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WE NEVER MAKE MISTAKES. BY OLIVIA EVANS. The silver haired man in the white doctor's coat frowned in obvious annoyance at my complaint that a terrible mistake had been made. "Excuse me, but it is _you_ who are mistaken, we never, ever, make mistakes," he said frostily, offended that I would have the audacity to even think of suggesting it. "Then how do you explain these?" I demanded as I pointed towards the alien objects. "Explain what?" he asked, looking again where I had been pointing. "These... these... lumps!" I replied angrily, not willing to acknowledge even to myself what they were. He stopped staring at my bare chest and looked sideways into my eyes. There was a slightly bewildered look on his face. I could tell that he was wondering if I was crazy or just plain stupid. "Those 'lumps' as you call them, are mature mammary glands, i.e. breasts or, if you prefer more common and much cruder terms, boobs or...." he shuddered slightly, "...tits. Under certain circumstances they are capable of secreting a liquid commonly referred to as 'mother's milk'. They are, if I may say so myself, perfect. They are neither too large nor too small for the rest of your body..." The REST of my body? I hadn't thought to look beyond the startlingly huge mounds of flesh firmly attached to my chest. I slowly lifted the sheet that covered the rest of my body to peek underneath. "...and are absolutely exquisite in shape and form. They're rather... uh, perky, if I do say so myself," he finished proudly. For the first time since I died, I wished I'd never been born. They had to give me a shot to calm me down. A few seconds later, I was in a twilight daze. Darkness over took me. The Doctor shook his head, sighed then nodded to the intern. "Take her to the exam room, we'll finish her physical there," he looked down at me with amusement in his eyes, chuckled, "No, missy, WE never make mistakes...." -0-0-0- I suppose I should explain what had transpired in the last few days before my death so that all this would make some kind of sense. Maybe if I explained it well enough, I might even begin to understand it myself. -0-0-0- First of all, despite my conversation about my rather full and well- formed breasts with the man in the white doctor's coat, I am a man, or at least I was before I died rather prematurely. About four days ago, or rather four days prior to the date of my death, my wife Nancy and I were sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying a cup of coffee after our Sunday breakfast. Coffee. That was about all we were enjoying. We had just had one of our knockdown, drag out fights over something. To this day I still don't remember what it was that I'd done to offend her, but it had to have been something important. We had "discussed" whatever it had been for nearly an hour before eating breakfast. By the time I finished scraping the dirty dishes clean and putting them in the dishwasher, I found myself apologizing, as usual. I really didn't know for what, which was also as usual. Most of the "discussions" in our ten years of married life ended that way, with me always being in the wrong. Nancy, smug in her latest small victory, snapped opened the Sunday morning newspaper, and turned to the Business Section. Nancy considered herself to be an astute business person and always read the Business Section first. Personally, I like to read the funny papers, after I've read the fashion news that is. "Mark, listen to this," she said looking up from the half page advertisement she had been reading. "'The Ultimate Insurance Policy is now available to the general public'," she read aloud from the ad. "'Unlike most life insurance policies, The Life Assurance Policy does not pay your beneficiary after your death, but actually guarantees that you will have a long and happy life yourself after what most people would consider to be the end of life..." she continued reading the rest of the ad to herself. I perked my ears up, not quite believing what I had heard. Who sells it, I wondered, a con man, or some weird cult that was promoting reincarnation? Unfortunately, for what would occur later, my curiosity got the better of me. "An 'after life' life insurance policy?" I asked. "That's what it appears to be. At least, it sounds something like that. It has to be some kind of joke or confidence game," she replied, mirroring my own thoughts. Falling silent again, she read the rest of the strange advertisement and looked at me thoughtfully for a few minutes. Obviously making up her mind about something, she circled a telephone number and picked up the telephone we had installed next to the table. She dialed what appeared to be a long distance telephone number. I frowned when I mentally counted the numbers, there had been an area code. Because I did most of my work at home, our monthly telephone bills were always huge and I could just barely manage to pay it each month out of my salary. It would be even larger this month, I frowned. Seeing my expression, she said, "Don't worry, it's an '8000' number. Since they're paying for it, I thought that I would...." She stopped and listened for a few seconds while someone answered on the other end. I lost interest in the conversation after she had told the salesman that she had read the ad and was interested in hearing more about the policy. Nancy talked to the salesman for nearly half an hour, giving me ample time to finish the funny papers. About the same time I finished reading a vintage "Terry and the Pirates" comic strip, I heard Nancy making an appointment for a physical for Monday afternoon. "Now, what are you doing?" I asked. "Don't you think that our million dollar policies are enough?" "Mark Oberman!" she said annoyed, thinking that I had been listening in on her conversation. "You heard my end of the conversation, and you know very well that the policy is for you! I've been after you to take some extra insurance out on yourself ever since you had food poisoning on our honeymoon ten years ago. You haven't and frankly, I'm tired of waiting. Mark, you're thirty-five years old and sometimes you act like you were a petulant five year old when it involves spending a little bit of money!" "But honey, I don't think that I can afford another payment. My salary is stretched pretty thin as it is," I said, trying to make her see my side of the issue. After all, I was was making all of the household payments and most of our personal expenses, including the payments for her new Bentley and my 6 year old Fiat 500, (which needed new tires, by the way). She got that "I don't want any arguments" look on her face as she continued to speak. "I'm going to buy you a Life Assurance Policy, and that's that." "Why do you want another insurance policy on me? You've got all the money that you could ever use from 'Nancy's'." I asked the same question that I asked each time the question of insurance policies or money came up. "That's true, I do have all the money I could ever use, or need. But if something ever happened to you...." She trailed off, not wanting to finish. As much as I knew Nancy loved me, I also knew the reason why she had constantly harped on me getting more insurance. I already had an excellent policy as did she. Although truthfully, the small death benefit value, (well, a million dollars is small in comparison to the total worth of "Nancy's"), wouldn't have made that much difference. If worse came to worse, she could always sell off some of the "Nancy's" stores. Of course she would never stand for that, they were part of her "family". No, it wasn't really my death that would bother her, it was what would happen to the business. We both knew that "Nancy's", our small chain of 30 upscale women's apparel and lingerie stores, wouldn't last a year if I