The Colton Park Anomaly free porn video

The Colton Park Anomaly I was the epicenter and, in some ways, the cause of the Colton Park anomaly We aren't really supposed to talk about it to the mainstream press. But they said that telling our stories on the TG boards was OK, especially if we use a fig leaf of fiction. The anomaly happened on a regular Thursday afternoon. I was washing dishes and it was more than an hour until time to pick up the kids from school. I knew a fair bit of magic, even before the anomaly Nothing really impressive or undeniable. I mean, I believed in it sure, but I liked to call magic, "prayer with tools." I'd done rituals, cast spells, studied old texts, but my results had always been the kind of ambiguous thing that the faithful can say "yeah great it worked" and the skeptics can say "placebo effect ." Well, while I was doing the dishes I heard something call out in pain and fear and frustration. OK, not exactly call out, more like in my head, but not. I looked around and saw nothing. I heard it in my head again. So I turned off the tap, got a few of my magical tools and sat down on the couch to go into as deep of a trance as I could manage on a regular Thursday afternoon. And I saw it. Well, not saw. But in my mind's eye it was remarkably clear, if confusing. There was some kind of alien thing ... like a cross between a whale and a squid and something out of Lovecraft. And it was stranded, trapped on some kind of reef, or bramble patch, or maybe a mathematical abstraction of the underlying laws of our universe. Its mind reached a bit to mine and it tried to talk, but we had no words in common, barely even any concepts. It was like telepathy in a foreign language. But some of the emotions got through. It was scared, and hurt, and not fully an adult, and innocent. It meant me and my world no harm. It had been exploring and something went wrong, and now it just wanted to go back. So I tried to help. I used, well, the magical equivalents of my hands, I suppose, my will or power, I guess, to poke and prod it off the things it was stuck on. I didn't really know what I was doing, or understand its anatomy. I'm sure I hurt it some in the process of trying to help it, and I'll never know exactly how. But I got it free. It started moving away, when something else happened. Several adult versions of whatever it was came rushing in, gesticulating their tentacles, eye stalks, whatever, wildly, and mentally shouting. The young one rushed to them and reassured them, and some of them stopped to interact with it, but some came to me. And one of them came right up and touched me and DID something to me. Something powerful. It radiated through me and spread out from me. It felt weird but good. At first, I thought it was some kind of a thank you, like the alien was shaking my hand and thanking me for rescuing it's kid. I had no idea, at the time what it did, or how far it spread beyond me. The rest of the Thursday was pretty uneventful. I thought my kids, Chris and Andrew, at 10 and 7, were too young to talk about this, and by the time my wife Hannah came home from work and we'd had dinner, I just didn't think to mention it. Maybe it had seemed like a daydream by then. That night I dreamed that I was a woman, and I dreamed of the squid/whale/things. Little did I know that we all dreamed of being the opposite sex that night. Stage 1 When I woke up Friday morning, my mind was already profoundly changed. I woke up quite unsure whether I was a man or a woman on the inside, but I knew that I wanted to give dressing and acting as a woman a decent try. Let me be clear, I'd spent my life as kinda a half-hearted man, but a man. I wasn't a woman trapped in a man's body or any of that. I'd cross-dressed a couple of times in college and enjoyed it, but I was scared of it too. One of the reasons I've worn a beard most of my adult life is so I wouldn't be tempted to cross-dress. The frisson of cross- dressing in college had been envy and exploration, not self-doubt or confusion. OK, the last few years had been hard on me, and my manhood. Losing my career, becoming a stay-at-home dad. There had been depression, and low self worth and wondering if maleness really works properly in our culture anymore. But, I'd never in my life seriously doubted that I was a man, before that morning. On Friday morning I woke up different. It was like masculinity had no more power over me on the inside, as if I was freed from it. Freed to try out new things. Maybe I'd decide to go back to being a male on the inside, or maybe I'd be a female, or maybe I'd come to some kind of compromise. But all the things that had been settled, if somewhat disappointed, in me about my gender identity were very suddenly now all up in the air. I now know that I had things a lot better than everyone else. Of all the Colton Park transitioners, I alone suspected that these changes in me were connected to the squid/whale/things, and that they were rooted in magic. I didn't think I was going crazy, I didn't think I was being drugged, and I felt kinda good about the possibilities. They had probably been trying to thank me, right? But I didn't want anyone to catch on quite yet, so I tried to act normally all morning. We had breakfast. I made lunches for the kids. The wife was kissed, and the kids taken to school. Then when I was alone, I decided to try out cross-dressing for the first time in over 2 decades. I shaved my beard, and tried on my wife's clothes. I even tried messing with my voice. Hmm, I took off the sundress and tried a bra and some stuffing, and put it back on. Hmm, too much chest hair. But if I shaved the chest hair my wife would surely notice. OK something with a higher neckline. Then I went for the make-up. It was a risk. My wife uses make-up so rarely, she might notice, but ... Well, I was surprised at how skillful I was with the make-up. Actually that was really suspicious. I was sure I knew more about how to use make-up than I had the day before ... In front of the mirror I worked on my eyebrows and my voice-acting. I decided that my female name would be ... Nikki ... yeah ... (my male name was Aaron Silver, so no obvious relation or really any clue why this name). It took a bit of practice, but after an hour of work I was pretty happy with my female voice. I wasn't gonna be able to pass as a women in person though, too tall, wrong figure, wrong face. Ah well. After a while, I cleaned my face, penciled some male eyebrows back on, put my wife's clothes back in the laundry and went back to normal ... on the outside. I noticed something was up after school, and over dinner but I couldn't put my finger on it. Could one of my family members suspect something? No, I didn't see how. If anything, all three of them seemed distracted and spacey. Evasive. Andrew especially seemed whinier than normal, but I just couldn't quite peg it ... Stage 2 That night I dreamed of being a woman again, and of the squid/whale/things. They weren't just trying to thank me, they were probably trying to reward me! They had done something to me, to free me