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Operation Rescue: The Things We Do For Love ElrodW A man loves his long-time friend from childhood, but she doesn't - and can't - love him. He thinks that Operation Rescue will give him a way to remedy the problem, but he's unaware of what that will mean to him, his job and friends, and his whole being - if he gets accepted into the program. ***************************************************************** Operation Rescue: The Things We Do For Love This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Ron MacLaird sipped his wine, as he stared admiringly at his dinner companion, seated across the table from him. "So, how was work today?" he asked, making idle chatter. His dining companion, a lithe woman of about twenty-four, smiled at him. Her smile was enchanting; it was easy to understand why she'd won high-school beauty pageants. "The usual. Lots of paperwork, reviewing trade studies, and in the end, very little was accomplished." Ron laughed. "I don't see how you can put up with it month after month." Jennifer Callahan laughed. "And I suppose you have it better?" Ron sighed. "Not really," he answered, as he gazed at Jen. She was, to Ron, the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. She was a tall woman, built like an athlete - slender and perfectly trim. Her auburn hair was done in a neat French braid, and she, too, wore the business casual uniform, but in her case, it was the female version - stylish pants and a casual but office-appropriate blouse, with a hint of lace trim around the buttons and a neckline that didn't dip too low. Not that Jen would have had to worry about a blouse being too revealing; she had modest breasts that were, for her, just right. In comparison, he thought of himself as quite average. He was a little shorter than average - perhaps five foot eight, and moderately well built, with sandy-blonde hair that was usually just a bit unkempt. He was dressed neatly in the standard business-casual uniform - pants and a polo shirt. Like Jennifer, he was a software engineer, albeit for a different company. The pair had a habit of meeting at least once every week for dinner after work, usually at Francesco's, a quaint little Italian restaurant and bar. They sat in a corner table, far enough from the boisterous crowd at the bar that conversation was possible. Unlike many venues, Francesco - there really was a Francesco! - hated the idea of big- screen televisions distracting his patrons. The atmosphere was warm and friendly. Without the distractions of various music videos or sporting events so common in bars, conversation was more likely. In the background, light instrumental Italian music filled the air, adding a friendly, homey touch to the place. It had a quaint, authentically Italian feel to it, an intimacy that was lost in so many of his competitors. Jen sipped her white wine. "Rumor has it from your game-day friends that you're dating the receptionist." She had a bemused expression, as she watched for his reaction. Ron frowned. "Come on, Jen," he protested. "I'm not interested in that type of girl." "Why not?" Jen continued. "She's _really_ cute, and pretty hot if you ask me! You could have a few fun dates with her!" She grinned. "She's not my type," Ron explained for the thousandth time. It was a running gag that Jennifer was going to tease Ron about dating. "I'm not into airhead receptionist types, no matter how big their ... busts." "Well, then," Jen continued, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "maybe _I_ should ask her out! I happen to like girls with big knockers! I bet she's a wildcat in bed." Jen's comment cut Ron to the heart. She saw the pained expression on his face, despite his efforts to hide it. Jen put her hand on Ron's. "Look, Ron, you _know_ what I am. I can't help it if I think she's cute and sexy." Ron lowered his gaze and stared into his wine glass. "You _know_ how I feel," he complained bitterly. "You know that I think you're the only girl for me." Jen nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Ron looked up, into her perfect green Irish eyes. "I know. And I could never stay mad at you." Jen knew the look only too well. "Ron, please don't." "We've known each other since we were kids," Ron continued. "We've done _everything_ together - climbing trees, racing our bikes, building a tree house." "Playing house when my mom wouldn't let me go outside and do fun stuff," Jen chimed in. Ron blushed. "I was hoping you'd forgotten that." Jen grinned. "You were so sweet. You've always been like a brother." "I wish I wasn't a brother," Ron said, sad-faced. "You know ..." Jen scowled and shook her head. " Ron, please stop! You know that I love you like a brother, and I can't ever love you any other way! You know my ... preferences." Ron pouted. "I can't help it," he said softly. "I grew up with you. A long time ago, I realized that you're the only girl I'll ever truly love." Jen reached across the table and touched him gently on the cheek. "Dearest Ron," she said with a sad smile, "You're my very best friend in the world, but you know I can never be ... physically ... intimate with you! Not ... the way things are!" Ron dropped his gaze, staring forlornly into his wine glass. "I wish you liked guys," he said softly. Jen sighed. "Sometimes, so do I," she said. "God knows, I've tried." She laughed with irony. "Remember that time I got really drunk," she said, "and I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could get up the nerve to seduce you?" Ron nodded slowly. "I remember. And I remember that, even totally hammered, you couldn't ... you know." He shook his head. "I wish there was a way." ********** Ron sat in his easy chair sipping a beer. For some reason, he just wasn't into the game. His friends, whooping and cheering around him, seemed oblivious. It was Ron's turn to host the game-day party, and, as usual, Bill, Chad, Mark, and Ted were all there, drinking beer, eating the snacks, and having a good time. Ron held the door for the guys to file out. The game was over, the post-game show was over, and the beer and snacks were all gone. It was time to leave. He glanced around the room. It was going to take a bit to clean up the mess. It always did. "See you next week?" Ted said cheerfully as he paused in the doorway. "My place?" "Sure," Ron answered unenthusiastically. Bill was next. His gait was far less steady; he'd clearly had too much to drink. "Don't worry," Bill kept reassuring the guys, "I'm taking the subway." Chad nodded approvingly. "A man's got to know his limits," he said with a laugh. He glanced at Ron, then stepped back into Ron's apartment, sidestepping Mark. "I'll give you a hand cleaning up," he offered. "Thanks," Ron said gratefully. He shut the door behind Mark before surveying the damage. "It's really not that bad. Not like the last Super Bowl!" Chad grinned at the memory. "Tell me about it! That was some party." 