um...." He was too embarrassed to say what he was thinking. Rachel smiled at his embarrassment. "They can stay, if you like. Of course, there are some side-effects from the hormones that are necessary for pregnancy." "Like..." "Well," Rachel was a bit hesitant, "if you keep your male organs, which you can, there is a risk of sterility, and possibly impotence. And whatever you choose, there will be development of secondary sexual characteristics with the hormones. It is a necessary part of pregnancy, since nursing is the natural way to feed a baby." "I _know_ that means breast development," Tom said, frowning. "So what you're saying is that you're going to chop off my thing, implant girl parts, make me grow boobs, and then make me pregnant? That's about what you're saying, isn't it?" He stood, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I don't think this is for me." He turned. Rachel looked at him without emotion. "Why did you come here?" Tom stopped mid-stride. "What?" he asked softly. "Why did you come here?" Tom sank back into his chair, his face drained of color. "You know why," he said softly. Rachel tilted her head slightly. "No. Please tell me." Tom closed his eyes a moment to compose himself. "I need the money. I lost my scholarship, and I'm going to be kicked out of school. If that happens, I don't have any options except to go back to West Virginia, where I came from, and work in the mine, like my dad." "Where your dad died in the mine." Rachel added softly. She _did_ know why he was so desperate to stay in school, her little lie to the contrary. The "Health Status of Parents" had been a section in the paperwork, and his motives hadn't been hidden from the very detailed psych profile. Tom nodded, his head lowered so she wouldn't see the emotional strain as he fought the tears trying to leak from his eyes. "Lots of guys do this," Rachel offered. "It's not hard work, and we take excellent care of our employees. We offer a very decent salary, all paid by the Morris Foundation. All health care is provided. We give you a clothing and food allowance. We have a private gym and spa, with a doctor on staff. We have to keep our little mothers healthy, you know," she added with a wink. "Are any of you, I mean, you and the staff ... you know? Like me?" Tom asked awkwardly. Rachel smiled, but shook her head. "I can't say. Privacy, you know. If anyone is a convert, then it's up to that person to tell if they want to. But we do have a support group for men who volunteer, and you'd be welcome to visit to ask any questions you might have. In fact, we encourage our prospective male candidates to speak with a male volunteer so as to get more comfortable with the whole process." She pushed some information across the table to Tom. "_Lots_ of men have done this, a surprisingly large number. Many leave their organs alone, but some change completely for the duration of the pregnancy, and then change back afterwards." She paused to let the words sink in. "We have to be careful choosing them. That's why we do the tests. Read this, and please think about it. Seriously. Then call back if you're still interested." Rachel glanced at the calendar. "It's Thursday. Can you call back with an answer on Monday?" ********** Tom sat in his room, still feeling half-dazed. Though the information sheets were on the desk in front of him, he wasn't really seeing them. "Are you okay?" Bill asked. "How did the interview go?" Tom shook his head. "I'm not sure." He stared out the window for a moment. "You ever hear of the Morris-Henderson process?" "Nope. So what's the job? Data entry or clerical or something like that?" "Something like that," Tom lied. "You going to go for it?" Tom sighed. "Do I have any other options? I can't go back. Not to the mines. And the economy isn't very good right now, so there aren't many other jobs." He rose suddenly and strode from the room. He'd always found that the night air seemed to clear his mind, and right now, his mind needed clearing. As Tom walked through the Student Center, he looked around, and noticed all the girls. Not like before, when he saw the cute ones and thought about them sexually, but _now_ he noticed them as people, as fellow students. And they seemed so normal. Differently shaped, but just people. All studying, talking, doing normal things. Tom wondered why he'd never seen them this way before. He wondered if it really made such a difference, and whether it was enough of a difference to keep him from the job. As he walked back to the dorm, still lost in thought, he saw a couple coming toward him. The girl had her arms wrapped around one of the guy's arms, her head leaning against his shoulder. She was holding him tightly, lovingly. Tom felt an involuntary shudder. There _was_ a difference. No matter how normal it seemed, the difference was there. He wondered if it was enough to really matter. Or if he could afford to dwell on the difference. ********** Tom sat nervously in the office. The three secretaries were working, and there were a handful of clients, all female, and he _knew_ that all were occasionally glancing his way. He felt like he was on display. The office door opened, and Rachel came out. Out of courtesy, he