from the things that had been bothering me over the last few years. When I woke up, my mind and self-identity had shifted out from under me, again. Today I wanted to be female. I wasn't all the way there yet, but I wasn't sitting on the fence anymore either. The things had given me some kind of mental shove, and I was going to take advantage of it! I'd need to plan strategy and play my cards carefully, but somehow, some way, my future was female, and it would be a good one. I was plotting, as I cooked the Saturday morning eggs and hashbrowns. I was distracted and scheming as I ate. I asked my 7 year old son, Andrew to pass the forks, and he replied "call me Andrea." The whole room got quiet. There was a few seconds of pause. Hannah said in a calm voice "why should we call you Andrea?" "Because I'm going to be a girl today." "Why are you going to be a girl today" Hannah asked, still calm. "Not really sure, I've just been thinking about being a girl since yesterday, and I wanna try it." "Huh, that's odd, I dreamed that I was a man, last night and the night before, and I've been thinking about being a man too," said Hannah. I chimed in, "Actually I've been dreaming and thinking about being a woman too." "Me too" added Chris, our 10 year old son. We all looked around. No one was joking. No one was angry. We were all sheepish and somewhat relieved. "Uhm, maybe I'd better fess up about something that I thought might have been a daydream, but now I think might not have been." And I told them all about the squid/whale/things from Thursday and my sense that they did something magic to me, and maybe it spread beyond me. We had quite the family discussion that morning. I don't recall it all. But we got a lot of feelings out in the open. Old ones and new ones. And on the new feelings front we were pretty close to the same page. Whatever was happening was happening to all of us, and we are all scared but excited, and thought it might be a good thing, maybe. At one point Chris asked, "So space aliens are using magic to make me into a girl?" "Well, are you a girl?" "No, I'm still a boy on the outside and on the inside, it's more like I want to try out being a girl and see if I like it." Eventually we decided that the family would experiment with cross-dressing, and that we would do it together, but that it would be a family secret. We should have been scared. Everyone else was. Maybe some older bit of magic was partially protecting us. And we were still sorta scared, but somehow the fact that the whole family knew the secret and was in on it together made it better. The rest were still waffling, and I certainly didn't make it clear that I was already past waffling. Perhaps, since I was the epicenter, I was a little ahead of everyone else in the magical transition. We skipped the Farmer's Market that morning and instead went clothes shopping at K-mart, Goodwill and the Mall. We didn't go crazy, but we each got a few outfits for our "cousins." After lunch we all changed at home. I took a shower and shaved the rest of my body hair. Andrew became Andrea, I became Nikki, and Hannah became Tim. Chris remained Chris, and the change was least noticeable for him/her, but it was there all the same for those of us close enough to him/her to notice. Each of us worked on changing our voices, and the way we walked and such. None of us were really actors before the anomaly, but all 4 of us seemed skilled already at this particular acting task. Again it was clear by dinner time, that some kind of acting skill had been grafted on to us, by the same magic that made us want to use it to act like the opposite gender. And we were, at this stage, trying on roles more than simply being who we already were. After dinner (at home, none of us quite felt ready to cross in public yet) we did a little magic ritual for advice. Opening the circle, calling the quarters, asking the spirits for advice and reading some tarot cards. The kids weren't as skilled as Hannah and I, er, I guess at this point, maybe that should be as Tim and I, but they at least knew how not misbehave during ritual. During our working it was very clear that yes this was the most powerful magic we'd ever encountered, and yes it wasn't exactly intended as a curse or an attack. Our resultant Tarot card was the Wheel of Fortune, all things change, you just have to cope with it. There was one more revelation Saturday night, as we were taking off our make-up for bed (we all used make-up even Hannah/Tim, who protested a bit that guys don't use make-up but was in fact happy that it had made him look more masculine). When Hannah tried to exit her Tim persona, and take off her make-up, it became clear that she had real facial stubble. Not a lot, but just enough that we were all convinced that whatever was happening was not just in our heads. That night Hannah and I made love . It wasn't our best, it wasn't our worst, but it was cozy and comforting. We were both excited but weirded out by the events of the day, and glad that our swirling gender identities hadn't made this delicious release impossible, glad that we weren't going through these confusions alone. Sunday morning it was clear that Hannah's stubble was still growing and that mine wasn't. We decided to go to church as normal, in our normal identities. And we could, after Hannah shaved. It wasn't hard. The whole time I was thinking, hey I can still act like a guy. Hey none of these people know what our family did yesterday ... That afternoon we went back "into character" at home, and Hannah and I did some internet shopping for things to help with cross-dressing. Then we noticed that Andrea's hair was longer than a few days ago. It turned out, with a little bit of magical effort, all of us could effect our hair-length. It was not like any of the magic I'd done before, except maybe meditation. It was a very bodily experience to try to grow or shorten your hair. Hannah could even grow a credible beard. It took maybe an hour of hard concentration for several months worth of growth or shrinking, but we could all do it. We tried to use the same technique to shape our bodies a bit, tweak our faces or fat distribution. It worked, but not very well, and unlike the hair, it reverted shortly after you stopped focusing hard on it. It felt more like sucking in your gut, than changing who you are. We all agreed to revert our hair to normal and go to school and work as normal on Monday, although I got a few envious glances because I could remain as Nikki at home. Stage 3 That Monday went pretty much like any other Monday. I was tempted to try to do my weekly grocery shopping as Nikki, but decided not to. Even though I went shopping as Aaron, I noticed that I looked at one of the male workers at the grocery store a little bit differently. He was ... kinda attractive. Mild attraction to males had happened to me before, but it was pretty rare, surely this was part of ... of whatever. That night it was clear that Hannah and Andrew (and I) had all been a bit annoyed at having to be our normal genders all day. Chris didn't care, he loved