died. The million wasn't to cushion the blow of my death, it was to buy Nancy enough time to find a new chief buyer. It made sense and try as I could, I couldn't find fault in her business logic. Nancy has a superb sense of business, but frankly, also had an atrocious taste in women's clothing. It was so bad, that most days, I selected the clothing Nancy wore to the office. It looked like I was going to end up with an "after" life insurance policy no matter what I said, so why bother to complain again that I couldn't afford it. I just hoped that it would be cheap enough to squeeze into my household budget without having to eliminate some essential, such as food. -0-0-0- Later that day we got around to something I liked to do. Like the thousands of Valley Girls who, with their wealthy father's credit cards or rich boyfriends, we went going shopping for skirts and dresses. Not for me, understand, unlike most of the men the Valley Girls dragged along with them however, I loved looking at and shopping for women's clothing. Generally, all I do is watch what women are wearing and when. If I actually look at women's clothing in the stores, it's mostly to find out who is selling what and who the manufactures are. Buying women's clothing for a living is not all hard work, in fact I've rarely found myself being even the slightest bit tired, even after hours of wandering between the miles of clothing racks in the designer's wholesale showrooms. If you closely at the rich and famous at the top designer's runway events, you would have seen me sitting in the back row, making copious notes. Funny thing, usually when I'm asked what I do, I tell the truth, that I'm in women's clothing, I get strange looks. Occasionally, I get someone who throws me that look that that tells me they think I actually wear women's clothing while I work at a desk job or something. Years ago, they would have had a fight on their hands. Now I treat it as a big joke and take delight in announcing I'm also in women's lingerie. If they laugh I don't bother to explain. If they don't, I give them my card and explain the humor of the joke. Make no mistake, in spite of my feeble little joke, and while I am very, very good at what I do, I have never worn an article of women's clothing or lingerie in my life! I work hard to make sure that what I buy is both trendy and in good taste. As a result, my stores, I like to think of them as mine, even though Nancy is the majority shareholder, (95% to my 5%), do quite well. In fact, last year the net profit from just three of the "Nancy's" stores was well over seven figures. Not that I see much of it. For business reasons, Nancy has me listed as an employee for a small salary and a small slice of profit sharing. I can't complain, last year I did quite well, grossing a little over 50 grand. Although, most of it went to make our house payments (leased from the Nancy's corporation for business reasons), our car payments, and of course, running the household. Nancy often referred to my salary as my allowance. Most people, even our closest business associates, don't know that Nancy and I are married. Being a "silent partner" in more ways than one with my wife is at best, trying. Other than selecting inventory, I have very little say in the actual running of the stores. When we're in the office, I'm frequently treated by Nancy with no more respect than if I were a mere salesclerk. Less in fact, Nancy is quite friendly with a few of the more attractive young ladies. Sometimes, she is friendlier than I care for. But that isn't really part of my story. Not really. -0-0-0- The offices of the insurance company were located on the top floor of the tallest building in town, a bare two blocks from our corporate headquarters. Which wasn't saying much considering that the building was only four stories high. Of course the elevator wasn't working and I had to climb the stairs. There's a hundred and two of them, in case you're interested. I will have to admit, the offices were worth the climb. I don't think that I've seen anything more opulent this side of "Commercial Decorator's Digest" in my life. I mentally took some notes, there were color combinations here that would look terrific in some of "Nancy's" more cosmopolitan stores. The New Life Assurance Company also must have learned that old adage "the better looking the receptionist is, the easier the sale". At least it seemed that way. The girl, young woman really, she was too well built to be called a girl, "manning" the front desk, asked my name with a voice that was more music than anything else. When I told her, she picked up a telephone and spoke softly into it. When she hung up the handset, she nodded toward an open door to her right. "Mr. Oberman, come in, we've been expecting you," a deep voice called out from the open office door. We? I walked in the medium sized lavishly appointed office expecting to see it crowded with people. Other than the salesman who had invited me in, I was the only person in the room. I always hated it when people speak in the third person plural. The well-dressed New Life Assurance Company salesman looked like an ordinary likable individual, big smile and all. Not unlike most of the salesmen I've met in years of buying ladies undies. I think that somewhere there is a secret school just for salesmen, especially those who sell insurance, that includes a course of instruction entitled "Likeability 101". A course of instruction that was usually followed by the classic "Selling Bridges made easy, 201". Of course, I disliked him instantly. I returned his smile with my own "I like you more", smile and prepared to gird myself against being swindled. "Please sit down Mr. Oberman," he said, indicating an overstuffed chair. I sat, sinking deep in the cushion. "Usually," he began without further preamble, "we have those who are buying our life insurance policies go to their own doctor for their physicals. But since this is a new and very special type of policy, we felt it was necessary to have our own doctors involved." "Sounds reasonable," I agreed. "After all, it is your money that you'll be paying out if I die." The salesman got a slightly pained look on his face. "Mr. Oberman, I think that you have misunderstood what our new policy will do for you. We will not be paying out anything. What we guarantee with the New Life Policy is the continuance of your very life." "And just how do you propose to do that?" I asked somewhat sarcastically. The salesman leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips together. His hands looked like a very pale black widow spider doing pushups on a mirror. He smiled his patented "Likeability 101" glistening pearly white smile again. "Very simple, Mr. Oberman, we do it by giving you a new body. Custom built, either identical to your present body, or if you prefer, to a completely new body tailored to meet your own set of specifications." He smiled broadly again at the dumbfounded question forming on my face. "No, Mr. Oberman, it?s not a mechanical man," he added before I could suggest that it would be. "It?s a living, breathing human body, perfect in all respects. We, uh...'grow' them, for a lack of a better term, using a very secret proprietary formulary process and something like an enormous 3D printer, only quite different to be sure." "Yes, of course.... I see," I said, not really understanding what was involved. "Now then, if you're ready, I'll take you to see the doctor for your interview." We stood up and he led me down a long corridor to an unmarked door that surprisingly appeared to be locked. He unlocked and opened it, stuck his head carefully inside, ready to jerk it back as if expecting something unpleasant thrown at him. When nothing happened, he announced, "Mr. Oberman is here for his exam, Doctor." He