'Yeah." Ron sighed heavily, as he looked around again before sinking back into his chair. "Man," Chad said, sitting on the sofa, "I've seen you down before, but never like this. Are you okay?" Ron didn't have to think. "No." "So what's up?" Chad pried. "It's Jen," Ron confessed. "I tried to talk to her, but she ...." He just shook his head, unable to continue. "Man, you're _never_ going to score points with Jen," Chad chided. "She's a lez!" Ron nodded sadly. " But she's my best friend! We grew up together! We did everything together! I thought that counted for something." Chad shook his head sadly. "Nope. Not for her. Not unless you can magically change into a broad!" He saw that his joke had no effect on Ron's mood. If anything, this exchange explained much of Ron's lack of enthusiasm for their usual game day party. "You going to be okay?" Chad asked, concerned for his friend. "She's the only girl for me," Ron said sadly, barely looking up. "I can't go on without her." "Whoa, dude!" Chad recoiled in horror at his words. "You're not going to do something ... stupid, are you?" Ron sat silently, staring blankly across the room. For several long seconds, a pin-drop would have been loud. "No," Ron finally said, "I don't think so." Chad let out a breath of relief. "Dude, if you get really feeling like doing something bat-crap crazy, give me a call, okay?" Ron didn't look up from his blank stare. "Okay?" Ron blinked. "Okay." His tone wasn't reassuring. ********** "I promise I won't talk about ... that ... again," Ron said, gazing across the table at Jen. "Okay," Jen said, feeling a little better. "I've had a hell of a week. How about you?" Ron shrugged. "Same old, same old." Jen laughed. "I wish I had a boring routine like you do. We've got some pretty demanding customers, and the new installations aren't going as easily as we'd like. Sales and support are both hammering us!" Ron nodded sympathetically. "I've had my turn with that. In fact, we're going to be gearing up for a new updated version in a couple of months, so the shoe will be on the other foot." Jen giggled. "Sorry, but I don't think you'd look good in my heels!" Ron cracked a smile - the first one of the evening. "Been busy otherwise?" "Beth took me to a movie the other night," Jen admitted. As soon as she'd spoken the words, she realized what she'd said, she added quickly, "Don't pout. It was just a fling." She sighed. "I just can't seem to find anyone that I want a long-term relationship with." Ron stared at her for a moment before his gaze dropped back to his glass. "I wish I were a girl so _I_ could be the one dating you," he whispered softly. He hadn't intended that Jen should hear him. A coincidental lull in both the crowd noise and the background music, though, allowed Jen to hear every word. "What? You wish _what_?" She was completely surprised by what she thought she'd heard. Ron blushed. "Nothing," he tried to pretend he hadn't said anything important. "No," Jen wasn't about to let his comment go. "You said you wished you were a girl so _you_ could date me," she said sternly. "Right?" Ron nodded grimly. "The other day, Chad said the only way you'd ever love me is if some magic wand turned me into a girl." He shook his head. "Damn, it sounds silly. Stupid even." When Jen didn't say anything, Ron looked up. She had a curious expression. "Are you serious?" she asked. Ron nodded slowly. "Jen, I've loved you for a long time. I knew, way back, that I'd do anything for you." He laughed at his comment. "But unless you're a witch, that's impossible." "What if I told you that it isn't?" Jen asked enigmatically, with a curious expression on her face. Ron's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting sex change surgery?" Jen shook her head. "Not quite. SRS is just cosmetic." She took out her smartphone and pulled out, after a bit of browsing on-line, she smiled. "Here," she said, handing the phone to Ron. Ron scanned the phone display, his eyes widening as he did so. "This ... this doesn't sound like ...." He frowned. "What the hell is this?" "It's a program to help unborn babies avoid abortion," Jen explained. Ron wrinkled his nose. "I don't get what that has to do with ...." Jen grasped the phone and turned it slightly so she could see as well. "There," she said, pointing to a spot on the web page she'd found. "That's what I'm talking about." Ron read the page aloud. "Male volunteers can be adoption facilitators as well." He looked at Jen. "So? It sounds like an office job. What does that have to do with ... us?" Jen sighed. "Sometimes, you can be so dense!" she fussed. "I called to check on it. An adoption facilitator is a host womb for the baby that would otherwise be aborted." "Okay," Ron said hesitantly, before he scanned the document more. "I can see that, maybe. I think I've heard of Morris and Henderson; aren't they the top bananas in the biomedical arena?" Jen nodded. "They've perfected a means to transfer a fetus from one mother to another. In this case, if the first mother were going to abort the baby, the host mother would finish carrying it to term so it could be adopted." Ron shook his head. "That's all well and good, but ...." His brow wrinkled. "Hey, wait! Aren't those the two guys who perfected organ cloning, too?" Jen smiled. "You're almost there." "And, by supposition, that would mean a male volunteer ...." Ron's eyes widened with surprise. He slowly realized the totality of what Jen had been trying to tell him. "So it _is_ sex change surgery. With cloned organs? Which would make the ... person ... a fully functional woman who could carry a baby to term?" Jen clapped. "Congratulations! It only took you two and a half minutes to figure that one out!" Ron ignored her barb. "That's ... weird." "As weird as asking a lesbian to fall in love with a straight man?" Jen asked. Ron started to answer, but he paused, his mouth half-open. "It's ...." Jen sighed. "Ron, I love you as a friend. You've always been my best friend. I know you want more, but I can't give it to you, not like this. We tried, remember? I really tried to love you as more than a friend, but I can't get past your gender - not sexually. This might be the only way we can both have what we want." She put her hands on his. "If you want me as a lover, this is the only way I can think of. I can't change!" Ron leaned back in his chair. "Wow," he mouthed softly. "This is .... wow!" He shook his head. "Become a woman? You know what that would mean to my parents, to my friends and co-workers?" He sighed. "That's ... that's too much!" Jen shrugged. "We can always stay best friends," she said. Ron closed his eyes and sighed again. "No, we can't," he answered slowly and sadly. "This is killing me. You're my best friend, but I need _more_ than a friend. I'm ... lonely. I need someone to share my life with." He slowly realized where his emotions were taking him, and he wasn't sure he liked the destination. "I feel so ... jealous every time you talk about one of your dates. I feel like it should be _me_ that is with you. I _know_ it should be you." Jen nodded. "I don't know any other way," she said slowly. "I don't either," Ron agreed. "But I'm not sure I can ...." Jen took her phone and fiddled with it a bit. "I sent you the link. But if you don't want it ...." Ron sighed. "Okay," he said after a long pause. "I'll think about it." ********** Suzie, the receptionist, watched Ron enter the clinic. He seemed quite pensive, and her mental alarms were going off. Unseen to anyone, she pushed the security button hidden under her desktop. As emotional as the entire abortion debate was, the clinic couldn't afford to take chances. Ron glanced around, noticing that the waiting room was full of women. His courage was failing him fast. "Can I help you?" Suzie stood and greeted him. She wore her warmest smile, but it concealed her wariness and suspicion. "Uh," Ron stammered, "I came in to meet with Dr. McKnight about the program." Ron sounded very uncertain of himself. Suzie's defenses went down - a bit. "Oh, you must be Mister MacLaird," she said warmly, shaking his hand. "I'm Suzie, Rachel's ... Dr. McKnight's receptionist." She looked at him and smiled. "You know, from the name MacLaird, I kind of had the mental image of a burly, bearded Scotsman." Ron laughed. "Not me, I'm afraid. However, my Grandpa fit your stereotype to a tee. He wore a kilt everywhere, and he even played the pipes!" Suzie's warmth and manner with clients was one of the key reasons she held her job. She'd put Ron at ease in just a few seconds. "If you'll have a seat, I'll let Rachel know you're here. She doesn't have a very busy schedule with clients today, so she should be right out." