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TRANSPLANT By Annie James The sensation was a familiar one for an awakening teenager. Lying on my back with a raging erection sticking straight up under the bedclothes, I tried hard to roll onto my side both to free myself from the pressure of the covers and to conceal my state of arousal from the persons whose voices could be heard talking softly together in the room. Rolling over proved more than I was able to accomplish. It was as if I were tied to the bed. Was I at camp and some of my cabin mates had tied me down as a practical joke? I gave up struggling and decided to open my eyes. All I could see was the vague outline of a white ceiling. Or was that a cloud? My eyes did not seem to focus properly. From my left side a head began to intrude into my narrow field of vision, very fuzzy, but I could tell it was a head. I could not tell the sex of the owner though, just that the person was wearing some kind of a white cloth tied over their hair and white clothing below the neck. I felt terribly embarrassed when the voice from the head seemed to speak directly to me with an intonation which indicated that its owner was female. I concentrated harder on trying to will my erection into subsiding than on what was being said. The words did start to penetrate at last though. " - - pleased that you're starting to show signs of life again. It's been over two weeks?" "Two weeks since what?" The words formed in my brain but my lips did not seem to move to speak them aloud. "Can you feel my hand holding yours? Don't try to speak. Just blink your eyes to let me know." Again the words formed in my mind but no sound emerged from my lips. It seemed to take a long time. Finally I concentrated on what I had been told to do and the room darkened for a second as my eyes closed and reopened. "That's very good. You're starting to come around. Can you blink once if I am holding your right hand and twice if it's your left." I slowly and deliberately closed my eyes twice in succession. I thought I could detect a pleased smile on the face but its outline was too blurred to be sure. Maybe it was a frown indicating a wrong answer. I was relieved when she started to talk again. "You understood me perfectly. Now we'll check to see if you have feeling in your toes." The head changed position slightly as if an arm were being moved toward my foot. I could feel blood rush to my face as something brushed against my erection. Frantically I started to blink as rapidly as possible. The head turned back toward me and again my erection was jostled by something moving past it. "I can see I've disturbed you. I'd better just let you rest a while longer." The head moved out of my range of vision before the words continued. "Nurse, our patient is becoming agitated again. Another shot is needed." I stopped blinking and lay quietly, trying desperately to understand my situation. "This must be a hospital, but what happened to bring me here, and how badly was I hurt? It must be serious if I have no control of my body. Oh, but I'm having an erection. Surely I can't be a paraplegic. There, I can feel them holding my arm. That's a needle they're giving me." My erection seemed to soften and sleep overcame me once more. Some time later I wakened again. It seemed to be night because there appeared to be a ceiling above me but it was only a dim gray, marked off by fuzzy lines where it was joined to the walls. Immediately I became aware again of an erection. Once more I tried to turn on my side and once more I found myself unable to move. I lay there savoring the feeling of sexual arousal and wishing I could regain control of my body so I could touch myself with my hands. At first I was only mindful of the engorgement of my penis but gradually other thoughts began to impinge on my consciousness. "Yes, this must be a hospital bed. How come I'm here? Yes, there must have been an accident. Have I suffered permanent injury? Will I be crippled?" Unanswerable questions, I would have to ask the Doctor when she came back. "She? How do I know the Doctor is a she? Oh yes, she touched me there." Another thought intruded, "But I can't talk. How can I ask her?" Tentatively I tried to move my lips. "Say your own name, dummy," I told myself. The words formed and I made a conscious effort. I could feel my lips move but no sound came out. I tried again. This time I could faintly hear myself say, "Raymond Atkins." On the third try it was quite distinct, "Raymond Reginald Atkins." It did not sound like my voice though. Too thin and too high. Someone must have been sitting beside my bed because a hand grasped mine. My eyes turned enough to vaguely see the outline of a head. I heard a buzzing noise for a moment before someone spoke. "There, there. Calm yourself. The Doctor's on her way." I lay quietly for several moments. "Why doesn't my erection go away? I don't want anyone to see me this way," I thought. "Well anyway, this is a hospital. They know about such things. Maybe they won't pay any attention to it." A second head replaced the one which had been looking down at my face. The voice that had previously asked me to blink my eyes, spoke softly, but distinctly. "So you're awake again. And you're starting to talk. Would you like to repeat what you were saying for me?" "My name is Raymond Atkins." This time I could feel my lips move and could hear myself clearly. The voice sounded very strange though. "That's very, very good. You're gaining control of your voice very nicely. Would you like me to have the lights turned on?" She called out without waiting for my answer which would surely have been no, considering the state of my sexual arousal. "Nurse, please turn on the lights." Sudden illumination forced me to close my eyes. When I opened them a moment later the head looking down at me had come into clear focus. The Doctor was a woman. "Yes, and a pretty woman, even though her hair is mussed and she has no lipstick. She looks like she's had a hard night," I thought. "Can you see now?" she asked. "Quite clearly." "Would you like us to raise the head of the bed so you can see around the room?" "Yes." I remembered my manners at the last moment. "Please." My head slowly rose as the crank turned. Gradually I was able to see the end and part of the sides of the room. It was a typical hospital room, blank pastel walls and a plain window. I could see the Doctor standing beside my bed as she cranked. She stepped away for a moment, then pulled up a chair and sat down within my field of vision. She waited while my eyes darted about the room. They settled on my own lower legs. "Good," I thought, "my erection is hidden by the bend of my hips." It gave no sign of relaxing in intensity. The doctor began to ask me questions, personal questions but easy ones to answer. I suppose she wanted to check on the state of my memory. "How old are you?" "Fifty-six." "Where do you live?" "623 Dayton Street." "Do you live alone?" "No." "Who lives with you?" "My wife, Ruth." "Do you have any children?" "Yes." "What are their names?" "Robert, James, Jennifer." I managed to answer each question, slowly and deliberately, using a minimum of words. The doctor paused, then changed her tack. "You seem quite clear-headed, today. Would you like to stay like this for a little while? With your head up so you can see?" "Yes." "That's fine then. I'll be back to talk some more with you later. I'm quite pleased with your progress." She turned away from me and spoke to the nurse. "Leave the bed tilted for no more than a half hour. Put it down again if the patient asks." I lay placidly, happy with the expectation that my erection would probably be gone when the bed was again levelled. I continued to be aware of the swelling even though my mind drifted off into other channels. CHAPTER 2 The questions the doctor had asked started me thinking about the other persons in my life. Would Ruth be coming here to see me today? Did