stood aside and motioned me to go on in. I went in the room, trying hard not to show my reluctance. The room looked like something out of a very bad Grade "B" science fiction movie. Along three walls was shelving, which were, as well as every other horizontal surface in the room, crammed with all kinds of scientific looking thingamajigs. Some, like the computer terminal on a small, cheap metal desk, were recognizable, most were not. The fourth wall, the one with the door I had just walked through, had a huge picture of an object that took me a while to figure out. It was a close up of a human eye, or more precisely just the iris, blown up to wall size. Somehow it seemed to fit the personality of the doctor, I later determined. As strange as the eyeball picture was, however, the oddest object of all in the room, was sitting behind the desk. My first thought was that the Doctor was the epitome of all the mad scientists in all the cheesy horror films I had ever seen. His head was closely shaven on the sides and back, and had a shock of pure white mop like hair standing straight up on top. His clothing looked, and smelled, like they had been slept in for a week. And to this day, I'll swear that when he burped, it smelled faintly of formaldehyde. No wonder they kept this guy locked up, I thought as I nervously sat down in the hard wooden arm chair across from him. "Ah, yes. You're here to tell me what kind of body you want after you die," he said, reading from a single sheet of paper in a green folder. He spun around to the computer key board and stated. "The best place to start is with sex. What kind of sex do you like?" He looked up expectantly waiting my answer. What kind of crazy question was that? I asked myself. Obviously, one that only a mad scientist would ask, was the only answer I could think of. I decided that I would have a little fun with this guy. "Sex?" I repeated. "Lots of it." He actually started to type it into the terminal before it registered. He turned from the screen and looked at me. "No, not _SEX, sex_, which _gender sex_ do you want your new body to be? Male or female?" That was when I noticed that one of his eyes was looking directly at me while the other was staring over my right shoulder at the corner of the room. I fought the urge to turn around and look. Normally I don't make fun of other people?s physical disabilities, but this was too much. Thinking that all of this was some kind of massive practical joke, I couldn't help myself, I mentally cracked a smile. I decided to play along with the company's sense of humor. Mistake No. 1 "Sex? Uh, why female of course," I said, outwardly serious, inside however, I was splitting a gut I was laughing so hard. "After all, I?ve been in women?s lingerie and clothing for years," I stated, making an attempt to get a reaction out of the Doctor. I was a little disappointed when he merely said, "Fully functional, of course?" Then entered the word "yes" into the computer before I could say anything. "Hair color?" he asked continuing his questions in an almost disinterested tone of voice. "Blonde, what else?" I responded quickly, half afraid that he would enter "bald" if I hesitated too long. The rest of questions dealt mainly with the size, shape and so on of the "body" that I would receive when I died. Actually the specifications that I gave him were those of a real girl. Slightly enhanced of course, I had made her about three inches taller, nearly 5'9', and a little bustier. But still patterned after a slender long legged girl I had known in collage and had been in love with long before I met Nancy. Her name was Susan Wentworth. Now there had been a fox if I'd ever seen one. Like most first loves, I'd never been able to get her out of my mind. In fact, it was a "Susan" that I had in mind when I bought the sexier lingerie for "Nancy's". The final question took me by surprise. "Age?" "Age?" I repeated, not quite believing what I had been asked. "Age, you know, how old do you want to be? With our technology you can be anywhere from a toddler to the age you are now, or even a senior citizen if you prefer, all though that would be kind of weird," he added with a slightly bewildered look. A toddler? Out of the question. Still, it might be kind of fun to be young again. For some reason the number 15 popped into my head. "I?m thirty-five now. Uh, how about late teens or early twenties?" The Doctor looked at me, nodded and said, "Let?s split the difference. Twenty, it is." Finally we finished all the questions on his list, and printed a copy of the information. "Sign here please," he said indicating a blank space with my name printed under it. I signed and started to get up to leave. "Wait, don't you want to see what you'll look like? Or shall I have the standard color print sent to you?" This kind of startled me. Did they actually have spare bodies stacked up like cord wood somewhere? "Uh, sure. Uh, could I have both?" I asked, sitting back down. With a few seconds a computer generated picture was flashed on the computer screen. There standing in the nude, and slowly rotating, was a miniature of my enhanced version of Susan's body. Susan's body with my feminized face. Now, as a male, I'm not homely enough to scare a bulldog off of a meat wagon or anything like that, but my face, even with all the long blonde hair, thin eyebrows, smaller nose and full lush red lips just did not belong on that gorgeous body. "Uh, is there something you can do with the face?" I asked, not because I seriously wanted to improve the image of my feminine self, you understand, but for the esthetic value of the poor girl on the terminal screen. The doctor silently pushed a few buttons and there was a close up of my own masculine face. The doctor waited expectantly for me to speak. I studied it for a second or two and started to make suggestions. Each change brought it a little closer to what I considered to be ideal. As before, I had two real life models to work from, Susan and my wife, both of which I consider to be very beautiful women. When the face of the girl was done, it wasn't a picture of either Susan or Nancy, and it certainly wasn't me. In fact about the only similarity between the girl?s and my own face was the color of our eyes, blue. She had a combination of Nancy's and Susan's features when they had been freshmen in Collage, and was far better looking than either. I could have easily fallen in love with the 20 year old blue eyed blonde on the computer screen. I stared at the image while the doctor merged the face onto the beautiful body and saved the file. I left the office with the image of the perfect girl of my dreams in my mind! -0-0-0- Mistake 2. I was already late for a designer's show so I didn't wait around for an actual hard copy of the policy, asking the "Mad Doctor" to mail it and the promised color photo of my "after life body", to my home. Unfortunately, the company did better than that. While I was at the show, they had a messenger hand carry the envelope to our home. Of course, even though it had been addressed to me and marked "personal and confidential", Nancy opened it. I wasn't aware that she had seen it, or even that it existed, when I returned home later that night. If I had been, I might have been better prepared for Nancy's reaction. Then again, maybe not. "Hi honey, I'm home," I called out as I walked through the door. I ducked just in time as the vase shattered a few inches from my head. I must be getting slower, I hadn't even seen that one coming, I had thought to myself at the time. "Don't you dare 'hi, honey me?!" she screamed, waving a color photo in my face. She was moving it around so fast that I just barely caught a glimpse of what it was, a pink blur on a background of blue. "What is the meaning of this?" "What?" I asked bewildered, trying to follow the rapidly waving photograph. "This picture of this... this bare assed blonde BIMBO!" she screamed and threw the picture in my face. She was a little too far away for it to strike me. It just kind of floated to the floor instead. We both watched as the colorful sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. I ducked down to pick it up, narrowly missing Nancy's open palmed swing as it brushed the crown of my prematurely balding head. I picked the picture up and knew immediately what it was. The computer's graphics program had made a superb rendering of my "dream girl" that I had last seen on the New Life?s computer monitor. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn that it was a studio cheesecake shot of a very sexy and very naked young starlet. I realized instantly that Nancy obviously believed I was seeing the girl, the "bimbo", in the picture. When in fact, if the insurance company's advertisements were to be believed, that "bimbo" would be ME if I died. I sat down on the floor hard and began to laugh. I couldn't help it, it was hilarious. Nancy just stared at me, bewildered and a little shocked by my laughter. It was almost too funny for words. I explained everything, including the fact that the picture was nothing but the result of an excellent graphics program. I tried hard to get Nancy to see how funny the whole thing was. Nancy didn't think it was amusing at all, in fact she became even more upset when I told her exactly who the picture was supposed to be, the result of my little joke in the Doctor's office. I even told her where the basic models had come from, her and of course, Susan. She was madder at that explanation than if I'd admitted to actually having an affair. I suppose that I shouldn't have mentioned Susan, but I've always felt that I could be truthful with Nancy. It took me over an hour to convince her that it really was just a joke. And another three hours after that to convince her that I didn't really want to have a body like that. Another hour after that, to explain that Susan hadn't been my secret lover. I had just been playing with the screwball insurance company Doctor, and I was beginning to regret it. It really was just a big joke, that's all, honest! I think what finally convinced her was the passion that I threw into our love making session that night. Needless to say, she loved it! "Whew, anyone who puts that much work into giving a woman pleasure, couldn't want to be a girl himself. Alright, I believe you," Nancy whispered in my ear and sighed contentedly. "If you believe me, then why did you create such a fuss?" I asked, knowing that she would have made and even greater fuss if she had known that while I had been kissing her, I was pretending she was the girl in the picture. "It's just that I don't want to end up a widow," Nancy admitted. "Or end up fighting over some guy with a woman that's sexier looking than I am. Especially, if that ?woman? is my dead husband!" I thought about it for a while, chuckling. "I know just the hunk we should go after too. That hunky stud Steven what?shisname, in the warehouse would do nicely," I joked. I received a sharp poke in the ribs for my lame attempt at humor. "Damn you! It's not a laughing matter! I want you to march down to the insurance company and tell them that you want to change your body back to what it should be!" she poked me in the ribs again. "Okay, okay!" I said growing tired of her sharp elbow. Mistake 3. "Do it first thing tomorrow! Understand?" I received another sharp poke in ribs again. "Alright, alright!" I said becoming irritated. I was exhausted from our love making, trying to go to sleep and move out of her reach at the same time. I was rapidly tiring of her tirade "And if you don't...!" She fell silent in her anger over the beauty of the "made to order" body I had designed. "And if I don't? Then what will you do?" I asked only half awake, but safely way from her sharp poke in the ribs. "I'll knock you..." Nancy threatened. I know that she had started to say that she was going to knock me into next week, one of her favorite threats. All would have ended well, if I hadn?t said the wrong thing at precisely the wrong time. What happened? In my desire to go to sleep, I did something that I rarely ever did, I interrupted her and finished her statement with a wise ass remark. "Knock me up? You ain?t got the balls to achieve something like that," I murmured nearly asleep. I didn't see the look on her face when I made the smart remark. If I had, I would have gotten out of bed and walked, no, make that ran, stark naked the 5 miles to the insurance office, exhaustion or not. As it was, I'd forgotten my promise by the time I should have been going to the insurance office. Mistake 4. -0-0-0- I had a legitimate reason for forgetting, I was so busy going to the three separate clothing manufacturer's Summer Clothing Shows (it was August after all) scheduled for the day, that even if I had remembered, I couldn't have found the time. At least that was the reason I told Nancy that at lunch when she asked me if I had done what she had made me promise. What actually happened was that I ran into the very girl that I'd had a crush on in College, Susan Wentworth. Susan just happened to be trying to break into the designing business and had a small display in one of the shows. She couldn't understand my natural embarrassment when I saw her. When I explained that she had been the "model", or at least most of it, for my "After Life" insurance policy, she looked startled and then smiled that sweet impish smile of hers. It was her turn to be embarrassed, she'd had no idea that she had made such an impression on me. She just thought that I was a nice guy that never said much and was kind of fun to be with once in a while. A friend, but nothing more. "Thank you for the very sweet compliment," she took my hands in her own and gave me a smile that melted me to my bones. "That's the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me." I reacted exactly like I had when we were in collage, I blushed and couldn't think of a thing to say. That is I couldn't until she gave me that kiss. She had made an impression on me alright, one, like most "first loves", that would last a life time, however short it may be. -0-0-0- At lunch, Nancy didn't say anything when I admitted that I hadn't canceled the policy. In fact she went on just as if nothing had happened. Except later that night, she shoved a bunch of papers under my nose and told me to sign them. Since Nancy and I are partners in "Nancy's", I didn't think much about it. I just signed where the "X's" were, as I usually did. I suppose that I should have read them, but then again, if you can't trust your own wife, who can you trust? The next morning over breakfast, Nancy reminded me again to contact the insurance company to cancel my policy. I had forgotten all about it and promised to call them first thing after the meeting I had with a new dress designer. I wisely didn't tell her that I was going to meet with Susan. Besides, our meeting was strictly business understand, nothing personal. Nancy told me that she didn't want me to call, but go over to the offices and cancel it in person. That started another of our little "discussions", with me being on the losing end again. I promised that I would go there right after my meeting. My meeting with Susan was more than productive, it was very profitable for both of us. She was trying to break into the clothing design business, and had three or four samples and dozens of sketches of her clothing line to show me. I'll never forget it when Susan modeled one of her sexiest casual dresses for me. Because of the way they were designed, it would be almost impossible for any woman wearing them to wear a bra. In fact, because of one of the