drawing dragons and sword fights whether he was being a girl or a boy. Tuesday, after Hannah was at work, and the kids were at school, there was a knock on the door. It turned to be a worker from the CDC (Center for Disease Control). He had a number of questions he was going around and asking every house in the neighborhood. He took my name and some routine demographic info and then asked "Has anyone in our household been having unusual medical issues over the last week?" "Uhm ..." "Perhaps unusual hair growth, or vocal changes, maybe strange mood swings or hormonal issues ..." he suggested. I've never been much of a liar, but I had no idea how to play this one. It was supposed to be a family secret, right, but shit, if the CDC knows something we don't then we'd better have a foot in the door ... I started another "uhm" when damned if my voice didn't break up to a higher pitch right then and there. "Yeah, I've been having some voice breaking and my wife has been having some unusual hair growth ..." "Sir I'd like to take air and water samples in your home, and take some blood samples, from you and your family." "Oh Shit!" "Don't worry too much, so far it's more puzzling than bad, but a few people have showed an unusual clumping of symptoms and there appears to be a geographic component to it." A similar man was knocking on the door across the street ... The CDC was polite but insistent, and I had no desire to escalate things unnecessarily. So they took samples at our house, and I went to the hospital with them for an examination and some blood work The actual CDC people were are clearly relaxed and curious, not worried, but every other medical person around was in barely suppressed freak-out mode that the CDC was in town at all. As the day wore on, my voice broke several times, and I was having more and more trouble maintaining my male voice. Hannah and I had never trusted doctors that much, so I was pretty cagey talking to the doc that examined me, who I'd never met before. I admitted to strange dreams, and that my voice was breaking, but refused to answer any questions about gender identity issues. That he was asking such things directly and upfront was pretty telling though, and I'm sure he noticed my recently shaved legs. Certainly nothing else about myself looked odd to me physically while I was being examined. When it was time to pick up the kids from school, a CDC guy drove me, and took the kids and I back to the hospital, and they were given exams and blood work as well. And this CDC guy was ... er kinda cute. My kid's voices were breaking too, and they were also having troubles sounding male. Interestingly, there were several other people being examined, and our kids were not the only ones to be shuttled from school to the hospital by the CDC. The CDC called Hannah at work, and as soon as she was done work, they wanted her to go to the hospital for an exam as well. They let us leave the hospital though, there wasn't a quarantine or anything. We had a late dinner, and went home. We were told they'd have blood work results for us in the morning. That night was the last time I had sex as a man. My wife and I were both worried and tender. It was bittersweet. I think were were both scared it would be our last time. In my dreams I was a man, and the squid/whale/things were trying to reward me for saving their kid, but they got it wrong somehow ... Wednesday morning I got the call. My whole family had it. They were calling it "Colton Park Syndrome." Apparently there were nearly 200 cases, all people who lived within a few blocks of Colton Park, our neighborhood, within a few blocks of our house in fact. My sons and I each had more female hormones in our blood system than a girl in puberty, and my wife had more than a boy in puberty. That was the diagnostic clincher. The other key symptoms of CPS at this point were unexplained hair growth and voice changes, and many of the people with CPS reported strong shifts in their gender identity and sexual attractions, and many more were clearly lying or stonewalling, (as we had been). They wanted us back in the hospital for far more thorough tests. They pulled my kids out of school a few hours after they had started it, and pulled Hannah out of work too. Every confirmed case was at the hospital. We had to do detailed lists of people we'd had contact with within the last week. They subjected us to many careful biometric tests, measuring and photographing everything they could. They were especially keen on measuring hair length. They began treating us aggressively with hormones. I voiced some half-hearted objections but they just did it anyway. They said, they'd still seen no signs that it was infectious. All of the cases seemed to be pacing relatively similarly. There were only 4 families like ours where everyone had it, and there were plenty of cases where only one person in the family had it, with no signs of others getting it. Still it clearly bugged the doctors and scientists, especially the hair. Turns out several of the first cases the doctors saw were people who had grown several feet of hair overnight. They had even cut it off, and it had regrown last night. All morning I was around other CPS folk, most of whom were cross-dressing. We didn't talk much, and I didn't tell anyone about the squid/whale/things. Frankly, the other CPS folk seemed a lot bleaker than we did. I decided, what the hell, they know I have CPS already, what is the harm in cross-dressing here too? So after lunch I ran home, and got cross-dress clothes for my whole family. Hannah's, er Tim's codpiece had even arrived in the mail. All of us were a lot more comfortable (albeit still kinda scared) once we were able to slip back into our new personae. And, damn, we were all a lot better at it too. Sunday night we had all looked like rookie cross- dressers. Wednesday afternoon we were all experts. Someone who hadn't heard of CPS would never have guessed that Nikki was a man rather than an unusually tall woman. That afternoon the docs caught something else that made them crazy - height fluctuations, and I was one of the one's doing it. I've been 6'0" or maybe barely 6'1" if my posture is really good, since college. But at 3:47PM I clearly measured only 5'7", again with great posture. By 4:30 I was back to 6'0". And I wasn't the only one. The paper actually ran a little story on us Wednesday; CDC all over the neighborhood is hard to hide. It (and the CDC's later official report) are the only things that were ever allowed to be published in credible sources, so we all know what they say now. They are the limits of the official line. The article mentions "unusual hair growth" and "unusual voice changes" as well as "changes in self-image" but doesn't say anything about gender or hormones. It doesn't use the term Colton Park Syndrome but mentions that all cases so far are from people living near Colton Park. (The CDC report does use the term CPS and mentions the hormone levels and the gender identity issues, so we are allowed to use the term and talk about those things if we want, all