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "She tries to reserve today for doing paperwork, but I schedule in clients to give her a break from all her reports. Otherwise, she can get cranky!" She gave him another smile and returned to her desk. Ron sat down and glanced through the magazines. He frowned; they were all women's magazines, relating to beauty, pregnancy, and such unmanly topics. He seriously doubted they had a single copy of a sports or high-tech magazine in the clinic. He sighed to himself and picked up one of the magazines who's cover talked about pregnancy. He figured, based on the job description, that it couldn't hurt to learn a little more about the job at hand. Presently, Rachel emerged from the back of the office. She was of average height, and her face was about average, but her impeccable business suit and perfectly-styled hair made it clear that, if not the director, she was a person of importance in the clinic. Rachel stopped by Suzie's desk, and after a brief hushed conversation, she walked over to where Ron sat. Ron rose, and extended his hand. "Good day t' ye, ma'am. I'm Ron MacLaird," he said in a thick Scottish brogue. Rachel looked surprised, and she glanced over at Suzie. Suzie was staring at Ron, baffled. Ron grinned. "I hope ye dinna mind, but after your receptionist thought I should be a wee bit more Scottish," he said, still in a burr, "I figured I'd give her a wee taste of the true Scot in me." Rachel smiled. "I don't mind at all," she said. "It's important to have a sense of humor." She gestured toward the back of the clinic. "Would you follow me, please?" As Ron walked past Suzie, he saw her expression, which seemed to say, "You got me!" He winked at her. Rachel's office seemed to have two personalities. On the one hand, her formal desk, with a computer, assorted papers, and formal chairs opposite hers was all business. On the other hand, behind her desk to one side was a small couch and two wing chairs, a less formal area. Ron suspected this was for informal discussions or counseling. Rachel chose the formal setting. "Well, Mister McLaird," she began. "Ron," he interrupted. "Please call me Ron. It's a little easier." Rachel nodded. "Only if you call me Rachel," she said. "Deal." "How can I help you?" Rachel asked simply. Ron tried not to show his nervousness. "I want to volunteer," he said simply. Rachel picked up a pencil and absently twirled it in front of her. "Do you have any idea what the job entails?" she asked, sounding a little stern. Ron nodded, gulping. "The job is to save a baby that would otherwise be aborted," Ron answered. Rachel smiled. "That sounds like our ad copy. What does the job _really _entail?" Ron frowned. "I'm not sure I follow you." Rachel put down the pencil. "The 'job' is to go through at least five months of pregnancy, with a swollen belly, swollen ankles, painful breasts, sore back, a kicking baby that makes you have to urinate frequently, cramps, possibly throwing up every morning from morning sickness, strange food cravings, and hormones that make your moods shift faster than you can think. Then, when you think you've had enough of that, you start labor, with contractions, pain, and the unpleasantness of childbirth." She watched his reaction. "In your case, it also entails surgery to change you to a fully-functional woman so you can carry the baby. You'll have two or three periods, with cramping and bloating. You'll have your breasts grow from the new female hormones. You'll have a man's mind in a woman's body. Does that sound like an easy job?" Ron shook his head slightly. "No," he answered softly. "But I want to be a volunteer." Rachel laughed. "So my speech of horrors didn't scare you off?" "No." "Well," Rachel said, as she picked up a pen and began to take notes in a folder, "then let's get to the heart of the issue. Why do you want to do this?" Ron started to answer, but his thoughts failed him. "I guess I really don't know." In his heart, he knew why, and he also knew that he couldn't tell Rachel the true reason. "That's a refreshingly honest answer. It can't be for the money. You've got a very good job." She watched the surprise on his face as she read from his file. "Are you pro-life? Catholic?" "Not really," he answered, "but a baby deserves a chance to live." Rachel felt frustrated. Something didn't feel right about this potential client. "Okay. It's enough of an answer. The next step will be for you to take our psychological test and get a physical." "Okay," Ron said slowly so as not to appear too nervous. In truth, he was terrified of what was in store for him. ********** Butterflies filled Ron's stomach. He sat waiting, watching, for Jen to join him. He took another swig of his margarita, hoping desperately that the alcohol would calm his nerves. As he set the glass down, he saw her stepping briskly toward his table. "What's new?" she asked lightly, scooting herself into a chair. "Same old, same old," Ron tried to be nonchalant. "Are you still working the fourteen-hour days?" Jen picked up the menu and lightly browsed while conversing. "No," Ron said, sounding relieved. "We found the bug and got the patch out last week. I'm back to a normal life." "Did you guys get together for the big game last Sunday?" Jen was clearly trying to make small talk. She noted that Ron was nervous, and she had to fish the cause out of him. She looked at it as a game; avoid the topic until he was ready to burst. "Yeah, my team lost. To make it worse, my college team lost, too, and I lost the office betting pool." "Again," Jen added playfully. "Again," Ron agreed. "There's something ...." he started to say nervously. "Are you planning on seeing the next Star Trek film?" Jen continued, interrupting Ron. "No. Now would you let me talk?" Ron sounded a little annoyed. "Sorry," Jen said with a smile. "It's just fun to stymie you when I know you've got something to say." "You've done that since we were kids," Ron nodded. "And it's still frustrating and annoying." "I said, 'sorry'," Jen apologized again. "So what's the big news?" Ron bit his lip and looked down at the table. He wasn't quite sure how to tell Jen about the application. "I, uh," he stammered uncomfortably, "you know that ad you showed me?" Jen nodded, and then her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. "You didn't!" she said in disbelief. Ron nodded. "I applied the other day, and took a lot of their silly tests." He shook his head. "It was worse than defending my Master's thesis!" he complained. "When do you start? What is the next step? How long will it take before ...?" Jen asked her questions rapid-fire. She was obviously excited. Ron sighed and shook his head. "I haven't been accepted yet." Jen pulled out her cell phone. In seconds, she had a picture displayed. She showed it to Ron. Ron's eyes bugged out, and his jaw dropped. "What...?" he stammered. "When ... when did you get that?" Jen giggled. "I found a picture of you from when we went to the beach a couple of months ago, and I used it at an on-line virtual makeover site. I was just going to tease you about what you could do to be ... attractive to me. But that was before I found the website, and before you decided to go through with it." "But ...?" Jen was moving a lot faster than Ron had counted on. "I'm not sure I'm going to do all that!" Jen wasn't put off by his protest. "Look! With the right clothes and makeup, you're darling! You'll be so _cute_." The last words had a lyrical tone, as if she was daydreaming. Ron looked at the picture more closely. The image was kind of cute, and definitely very feminine. Jen had modified his picture with a sexy, shoulder-length, bob hair style, with feathering, and had applied makeup. His plain, masculine face was radically