special design features, a bra wasn't necessary except for the largest of breasts. Of course, Susan, sensing my interest in how the uniquely designed built in bra worked, was more than happy to show me, first hand so to speak. I helped her in and out of three of her dresses, before I realized that she had forgotten her panties after the first dress. When I mentioned it, rather discretely I thought, I found out that it hadn't been quite "accidental" after all. One thing lead to another, and before I knew it, I had purchased some examples of her stunning designs for less than a third of what they were worth at wholesale. Susan had been given her first break, a golden one at that. I was almost ashamed to admit that I took advantage of our friendship to swing the deal, but after all, business is business. -0-0-0- Right after the rather mutually satisfying meeting with Susan, I remembered my promise to Nancy and rushed over to the insurance office. -0-0-0- The final Mistake 5. To this day I'll swear that I looked both ways when I started to cross the street, and have no idea where that beer truck came from. All I remember was the screech of brakes and then nothing until I came to in the hospital bed. Which brings us back to my lifting up the sheet to look at the rest of my body. After being told that my new body was precisely what I had ordered and being injected with the sedative, I was wheeled to another room and placed onto an exam table. The exam table was colder than the gurney had been. But that was the least of my concerns as the nurse carefully adjusted the straps around my legs once they had been draped over the stirrups located on one end of the table. With a few cranks of a handle, my slim and shapely legs were spread wide and high up out of the doctor's way. A few more twists of another handle and I was in a semi reclining position, able to see the blank wall framed by my naked legs. While I didn't feel uncomfortable, I did felt totally helpless as the nurse pulled yet another strap across my chest pinning my arms to my side in the process. The nurse apologized saying that since I had been given a sedative, she didn?t want to see me fall of the table. My appreciation for my wife's reluctance to see her own doctor deepened. If this was what she had to go through all the time, I wanted no part of it. The nurse, satisfied that I was secure, and said that the doctor would be right in. "...and try to relax, honey. It will be worth all the trouble, believe me," she gave me another pill to relax me and pulled my hospital gown up to my waist and covered my legs with a sheet. After what seem like hours of staring at the huge unlit exam lamp above my legs, I heard the door open behind me. Drifting in and out of a drugged sleep it barely registered that the doctor and nurse had returned, wearing the standard green surgical scrubs. They weren't wearing masks or gloves so I knew that they were not going to perform surgery to look inside of me and I relaxed as much as I could. "Well, I see that we're already to begin," the doctor said as he moved to a spot between my legs and pulled back the sheet. He looked up at me, smiled, and then nodded to someone standing behind me. "I brought you a visitor." "Hi, honey. How are you feeling?" my wife asked as she stepped into my line of vision. She also was wearing green scrubs. "Hi sweetheart. What's a nice girl like you doing in a dump like this?" In my drugged state, it was all I could think of saying. The pill and the shot I had been give began to really fog my brain. "Obviously you feel alright." Nancy smiled at my question. "As to why I'm here, I told the doctor that I wanted to be with the man I love to give him..." Nancy looked up sharply as the nurse giggled, causing her to glance between my legs. "Uh...give HER, some moral support," Nancy corrected herself. "And despite you trying to make a stupid joke out of a very serious matter, I do love you darling. I love you very much," she said gripping my hand tightly. I had been half afraid that Nancy would reject me out of hand. After all, I certainly wasn't the man I use to be. I must have spoken my thoughts out loud, for Nancy answered my concerns. "No, you're not," Nancy agreed. "But I think that once you get used to it, you'll find being a girl isn't all that bad. In fact you may find it quite fun, especial once you learn the true meaning of the age old joke about a ?hard man is good to find?, in other words, what the only thing a man is really good for..... Well, you?ll find out someday," she chuckled lightly, and squeezed my hand. "And as good looking as you designed yourself, that shouldn't too be hard to do or take too long." "A man?" I gasped. I must admit that I'd never considered that aspect before. My mind raced through all the things in our sex life that Nancy and I had done. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would feel like to be on the receiving end. The doctor chose that very minute to begin his exam by inserting something cold and hard into my vagina. I jumped as I felt it gently being pushed deep inside of me. There was a brief moment of stretching, and I felt rather than heard a "click" as some kind of reverse "clamp" was locked in the "open" position. I realized then that he had inserted something to spread my warm and moist vagina as wide open as it would go. I looked down at the doctor between my smooth and nearly hairless legs to see what the hell he was doing. He looked up and smiled reassuringly. "It?s just a vaginal speculum." Seeing my bewildered look, he explained further, "It?s used to allow me to inspect your vagina and cervix." It was needless to say, a very odd, slightly painful and cold sensation. I just hoped he hadn't broken anything down there, after all, technically I was still a virgin. "Mrs. Oberman? Would you care to see what a perfect vagina and cervix looks like?" the doctor asked my wife. Nancy released my hand and moved down to the foot of the table. "Everything is alright, Doctor?" Nancy asked dubiously as she peered at the gaping cavity between my legs. "I mean will he.... she... Be able to...?" "Of course," he said somewhat indignantly. "We never make mistakes. She?ll...." Nancy frowned and shook her head slightly. "Uh, yes, well. Uh, I was just beginning to do the procedure now." He reached over to a small table and picked up a long transparent plastic tube with something attached to one end. I tried to lift my head to see what was going on as I felt the thin tube being inserted deep inside of me. It seemed to go on forever. Finally it stopped at a point that felt just below my throat. "Ah, there we are, right on the money," he said, checking the placement of the tube. He lift the other end of the flexible tube above the level of my hips. I could see that a syringe the size of my thumb was attached to the end he was holding up. He began to push the plunger home, when Nancy stopped him. "Please Doctor. I would like to do that if you don't mind." He looked at Nancy, then me. Shrugging his shoulders, he silently handed the syringe to her. I watched in a drugged daze as she gently but firmly pushed the plunger down. I followed the somewhat thick milky like substance in its travel down the long tube, until I could feel its warmth as it flowed from the end of the tube inside of me. It seemed somehow like some sort of magical and reverent moment had passed when the plunger seated home. Everyone released their held in breath, including me, although I had no idea why. The doctor took the syringe from Nancy and replaced it with one containing a clear liquid. This time he pushed the plunger down himself until the plastic tube was flushed nearly clear of the other fluid. I had no idea what the hell had happened or why everyone, except me, looked delighted. "What was that? What