James get the teaching job he applied for? Would Robert's wife make me a grandfather before Jennie's baby was born? Unanswerable questions! And what was I, self-employed owner of a small business, doing in the hospital? The nurse came back to lower the bed again. My erection gave no sign of fading away. Anxiously I kept my eyes on the bend at my hips as long as possible while my head was lowered. I could detect no visible evidence that the bed covers were being pushed into a mound before my vision of the area was cut off by the ridge of covers on my chest. The nurse walked away without saying a word and I drifted off to sleep again. It must have been the next day that I was again raised to a semi- sitting position and being questioned by the doctor when I suddenly felt the urge to do some questioning of my own. Modesty forbade asking about my persistent erection so I concentrated on other subjects. My own voice still sounded very strange to me. "How do I come to be here in the hospital?" "You've been in an automobile accident?" "Was I very badly hurt?" "Yes, you suffered extreme trauma." "Am I going to be all right?" "We think so, but a lot will depend on your mental attitude." "Does that mean I'm going to be crippled?" "No, all your reflexes seem to be fine, which is very reassuring considering that you have had extensive brain surgery. Your skull was crushed in the accident. You won't recognize your own self in the mirror now because your face has been altered." "Is my face scarred?" "All the lesions are on the top and back of your skull. Your face looks very attractive, but you have bandages where your hair should be." "Can I see myself?" "I thought you might want that, so I have a mirror ready. Be prepared for a shock though. You'll be looking at a stranger." A framed mirror was held up in front of my face for me to stare into it. A clean-shaven young face stared back at me. With its frame of bandages hiding the hair and both ears I was reminded of a nun wearing her habit. The features were regular but seemed rather small to match my six foot frame I thought. "I'd never recognize myself." "Do you like your new appearance?" I kept staring at my image. The blue eyes followed as I scanned back and forth from forehead to chin. The eyebrows seemed too thin and my bony nose no longer dominated. The jaw was smaller and the bandages concealed any hint of a double chin yet the lips seemed fuller and when I spoke pearly white teeth showed. The transformation was incredible. "I guess I'll have to get used to it. I'm sure I wouldn't want to pay the plastic surgeon to change it all back. Are you the surgeon who did the work?" "I had a part in your treatment but I am only indirectly responsible for your appearance. I'm sure you'll have to agree though that we did give you an attractive face." I was not sure I agreed with that statement and made no response. The silence continued until the doctor spoke again. "Well I think you've stared long enough for now. In a few days we should have you standing up to look at the total effect in a full length mirror." The glass was lowered and my eyes shifted to look at the doctor. She spoke again. "Let's see how much control you have of your arms. The physiotherapist has been working with you while you've been unconscious but it's time for you to show that the muscles are still working. I'll release the ties for you." She bent over and I could feel her unstrapping my left wrist. "Why am I tied down?" I asked. "That's to keep you from flailing around and hurting yourself. You may be ready to be untied completely by tomorrow, but you've been pretty wild several times up to now." She reached over me to unstrap the other wrist before telling me to clench both my fists. "Now raise both arms straight out in front of you." I did as requested, at the same time noting that my arms were covered with green and brown striped flannelette pyjamas. "That's very good. Now bend your elbows. Straighten your arms again. Lay them back on the bed." "My hands seem smaller than they should be. It's as if they've shrunk," I complained. "Well, you have lost considerable weight. You'll have to get used to having smaller hands, at least for the present. Would you like me to leave the restraints off for an hour or so?" When the doctor left I spent considerable time studying my hands. I was convinced that they were not just thinner, but actually smaller. And there was no dark hair growing on the back of them. Had the rest of me been shaved as well as my scalp? When I thought I was alone in the room I reached down to feel my persistent erection but there seemed to be some sort of guard holding the covers away from my upper body from neck to hips and I was unable to touch any part of myself other than my face and arms. After some time I fell back to sleep and when next I wakened I was again lying flat with my arms pinioned at my sides. The doctor's promise that I might be freed from all restraints the next day was not carried out. Instead I was told that I had been flailing about during the night and would have only my arms released. This was done before breakfast and for the first time I fed myself from my upright position on the bed. The nurse said they were trying me out with solid food, but if it did not stay down the intravenous tubes would be reinserted in my arms. Feeding myself proved quite successful and my bed was again raised at lunch and supper times so that I could continue to look after this need for myself. During the day I asked for and received a magazine to read and also spent considerable time looking up at the television set provided. The nurse noted on my chart that, "The patient is much more alert today." On the following morning the doctor asked if I would like to try walking about the room. I was eager to take this important new beginning but rather apprehensive about my persistent erection. I need not have worried. The cage, if I may use that term, which surrounded my upper body was apparently strapped to my shoulders and thighs so that even when standing my clothes were held away from me and my flannelette hospital pyjamas showed no unsightly bulge in the crotch area. I made several turns about the room, supported by a nurse at each arm with a third one to wheel the catheter bag along behind. For the balance of the day I was more alert than before and even spent some time in the afternoon sitting in a chair by the window. I went to sleep that night with no restraints tying me to the bed. I looked forward to the next day when I had been promised the catheter would be removed. CHAPTER 3 The following day is one which I shall always remember. It dawned bright and clear and the sun was pouring in the window as I sat up in the bed eating my breakfast when the doctor arrived. The cage was still around my upper body, but I felt fit and ready for the ordeal of having the catheter removed. She did not rush me but sat drinking a cup of coffee which the orderly fetched while I ate at a leisurely pace. When my coffee cup had emptied I turned my head toward her and announced, "Well, Doc, I'm ready. I'd rather have a male doctor do this but I guess I can stand it if you can. I'm looking forward to going to the bathroom by myself in future." She looked at me without speaking for a moment, then commented, "So you haven't realized yet that we took the catheter out while you were asleep last night. You can go to the bathroom alone all right, but you will be disappointed to know that because of the cage around your upper body you won't be able to wipe yourself. The nurse will have to do it for you." As luck would have it my body chose just that moment to develop the urge to void. Suddenly panic stricken I exclaimed, "Well, you'd better help me to the bathroom right now. Otherwise I may have an accident." She called the nurse and I was helped to stumble into the bathroom. My pyjama bottoms were dropped and I was helped to place myself on the