rose as she stepped toward him. "Have you decided?" she asked hesitantly. Tom swallowed hard, glancing around the office at all the pregnant bellies. He looked back at Rachel. "Yes," he answered nervously. "I'll do it." The secretary closest to him squealed with delight and jumped up to hug him. "Welcome to the family," she said warmly as she wrapped her arms as far around him as her pregnancy would allow. "I'm Suzie. You'll get to know us all, and we'll help you in any way we can." Rachel waited for Suzie's enthusiastic welcome to end, and then she grasped Tom's hand. "You won't regret this. I promise that this will be one of the most rewarding experiences of your life." She led him to a different door than her office, a door to a small medical clinic. Tom felt nervous as he looked around. There were several examining rooms and a lab. The nurses looked up as he came in, and smiled warmly. They also all looked pregnant, like the girls in the outer office. "So now what? Alien ray machines and probes? Tissue samples?" Tom asked cautiously. "Not quite," Rachel laughed as she led him into one of the exam rooms. Tom shuddered when he saw the stirrups on the table. He knew they were for gynecological exams, and they gave a hint as to the consequences of his decision. Rachel gestured for him to sit. A doctor came in right behind her. "Tom, this is Doctor Martelli. She'll be examining you and answering any questions you might have." Rachel gave him a smile, then ducked back out the door. Tom tried to smile, and failed. Dr. Martelli was pregnant. He let his gaze dwell on her round belly long enough that she noticed. "Yes, just about all of us around here are pregnant," she laughed in a soothing contralto voice. Tom would have found her voice sexy, except he was quite nervous about what he'd just agreed to. "I see, ma'am," he answered cautiously. The doctor laughed. "Didn't Rachel tell you that we're not very formal around here? It's like family, and family doesn't go by ma'am, or Ms. McKnight. We operate on a first-name basis." She extended her hand. "I'm Tina." Tom took her hand and weakly shook it. "I'm Tom." Then he felt foolish and blushed as he realized that she was carrying his folder. "Uh, you knew that, didn't you." Tina laughed. "Nervous?" Tom nodded. "Yup." "Don't be. Now I'd like you to take off your clothes for a quick exam." She watched Tom's expression. "Yes, all of them." She reached under the table and handed him a folded gown. "If you just slip this on, I'll be back in a moment." She ducked out the door. Tom swallowed hard; he'd never had a full physical by a female doctor, and the thought made him uneasy. That, and the prospect of soon being fitted with a womb. He changed into the gown, and found that it was a bit short and didn't close well in the back. He sat on the examining table and waited. He didn't have to wait long. Dr. Martelli came right back in. "Okay, can you lie down please?" "Yes, ma'am," Tom said as he tried to keep the gown across his private parts while lying down. "Ah, ah, ah!" Dr. Martelli clucked at him. "First name basis, remember? Family?" "Sorry," Tom said sheepishly. "Ma taught me to call all my elders ma'am and sir, and especially important people like doctors. Habit I guess." Tina smiled; she already liked this polite young man. "Okay, how about if you call me Dr. Tina? Is that okay? Close enough to first name, but it might satisfy your need for some formality." Tom swallowed hard, then nodded. "Okay," he answered. "ma'a . " He caught himself. "Dr. Tina." "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" She began to gently probe Tom's abdomen. "Okay, now I have to examine your genitals," she warned. Tom blushed as he pulled the gown up and exposed himself to the doctor. He fought to keep his mind in control during her exam; getting aroused would just be too damned embarrassing. Finally, he felt her pull the gown back down. "You can sit up," she said simply. As Tom sat up, Dr. Tina turned her attention to her computer. As Tom glanced over her shoulder, he realized that she was looking at the ultrasound image that had been done in his 'pre-screening physical'. "You're in very good shape physically. This should be an easy implant." She paused a bit. "We'll have to watch the hips; you probably aren't going to have a large birth canal." "Do you like being pregnant?" Tom asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Dr. Tina turned, a little surprised by his question. "Yes," she answered quickly. "Yes, I do." She smiled. "Lots of women like the feeling of being pregnant, of participating in new life." She got a wistful expression. "I can't explain it, but it feels ... like being part of creation." "How about labor and delivery?" "I'll be honest. Pregnancy is not a walk in the park for everyone. There are physical challenges, and the hormones make a woman a bit ... emotional at times. And labor can be difficult. In my case, it's wasn't easy, but I found it very rewarding. Most of our employees do." She shrugged. "Some women have it easier than others." Tom thought for a moment. "So, um, when are you going to get the sample?" "Sample?" Dr. Tina sounded confused. "Yeah," Tom said. "Don't you have to