just happened?" I asked no one in particular. Before anyone could say anything, Nancy smiled, then explained, "It just a routine medical procedure that some women have to go through, dear." "But, what was it?" She glanced at the Doctor, who remained silent. "It?s a special slow acting protein enzyme. If all goes well, it will confirm that your internal organs are okay. Of course, because it is, by design slow acting, it may take a while for the results to become apparent, so we?ll just have to be patient and see what develops," Nancy explained with a slight smile. After a brief moment of silence, everyone became business like. The doctor remove the syringe and long tube and threw them in the bio- hazard container. The Nurse immediately cranked the end of the table up so that my hips were well above my head. I remained that way for about ten minutes while the doctor removed the "clamp" from my vagina and the nurse cleaned up. When the "clamp" was finally clear, my offended vagina quickly and quietly closed behind it. It was an even odder sensation than when the thing had gone in, it was almost as if my vagina was trying keep it in place by sucking backward on it. Nancy stood by my side holding my hand and smiling down in silence until I was returned to a more normal position. I wanted to get up and walk, but the nurse would have no part of it. I rode back to my room on the gurney, this time, however, the nurse had placed a pillow under my rear. When I asked about the pillow, Nancy smiled and said that it was to allow the "slow acting enzyme" to take effect. In fact, the rest of the afternoon was rather anti-climactic. After I reached my room, the nurse had me lay down until the sedatives I had been given wore off. Of course the pillow under my hips remained in place while I recovered. Nancy who had gone on ahead to my room, was waiting for me with a small suit case of clothing of women's clothing for my new body. "I hope you like what I brought you," she said shyly. "The Insurance Company gave me your measurements, so everything should fit." "Thank you," I said to Nancy, giving her a little kiss on the cheek. "You know, there?s an amusing side to all this," I said as I removed my hospital gown. "I've been buying women's clothing, everything from saucy little Wedding Night "G" string panty and bra outfits to formal dresses for years, and this will be the first time I've actually worn any of it." Nancy smiled as she watched me pick up the first garment. "I know dear, but now you'll have plenty of opportunity to try them all. After we get home and you shave your legs and under arms, that is." Nancy had taken great pains to find the most feminine things in the shop. The bra, my bra now, was lacy, virgin white and nearly transparent, as were the matching string bikini panties. It appeared that I was a 36 "C". If I had honestly known that all this would have actually happened, I think that I would have selected a smaller cup size, my breasts were heavier than I had realized. With a little help from my dear wife, I managed to get the bra properly fitted. Despite all the thousands of dozens of bras I had bought I had no idea that you had to bend over to position your breasts in the cups. Nancy saved me a lot of time and trouble. The panties presented no problem, after all, panties are just another form of undershorts, except I had never worn anything as light, airy and as scanty as the panties were. I could even clearly see the slightly darker outlines of my bikini trim through the lace front. I knew, without looking, that the aureoles of my breasts could be seen through the thin fabric of the bra too. I had just pulled the straps of the bikini snug up and around my hips when I realized that Nancy had been holding something else for me. "What's this?" I asked as I took the offered item. "It's a panty liner, dear. One of the things that you will learn about having a women's body is that sometimes our vaginas leak fluids." Nodding that I understood, I replied evenly, "Like having a period?" Nancy became strangely embarrassed. "Well yes, periods, of course. But don't worry about that, you'll have plenty of time to prepare for it. But mainly because of other things too." "Like what?" I asked curious, pulling the bikini panties down to mid- thigh. "Just leakage. Women?s bodies produce all sorts of fluids down there." She giggled seeing the mystified look on my face. "Well, you'll see for yourself." I nodded again, grateful that I wouldn't have face the hurdle to a period in the immediate future. I positioned the pad and pulled my panties back up, looking for some sort of hosiery. Nancy sensing what I was doing, rummaged through the small suitcase and handed me a garter belt. It appeared that I was going to be introduced to stockings. Nancy was almost apologetic as she explained why she had selected them. "I thought you would like feel a little sexy on your first day of your new life." She helped me to adjust the off black nylons and slide the beige slip over my head. The undies may have been sexy but the rest of it was business like, yet still feminine. The outer garments she had selected was consisted of a dark gray wool "pencil" skirt and business style jacket, with a snow white silk blouse. Apparently I wasn't to be too sexy. I slipped my feet into a pair of black three inch high heels and stood still while Nancy inspected me. My feet, encased in the unaccustomed high heels were already beginning feel pinched. I almost wished Nancy had brought a pair of flats, although I knew that they would have looked out of place with the rest of my outfit. "Not bad," she said unbuttoning another button on my blouse and spreading it open at the throat. The tops of my breasts were visible in the "V". "I'm afraid were going to have to do something with your hair though." "Could we just go home?" I asked, tiredly. "We can do all that later. Please." All of the events of the past few hours and the shock of finding myself in the body of a woman, were beginning to catch up with me. Within seconds, I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed crying my eyes out. Nancy comforted me until I was cried out, and giving me a warm kiss, led the way to our car. But the time we got to the car, I was ready to swear off high heels for the rest of my life. How do girls manage to walk in those things and not break an ankle? The closer we got to home, the more apprehensive I became. What would happen to me now? I would be a woman for the rest of my life. Despite my bravado in the hospital, I wondered if I had the "balls" to do things women are expected to do in life. "Nancy, honey, I'm scared. What am I going to do? Other than having to sit to go to the bathroom, I don't know anything about being a woman." She flashed a quick smile at me and returned to her driving. "Don't worry, Mark honey," she glance at me again. "Mark? Speaking of that, remember the paperwork you signed the night before you... well, died? One of the documents was a legal petition to have some changes made to your birth certificate. As of noon yesterday, you have a new birth date, name and obviously, gender." "A new name? What is it?" I asked. "How does Marsha sound?" "Marsha!?!" "Yes, Marsha. If you can design a body after an old girlfriend of yours, then I can name you after an old girlfriend of mine! Besides, I like that much better than the name the insurance company selected. Anyway, don't worry, everything will work out in the end. Just remember which restroom to use and everything else will just kind of naturally flow into place. No pun intended," she added with a slight smile. I smiled at her unintentional pun. "What about work? I mean when I show up looking like this..." I trailed off trying to imagine the reaction. Nancy reached over and stroked my nylon clad