altered by the makeup, which made his eyes look bigger and softer, his cheeks higher, and his lips more full. The software had even put large hoop earrings in his ears. Below the neck, the image had a bikini top over very large breasts, with a wrap-around skirt covering everything below the waist. "If my best friend looked like this," Jen said, her voice sultry and seductive, "I'd melt. You could look _really_ cute!" Ron started to have second thoughts. This was a very radical change; in the altered picture, he looked not the slightest bit male. Jen was right; he would make a cute girl - not a supermodel, but cute enough. He tried and failed to suppress a shiver. "I don't know if I want to go that far," he said cautiously. "You're going to be a woman where it counts. You might as well change the external appearance to match. Otherwise, it could cause problems with things like restrooms at work, shopping, and so on." Ron winced. He hadn't considered that angle. "Well," he said with hesitance in his voice, "I haven't been accepted yet." Jen smiled and put her hands on his atop the table. "You will be. I just know it." ********** Ron sat in Rachel's office once more. Less than a week had passed since his first appointment, and he'd taken the extremely long and thorough psychological test. He hoped he did okay. It wasn't the type of test where there weren't right and wrong answers; the psychologists interpreted the answers. He'd always hated that type of test. The physical was routine, except for the fact that the entire staff was female. He'd never had a physical by a female doctor, and that had led to a bit of embarrassment. "I've got the results of your tests," Rachel said simply. "And?" Ron asked hopefully. At the same time, he was a bit fearful of what he was getting himself into. This was a very large step. He closed his eyes and pictured Jen, his life-long best friend. He knew that she was worth everything he might be in store for. Rachel bit her lip. She hated the discussion she was about to have. "I'm afraid that you aren't a good candidate for our program," she said bluntly. "I see." Ron seemed to visibly deflate. "Are you sure?" Rachel nodded solemnly. "We have to be very careful when we choose our applicants, especially when they are men. This isn't a walk in the park. It's a very difficult change of a person's entire life. We can't take it lightly." "Oh." Rachel saw his disappointment. "I hope you don't take this too badly. Only two or three men in a hundred pass the psych tests," she tried to console him. Ron sighed. "Okay." He stood slowly, his face deliberately impassive to hide his frustration and disappointment. "Thank you for your time," he said formally. "I think I can see myself out." "Please don't take this personally," Rachel cautioned him. "I won't." Ron shook her hand and walked out the door. Rachel watched him go, frowning as she watched. After he had departed, she looked back at his file and then at her computer screen. "Are you going to lunch today?" Dr. Tina Martelli called from the door. Rachel had been so absorbed in Ron's computer file that she was surprised by Tina's sudden appearance. She shook her head. "No, I'm still trying to catch up on last week's paperwork!" "Hell of a diet plan if you ask me," Tina joked. "Say, what was with that guy, Laird or something?" "Ron MacLaird. He didn't pass." Tina frowned. "Too bad. He seemed like a nice guy, and medically, he's a very good candidate." Rachel shook her head. "He's an _ideal_ candidate," she reported. "He passed the psych test with flying colors, even though he's had a few bouts of mild depression." "So why didn't he pass?" "My judgment," Rachel answered slowly. "There's something that he's hiding ... something in his motivation that he isn't talking about. You know the guidelines: if an applicant can't be upfront with the clinic psychologist, if she suspects anything odd, she _must_ reject the applicant." "That has to be a tough call," Tina agreed. "You know how much we need volunteers." Rachel nodded. "I know. That's why it was so hard." "You really don't want to take a chance after ...?" Rachel shook her head vehemently. "Nope." Tina stared at Rachel for a few seconds without speaking. "I also remember that there's a certain ... latitude ... for the director and counselor to use her judgment," she finally said softly. Rachel sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know, it's ultimately my decision. The burden of command, and all that ...." Rachel leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm playing God." Tina knew that Rachel was in a contemplative mood, and she didn't want advice. She wisely sat silently. "If I take a chance, and if I'm wrong, I might mess up someone's life - badly. If I don't, a baby is probably going to die." She sighed again, and glanced at the pile of papers on her desk. "I need a break from all of this paperwork from time to time." She abruptly pushed her chair back from the desk and stood. "Let's go get some lunch." ********* Chad tried to pry the beer out of Ron's hands. "I think you've had enough for one night." Ron glared at Chad. "No, I haven't," he snarled. "I'll tell you when I've had enough to drink!" He raised his mug and took a big swig, spilling beer down his chin and not really caring. Chad glanced across the table at Bill, who was likewise concerned about Ron. "Ron," Bill tried his luck. "It's almost closing time. We'll get you back to your apartment now, okay?" "I don't wanna go back there," Ron slurred his words. "It's a lonely fuckin' place, and I don't wanna go!" "Look, man," Chad tried another angle, "you're drunk. You're very drunk. Why don't Bill and I get you back home, and you can sleep it off?" "She won't have me unless I turn myself into a chick!" Ron stammered, trying to focus on Chad and Bill but failing. "She won't love me unless I turn myself into a girl!" He turned toward Chad. "I'd make an ugly fuckin' girl, wouldn't I?" Chad wrinkled his nose and glanced sideways at Bill, hoping that maybe Bill understood what Ron was babbling about. Bill shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, indicating he was just as confused as Chad. "Don't you get it? She wants me to have an operation so I can be a girl!" Ron turned toward Bill. "She wants me to be her lesbi ... lesbi ... girl lover!" He looked back into his nearly-empty mug. He looked up toward the bar. "Barkeep!" he stammered loudly. "I need more beer!" Chad glanced toward the bar and, when he caught the eye of the bartender, he shook his head, indicating that Ron didn't need more. He turned back to Ron. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about?" he asked. Ron swigged the last of his beer, spilling about a third of it in the process. "Jen loves me - as a friend! I'm her friend! But I don't want to be just a friend! I want to be her lover!" Chad shook his head. "Dude, she's into girls!" Ron put his finger to his lips. "Shhh!" he hissed loudly. "I'm gonna tell you a secret!" He glanced at Bill, then back to Chad. "There's a place that can make guys into real women to have babies!" He turned back and stared at Bill. "I'd do anything for Jen!" he crooned drunkenly. "Even have my dick chopped off so I could be a girl!" "Man, you are really hammered," Chad tried to get through to Ron. He took Ron's arm. "You're not making any sense! Let's get you home while you can still walk!" "They didn't want me!" Ron wailed, as Chad and Bill pulled him to his feet. Awkwardly, the two friends guided the staggeringly-drunk Ron toward the door. "They wouldn't take me," Ron cried again as they stepped into the street. "So I can't ever be Jen's lover!" Fortunately, the sidewalk was mostly empty, so as Bill and Chad tried to guide the thoroughly-intoxicated Ron down the walk, they didn't run into