toilet, temporarily relieved that the body cage still seemed to hide my privates. At my own request I was left alone for several minutes. I bent forward as much as possible to make sure the urine from my engorged penis would be captured under the rim of the toilet. My erection seemed to soften a little as my bladder emptied and I was able to sit more erect as a bowel movement followed. The nurse returned when I finished, helped me to stand, directed me to bend forward at the hips and place my hands on the sink, and proceeded to wash my underparts with soap and water. As she worked I caught a glimpse in the mirror of my crimson face, beet red with embarrassment. My pyjama bottoms were drawn up and fastened and we returned to the room. I wanted to sit in the chair by the window facing the doctor while the medical situation was explained to me but she insisted that I lie back again on the bed. After I had reconfirmed that I remembered nothing of the accident that brought me here she began to talk. "You are quite lucky to have been brought to this hospital because nowhere else in the world would you have received similar treatment. Did you know that you were clinically dead on arrival?" "I guess I'll have to take your word on that." "What is significant about your case is that you had signed the donor card on your driver's licence and we were able to call the transplant team into action immediately. You had surgery that has never before been attempted." "I don't understand. What has my signing a donor card got to do with it if I received the transplant?" "The important fact is that you were the donor, not the receiver." "Then how come I'm sitting her now, alive and well? Or at least alive and getting better." "The reason is that a significant portion of your brain was transplanted into the body of the teenager who was brought in along with you. You have literally experienced a change of identity." "That's too fantastic! I don't believe you." "You asked me why your face looked so different." She paused while I absorbed the implication of that statement. "And you complained that your hands are smaller than before. Believe me. You are a different person and will have to make a lot of adjustments to cope with the changes." "Does my wife know about this?" I wondered what she would think of having a husband with teenage sexual equipment almost constantly in a state of arousal. She used to make comments about older women robbing the cradle if they married a younger man. "Your wife understands you are dead. The funeral was held and your remains were cremated three days after the accident." As the doctor had anticipated, my reaction to this news was one of shock. My head reeled and I felt suddenly faint. I must have lost consciousness at that point for my next memory is of being awakened again to the sound of my doctor's voice. "- - - removed the cage from around your body. We've taken off your pyjamas and you're just wearing a hospital dressing gown. The nurse and I will help you to your feet and walk you into the bathroom. Then you can open the front of the gown and examine your new body in the full length mirror." I was given no time to think about this impending movement, but rather found myself lifted and propelled across the room before I could frame a reply and before I could organize my resources to try to suppress my growing erection. Standing in front of the mirror I took no action at first after the doctor and nurse had stepped back. That rigid shaft which I could feel standing straight forward made me hesitate to expose myself in front of my small audience. "Aren't you going to let me do this in private?" I asked. "We're sorry, but we have to be here in case you react negatively," the doctor replied. "You needn't be shy. We see naked bodies all the time." Realizing that I really had no choice in the matter, I fixed my eyes on my crotch area as I was undoing the sash at my waist. As the front of my gown opened I watched first to see this active sexual organ which seemed to have no on-off switch. My eyes must not be focussing correctly I thought when it did not appear in the mirror. Instead I saw a modest blond tush with no sign at all of penis and scrotum. "Where is it?" I asked, my voice rising. "My penis! Where is it?" Both my arms were seized from behind above the elbows as I continued to stare in astonishment. My eyes ranged up to view my chest where two round melons thrust the pair of nipples forward. My hands rose involuntarily to confirm by feel that the appendages were not an illusion. They dropped again as I took stock of the rest of my transformed shape. The face, "Yes it definitely matches a female body. It isn't just clean-shaven. It's hairless. Why didn't I notice that before?" Neck slender and smooth, no Adam's apple and no double chin. Chest full and rounded. Waist narrow. Stomach flat. Hips ample, but in proportion. Legs well shaped. Feet, "I'd better step out of these scuffs." Feet, small but suited to the body. "Is that a trace of nail polish on the toenails?" I looked up once more. Height, about five seven. "That's a comedown for a six footer." I could scarcely credit the evidence of my eyes. And my brain still insisted that an erect penis protruded from my groin. "Take me back to the bed, please," I asked of the two women who still supported me by the upper arms. When I reawakened after a needle-induced sleep, I learned that the schedule for revealing my new identity to me had been advanced because of the expected arrival of the host body's period. CHAPTER 4 Sitting in a comfortable chair with a sanitary pad fastened between my legs while I faced Dr. Brebner next morning was a challenge to my self control. My mind insisted on evaluating her as a potential sexual partner for the relief of the charge building up in my phantom penis. She was certainly an attractive enough woman and I had to keep reminding myself that my physical body was incapable of orchestrating penetration. For that matter relief was not possible by self manipulation either. I had not told her about my sexual sensations, partly from certainty that I would only be told that this was the sensation felt by all amputees that the severed limb is still connected and able to itch, ("Some itch!" I thought.), but mostly from a feeling of embarrassment. I forced myself to concentrate on her words when she started to question me about my future intentions. "We have to establish your future identity," she urged. "You cannot continue to call yourself Raymond Atkins. You must realize that he is dead and buried." "I'd like to discuss it with Ruth, my wife, before I make any decisions. After all she is affected by this also." "Don't you realize how terrible it would be for her to meet a young girl claiming to be her husband? She is still in mourning from your funeral. If you really love her I think you will want to spare her further agony." The doctor's logic was inescapable but still I complained. "I'm not used to making decisions without her input." "As I see it, you have two options," she went on. "Either you can invent a new identity for yourself, or you can adopt the identity of the body you have inherited." "It seems obvious then that I should invent a new identity. I can't very well pretend to be someone I'm not." "You'll have some problems to solve in that case, a major one being money. Remember, you're a teenager with no recognized work skills and no place to live." "Doesn't my insurance company owe me anything?" "It's not likely unless your new identity also has an insurance policy. You'll be classified as an uninsured driver. You could end up in jail, especially if you are found responsible for the accident." "I take it you think I should take the identity of the girl whose body I'm - - - wearing I guess is the best word." "It would solve a lot of problems for you." "But how could I pull that off?" "It's simple enough. You're suffering from amnesia. You won't have any trouble