take a genetic sample so you can, um, grow the ... um ... parts?" Dr. Tina laughed. "We did that when we did the pre-screening bloodwork. Your _parts_ are already being grown. In fact, they're almost ready for transplant." She winked. "And we call them a uterus and vagina." Tom's eyes widened. "But ... you didn't know if I'd say yes," he protested. "Wasn't that kind of a gamble?" Dr. Tina laughed again. "Maybe, but your psychological profile said it was highly probable that you'd accept. Besides," she added, "if you had said no, we could use the organs for transplant, but with the down-side of anti-rejection drugs." She gave him a quick wink. "So you see, it wasn't much of gamble at all." ********** The Dean scowled as he looked at the report. There was something going on, and he intended to find out what it was. He studied the report for a few more seconds, then he dropped the paper and snatched up the phone. His fingers raced over the number for the student health clinic, and he impatiently drummed his fingers until the other party answered. "This is Dean Larson. I need to speak to the director." He waited impatiently. "Of course now! Why do you think I called in person?" He waited more, all the while growing more restless and angry. "Fred? Yeah, it's me. Say, I've got a kid who's been doing tele-study." "Yes, I know it's standard. But not for kids living in the dorms!" He sighed as he waited for the response from the phone. "His application said it was for medical reasons," the Dean answered impatiently. "I know it's highly irregular," the Dean snapped in reply to whatever the health director had told him. "And since it's claimed to be for medical reasons, I called you. What do you know about it?" "Thomas J. Wilson." His face reddened. "Yes, _that_ Thomas Wilson!" He shook his head, a gesture unseen by the party on the other end of the phone. "Find out what's going on." "I don't know; make something up!" He clenched his jaw once or twice, trying to control his impatience and anger. " Like we need to make sure there's nothing that's a hazard to the rest of the dorm or something." "I don't care!" the Dean snapped impatiently. "Make something up, and make it stick!" The Dean's eyes widened at the question asked by the other party. "The doctor? Doctor T. Martelli." "No? Then who the hell does this Doctor Martelli work for?" The Dean's mood was not improving by the conversation. "Find out! I want to know what the hell's going on here!" He slammed down the phone, angrier than when he'd first dialed the clinic's number. He took a couple of deep breaths, sinking his face into his hands, his elbows propped on his desk. "God dammit, Jillian!" he cursed, shaking his head. "I promised your mother that I'd take good care of you. You're not making it easy for me, are you?" ********** Tom was sitting on his bed, propped up, and doing his homework, when Bill came in. "How are you doing?" Bill asked as he slung his backpack onto his bed. Tom cracked a tiny smile. "Okay, I guess." Bill frowned. "You guess? Emergency appendectomy, and you _guess_ you're okay?" Tom shrugged. "I guess I'm a quick healer." "Five days in the hospital isn't exactly quick healing," Bill observed. "And you just got released from three weeks mandatory bed-rest." He saw Tom's homework. "It's going to take you a while to catch up, you know." Tom nodded. "I know. That's why I've got to keep at it." "You're missing some good parties." Tom nodded again. "Can't. Not until I'm completely healed." He couldn't tell Bill that he was now under contract that alcohol was now a forbidden substance. And tobacco, and all drugs that weren't prescribed by Dr. Tina or her associates. He knew that Bill wouldn't understand. Inside him, the transplanted female parts were healing and growing. He had a couple of months to go for his new hormones to adjust, and then he'd have _another_ surgery to transplant the baby. There was no way Bill, or any of the guys on the floor, for that matter, would understand. "Oh, by the way," Bill added as he sat down at his desk, "while you were napping earlier today, you got a call from Student Health." Tom frowned. "What do they want?" Bill shrugged. "I don't know. Probably a follow-up to make sure you're able to go back to classes." He frowned. "You look like you've lost some weight, too, and the quacks probably want to know why." Tom shook his head. "Probably more harassment from the Dean." Inwardly, he shuddered. He had a very bad feeling that this wasn't going to turn out very well. "Maybe, but you better get over there before they close." Tom sighed. "Yeah, I guess." He levered himself to his feet, grabbed a jacket, and strode purposefully out the door. As soon as he was sure no-one could listen, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. "Hi." He paused while the other party answered. "Hi, Suzie. This is Tom Wilson. Is Rachel there?" He paused again. "I need to talk to her. Or Dr. Tina." Another pause. "No, there's nothing wrong, but the campus health services director ordered me to come in for a physical." He paused again. "Thanks. Please have her call me as soon as possible. I have a really bad feeling about this." He hung up the phone, let out a heavy sigh. He