anyone on their wild course. "They wouldn't cut of my dick!" Ron hissed at Bill. "You know why?" He giggled. "I think it was too much work! My dick is too big!" As Chad held Ron upright, and Bill opened the car door, Ron started to cry. "I'll never be with Jen," he sobbed. "I'll never get to be hers, and she'll never be mine!" He shook his head. "It was my last chance, and I can't do it! I don't wanna live without Jen!" he wailed. "Ron, you'll feel better in the morning," Chad tried to calm him down. "No, I won't! I won't have Jen! I won't have anything! I don't wanna live without Jen!" "C'mon, Ron," Bill urged, "it's not that bad." "I don't wanna live!" Ron wailed again. He looked at Bill, his eyes struggling to focus. "Have you got any sleeping pills?" he stammered. Bill's eyes were wide with shock. "Uh, no!" he answered quickly. "I'm taking you home so you can sleep it off." "No! There's nothing for me there! Just a lonely fuckin' apartment to remind me that I'll never have the girl I love!" Ron sobbed. "I don't wanna go there! I wanna go to the clinic and make them operate!" He continued to babble, but it got softer and softer, until Ron was quiet. "Did he pass out?" Chad asked, glancing into the back seat where Ron leaned against the door. "I think so," Bill sighed. "Man, whatever's going on, he's _really_ taking it hard!" "I've never seen him so depressed." Chad sighed. "I think I better stay there tonight, just to be sure. He was saying some really scary shit!" "Yeah." Bill drove for a while. "Do you have any clue what the _hell_ he was babbling about? Some crap about guys having babies?" Chad shook his head. "He's just totally hammered," he finally said. "Nothing he was saying made any sense!" ********** "Rachel?" Suzie's voice sounded over Rachel's speaker-phone. "Yes," Rachel answered, confused. She glanced at her computer and confirmed she didn't accidentally miss something on her schedule. Suzie _never_ interrupted her, unless there was some kind of problem. "Mr. MacLaird is here, wanting to see you again," Suzie explained. She sounded a little unsettled. Rachel frowned. She'd had to turn down Ron as a volunteer. Now, he was back, and from Suzie's tone, something was wrong. "I'm free right now. Send him in." "Okay," Suzie answered. "And Suzie?" "Yes?" "If you hadn't heard yet, Grace had a baby girl." Rachel gave Suzie the code words that indicated she should let security know about the situation. After some unpleasantness at another clinic, the main offices had security cameras and microphones installed throughout all of the Foundation's clinics. The staff knew a code phrase, with which they could alert security if needed. If Grace's baby was a boy, security would monitor the situation. If Grace's baby was a girl, an armed security officer would be around the corner, just in case, while another would monitor Rachel's office. In a few moments, Suzie knocked and opened the door, showing Ron into Rachel's office. Rachel stood. "It's Ron, isn't it?" she greeted him as she stood and extended her hand. "I didn't expect to see you." Ron shook her hand stiffly. His expression was somber to the point of being frightening. "Doctor," he said in a curt tone. Rachel was taken aback by the formality of his greeting, given that on their previous meeting, he had seemed very accepting of informality. She also noticed that he looked exhausted, as if he hadn't slept in days. "Well, since you're here, there's obviously something on your mind," Rachel tried to be upbeat. "Why don't you sit down, and we can discuss it?" She gestured toward her formal chairs, opposite her desk. The security cameras focused on that area of her office. Ron sat down heavily. "I ... need to know," he began, sounding as tired as he looked. "Why wasn't I accepted?" Rachel winced. "I'm sorry," she explained to Ron, "but we can't explain the reasons. If someone knew precisely how we selected candidates, then someone could figure out how to fool our tests. Given what's at stake, we can't take that risk." Ron nodded his understanding. "Um," he began awkwardly, "there's something I need to tell you," he said, looking down at his hands. "Go on," Rachel urged. "I probably should have told you last time," he admitted softly. "I figured that you probably knew that I wasn't telling you everything." Rachel smiled to herself. Ron was obviously smarter than her average client. "The thought had crossed my mind." Ron nodded soberly. "And with what's at stake, it occurred to me that if you thought I wasn't being entirely truthful, you might take that as enough reason to not accept me." "That may or may not be the case," Rachel said cautiously. She didn't want to give him false hope. "I _have_ to be accepted," Ron said. "There's no other way." Rachel frowned. "No other way for what?" Ron shook his head sadly. "You probably have a policy that officially disapproves, anyway, so it probably wouldn't make any difference," he muttered. "Since your pro-life position is so staunchly religious, then ...." He shook his head again. "It doesn't matter. I have to tell you." "Tell me what?" Rachel prompted again. She was starting to be impatient at Ron's riddles and enigmas; she wished he'd just get it out. Still, she was trying to be calm, because Ron was obviously distraught. "She's been my best friend since ... forever," Ron said sadly. "We met when we were about three." He stared blankly at the wall behind Rachel. "I've always known that she was going to be my true love, my one and only." Ron's gaze dropped to his hands again. "But it can't ever be." Rachel knew he was speaking of love, but was still confused. "Why not?" Ron snorted derisively. "She's ... a lesbian. She can't ever love me, not like I am." He stared at his hands, folded in his lap. "She ... we ... tried." He shook his head. "It just won't work, unless...." "I see." Rachel tried to sound neutral and non-judgmental. "Even if it goes against your policies, I _have_ to volunteer. I have to know if I can do this to ... to be with Jen." "You're talking about giving up your entire life for this girl? And you don't even know if she'll accept you if you do this?" Rachel was astounded, but tried hard not to show it. "This program will change your relationships with everyone else - family, friends, and co- workers. Everyone. This is a huge step we're talking about." "I have to try," Ron said. "This could be ... a test run, a way to find out if we can really be together." He sighed. "But you probably frown on lesbians." "Why do you say that?" Rachel asked simply. Ron looked up, startled. "Because ... because it's .... I figured you'd all say it was sinful and stuff like that." Rachel laughed. "We have policies governing the behavior of our volunteers - to the extent needed to protect the babies, and _no more_." She watched Ron's reaction. "We're not a bunch of bible- thumping preachy types telling everyone they're damned to hell if they aren't moral enough for us!" "Do you know how hard it would be to try to force a male volunteer to be completely female, including relations, in a heterosexual way?" She smiled. "Most men learn to be attracted to women practically from birth, certainly from puberty. You could understand how, once a male volunteer has the surgery, he might find breaking this habit rather hard, and he might find changing orientation to be attracted to men to be nearly impossible!" "But I figured ...." Ron was confused. "You prejudged us without knowing what we're about," Rachel said. She reached up and tapped a button on her phone; without Ron's knowledge, Suzie got the cue to reduce the security monitoring. "We are concerned about the babies," Rachel stated. "No more, no less." "Oh. So if I ...." Ron started. Rachel nodded. "We wouldn't really ask, so long as your behavior conformed to the