faking that." "In that case what will my name be?" "I'll leave that for the family to tell you." "How come they don't know about me now?" "They thought you were visiting with your cousin in the next state. You were evidently supposed to go on the bus but you borrowed your boyfriend's car. They've just reported you missing to the state police. We've only learned your identity today. Your driver's licence must have been burned with your purse in the accident." "So they'll be coming here to see me?" "If you give the OK I'll report you as an amnesiac who might be the missing daughter. Actually there is a slight possibility that you are not really who we think you are. We'll have to let the family make the identification." "It seems then that I don't have much choice. I can't be myself, and I can't invent an identity that will keep me out of trouble, so you had better report me as the missing daughter. I guess I can always run away later." "I hope you won't do that. It wouldn't be fair to your new family." It was as an outcome of that conversation that I was sitting reading that afternoon with the head of the bed cranked up when a woman's head first peaked through the door at me. Then she gave a shout of greeting and rushed up to wrap her arms around me. "Oh, June! June, it's really you!" she screeched before smothering me with kisses. "We've been so worried since we found out you didn't arrive at your cousin's. Whatever happened to you?" "They tell me I was in a car accident and that I have amnesia. Are you my mother? And is my name June?" I could feel her tears running down onto my face before she answered. "Yes, Dear. You're my daughter June. Everything's going to be all right now that I've found you. I'm sure we'll get your memory back in no time at all." She sat up on the edge of the bed, took both my hands in hers and with tears coursing down her cheeks stared into my face for the longest time. At last she spoke again. "What have they done to your head? What is the bandage for?" "My skull was crushed. They had to shave off all my hair so they could do the surgery. They've taken out all the stitches now, though." "Oh, my poor darling. And to think we didn't even know you were in hospital! How long will it be before I can take you home?" "They haven't told me, but it might be quite a while, what with the amnesia and all." At that moment Dr. Brebner entered the room. She greeted my visitor warmly. "Ah, Mrs. Rowland, I take it that our favourite patient is your missing daughter. It will be nice to have a name for her rather than calling her patient 'x'." Turning to me she added, "Well, June, I can't exactly say just yet when you can leave the hospital, but it should be less than a week, now. We have some more tests to run on you before we release you." "June Rowland," I said the name over to myself after Mrs. Rowland had departed following an hour of telling me about the activities of family members and friends who were just a jumble of names to me. I had concentrated hard, even to the extent of being unaware of my phantom body part for moments at a time. Nevertheless I was only certain that she expected me to call her 'Mumsy' and that I seemed to have a younger sister and brother named 'Rosie' and 'Frankie'. There was someone named 'Rickie' and someone named 'Gary' as well but I could not tell how they fitted into the picture. I had been unable to bring myself to use the diminutive 'Mumsy' and had had difficulty adopting even the more formal 'Mother' in addressing this stranger who had held my hands throughout the visit and gave me another hug and a kiss before leaving. She had promised to return after supper with Rickie and to "do something about my darling's appearance." When she arrived back about seven p.m. it was with a twelve year old girl in tow. I received another hug and kiss, but this time without the accompanying tears. I managed to say in return, "It's nice of you to come back so soon, Mother." Rickie greeted me with a handshake and the information that home was not the same without me there to settle quarrels between herself and her younger brother and sister. The large shopping bag which they had brought was placed on the bed and I was urged to open the parcels inside. My cheeks warmed while my phantom appendage swelled as I opened the first, a peach coloured long silk nightdress with cap sleeves and plentiful lace around the bust. It was accompanied by a matching heavy satin dressing gown with full sleeves and a button over front. When the tiny slip-on style satin slippers with their narrow inch high heels came out of their box they were immediately placed on my feet and I was urged in spite of my reluctance toward the bathroom to change from my hospital issue pyjamas and robe. The silken gown felt delicious as it slithered down over my body, its lacy bodice displaying my breasts so enticingly in the mirror that I had to look down to confirm that my imagined erection was not really spoiling the line of the skirt by projecting the material outwards. It was difficult to convince myself that this elegantly clad sex object was indeed me. After buttoning the rich satin bathrobe I hesitated while I conquered my embarrassment at being so dressed, before presenting myself back in the hospital room to a series of ooh's and ah's from 'Mumsy' and Rickie. They promptly seated me on the bed so that while Mrs. Rowland filed and coloured my fingernails, her daughter could perform similar magic on my toes. Before they left at the end of visiting hours I had had my eyebrows plucked, had a pair of keepers inserted into the holes through my earlobes of which I had not been aware, and had been introduced to lipstick. As a result of their visit I received compliments on my appearance from the nurses on duty on each shift before their return the following afternoon. Dr. Brebner was equally flattering during her morning visit. I must confess that I did not know whether my own pleasure was founded more on my perception that I must be an exceptionally pretty young lady, or on the effect of silk caressing my body and rousing my male animal instincts. Suffice it to say that I lay awake for a long time luxuriating in the feel of my sleek nightdress as my fingers explored my new body through the gossamer material. CHAPTER 5 Mr. Rowland accompanied his wife on her next visit. After I had dutifully held my face up for a paternal kiss, 'Mumsy' berated me for not renewing my lipstick which had faded overnight and from my morning ablutions. She also brought me another nightgown, blue crepe this time, into which I was ordered to change. It had an equal effect on my libido while I was looking at myself in the bathroom mirror as I tentatively experimented with self-application of lip gloss. I felt it was only decent for me to fully button my housecoat before presenting myself back in the room for inspection. It did not seem appropriate for Mr. Rowland to see his daughter clad only in her nightdress. He reported that he had been inquiring into the circumstances of my accident and that it appeared the other driver (myself) was at fault, having lost control of his car and crossed into the oncoming lane. It was suspected that the other driver may have suffered a heart attack, but this could not be determined with certainty since no autopsy had been performed and the body had been cremated. "In any case," he concluded, "we'll get a big settlement from his insurance company." Perhaps it is unfair of me to so categorize him, but his obvious relish for the prospect of receiving an insurance windfall seemed to me to outweigh his interest in the welfare of his daughter. His conversation was sprinkled with ideas for spending the money; a new car, a holiday in Florida, or an addition to the house, but he brushed aside my suggestion that some of it should be set aside for me to attend college. "You've had all the schooling you need. No one in my family ever went to college. It'll be time