of that is common knowledge in our little city these days). The newspaper article said that the issue probably wasn't contagious, hadn't severely hurt anyone yet, and may well be treatable. It asks for leads on any other cases the CDC hasn't found yet. That night I had my first ever MRI brain scan, but in the end it showed nothing particularly unusual. Stage 4 I dreamed that night that the squid/whale/things were angry at me for hurting their child, that the changes hadn't been a thank you, at all but a punishment. Only they didn't understand us too well, and didn't quite understand what they did. I'd had my hair cut to a short male length the month before. When I went to bed on Wednesday it was perhaps an inch longer than before the anomaly. When I woke up on Thursday it was shoulder length. And that wasn't the big change. This morning I was a woman in my head. I wasn't leaning towards womanhood, as the day before, I just was a woman. I'd use the old cliche and say I was a woman trapped in a man's body, but hell that wasn't even true anymore. I was a woman in a body that was clearly trying to feminize as fast as it could, faster than medical science could make sense of, but not quite as fast as my mind already had. I hadn't shaved in 6 days and didn't need to, and my nipples were kinda tingly. Still in bed, and drowsy I said, "Hey Hannah," and I was interrupted. "Actually it's Tim now, and I think it's going to be Tim from here on out." "Yeah?" "Yeah." "Well, it's looking like Nikki is here to stay too." "Where does that leave us?" I hugged Tim for a long time. Eventually I said "I don't know, we're ... we're in the middle of something, some transition, I don't know where we are going to wind up yet. But the kids will always be our kids. And I'll always love you ... somehow ... even if it isn't quite the way I loved you last month." "Nikki, I don't think I am your wife anymore, I don't think I can be. And ... and my wedding ring is welded to this diamond engagement ring, men don't wear those." He got up out of bed took the ring off and put it in the jewelry box on our dresser. "Well I guess I ought to take mine off too then" and I did. We hugged some more, held each other tight. It wasn't the least bit sexual. "Tim, do my breasts look like they are growing to you?" He looked, "Yeah a little" "They feel like it." "Nikki, uhm," he got red-faced embarrassed. "Could you look, is my clitoris swelling up?" I looked at my, well my ex-wife's genitals and got a stab of pure envy. Those were certainly female genitals alright, of the type I wanted and didn't have yet, but ... "Yes it does look like it's swelling a bit." We were expected at the hospital again, and this time we all wore our new identities from the get-go. In fact my new false breasts, crotch tuck and our body wraps had already arrived in the mail that morning. And it is a good thing too we cross-dressed that day too. The clothes dissolving thing never happened to my family, but it did happen to several of the others that day, including the last few CPS cases that hadn't been identified yet. It turns out that none of us were fully human anymore. Oh, we are maybe 99% human, but the changes weren't just at the magical level, even our biology changed a bit. Normal human skin can excrete sweat and oil, and does so basically unconsciously. Us "transitioners," as we called ourselves by then, have skin that excretes sweat and oil, and glues and solvents, and acids and bases, and a few other exotic things, but again pretty much unconsciously. One of the upshots of which is that if you wear clothes that your subconscious is seriously rebelling against, you start excreting acids and solvents which will actually slowly damage the clothes. Several people who were still trying to pass as their old genders actually had their clothes fall to rags on them while they were wearing them that day, and others destroyed underwear of the kind they had worn without issue in their old lives. Another thing that became clear on Thursday was that the hormone treatments were not working. The CPS just ramped up the levels of competing hormones, until both sets were high enough to start doing damage to the body while the transition continued. One CPS transitioner actually died of a heart attack that day, that was probably related to the overdose of competing hormones in "his" system. That and the one suicide the following week, were the only causalities caused by the syndrome, and by Thursday night we knew there were 216 of us in total who had contracted CPS. By Thursday we were all bored and beginning to talk with each other. The scientists and docs continued to do tests on us, but they were now mostly repeating tests they'd already tried. They knew things didn't add up right. And we were opening up, a bit. There were transitioners of all ages, but it did seem to bell curve a bit, not that many prepubescent or over 60. Part of the transition seemed to be acceptance, even excitement about the transition. Women who had never really thought about becoming men before found they were comfortable, even looking forward to it. If anything, those of us who had struggled with gender identity a bit before the transition were in worse shape, because it didn't seem to gloss over any past mental defense mechanisms about gender one might have already developed. Many of the others had told family or friends at least a little of what was going on. In fact, it occurred to us that we'd been so bent on keeping it a Silver family secret, that we hadn't told any of our extended family or our family friends anything. We called all our parents, and step-parents, and our closest friends and told them that all four of us had been diagnosed with Colton Park Syndrome, and the CDC was still investigating and we were likely to be at the hospital a while, but that they probably shouldn't visit yet. We told them about the voice- changes and the hair, and the hormones, and hinted at gender issues, and promised we'd keep them posted. None of them recognized our voices but they believed us alright. The Walter family, who were probably our best friends, were the only ones that also heard about Nikki and Tim, and Andrea and our cross-dressing. Another thing that began on Thursday was the SIU involvement. They were some other government organization none of us had ever heard of, the Special Investigation Unit. They seemed like FBI, kinda, but a bit more yuppie or lawyer and a bit less cop. CDC sure deferred to them though. It became clear they were taking things over from the CDC. They looked over the medical and scientific data and said they wanted to do so more tests of their own. It was Thursday night before I was involved in one of these tests. I was alone in a room with two SIU agents, oh let's call him "Frank Weathers" and his partner "Gina Trieste." Now the first thing is, I had an instant crush on Agent "Weathers," my first real crush on a man, actually. It showed me just how pale my previous vague attractions had been. But second, once they were alone with me, they tried to calm me and then brought