contractual requirements and limitations. _Those_ are all about protecting the health of the developing fetus." Rachel picked up a pad of paper and a pen. "Why don't you tell me more about this girl you love? I'd like to understand more about _why_ you feel the need to take such a ... drastic ... step to be with her." Thirty minutes later, Rachel leaned back in her chair. "Very interesting story, Ron," she commented. "So ... am I going to be accepted?" Ron asked hopefully. Rachel winced visibly. "It's not that simple. The Foundation policy is to avoid people who want to host a baby as a means to bypass the normal and lengthy psychological evaluations and transition routine to have a sex change. The reality often doesn't match what they were hoping for. But once a post-op TG woman has demonstrated that she's psychologically fit over a considerable period of time, we can be a little more lenient. Hosting is a way for them to feel even more complete and happier. But just using the program as a shortcut to SRS doesn't always ... work out, and then it's very traumatic to the volunteer. We lost some volunteers," she explained, "and a few babies." At the last part, her voice was heavy with grief. She shook her head. "The Foundation considers it too large of a risk to the well- being of the baby." Ron read her expression. "But ...?" Rachel smiled a bit. "You're perceptive, I'll give you that." She paused for a moment to arrange her thoughts. "Based on your psych profile," she began tentatively, "you'd be an excellent candidate without the love angle." Rachel absently tapped her pen against the paper. "Let me confer with my staff," she finally said. "In the end, it's my decision, but I really value their opinions." Ron nodded somberly. "That's ... a 'maybe'," he asked rhetorically, and then continued, "which is better than a 'no', right?" "That's about it," Rachel smiled. ********** "So, what's up?" Suzie asked, easing into one of Rachel's stuffed chairs. Tina set her coffee cup on the end table, as she sat on the sofa. "It's not every day I have to leave a patient waiting while I come to a staff meeting." "Does this have to do with Mr. MacLaird, who's waiting in the lobby?" Suzie asked knowingly. Rachel moved from her desk to the other chair. "I'm getting too transparent. Maybe Tommi was right," she added with a laugh. Suzie laughed. "I think Tommi got to know you almost better than you know yourself." She smiled pleasantly at the memories. "I wonder how she's doing on her PhD?" Tina took a sip of coffee. "You know I've got to get back to my patients. I'm supposed to be in the OR in," she looked at her watch, "thirty minutes for a transfer, and I've got to scrub and prep." Rachel nodded. "This is ... hard." "We've always been more than colleagues," Tina offered. "We're friends. You can tell us, and ask for our advice." Suzie nodded her agreement. "The ultimate decision is yours, though." "I know." Rachel sighed. "Mr. MacLaird is an _ideal_ candidate, save for one thing. His reason for volunteering is the number one reason we don't accept volunteers." "He wants to be female?" Suzie asked. "Yup," Rachel replied. "And there's more. He's very much in love with his childhood sweetheart." Tina whistled. "That means ...." Rachel nodded. "She's a lesbian, and he's convinced that the only way he'll ever find love with her is to volunteer and become completely female." "Wow!" Suzie exclaimed. "No wonder you're a big edgy about this one." "Yeah," Rachel replied simply. "So, what are you going to do?" Tina asked after an awkward silence. Rachel shook her head. "I really don't know," she said softly. "I don't know." "Ultimately, it's your call." "Yes." "But you know the statistics. We're going to hit peak season in a few months," Tina reminded Rachel. "Yeah - springtime, when all the 'winter conceptions' will be aborted. I know we're going to be short on volunteers again," Rachel replied gruffly. "I take a chance with Mr. MacLaird, or we lose a baby." She realized what her words sounded like. "I'm sorry. It's just that this case has me ... uneasy." "You don't want to take a chance, is that it?" Suzie asked. Rachel nodded. "That's pretty much it." "So, what would you do if it weren't for the love interest? Would you accept him then?" she continued. Rachel's eyes opened fully. "Well, yeah," she replied. "He scored _very_ well in all the tests - except for the area of family acceptance." "So it really isn't taking a chance, is it?" Tina prompted. Rachel shook her head. "If the romance angle goes sour, he's going to be an emotional wreck. The risk to the baby..." Tina and Suzie both nodded. "Yeah," Suzie said. "But the risk to _a_ baby if he isn't accepted?" "I know. I guess I really don't have a choice, do I?" Rachel asked, seeking counsel. "We need every womb we can get." ********** To Ron, the walk back to Rachel's office seemed miles long, and each step was an adventure in growing uncertainty. While Suzie poked her head into the office to announce their presence, Ron gulped, hoping to calm himself somehow. "Show him in," Rachel said from behind her desk. Ron walked in, trying to read Rachel's expression. He couldn't. "Well?" he asked, anxiously. Rachel smiled. "Welcome to the program," she said, extending her hand. Ron nearly collapsed with relief. "Oh, thank you!" he gushed. Rachel gestured to her chair. "Please sit down, and we'll start to discuss the contractual aspects. Let's see if some lawyer-talk will scare you off." She sat down and opened her desk, pulling out a thick folder. "And Mister MacLaird?" "Yes?" Ron asked hesitantly. Rachel's expression was somber. "I _hope_ you won't prove me to be a bad judge of character." ********** The room swam in and out of focus as Ron struggled to regain consciousness. He saw a face smiling down at him. "You're in recovery," the nurse said reassuringly. "Your operation went very well." "Uh, wha....?" Ron tried to speak, but the only noise that came out was a hoarse croaking sound. "Your operation went very well," the nurse reassured him. "I'll be with you for a couple of hours until we move you to a private room." "All?" Ron croaked. The nurse smiled. "Everything was done in the first surgery. At least with your ... plumbing, you're completely female." Ron nodded. "Sore," he croaked, trying to point to his throat. The nurse nodded and held some ice chips for him to suck on. "Try a little bit of ice," she suggested. "Start slowly, though." Ron greedily sucked on the ice she offered. "More." "Remember to take it easy," the nurse cautioned him. "You had anesthesia, so your stomach may be a bit unsettled for a while. We would really rather you don't start vomiting." Ron sucked on some more ice chips, then let his head flop back on his pillow. "God, I really did it!" he whispered hoarsely. "I really did it." The nurse smiled. "Yes, you did. By the way, I'm Beth. I've been assigned to you, and I'll be at your beck and call for the next several days. Part of my job will be to help you start learning about how things work ... downstairs." Ron blushed at the thought of a female nurse teaching him about private parts. Then he felt silly; he now had the same lower anatomy, and he had no logical reason to be embarrassed. Still, it was going to take getting used to. He suspected that his gender-identity troubles were just beginning. "Are you feeling any pain?" Beth asked. Ron shook his head. "Just ... tired." "That's good," Beth smiled, "but if you do feel some, just press this," Beth laid a small thumb button next to his hand, "only if you feel the need. A pain reliever will be dispensed into your IV." Beth continued. "Now then, do you remember what you and your friend asked for? The ... enhancements?" Ron furrowed his brow, then his eyes widened as he realized he hadn't been dreaming. He blushed