for you to look for a job as soon as you finish the next semester in High School. It's about time you started to repay the money it cost me to raise you." Mrs. Rowland was astute enough to see what effect this callous disregard for my possible future plans could have on the relationship between myself and this my putative father. At the end of the visit as he was leading the way out of my room she dallied at my bedside to confide in my ear, "Don't pay any attention to what he says. If you want to go to college I'll see that he doesn't stop you." She kissed me once more and then followed him out the door. This incident marked a turning point for me. Here I was actually making plans for how I would spend this new life which had been thrust upon me. They were vague and unformulated plans, but obviously they would clash with the accepted values of the person who would now be my legal guardian until this body reached the age of eighteen. Also I knew enough about the law to realize that until I reached that symbolic date I would have no say in how the insurance proceeds were spent. The mental activity engendered by this sudden interest in making plans for my future had a very surprising effect. For the next hour I was undisturbed by sensations in my phantom organ and was almost unaware of the sexpot image presented by my silk clad body. When I finally realized this latter effect, my imaginary erection was suddenly back, as demanding of my attention as ever. Obviously it took matters of serious consideration to divert my mind from its single minded focus on sex from a teenage male point of view. I acknowledged these feelings by standing before the bathroom mirror in my new blue nightgown admiring the seductive lines of my new body. On her next visit Mrs. Rowland brought the twins Rosie and Frankie to see their sister. These nine year olds each offered me a kiss when ordered by their mother and followed up with a rambling account of their adventures at summer camp. Both complained about having had their two weeks at the lake cut short by the demand to return home when their mother discovered that her eldest daughter was unaccounted for. They did not seem to hold me personally responsible however, and for the first time I enjoyed meeting members of the Rowland family. Perhaps it was because of my background as an authority figure in my own family that I welcomed their attitude of respect for my superior age. Evidently 'Junie' was the person who normally took charge in the absence of their parents. I wondered how I would make out if I were left alone at 'home' with them and had my baby-sitting skills put to the test. No doubt I would have the opportunity of finding out in the not too distant future. Still it was something of a shock to me the next morning when Dr. Brebner told me that I was to be discharged into the care of my 'mother' in two days time. She discounted my fears about facing a strange family in a strange environment, giving as her opinion that the sooner I metaphorically jumped into the deep end of the pool, the sooner I would learn to swim. In preparation for the event I was advised to dress in my housecoat and explore the corridor of this wing of the hospital. "You should visit some of the wards and make friends with other patients. That will help you in learning to relate to other people and in developing a new personality to match your new body." "New personality! What's the matter with the personality I have now?" "There's nothing wrong with it for a fifty-six year old man, but you will find that both men and women will relate to a sixteen year old girl much differently and you have to learn to respond appropriately. When I observed you talking to your parents it seemed to me that you should recognize more fully your state of dependence on them." "It's hard to respect a supposed parent, who thinks my only duty is to go out to work so I can repay his expenses in raising me." "That's part of the adjustment you have to make. It won't do you any harm to learn a new role in society over the next year. That's just the way things are. Take my advice and start getting used to it. You can declare your independence on your eighteenth birthday." I was not used to being spoken to by Dr. Brebner in such a direct manner and I responded rather testily. "You seem to be treating me like a sixteen year old, and you at least know better who I really am. Besides, according to Mrs. Rowland, my mother if you will, I had my seventeenth birthday last month." "I'm sorry if I sound like a Dutch uncle but my advice is meant seriously. I told you when you first became conscious that everything would depend on your mental attitude. Please believe me when I say that you must put your former life into storage in your memory, and really work at being the personality expected in a body like yours." Her words must have made an impression because I found myself saying, "I'm sorry, Doctor, I don't mean to be belligerent. It's just that it's frustrating to be so out of control. Someone else always determines my agenda." I tried out a smile on her and added, "I'll do my best to forget that I've raised a family and operated my own business. Which patient in which ward do you think I should visit first?" She smiled back. "Just go about it casually. It doesn't matter who you talk with first. Just remember to be friendly and to be interested in what they have to say. Be sure to remember names and use them when you meet people for the second time." "Doc, I'll use all the Dale Carnegie techniques I can recall." "Just be sure it becomes ingrained in your new personality," she grinned as she was leaving the room. I did take her advice and wandered down the corridor, very conscious of my appearance in peach satin housecoat, with my thin eyebrows, coloured nails and lips, and keepers in my ears. It took serious concentration to overlook my phantom erection and to keep my attention directed outwards. My smiles for hospital staff that I met in the corridor were returned in kind, usually with a comment such as, "You're looking very perky today. I'm pleased to see you up and around." "Why thank you, Nurse," was my typical reply, though with practice I became able to replace the title 'Nurse' with a given name for those who had attended me in my room. Visits to other patients were particularly difficult at first because of my tendency to be diverted by my imaginary organ while they recited their aches and pains. I must have had some success as a friendly listener however, because several patients told me they would miss my visits after I returned home, and thanked me for brightening their hospital stay. The older women patients I said good bye to with a kiss on the cheek and the older men with a handshake, except for one old fellow who pulled me toward him by the hand and bestowed a kiss on my unwilling lips. I kissed two young children also but was very reserved with the young man of about twenty who seemed to look at me with hunger in his eyes. I did reward him with a bright smile though and wished him a speedy recovery. At my interview with Dr. Brebner just before she signed my discharge papers she complimented me for my efforts to be friendly to the other patients. "Virtue should be its own reward, Doctor," I smirked in return. CHAPTER 6 If I had become at least somewhat accustomed to parading around the hospital floor in nightgown, robe and lipstick, it still did not prepare me adequately for the experience of dressing fully as a woman for the first time. 