leg. "Don't worry, Marsha, honey, everything will be alright, you'll see. Now then, I can't wait for you see what I brought home for you to wear." My old closet, once containing my suits and other male clothing, had been cleaned out and re supplied with new women's clothing. It looked like Nancy had cleaned out half of one of her stores. If I'd had any doubts about Nancy wanting me to stay with her, this thoughtful touch ended them forever. We spent the rest of the afternoon, trying on clothing. I had to admit that wearing women's clothing, especial when you had a body built like mine, was a lot more exciting than wearing men's clothing. I also practiced wearing some of the dozens of high heels in the closet. I guess that it?s just something you have to practice to get good at. Nancy must have wanted me to get use to wearing them quickly, because high heeled shoes were all she had brought home for me. -0-0-0- As with all living creatures, I eventually had to use my new "plumbing", which until then hadn't been necessary. This may sound a little odd, but ever since we had left the hospital, I had been looking forward to this very minute. Not only would it be a totally new experience in performing a familiar function, but would allow me to do a little "exploring". I'll admit it, vaginas, even the concept of a vagina, had always fascinated me when they were inside of someone else. And now that I had one of my own... It was while I was "exploring", that I found out why Nancy had insisted that I wear a panty liner. When I pulled my panties down to go to the bathroom later that afternoon, there was a wet spot about the size of a nickel. She had been right about not needing it for a period, it was the "other things" that made it necessary. At first I thought that I may have peed in my panties. On closer inspection however, it appeared that some of the somewhat sticky milky fluid from the syringe had drained out of me. Hoping that its loss wouldn't hurt anything, I told Nancy about it. It was reassuring when she told me that the loss of most of the substance was normal and not to worry about it. "... Besides the most important part is still deep inside at the very end of your love cannel." My curiosity aroused, I asked her what had been done to me and why she thought the most important part still remained inside. It looked like almost all of it had drained out. She merely sighed, saying that it was done to "fulfill" me and save me from some kind of "clock" phobia that some women developed as they got older, and not to worry about it, I would find out for myself all too soon. Further pressing for an answer produced equally cryptic remarks. Bewildered, I replaced the use panty liner with a fresh one and went in to join Nancy in the living room. I knew that I still had a lot to learn about a woman's body. It was too bad it didn't come with an "owner's manual". If it had, I might have recognized the reference to a time clock for what it was. -0-0-0- Nancy was right about everything just "naturally flowing" into place. For the first eight weeks everything appeared to be working fine. I finally learned what was in the papers I signed the night before I died. The first one had been the transfer of all my shares in the Nancy?s Corporation back to Nancy. The second paper, as Nancy had already told me, was a legal petition to change my name from Mark Oberman to Marsha Johnson, which was Nancy?s maiden name. It also changed my birth sex from male to female, changed my birth date by 15 years and surprisingly listed Nancy?s own mother as the woman giving birth. I had, with a mere stroke of a pen, become my wife?s "little sister"! I later learned that this particular document had been prepared by the New Life Corporation as part of the service. The third was a power of attorney, giving Nancy total say over, not only my financial affairs, but medical as well until I was well enough to rescind it. The fourth paper in the stack of documents was an uncontested divorce. Nancy, always the business woman, felt that if I became a woman, then it would be detrimental to the business image if we were still married. Nancy told me that if I had canceled the policy, the four documents would have been shredded. However, I hadn?t and they were filed and finalized by the courts while my new body was being grown. While I was still in the New Life?s version of being "in vetro", Nancy visited the facility that produced my body. She later told me that she had sat beside the tank for hours, just watching my new body being "built". The longer she sat there, the more she realized that she had been a terrible wife and worse business partner. "Bitchy" was the term she used. By the time I had been revived, Nancy had changed her mind about a lot of things. The divorce, transfer of the stock and my gender and name change remained in effect however. All three were necessary due to the radical change in my body. New legal documents were drawn up and I became half owner of Nancy?s with a stroke of a pen. I would also receive a new driver?s license showing with my new name, sex and age. No one at Nancy?s had been told who I was or who I had been. I was accepted by my co-workers as Marsha Johnston, Nancy?s younger sister and new full partner, complete with a say in how the stores were to be run. In addition to my regular fashion selection duties, I was in charge of a new division of "Nancy's", although Nancy was rather mysterious about what kind of clothing it would carry. She just kept repeating the maddening line "You?ll know soon enough.", then she would smile broadly and say no more. Everything continued to be fine, until about the ninth week after my "death" and revival. I was in the bathroom toweling myself off from my morning shower, thinking about the appointments I had that day, when my stomach gave a little lurch. I burped up the taste of my secret and inexplicable 2:00 AM snack of cottage cheese and half a dozen cold French fried onion rings left over from dinner. I grimaced at the taste, then I became violently ill. Nancy, who had just stepped into the shower, was at my side in a flash, helping me clean up. "I don't feel good," I said stating the obvious. "Hum, there's a flu going around. Why don't you go back to bed and I'll call my Doctor and try to get you in today." She helped me into bed and then rushed off, still naked, to use the telephone. It felt good to crawl back to bed. I would have done it even if I hadn't been sick, lately I had been feeling very tired and listless, almost lethargic. I had almost dozed off when Nancy returned. "I think that I've got a chest cold too," I complained as she woke me. "My boobs are really tender. What did the doctor say?" "He says it?s probably just the flu, but feels that he needs to check you over just in case. After all," she added much to my chagrin after seeing the look on my face, "you aren't the man you use to be, and unlike men, women go to the doctor when they?re sick. We have an appointment tomorrow. In the meantime, just stay in bed. You should eat some crackers, they?ll help settle your stomach." -0-0-0- Nancy's, and now my, doctor sat across from us, reading my medical file from the Insurance Company. "You use to be a 35 year old man?" he asked incredulously, looking at the pictures in the folder, then back to me. I was wearing a pair of form fitting yoga pants with a low rise waist and an oversized t-shirt that did little to conceal the size of my breasts. I may have been a man 9 weeks or so ago, but there was no question as to what sex I was now. "Yes, but me being a woman was all a mistake you understand, Doctor. I never intended to..." "Hush dear. The doctor isn't interested in all that," Nancy said squeezing my arm. I shut up. "Uh...yes. Well, I uh." He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, not