again. "Um, not really. Did I ask for... bigger?" Beth giggled. "You asked for something to compensate for your family's tendency to be small-breasted, if I correctly remember what you said on the gurney." "So ... what...?" Ron started to ask, embarrassed. Beth smiled. "No need to feel embarrassed," she reassured him. "You told Rachel earlier in an interview, and when your ... friend ... expressed interest in you having bigger ... breasts, you couldn't say no. I take it you really love her." Ron nodded. He was starting to feel very comfortable talking with Beth. Of course, that was by design; the staff was carefully trained to help patients feel like family and at ease. "Best friend ... since forever," Ron said. "More ice, please?" Beth gave him more ice. "The doctor implanted a time-release drug capsule in each breast. Over the next few months, it'll be working with the rapid-healing drugs to fool your body into thinking it's programmed for larger breasts." "How ... big?" Ron asked, fearful of the answer. He really didn't remember talking with Jen about it while he was in pre-op. Beth laughed. "Not as big as your companion was suggesting, I'm guessing. Probably a C-cup when all the growth is done." Ron sighed. "Was I dreaming or did she want me to get double D's?" Beth smiled. "Actually, she was trying to persuade you into an F cup." Ron's eyes widened. That would have been huge. "Fortunately," Beth continued, "Rachel wouldn't let you do that, because you were already getting groggy from the anesthesia. But you were ready to do almost anything she wished." "Yeah," Ron confirmed. "I guess I'd do anything for Jen." Beth laughed. "Not quite. She was also trying to talk you into the bio-compatible implant that would help define your breasts, and give you immediate size and shape!" ********** Ron sat with Jen in the lobby of the center. She was very intrigued by the choice of reading material, whereas Ron was visibly nervous. Jen held a picture in front of Ron. "Look at this outfit. It's so cute! Just think - when you're pregnant, you can wear an outfit like this." "Uh," Ron stammered, "I still look like a guy." Jen slapped his hand playfully, like he'd just said something silly. "No you won't," she said. "Once we get your hair to grow out more and style it, get some earrings, get rid of that nasty beard, you'll look very sweet." She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. "That fast-healing medicine that you're taking is making your hair grow pretty quickly, so I bet it's long enough for a nice feminine style already." Ron shuddered inwardly. He knew that Jen was already envisioning him as a complete woman. He, however, was having problems just with the first steps of the program. "I'm still getting used to my new ... plumbing," Ron said softly. "I'm not sure I want to change so much so quickly." Jen laughed. "Once your boobs start growing, you're not going to have much of a choice. It's going to be hard to hide them." Her eyes suddenly widened as she thought of something else. "And what are you going to do about restrooms at work? You can't exactly use the men's room anymore." Ron gulped. "I hadn't thought of that." "You're going to have to. You can't spend all the healing time and pregnancy on sick leave, you know." "I know," Ron agreed reluctantly. "It'll be ... awkward." "You can't use the men's room now," Jen continued. "And if you use the women's without other ... changes, some women will freak out." Ron sighed heavily. "I knew I was going to have to confront the issue sooner or later, so I guess the best thing is to do it and get it all over with. I've got a meeting with HR on Monday morning, so that's probably a good time to figure out these issues." "Have you thought of a name?" Ron frowned. "What's wrong with my name?" "Nothing," Jen said lightly, "if you want to use a masculine name on a feminine body." "Oh." Ron sounded a bit deflated by her logic. Losing his name, on top of everything else, was a big step. "I looked up a few Scottish names, because I thought you'd want something that accentuated your heritage. How about Rhona? Or Rebecca?" Jen suggested. "Or Rosslyn? I like the more traditional and uncommon names." She smiled. "I think you'd be a cute Rosslyn." "I'll ... have to think about it," Ron said. Jen leaned on his shoulder, clutching his arm. "It'll be okay. I'll help you any way I can." Ron smiled for the first time in the conversation. "I know." "Ron?" Suzie called from the reception desk. "Yes?" "Dr. Tina is ready for you. I think you know the way." "Uh, can ... can Jen come back, too?" Suzie winced at the request. "I'll have to check with Rachel." Jen patted his arm. "That's okay. I'll wait here for you." She held up a magazine. "There are lots of pictures of outfits I can look at and try to imagine you wearing in a few months," she added with a grin. Ron walked down the hall toward the nurse's station. "Hi, Beth," he said when she looked up and saw him. "Good morning, Ron," Beth answered warmly. "How are you doing today?" Ron shrugged. "Okay, I guess. At least I've gotten out of the habit of lifting my toilet seat." Beth laughed. "Every man who does this ends up far more sympathetic to a woman's bathroom needs." She pointed at the scale. "You know the drill." Ron nodded and stepped on the scale. After Beth had recorded his weight, she showed him into an exam room. "Take your clothes off, and put on this," Beth said, putting an exam gown on the table. "I've almost got you trained," she added with a grin as Ron started to unbutton his shirt even before Beth had started talking. Ron nodded. "Yeah, I know, but that doesn't make it any less embarrassing." Beth smiled. "You'll get used to it." "That's what Jen says," Ron sighed. He took off his shirt as soon as Beth closed the door behind herself. In no time, he was naked except for the gown. He sat on the exam table, waiting. He didn't have to wait long. That was one thing he noticed about the clinic; they were very precise with their scheduling. "How are you doing today?" Dr. Tina asked as she came in, carrying a tablet computer in one hand. With the free hand, she shook Ron's hand. Ron shrugged. "I'm still getting used to things." Tina nodded. "Let's start on top. How are your breasts doing?" Ron slipped the top of the gown off his shoulders, exposing his chest. His nipples were larger, and conically-puffed out; naked, they showed clearly their development. "They're growing pretty fast," he noted. "That's from the rapid-healing protocol we use. They did three to four months' growth in the last three weeks." "They're pretty sensitive. Sore, I mean." Tina examined his small boobs. "Chafing? From your shirts, maybe? They shouldn't be sore from growing." Ron nodded. "Most of my shirts are pretty coarse, and they make my ... nipples ... pretty raw by the end of the day. I've been wearing T- shirts mostly, but I go back to work next week, so I'll need to figure out something." Tina palpated the tissue. "They're growing nicely. A little faster than normal, but you _did_ get the 'sports package'," she said with a sly grin. Ron blushed. "Yeah." "A soft camisole under your shirt might help with the chafing." "That's what Jen suggested," Ron agreed. "But ...." Dr. Tina kept from chuckling. "Or a soft bra, which would give the added benefit of support, so they don't get saggy. You can talk about those types of adjustments with Rachel. I assume you have an appointment with her today, too?" "Yeah." "Okay, let's check my handiwork. Up in the stirrups." Ron turned, lifting his legs until they were resting in the cold steel stirrups. "Now I know why women don't talk much about gyno exams," he observed. Tina nodded, laughing lightly. "It can be pretty ... personal." "After what I've been through," Ron said with a sigh, "I don't have a