'Mumsy' along with Rickie arrived in good time bearing a suitcase full of clothing and cosmetics and it took a whole hour before I was declared ready to face the world. Alone in the bathroom I found little difficulty in donning the nylon and lace bikini style panties although my phantom organ responded vigorously to their touch. The brassiere presented more of a problem until I hit on the idea of asking Rickie into the bathroom to fasten it with the excuse that my arms were too weak to reach that far up my back. There was probably some truth in my excuse. The mirror's image of my breasts, so alluringly lifted and displayed in their satin and lace prison, so excited me that my legs weakened and I was forced to sit down on the toilet seat. "I'll get your pantyhose," offered Rickie, but before she could return Mrs. Rowland asked from the other room if I had remembered to shave my legs this morning. When I was forced to answer, "No," (The idea had not even occurred to me.), she entered the bathroom to attend to the matter herself. I stood on top of the toilet in my unmentionables while she scraped the hair away with a safety razor. It was a revelation to me that the operation could be performed without the use of shaving cream but no cuts resulted and my legs certainly felt smooth when she had finished. With that step successfully completed the delicate slip, whose trim matched that of my bra and panties and came only to mid-thigh, was slipped over my head and I was led back to sit on the bed to have my nails attended to. 'Mumsy' had been offended to find chips in the enamel, which I had done nothing to repair since her first visit. As before she looked after the fingers while Rickie did my toes. "Don't expect service like this at home," joked the latter. After the mandatory five minutes of inactivity waiting for the polish to dry, a pair of pantyhose was produced from an unopened package and rolled up my legs by the older woman. I felt fortunate that she decided my arms were too weak to do the job, because if left to my own devices I would no doubt have botched the unfamiliar task. I slid from the bed to stand on the floor while she drew them up around my thighs and hips over my panties. How smooth and sleek my legs felt and looked, sticking out so far below my slip and with the coloured nails showing clearly through the sheer material! I liked the way I could feel the hose stretch as I moved my legs. When I confessed that I didn't feel 'up' to making up my face I was marched back into the bathroom where the job was taken over by 'Mumsy' assisted when necessary by Rickie. They began with moisturizer cream and ended with mascara. In between they employed all manner of cosmetics that were unfamiliar to me. I spread skin cream on my hands and rubbed it in while I watched in the mirror as my face was transformed. Truly the effect was astounding. When they had finished my bright blue eyes seemed like pools of limpid fire peering out of the most seductive visage imaginable. I was reminded of the Greek myth about Ulysses and the Circe. I felt I needed to be tied to the mast to protect me from the onslaught of my own beautiful face. My mini-skirted yellow sharkskin dress went on over my head and the back zipper was drawn up and fastened for me. I clasped my hands together in my lap as I sat on the bed while a necklace and pendent earrings were added to my costume. The crowning glory was a wig to cover my inch long blond hair from which the bandages had now been removed. When my slippers had been exchanged for yellow sandals with spike heels I had some difficulty in walking to the bathroom mirror for a final touch of lip gloss and a glimpse of the long golden tresses that now framed my face. Fortunately for me an orderly arrived bringing a wheelchair with which to deliver me to the waiting car. I would no doubt have tripped and fallen if I had tried to negotiate the corridor in those spike heels. Dr. Brebner came to say good bye and to wish me well. She winked broadly as she congratulated me on my ladylike appearance. The fifty mile drive to the Rowland home took almost two hours in the heavy traffic, so that it was supper time when we arrived at their house in the suburbs. I was ushered inside and led up the stairs to 'my' room, a bright and airy place done in shades of pink with myriad ruffles decorating its curtains and bed linen. At Mumsy's suggestion my dress was removed and hung in the closet and I donned my satin housecoat over my slip and undies before returning downstairs to lounge on the chesterfield while supper was prepared. I did not change from my sandals so it was something of a miracle that I negotiated the stairs successfully. The experience of sitting down at the dinner table as a full fledged member of a family of strangers felt rather eerie. Repeated references to persons and events of which I had no knowledge reinforced my sense of isolation and alienation. The constant question, "Do you remember - - - -?" was invariably answered with a helpless shake of my head. Nevertheless everyone seemed glad to have 'Junie' home again and the meal passed pleasantly enough. Afterwards, over 'Mumsy's' objections, I insisted on donning an apron and helping with the cleaning up. I was again lolling on the chesterfield watching the inane television comedy which Mr. Rowland had chosen without consulting any other members of the family, when Rosie answered a knock on the door. "Junie, it's Helen come to call on you. She says she'll go straight to your room and wait for you there." I excused myself and again negotiated the stairs on my high heels. A girl of my own age, casually dressed in jeans and T-shirt, greeted me as I came through the door. "Hey! You look great." She enfolded me in her arms and gave me a peck on the cheek. "I like your new housecoat. Did you pick it out yourself?" She continued without pausing for an answer. "That can't be your own hair. It wasn't nearly that long." When she seemed to have run out of questions to ask and had sat down on the edge of the bed it appeared to be my turn to contribute to the conversation. I tried hard to think of what to say before coming out with, "What do you think of my wig? My head was shaved for my surgery and I'm still practically bald." "It's fab. I need to get in an accident so my mother will buy me a wig." "I have to say that I don't recommend it. Do you know that I've forgotten everything I ever knew? I don't even remember your last name." "Really! I don't believe you but just the same I'll tell you that it's Robinson." The ice was broken now and by a mixture of questions concerning Helen's activities and stories about my stay in hospital I managed to converse for the next two hours with this stranger who professed to be my best friend. As she was leaving she extracted a promise from me to accompany her to a shopping centre on the following afternoon. I did not give a definite commitment, pleading uncertainty about the state of my health. At my insistence she stuck her head in the living room and offered a greeting to 'my' family before I showed her to the door. I prepared myself for bed by changing into my yellow nightdress and washing the make-up off my face. Then I spent a pleasant half hour looking through the cupboards and drawers at June Rowland's possessions. I particularly enjoyed the drawers containing her neatly folded undergarments, nylon and lace panties, bras, and slips, along with silky pyjamas and night attire. Before climbing into bed I yielded to temptation and changed to a pair of mauve baby dolls. I went to sleep dreaming of the delight it would be to have sex with my new body, if only I were the young male that my mind insisted on considering me to be. CHAPTER 7 When I wakened next morning it took a moment for me to orient myself in this new ultra-feminine environment with its pink ruffles and colour scheme. I rushed to cover my pyjamas with my satin dressing gown, placed my wig in place on my head and was about to start downstairs for breakfast when Mrs. Rowland arrived bearing a breakfast tray. "You'll have to go back to bed, Honey," she announced, "The insurance adjuster is downstairs and your father insists that you try to look as weak as possible. He says it will affect how big the settlement may be." I was not pleased to be required to act the part of an invalid, but I returned to the bed without voicing my complaint, and nibbled at the contents of the plate on my lap. 