out the candles and the sword, set a basic altar and began some chants I knew. They were magicians. I completed one of their chants for them and then called the Watchtower of the East for them myself. They took it in stride with visibly raised eyebrows, and we completed the ceremony together. Actually I felt like I was in really great magical form. "So what gives?" Weathers said. "I've studied magic for decades, that was a pretty standard little ritual there, you just want to examine me carefully magically under an amplifying circle with plenty of protections in place and carefully screening out outside influences." So they did. They examined me magically and took a few notes. "The docs said they saw your height fluctuate in a way they couldn't explain, did you do that on purpose?" "Nope" "Could you do it again, on purpose while we watch?" "Uhm, I don't know, let me try." So I did. Changing my body seemed a lot easier now, especially here in the magic circle. I shrank to 5'7", I lost 30lb, I moved some of my body fat from my waist to my breasts and hips, I shaped my face a bit, I probably even shrank my genitals a bit. It wasn't that hard, but there were clear limits, I couldn't get much shorter, or thinner, or more feminine ... And while it didn't spring back right away when I stopped concentrating, it probably didn't last half and hour either. "Nikki, we think CPS is a magical malady more than a medical one, per se, although the magic may lead to some of the issues." I broke down crying. I fessed up. I told those two agents the whole story, all about the squid/whale/things. It was all my fault. I did this to myself, to everyone. It was all my fault ... Agent Weathers lit up a cigarette (in a hospital!) and handed me one. "Don't beat yourself up too much. It isn't your fault, you didn't do it. Frankly, you aren't even powerful enough to have done it. Those things did it. Who knows why? I've seen more than my share of weirdness, and I'll have to look this up to be sure, but I think those were new things, that we've never encountered before. You were in a first contact situation and didn't know it. First contacts are hard, they are so easy to screw up in so many ways. You were trying to help their kid. I'm sure they knew that, whatever their motives were. You could have done a lot worse than genuinely trying to help out a scary alien you knew nothing about." He hugged me too. I didn't know Men-in-Black types were allowed to do that, but he did. I guess I needed it too. And it was good, but very confusing. That night told Tim about the SIU, and what I'd told them, and how I'd changed temporarily while in the magic circle. I left out the part about the hunky agent hugging me though. Tim and I slept in the same bed, but we didn't touch that night. I dreamed about Agent Weathers, and I wondered what Tim was leaving out about his day. On Friday the SIU moved the transitioners out of the hospital and into an empty office area they had rented. They told us all that our condition was magical rather than merely medical. They demonstrated a few bits of showy magic so we'd believe. One of them shot fire from his hand like a small flamethrower, and clearly with nothing up his sleeve. They said that magic of the scientists-scratch-their-heads variety was rare, but not so rare that it wasn't a matter of national security. SIU was in charge of dealing with it when it was a problem, and of studying it. They said that our condition would probably make us strong magicians, if we had the personality, drive, and time to learn magic properly. They were willing to make an investment in us, in hopes that some of us would wind up being strong magicians who would decide to work for them. For the next few weeks we would learn about magic and cross-dressing, and the process to legally change one's gender. The Unit would help us in any way it could, they would, for example, pay us for our time. Already Unit lawyers were sending letters to people's employers demanding sick leave, and threatening them that we would have excellent legal counsel in the future should we ever feel that we were being discriminated against because of our medical issues. On the other hand, our training would also include some basic national security protocols, and we would all be given security clearances and codewords. They already had people working on checking into the backgrounds of all 215 surviving transtioners. They even told all the transitioners an abbreviated version of tale of the squid/whale/thing story, leaving out exactly how the kid was rescued or by who. We had seminars and small group meetings and well, I guess group therapy sessions, all Friday and it was pretty haphazardly thrown together. Friday night we talked with extended family again, and the Walter family again on the phone. We said that things had gotten all national security, but that we would tell them what we could. The Walters said that rumors were flying all over our small city. Everyone was talking about Colton Park Syndrome, and everyone knew someone who had it, or knew someone who knew someone who had it. But the paper hadn't printed anything on it Thursday or Friday, and several blogs that talked about it had been taken down. Someone was suppressing the story, but everybody in town knew, at least kinda. On Saturday our family decided, and we all agreed, that we would go to the Farmer's Market in our new identities. Andrea and Chris were now about as firmly female in there self-identity as I was. It would be our first trip in public in our new identities other than to a closed hospital ward or rented office suite. We would see people we knew. If we did it, we could never undo it. But we didn't want to hide from everyone we knew either, and we didn't want to pretend to be Aaron and Hannah and Andrew either. So we went. It was awkward. Over and over and over. Everyone knew the old us. Everyone wanted to know the truth about CPS. Everyone was surprised that we were "in drag." We'd had no practice explaining these things before. Yes, it is largely a medical condition rather than a choice. No, it came on quite suddenly. Yes, everyone with CPS seems to be in a pretty similar boat. No, there are details I'm not allowed to tell you. Yes, it has become an national security issue. No, no one has caught it since the initial batch, if you don't already have it you probably never will. Yes, I expect becoming a woman will fuck with my life most royally. You are right, I am not wearing my wedding ring, and yet my spouse is right here and trying to be somewhat cordial, let's drop that line of inquiry shall we? Yes, there are a lot of issues we still have to work through. Then at the next booth, exactly the same thing, and again, until you want to scream, can I just buy the fucking potato! But, no, it is good for them to ask. It is good for them to be polite and curious. It could be so so much worse. We didn't really make it all the way around the market before we just had to leave. Chris had the bright idea to go to a roller rink. We were there all afternoon. We just had