lot of personal dignity left anyway." Twenty minutes later, Ron had his clothes back on and was in Rachel's office. "How are you doing today?" Rachel asked by way of greeting, as she gestured for Ron to sit in the 'informal' area of the office. Ron sighed. "You're the third one to ask that exact question. What is it, a form question you have around here?" He smiled, letting her know that he was joking. "We all care," Rachel countered lightly. "Do you want to tell me about your thoughts for going back to work next week?" Ron shrugged. "I've got a meeting scheduled first-thing Monday with HR. I figured that they'll consider it a special case of someone who's transitioning." "How are you going to handle it when people start noticing ... differences?" "I've asked my manager to address our group at the Monday staff meeting. I figured I'd just level with everyone. I'm doing a Morris- Henderson baby, so for the time being, I'm female from the waist down." "There are going to be a lot of questions," Rachel said warily. "And some of your co-workers aren't going to be very supportive." "I know." Ron smiled. "As long as I've got Jen, I figure I'll be okay." "That'll help," Rachel said, speaking very deliberately, "but Jen won't be at work with you. Your co-workers are going to notice, especially since you got the 'enhancements.'" She deliberately glanced at Ron's chest in a way that he noticed. "You're going to quickly reach a point where it won't just be 'from the waist down'." Ron blushed. "That's true." "Some of your co-workers won't be able to accept the change. The same holds true for your friends, and, sadly, some of your family. Have you told any family, or any of your 'game day' buddies?" Ron looked down, shaking his head slowly. "No, not yet." "They _will_ notice," Rachel cautioned again. "Some of my patients just tell everyone up front. Some try to hide it." "I'd assume that's kind of tough when they're eight months pregnant," Ron chuckled. Rachel grinned and laughed. "Yes, it is." She became more serious. "I want you to tell me, and to be honest. How much change is your girlfriend pushing you into? Do you feel like she's pressuring you into changes?" Ron bit his lower lip and stared at the opposite wall as he thought about what Rachel had said. "Maybe some," he finally said. "She wants me to get my hair styled, and get the treatment to stop my beard from growing." He looked down, his eyes half-shut. "I guess she is pressuring me a bit." "A bit?" "Okay," Ron admitted reluctantly, "she's pressuring me quite a bit." "It was at her insistence that you got the extra treatment to grow larger breasts, remember?" "Yeah," Ron nodded. "There are only two things you can do right now. First, go all the way and change as quickly as you can into a woman - totally. The second is to try to hide your changes as long as you can." "Jen thinks ...." Rachel cut off his words. "This isn't about what Jen thinks, or what Jen wants," she scolded him. "This is about how _you_ want to handle this." Ron flinched, which didn't surprise Rachel. "Um, the only way I can see it is for me to get the changes done up front, to minimize the time of questions and confusion." "I see," Rachel started taking notes. "How do you feel about changing completely to be a woman?" "I've been trying to figure out how I feel. It's not a big deal to me," he said half-heartedly. "It's not like I've been trying to be Mister Macho Studly all my life." He leaned back in the chair. "When I was little, I did stuff with my mom all the time. You know, things that other boys said were sissy. I learned to sew, I cook, and I bake. When I was six, I was cooking my own hot breakfasts." "How much did you do with your dad?" "We built things. We went to ballgames. Normal father-son stuff, I guess." "So would you say that your gender identity isn't as much a part of you as with others?" Ron shrugged. "I guess." He smiled. "I thought you'd know the answer to those types of questions from the tests I took." "I wanted to hear it from you," Rachel confessed. "Like a lot of things we'll be talking about during your ... term, there are things you need to admit to yourself. How are you two doing for the physical part of your relationship?" Ron looked immediately down, and felt his cheeks burning. He knew that Rachel could guess just from his reaction. "Uh, we've ...." "I figured as much. Was it what you expected?" "Being close to Jen is wonderful. The things she does to me, and what I can do to her - it's better than I expected. Especially how she likes to cuddle afterwards." Rachel leaned back and put down her pen. "What's your plan to get ready for work, then?" "I guess I'll get my hair styled this afternoon. Jen offered to help me shopping, and learning how to do makeup." Ron smiled. "It'll be fun to spend the rest of the day with her." "When you have your meeting on Monday, I can come to answer any questions that might arise," Rachel offered. "It might help things go a little easier." Ron thought for a moment. "Maybe, but I'm not sure how the others would react. They might think you're recruiting or pushing the Foundation's view." He shook his head. "I'm going to have to deal with a lot of people's questions. I'll try this one on my own." He smiled. "I'll give your contact information to HR, though. I'm sure they will have a lot of questions." "Okay," Rachel agreed. She was pleased to see Ron sounding a bit more in control, rather than being a love-struck puppy to Jen's wishes. She was really concerned that Ron's changes were being directed by Jen, and not by him. "If you need more help, though ...." ********** Ron paced nervously as he waited for the doorbell to ring. In contrast, Jen sat casually on the sofa, sipping a glass of wine. "Would you relax?" she asked, for perhaps the twentieth time. "Everything is going to be okay." Ron paused his pacing and spun toward her. His expression reflected his concern. "How can I relax?" he asked. "The guys didn't know what I was going to do. This is going to be a big shock to them." "They're still your friends," Jen said softly. Ron spread his arms and looked down at himself. "They're going to think I look silly," he complained. "Or gay." Jen stood, and cupping the wine glass in one hand, strode to Ron's side and wrapped her free arm around him. She lifted her lips and gave him a very seductive kiss. "You _are_ gay!" she said simply. "You're my lover, remember?" Ron melted and let himself enjoy the kiss. Jen was hot, and she was a very good kisser. He was feeling all tingly inside. Jen laughed suddenly, causing Ron to frown. "What?" he demanded softly. "I just smeared your lipstick," Jen giggled. Ron frowned. "Not funny," he complained. Jen shrugged and led him to his bathroom, where he could touch up his makeup in the large mirror. Even as he started to carefully apply the lessons he'd learned earlier in the day, he still couldn't help but look at himself in the mirror. Herself. The transformation was pretty amazing. With the Beard-Stop cream making his face silky-smooth, and with lipstick, eye-shadow and liner, and some foundation and blush, Ron's face wasn't unattractive. In fact, he thought, if his nose were a little smaller, and his chin was less angular, he'd be a rather cute woman. His Adam's apple was still rather prominent; Jen had made a fuss about that, and how he'd have to get a bit of cosmetic surgery to take care of that. He'd surprise her when he let her know that it was already scheduled. Framing his face, Ron's hair was a short, sassy, and very feminine cut, a style that in no way could be mistaken for masculine. With studs in his ears, and the makeup, the effect was almost unbelievable. Ron was a modestly attractive woman - at least from the neck up. Ron was wearing a stylish dress, and beneath it, a push-up, padde