'Mumsy' fussed around, arranging the bed covers to make sure that my bare shoulders and ample breasts, framed in lace, were enticingly displayed for the adjuster's benefit, and hiding my wig in the closet so that the scars on my head could be pointed out through my thin crop of natural hair. Within a few minutes a heavy tread on the stair announced the arrival of Mr. Rowland with the insurance adjuster in tow. The latter shook the hand which I held out languidly and asked after my health. Before I could answer Mr. Rowland broke in to say how weak I was and how I could expect to be confined to my bed for several more weeks. The conversation between the two men continued without any participation by either of the two females present. They appeared to differ considerably about the amount of compensation that should be paid on account of my accident. Mr. Howard, the agent, politely disagreed with the sum proposed to him and promised to pass on the information to his superiors about the amount demanded. Then he calmly offered a business card to each person present, including me, and insisted on taking his leave. "If any of you have any other thoughts on the matter you may get in touch with me at the office," were his parting words. Mr. Rowland returned from seeing him to the door to instruct me in no uncertain terms that I was to have no contact whatsoever with the adjuster unless he were present. I kept my thoughts on the subject to myself and merely repeated his instructions back to him. "Don't talk with the insurance adjuster unless you are present." It was an order I would be quite prepared later to disregard. The others departed for downstairs and I heard the outside door click as Mr. Rowland left belatedly for work. I set to work for the first time to make my own selection of clothing for my as yet unfamiliar body. I chose colour-coordinated lingerie beneath a navy blue skirt and a peasant blouse in white cotton along with what I considered sensible shoes in which I might be able to walk for a distance without too much difficulty, black pumps with heels not much over an inch high. For my face I chose only a foundation, enhanced with some blusher for my cheeks, and the usual lipstick. As a last step I daubed some powder on my nose and chin. The application of make-up would have to become a subject of serious study for me if I hoped to successfully employ such additional embellishments as eye shadow and mascara. I had just descended the stairs when Helen phoned inviting me to visit her at home. I asked 'Mumsy's' opinion before suggesting that she come over and walk with me to her place, thus neatly sidestepping the fact that I did not know my way around the neighbourhood. By the time this stratagem of mine had been carried out it was lunch time so we two girls shared the task of preparing sandwiches in the Robinson kitchen. Afterwards at Helen's suggestion we took a walk to the nearest mall. She complained about my wearing a skirt because she said that meant she would have to change out of her jeans. Consequently I sat on her bed watching as she dressed in an outfit similar to mine. With such an attractive girl to study I found it difficult to control the feelings of the imaginary male teenager who resided in my mind, but with studied concentration I paid particular attention as she went about making up her face. When she asked why I had not bothered with eye shadow I said that I felt too weak to take the extra trouble. "I'll be more ambitious by next week," I promised, hoping that by that time I would have learned more about the whole process. Walking in the bright sunshine as we approached the mall brought me pleasure in the simple fact of being alive. I found myself holding my head up high and my shoulders back as we strolled along. I smiled expectantly at each person we met in my effort not to seem distant and unfriendly if they happened to be acquaintances of June Rowland. My efforts were rewarded usually with a smile in return and several persons responded with a, "Hi, June!" Not having thought to bring along a purse, and having no money in any case, I could do no shopping but was content to let Helen lead the way and to offer an opinion about the several items of costume jewellery which she selected. I accompanied her into the change room while she tried on a dress but contented myself with examining those on the rack, occasionally holding one against myself in front of the mirror to imagine its effect. Helen splurged to buy us each a coke, and while we were sipping it at a small table we were joined by two boys. By this time she had become used to me asking her for the name of each person who had earlier greeted me, (or rather June) and she automatically whispered the names Jack and Ed to me as they approached. I said little in the mixed company but that did not seem to matter as I was automatically included in the remarks of the others. I was not particularly impressed with either boy and definitely not sexually attracted although it appeared that Ed had dated June casually in the past. Both showed interest when Helen brought up that I had spent the past six weeks, since the beginning of school vacation, in hospital. The boys walked back to Helen's place with us and we sat for an hour on the porch making further small talk. When I indicated it was time for me to return home to help with supper preparations, Ed insisted on being my escort for the two blocks. Mrs. Rowland insisted that I lie down and rest rather than help with meal preparation, but I did participate afterwards with the cleaning up. My evening was spent in the living room with the family, watching television. Later as I reflected back over my first full day lived as a teenage girl in her local environment while I prepared for bed, I wondered if I would be able to handle the role expected of me over the next year. Except for the effort I had had to put into such matters as learning about make-up and the concentration it had taken to fix names and faces in my memory, I felt that I would have been totally bored with the whole affair. The following morning after breakfast I spent considerable time in my room going through June's possessions in minute detail. I examined her photograph albums, read all the letters she had saved, and went page by page through her school notebooks, as well as looking in every nook and cranny of her cupboards and drawers. I learned from a collection of cheque stubs that she had worked part time in the past year at a fast food outlet and, wonder of wonders, hidden between the books on her shelf, I found a bankbook showing total savings of almost five hundred dollars. Practising her signature was less difficult than I would have expected since my fingers seemed to know instinctively just how she wrote her name. I would have to discover where the bank was located and use that signature to obtain some spending money for my next expedition to the mall with Helen. Mrs. Rowland accepted my help with meal preparation that day both for lunch and supper, and during the afternoon, as officially appointed baby sitter for Rosie and Frankie while their mother went to the grocery store, I accompanied them on a trip to the public library. Besides the benefit of learning a little more of the local geography, I profited from the jaunt by returning with several books on cosmetics and beauty secrets. I would have felt greater satisfaction at my success in handling my assigned role as a member of this family had I not continued to be distracted most of the day by the imagined erection of my phantom male organ. One disturbing element in my day occurred just after supper with the arrival unannounced at the house of 'Gary'. Who was Gary and how did he fit into the picture? I had no idea and was rather nonplussed when Rosie appeared at my side with the message, "Gary's at the door and wants to see you." "Hi, Baby!" was my