fun, and no one, no one knew who we were or had any idea that we'd been the opposite gender a little over a week ago. We just skated to crappy music and played skeeball. It was glorious. The Farmer's Market had been too hard, we just couldn't do church the next morning. Not yet. We told the Walters (who go to our church) to light a candle for us, and tell everyone that we have CPS, and that we'll come when we feel ready. We stayed in. We watched comedies. We played with legos. I cooked a nice meal while wearing women'sclothes and felt like a real housewife. That night I dreamed that the squid/whale/things hadn't been grateful or angry, only frightened, they were just scared for their child, scared I'd hurt it, or that I would soon. The one that touched me had just tried to push me away, it hadn't even intended to change me, to change us, that was just an accident, an accident of a botched first contact, which is so so easy to do. Stage 5 The next week was the beginning of a new kind of normalcy, we settled into a rhythm. We got ready and ate breakfast together, we drove to the SIU offices. We sat in classes and learned magic, and legal mumbo jumbo and security protocols. We sat in groups and talked. A lot. We came home and had dinner and tried to have a normal evening. Tim and I watched Dexter re-runs on Netflix once the girls were in bed. One of the transitioners committed suicide, but only the one. Really we were all doing better than we should be. Tim and I and one other transitioner, Eric, were the only ones with magical experience, besides the SIU folk. So we wound up helping to teach a lot. By now, all the transitioners were firmly of the opposite gender self-identity as before the anomaly, and by the end of the week all of us could change our shape, just a little bit, for maybe 20-30 minutes to better fit our gender identity, several times a day. Even the kids, who generally were still pretty bad at all other aspects of magic, seemed to be doing about par for the course at tweaking their bodies to fit there identity, at least for a while. Indeed, we were all clearly more powerful at magic than I'd been before the anomaly (We called it the Anomaly by then too, and that's how SIU referred to it). My trusty old "middle pillar" spell for grounding and preparing for more complicated magics, brought me a much deeper connection with all things and even a sense of balance and happiness than before. More mundane cross-dressing tricks, the clothes, the make-up, the acting were all second nature. Any of us could pass even without the extra magical boost. None of us could use our old voices anymore. Our hair had pretty much evened out at our ideal, and some were even having luck varying it from day to day. The worst things those days were the little things that reminded you of the mismatch between you body and your self-image, going to the bathroom, getting an erection, needing to adjust your falsies, etc. Personally I found many strange little differences. I never knew if they were part of what it meant to be female for me or just little quirks that came along for the ride. As Nikki I was a better liar than I been as Aaron, but also better and chit-chat and smoothing things over. As Nikki, I doodled when bored, and preferred different beers than I had as Aaron. Nikki writes a lot more journal entries and a lot less poetry than Aaron did. As Nikki I was happier too, there was a low-grade always-there-in the-background happiness to being Nikki, and occasionally, several times some days, it would burst through as a huge bubble of joy. Aaron had been like that as a teen, and in his twenties, but had grown out of it. I wondered if I was somehow getting younger, but well, I guess I was a lot younger. Nikki was just beginning. Another hopeful sign was that Tim began looking good. Partly, yes, Tim had lost several pounds since he was Hannah, but it wasn't that. I was becoming attracted to Tim, the man, instead of just remembering that I loved Hannah. My crush on Agent Weathers didn't go away, and I certainly worked with him some. But it didn't develop any depth either. I could tell it was just a crush, of the kind I hadn't really had since being a teenager. Come to think of it the SIU agents must have had their hands full trying to deal with hundreds of being going through a second pubery. I couldn't even imagine how sex could go with Agent Weathers while I still had these male genitals. But I could imagine getting drinks, or out of work chit chat, or maybe even a kiss. I dreamed of salsa dancing with him once. But in waking life, he was pretty achingly professional with me. In fact Tim and I even tried to have sex once. It didn't work. Tim's breasts were still sensitive, but touching them threw off his mood. If Tim touched me between the legs I got a shock of cognitive dissonance and felt more embarrassed than horny. Sex had been a solace for Aaron and Hannah, but they were gone, and Nikki and Tim just couldn't get much past a hug. That Friday, Tim and I went on our first date. We hired a babysitter and did the traditional dinner and a movie. We even kissed on our front porch step. It was lovely, but neither of us dared push for second base. I felt like I needed to sleep on the sofa that night. I dreamed that the squid/whale/thing HAD just been trying to shake my hand. It was just trying to make first contact. But when it really touched me, I was just so gross to it, that it pushed me away. The whole gender thing was just an accidental side-effect of that instinctive magical shove of revulsion at the touch of a human, a deeply botched first contact. Stage 6 We agreed to try the Farmer's Market again, but to be a bit more defensive this time if the conversations went on too long. It went a lot better. People had told other people. Enough of us with CPS were talking to people that the rumor mill was getting more accurate. More to the point, people didn't want to offend us. And, of course, we'd already told a lot of them last week. We had to go through the long version several times. But it just wasn't as bad when peppered with the short version. We got all the way through the market. We made plans to have dinner on Thursday with Connor and Brayleigh. That afternoon Andrea learned that she could control (and magically buff) the acid her skin made enough to intentional drip drops of it onto the paper that Chris was drawing on. It ate a dime-sized hole in the paper and a classic sibling squabble ensued. We all tried it (into the compost or the garden mostly) before long. But my real discovery happened just before dinner. I sat down for a pee, and when I peed, I had no penis. I jumped up and double checked, yup, but then my penis began rapidly returning, albeit scrawny and flaccid. Still I was so excited I told the family. Chris and Andrea both tried and couldn't make their penises disappear. Tim tried to grow his with, perhaps, a little limited success. I tried again, on purpose this time and failed. Then several hour later, after dinner, I went into my best "middle pillar" trance, balancing as much as I could