knew that he could only stall for so long; he was going to have to go to student health clinic. He just hoped that Rachel or Dr. Tina called back quickly. ********** Tom stood nervously in the Dean's office, with the student health director beside him. The Dean was looking at a folder, his eyes narrow and focused. "What the hell is this?" he demanded as he looked up at the health director, ignoring Tom. The director also ignored Tom. "He has hermaphroditic genitalia," he said slowly, "as a result of volunteering for the Morris Foundation's ..." "I can read that," the Dean roared. "What the hell does that mean?" "He has both male and female genitals." "What?" the Dean roared. He glared at Tom, then looked at the report. "How the hell didn't you notice this before?" He was a shade of purple, from his rage, that Tom had never seen. The director shrugged. "We don't do a physical exam of every incoming freshman. It wasn't in his medical records, so we didn't know. Besides, I doubt he had this when he was admitted. Dr. Martelli indicated that his . modification . was recent, in line with his contract as an adoption facilitator." "How the hell did he get into the boys' dorm? Do you know what kind of ... monkey-business ... we could have going on there?" Tom felt his courage rise ? a tiny bit. "You can't discriminate against me," he said defensively. "It's the law." The health director nodded almost imperceptibly. He knew that Tom was right, but he didn't want to directly contradict the dean. "And we can't have a girl in the boys' dorm, either!" the Dean roared back. "_That_ I can legally do!" "Then you could move me to the girls' dorm," Tom said. The Dean turned a deeper shade of purple. "No!" he roared. "Not while you've got male parts, too! I can't put a hermaph... whatever in my dorms! Not if you have mixed parts!" He glanced at the director. "You can go." He steamed and stewed, his eyes narrow slits and his breathing harsh and angry, while the director left. When the door had clicked shut, he glared at Tom. "You may have found money for next semester's tuition somehow, but you can't live in my dorms. Not being a ... half freak! And without a waiver, a freshman can't live off campus!" His eyes narrowed to mere slits. "You might as well pack your bags, Mr. Wilson," he hissed. "You're through here!" As he meekly retreated, Tom wondered if his mixed-sex state was what had tipped the Dean to irrationality. Maybe he thought his daughter was into kinky sex, like Tom apparently was now outfitted for. Whatever it was, Tom didn't want to stick around to find out any more. As he walked slowly back toward his dorm, Tom realized, slowly, that his options had narrowed. He didn't have any choice; if he was going to fulfill his contract, he had to carry the baby. But his current mixed- sex state was now known to the administration, and they were going to use it to get him out of the dorms. The only way to stay in the dorms, and consequently stay in school, was to remove the excuse. Tom gulped as he realized that he had to fully commit to being a woman. His _thing_ had to go. He would, for all intents and purposes, be a complete woman. ********** The thin sheet barely kept Tom warm as he lay on the gurney. Beneath that, his flimsy gown added little to his comfort. He wondered why hospitals and clinics always seemed to be so cold. Out of boredom, he scanned the hallway. This wasn't an average hospital. It was a private Morris Foundation hospital, and he guessed that most of the patients were 'employees' of the foundation like he was. That meant that surgeries were either changing parts or transplanting babies. Changing sex as an assembly-line procedure. The thought didn't comfort him. Suzie, the secretary from the pro-life office, stood beside the gurney, holding his hand. "It'll be okay," she said reassuringly. Tom felt like crying. "I feel like I'm out of control," he said softly. "I feel like I'm trapped." "Shhh," Suzie hushed. "It'll be okay. You're doing the right thing, in a lot of ways." Tom shook his head. "You don't know what it's like." Suzie smiled and clutched his hand tighter. "You'd be surprised." "But ... I'm now part woman. With a ... vagina. And my chest is getting sensitive and my nipples starting to swell, which means I'm growing boobs, like Dr. Tina said I would. And now, thanks to the sonofabitch dean, I'm about to get what little remains of my manhood cut off so I'm completely a woman." Suzie patted his hand. "Having mixed parts didn't work for me, either." Tom's eyes widened. "You mean...?" Suzie grinned. "Yup. I had my surgery about 3 years ago." "But ... didn't you miss it? Being a guy, I mean? Why didn't you change back?" Tom suddenly had a million questions. Suzie gave his hand a squeeze. "Dr. Tina is here to take you to the operating room." She bent over and gave him a peck on his cheek. "Trust me, this is the best decision you'll make. We can talk more after your surgery. Like I said, we're family, and we're here for you." Tom shook his head, trying to comprehend what was happening. "What's next? Makeovers and shopping trips?" He felt like crying, and all because the Dean's daughter had been overly frisky. ********** to be continued...