greeting from this tall and muscular young man when I opened the door to speak with him. Then his arms reached out and drew me to him for a tight embrace and a deep kiss, which was as unwanted as it was a surprise to me. The shock of it caused my phantom erection to recede even as I struggled unsuccessfully to free myself. In his own good time he released me and added the words, "I'm glad you're back, Honey." "It's nice to see you," I lied. "What was the kiss in aid of?" "Just showing that I've been thinking of you. And reminding you whose girl you are. I didn't like you walking home with Ed McIntosh yesterday." "If you expect me to remain your girl, you had better get used to me walking with whoever I choose." I did not feel very charitable toward this youth, dressed in jeans and leather jacket, who seemed to regard June Rowland as his personal possession. He seemed to ignore my response and continued, "Come on out. I feel like taking a walk and I haven't seen my girl in over a month. Why'd you go visit your cousin anyway?" "Wait until I tell my mother where I'm going." "All right, but hurry up. I don't like waiting around." I returned to the living room and spoke to 'Mumsy'. "Gary wants me to go for a walk with him. Is that all right with you?" She seemed surprised to be consulted and perhaps unsure that I would obey any limits she might set. "All right, Dear. Be sure to wear a sweater though. Remember that you're just out of the hospital, and don't stay out late." I went back upstairs to freshen my lipstick and pick out a cardigan from the bureau drawer. Then I returned to the front door to find Gary seated on the front steps. "You took long enough." I made no response, perhaps recognizing that in all politeness I should have invited him to wait in the house. He followed me down the front steps. "We'll go in my car," he announced. "You said a walk," I countered and started along the sidewalk, ignoring the car that was parked at the curb. "And I changed my shoes so my feet won't hurt." "I like you better in high heels," he grumbled as he fell into place beside me. Our conversation as we proceeded along the street became almost a monologue supplied by Gary as he told me what he had been doing over the past several weeks while he had been working out of town. I volunteered nothing about myself and wondered how anyone could be such a boor as not even to ask. He objected when I insisted on turning back after several blocks, but reversed his direction and stayed at my side. On the sidewalk in front of the Rowland house he took my arm and said, "We'll go for our ride now, eh." "Sorry, Gary, but I'm just home from the hospital and the doctor says I have to go to bed early. I'm going back in the house now." "You didn't tell me you were going in the hospital!" "I didn't plan to be in the hospital. It just happened. Let go of my arm now. I have to go in." In answer I found myself, right on the sidewalk, being drawn back into his arms and receiving another deep kiss. One of his hands reached down to press against my buttocks, drawing our hips close together so that I could feel his hardness through the fabric of my skirt. "Are you sure you don't want to come out for a drive?" he asked when he had stopped for breath while still holding me tight to him. "I already told you. I'm not going to go against the doctor's orders." "You could sleep in my car. It has soft cushions in the back. And the front seat reclines." He brought his lips back to mine and his tongue probed my mouth again. The lump at his groin pressed even more strongly against my stomach. "No. Now let me go." When he reluctantly released his grasp, I walked at once to the house door and paused there just long enough to say the words, "Good Night," before slipping inside the house. After the latch had clicked I leaned back against the door while I recovered my composure. From a woman's perspective it had not been pleasant facing almost unrestrained male lust. Back in my bedroom I was able for once to change into my silk nightdress without being tormented by my own teenage male sexual urges. CHAPTER 8 Over the next two weeks I became more accustomed to my role as a teenage girl. Daily visits with Helen either at her house or mine helped me immensely in determining how I should dress, act, relate to others, particularly boys, and the appropriate opinions to express. Together we visited teenage hangouts, shopped, went swimming, and rode bicycles through the park. It took an effort to overcome my timidity about displaying my body, clad only in a bikini at the pool, or wearing short shorts and a skimpy top as we cycled, but by the time school was scheduled to begin I felt I had my part down pat. Did I say I learned how to relate to boys? Not true with respect to Gary! In truth I was afraid of him. I even consulted with Helen about means of distancing myself from him. Her reaction was to question, "Why? You tried hard enough to attract him before. Can't he give you what you want?" I struggled to find an appropriate explanation. "He thinks he owns me. I don't like him telling me what to do." She showed little sympathy. "I guess that's the price you pay for having your own stud on a string." Left to my own devices I could only refuse to accept the invitation that he extended almost every evening to go for a drive with him in his car. Frustrated by my rebuffs he accused me of making out with someone else and did not believe my denials. I had no way of knowing how intimate June had been with him before the accident, but there was really no way I could have explained either to him or to Helen the morality of the relations between the sexes which I had inherited from my own generation. The idea of a girl saving herself for the marriage bed would have seemed idiosyncratic to either of them. I do like to think that it was high moral standards which kept me from cooperating in my own downfall, but revulsion for the very idea of sex with a male was probably the determining factor. As a married and firmly heterosexual man I had never been attracted to other males, and having overnight been reincarnated as a female I could not rid myself of those attitudes. After all I continued to fantasize about the impossible dream of having sex with myself, and constantly experienced personally all the urges of a teenage male. Just before the fall semester was to resume at the local High School I made a telephone call to Mr. Howard, the insurance adjuster and, wearing a modest skirt and blouse along with full make-up and my wig, spent an afternoon making the long bus trip to and from his office in the city. I felt no qualms of conscience about disobeying the parental order from Mr. Rowland, who I was sure would spend the insurance proceeds for a new car and a trip to Florida without making any provision for my further education after high school graduation. After some preliminary discussion, I offered to settle my claim for just ten per cent more than the company had offered, which was just under half the amount demanded by Mr. Rowland, on the condition that he delay the settlement until I should reach the age of majority so the money could be paid directly to me instead of 'in trust' to June's parents. Mr. Howard showed interest in my proposal but would make no definite guarantee. I gave him my sweetest smile and offered my hand to shake when he finally declared, "I'll do my very best for you, Miss Rowland." *** Gary gave up on asking me out after my consistent refusals had lasted for more than two weeks, so I never had to face the problem of being confined in a car with a very aggressive male who wants everything a girl has to give, and is not prepared to take no for an answer. I breathed more easily when it appeared that that threat to my virginity had been removed. Always thereafter, however, he glared at me and made rude remarks when we met on the street. Fortunately he had graduated the year before and was part of the working