balance, connecting as much as I could connect, and I willed my body as female as I could make it. It worked. My breasts went from maybe-A-cups to C-cups, my body curved right, my height and weight decreased, my Adam's apple disappeared and so did my penis and scrotum. I felt them sink into my body, and felt my vagina. Heck I was pretty sure I could even feel my womb. I felt younger too. I said "hey Tim, check out my tits!" "Wow that's pretty good." "My penis is gone again too, I just had to be really in balance." It felt great. I kept it up for at least 20 minutes too. Then it was gone. I was maleish in body again. But as I lay in bed falling asleep that night I tried again, and it worked again. We decided to go to church on Sunday, and that was nice too. Everyone was very careful of us. They would say something nice, and then carefully not pry. It was our first occasion to dress up as our new genders too. Tim, for example, had never worn a tie before and I had to help him. We used our new names, but everyone knew who we were. There had actually been an openly M2F transgendered person at our church 5 years ago (our church is waaay on the liberal end on such things). She attended for a few months, but wound up moving out of town. We even went out to lunch together afterward, all in our Sunday best. Tim and the girls and I practiced our new extreme morphing off and on that afternoon and evening. They all had partial successes but I managed it again and again. That night Tim and I sorta tried to pull off the full change long enough to try something erotic, but we weren't quite that good yet. Monday morning I managed to get Frank (and Gina, sadly) alone in a room, and stripped to my panties and bra, to show them my new trick. Frank definitely watched with interest. Soon I did it again in front of everyone, fully clothed this time. Pretty much everyone broke up to try on their own then. Only a few succeeded. But many were able to push their transformations further than they had the week before. That night we had the Walter's family over for dinner. It was my first dinner party as a woman, and I served a fancier meal than the home-made pizza that had been my staple as a stay-at-home dad. But it worked. We had fun, they had fun. There were moments of awkwardness for us and them. Chris made a faux pas that embarrassed her and she stormed out for a while, but even she recovered. We could have friends still, even old friends, we could do this. That night I dreamed that when I'd rescued the squid/whale/thing kid, I'd accidentally destroyed one of his gonads in the process, and he'd been forced to switch genders, until they regrew. His parent hadn't been angry or frightened, it wasn't that big a deal for them. It had just done the same to me and mine as a mild reprimand. This is why we are careful with other peoples gonads. This is why being forced to change genders in inconvenient. Be a little more careful next time. It had been just been trying to teach me, as I would might try to teach a child. That week all of the transitioners got the hang of full physical gender transition. I was always a day or two ahead of the rest. At first we could only do it a couple of times a day, for a little while. Then we could do it almost constantly, but only if we concentrated on it hard every half hour or so. Stage 7 That Thursday marked 3 full weeks since the anomaly. By then most of us could hold our new gender for hours at a time without working on it, although no one had yet managed to hold it through a night's sleep. Moreover, many of us began developing further magical powers and these differed from person to person. One person learned to animate their hair, another to make small force fields. Some people found they could, with effort shift to forms other than their new gender identity. And while I was no superhero, I was still probably the most magically gifted of the lot. I could throw little force-bombs, and I was good at countering magic, and a few other things I shouldn't mention, even here. I swear I felt like I was growing younger. But moreover, I was happy. It was like both background happiness and little bombs of joy were among my new magical powers. Or maybe that's just what being a female was like for me. On Wednesday, after our day at the the office, my family all bought swimming suits, had fast food, and rented a hotel room so we could use the pool. We swam for the first time as our new genders, and even the girls were good enough at fully morphing to pull off wearing swimming suits. Tim and I called this our second date, and did indeed succeed at having full on sex after the girls were good and asleep that night, exhausted from swimming. I loved it. I loved him. The long careful quiet foreplay, so as not to wake the girls sleeping together in the next bed. The touching. The caresses. Stroking. I wanted to taste him, and did. I wanted him to taste me, and he did. On this particular occasion I'd grown a hymen, and I suppose it was appropriate, as I was a 39 year old virgin. Or was I barely 21? Or was I perhaps 3 weeks old? I put a condom on someone else for the first time, even though I was pretty sure I couldn't get pregnant yet. That first bout of sex hurt, and it surprised, but it was good and good and good. As a man, I'd never been particularly loud. But as a woman I found trying not to be loud to be very frustrating, but enticingly frustrating. I didn't cum the first time, but I loved it anyway, and Tim, well Tim had been there too once upon a time, so I didn't fool him. He was extremely satisfied with himself after his first bout of actual sex as a man, but he managed not to fall asleep. We worked up slowly again over the next hour or so, and then tried again. I had never been so wet. I had never loved cock more. Even when I HAD a cock, I didn't loved it like this. And when I came it was in waves and waves and waves and quite unlike the joyful squirt and release I had known as a man. Thursday we four were dinner guests at the house of a newish set of friends. They made a number of polite inquiries concerning our condition, but it didn't even wind up being the main topic of conversation that night, instead we mostly talked about and played European-style boardgames. On Friday, Tim and I had our official third date, again with a baby-sitter watching the girls, we just hung out at a bar together. The doorman blanched visibly at our IDs, but didn't make an issue. We had a nice time. That night we fucked in our own bed, and I was on top, and I was loud. It was awesome. I don't even have the words of metaphors to convey how utterly great having sex as a woman was, once I got the hang of it, and had a happy, loving partner. What can I say? It was awesome. I was all woman at the time, but I still woke up sporting male genitalia of my own the next morning. That night I dreamed for the last time of the squid/whale/things. I think I finally understand. They hadn't been motivated by fear, or anger, or even gratitude, but simple compassion, just as I had been. I saw an alien creature suffering, trapped on a reef it couldn't understand, lacerating itself, trying to escape. So I just tried to help it. It wasn't a reward, or a thank you, when I freed the kid alien. I just saw, and tried to help. Maybe I even screwed up trying to help it, and did the poor thing harm along the way, but I was trying to help. They saw the same thing in me, in us. They saw aliens, trapped in some ways we didn't quite understand within these little gender-boxes. They just tried to free some of us, the ones they could easily reach. Maybe they screwed up, too, and what happened to us wasn't quite what they'd intended either. But I think they were just trying to help us. Stage 8 I was the first to reach Stage 8, 30 days after the anomaly One of the SIU researchers had been trying to study the sequences of our transitions and had broken them into stages by various landmarks, and then tried to see how these stages played out for each of us, and in statistical aggregate. Stage 8 was his hypothetical last stage of fully completed magical transition. I remember clearly my last ever erection as I woke up the morning before. But on the 30th day, I woke up and rather than a morning errection, I was still physically female. I'd held my Nikki shape all through the night with no conscious effort. We tested it at the SIU offices, both with counter-magic and with true-form tests. Disperse all magic on me, and I was still fully female in body and mind and soul. Being Nikki just was my true form now, and such magic as I had developed over the past month could be directed to other things ... I never got the hang of using magic to make myself more male, so for me this was the final end of Aaron Silvers. I still clearly remembered being him, but Aaron was just over. I've often worried that even the memories will fade, but they haven't yet. Tim and Eric both reached stage 8 the next day, and nearly everyone had it within the week, even the kids. Interestingly, Sharon has still never reached stage 8, and says she doesn't want to. She can take a variety of female shapes and hold them with little effort for hours. But none of them are the real her. She never knows quite what she'll look like upon waking up, and her true-form just shows up as blurry and ambiguous. I had my first period shortly after reaching stage 8. It wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs, but neither was it as bad as I'd feared. SIU ended our daily training session the end of the 5th week after the anomaly. We had transitioned. The kids went back to school and many people went back to their jobs. Some took jobs with SIU, or took other new jobs. SIU tried to recruit me pretty hard, but for now I'd rather stay at home. We were an open secret throughout our small city, although nothing more was ever allowed to reach print about us. There were a few tranny-bashing incidents at first, but neither of those ended well for the aggressors, and rumors flurried that CPS came with surprising powers along with the enforced sex-change. Hannah's supervisor from work wanted Tim to take over Hannah's job, and his co-workers and such all pretty much coped. There may be some problems from upper management still, but then again maybe not. And he's been working there without serious incident for over a month now. If anything, our city is proud and protective of us CPS transitioners. Everyone has met at least one of us, and its kinda our own little urban legend, a private little secret glory for the town, like cherished ghost stories of decades past, or that time in the 70s when our basketball team made it to the NCAA finals. SIU still has a few people on site, and is making a small permanent office. We all still do group therapy once a week, and we have the occasional CPS get-together. I've tried twice to use my, now significantly stronger, magic to contact the squid/whale/things again or examine the reef near my house. I've had no luck, and the reef doesn't even seem to be there anymore. The docs confirm that my chromosomes are in fact now XX, and that my ovaries and uterus appear normal. On the other hand, I do still seem to be 39 at the biological level, even though I look and feel more like I'm in my 20s, so if Tim and I do decide to try for more kids it might already be too late. I've made a number of positions clear to Tim. I enjoy dating him, and even living with him, but HE took off our wedding rings. As far as I'm concerned, we are not married anymore, and are free to date others. Heck, we probably ought to sew a few oats before fully settling down with each other again. Certainly, Hannah wasn't my first woman back when I was a man. And if Tim wants me to be a little more settled, then I want a proper proposal, and a ring worth 2 months salary, and a real wedding where I get to be the bride! Until then he's just my boyfriend. (But hurry up suddenly I have a ticking clock!) The hardest part is dealing with out-of-town family, or out-of-towners from our past. Thanksgiving was really, really hard. Our family was clearly hurt, but clearly trying to be supportive. My father's eldest son was gone forever, with this strange young woman left in his place. Tim's father couldn't cope at all, and pretty much just stayed silent. Perhaps he sensed anything he said would be even worse than his silences. My brother was awkward but trying. Only Raina, my dad's wife, really took to it, I was the daughter she'd never had. I really was. I changed my Facebook page, shortly after reaching stage 8, and got a flurry of weird emails from old high school friends, college friends and old co- workers. It was weird and hard, and I wrote a form letter, but never wound up sending it. Every earnest asker just deserved their own answers, even though it hurt to try to explain over and over. Just after Thanksgiving our legal papers went through. I am now legally Nikki Patricia Silvers, and legally female, and legally unmarried but the co-guardian of my children. I'm behind in my Christmas shopping. And shortly after Christmas will be my other birthday, when I'll turn 40, or 22, or maybe four months old, depending on your perspective. I hope this account helps any other CPS transitioner who reads it. I suppose you all deserve to know just what my role in the anomaly was, and why I always seemed to be always just a little ahead of the transition curve. And to any of the more traditional transsexuals who may read this, I don't know if it will help. Our case was pretty weird, probably a lot easier than you have it in many ways. But all honest stories help at least a little, right? And if you're just reading this to whack off, well, that would have bothered me last year, but now ... hell I'd attach a sexy picture, but Tim asked me not to. ;) Whack away. *** Despite the story's pretense to the contrary this IS just a work of fiction, and all the names and events are made up. Even the hidden truths are mostly metaphors. By Columnaxia, July 2012. If you want to re-use or re-post this please attribute it to my pseudonym. I'd also appreciate if you mentioned on the forum where you re-post it, 'cause I'm curious.