really sure he knew what to say, although we all knew he wanted to ask how it felt. He took a deep breath and released it. "I suppose that the best way to proceed would be to treat you just like any other young woman. I need to ask you some questions." I listened intently as he began to run down a list of childhood illnesses. My answers to them all was of course, no, I hadn't had that illness. Well, to be more accurate Marsha hadn't had them. She had never been sick in her short life. His next question caused both Nancy and I to blush a little. "Are you sexually active?" "No," I said. "Yes, we are," Nancy responded firmly. The doctor looked at us, blushed himself, and went on to the next question. "When was your last period?" His pen poised over a blank space. "I've never had one," I answered truthfully. The doctor's eyes shot in my direction and then dropped to look in my folder again. He found what he was looking for, nodded and closed it up. "Well, that makes the rest of the questions, kind of immaterial. I think I know what's wrong with you, but we need to take some tests. Then we'll know for sure." He stood. "If you'll follow me." "When will you know the results of the tests?" I asked as I pulled my yoga pants back on. The physical exam hadn't been half as strange as the first I had gone through, although there had been a lot of similarities, including the coldness of that weird instrument he used to spread my vagina open. Compared to that invasion of my body, peeing into a small cup had been simple. The Doctor watched me slip my bare feet into my heels before answering. "Don't take any aspirin and call me in the morning." He smiled. -0-0-0- "Don't take any aspirin and call me in the morning." The phrase ran through my mind all evening and into the sleepless night. The doctor's question about my last period, had really sunk in by the time we had arrived home. A period. Despite the fact that I had the body of a woman and was forced to do things considered feminine by its structure and the hormones running through my veins, I was still a male inside. A male trapped in a woman's body. It sounded screwy but that is exactly what I was. I still thought and reacted like a man, except that my reactions were somehow translated into female terms. Take other women for example. Whenever I saw an attractive woman partially undressed, I would become aroused. I couldn't help it, good looking women just flat turn me on. Which is a male reaction, of course. Only since I obviously couldn't have an erection, I'd end up with nipples as hard as rocks and pumping out lubrication like mad. That was my body's feminine response to my male mind. Consequently, I wore a lot of panty liners... "...and call me in the morning." My female body on the other hand, was not to be out done, having started producing copious amounts of lubrication, then suddenly be denied further stimuli, would rebel. I would ache for hours afterward for the feel of a man deep inside me. Even though the almost nightly love making sessions Nancy and I had were very satisfying, they didn't even begin to ease the "itch" I felt deep inside. Nancy had once suggested that she try a dildo on me when I had mentioned it, but I flatly rejected the suggestion. Nancy just smiled when I said nobody was going to stick anything even remotely resembling a penis inside of me. At least not right away. I made it a point of staying out of the women's dressing rooms as much as possible, but even that wasn't too much of a help. I knew deep down, what the only real, sure fire cure for my problem was going to bed with a man. In that regard, being mentally still a male myself, I wasn't too happy with that aspect of being a female. On the other hand... On the other hand, I delighted in the idea of being a woman, and tried to be as feminine as I could. I found, as Nancy suggested that I would, that it was easy to feminine and sexy, I just went along with the "flow". A period? They usually occur every twenty eight days or so, didn?t they? "...in the morning." Nancy had been happy on the way home from the Doctor?s office, happier than I had seen her since I had died. No, that wasn't right, she always seemed to be happy with me or rather the strange new person I had become. This was a different type of happiness from that one. It was as if a problem that she had been facing was suddenly resolved. "Nancy, would you mind telling me what is going on here? Why haven't I had a period?" I asked naively. "Did the insurance company make a mistake when they made my body? Am I somehow defective physically?" Nancy looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "No, I don't think they made any mistakes when they 'grew' that body for you. In fact, I think that you?re a perfect, fully functional woman, right down to every little cell in your body." "Then what's wrong with me?" I asked. Half fearing the answer. Nancy just smiled and watched her driving. "...And call me in the morning." Morning came and I became sick again. Nancy of course, was sympathetic. "Honey, you should stay in bed again today. I'll call Mary and have her cancel all of your appointments again for today. Don't worry about a thing. I'll even call the doctor for you. If it's something serious, I'll call and let you know. Alright?" I nodded and headed back to bed. Several hours later I felt fine and became bored with staying in bed. I got up and dressed in a pair of snug fitting low rise denim shorts and an even snugger cotton tank top and of course, a pair of my platform sandals. Since I had some spare time, I wanted to do some work around the house, nothing important, just things I had been putting off since even before I died. Like replacing a couple of shelves in the garage. I had to adjust the web belt on my leather carpenter's pouches. Until then I hadn't realized how different my new body was from my old body. Obviously I was a different sex, but there were other things too. Like my waist measurements. Before I died, I was about 34 inches in the waist, now I wasn't much more than 28 or 29". My hips had remained about the same, 39 1/2" and I had lost a little in my chest measurements. Including my breasts, I was just over 38", a loss of 2 inches, almost 4, if you consider just the chest measurements. I was, in women's clothing, about a size 12/14. Larger than some of the women I knew, but since I was tall, I didn't look big. In fact I looked, if I may say so without seeming vain, sexier than all get out. The old shelving had been easier to rip out than I had expected and despite the fact that I wasn't as strong as I had been, I was progressing quite well. I was standing in the center of the garage wondering how I was going to manage to hold the shelving up and nail it down at the same time when I sensed someone standing behind me. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Mark Oberman. Do you know where he is?" a woman's voice asked from behind me. I turned around and saw Susan Wentworth standing in the open door of the garage. I hadn't seen or heard from her since the day before my death. "Susan!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms around her and giving her a little kiss on the cheek. "How nice to see you. How have you been?" Startled, she asked pulling away from my grasp. "Do I know you?" "Of course you do," I giggled. "That is you use to know me, before I, uh... started wearing bras and panties and lost 15 years of my life." Her eyes got big as she looked at me from head to toe. I knew that she must have thought that I was crazy. "I?ve heard rumors that......" She paused, then continued slowly. "Uh, this may sound like a stupid question. But are you Mark?" It was more of a statement than a question. "In the flesh!" I said cheerfully. "Although its Marsha Johnson now, and there's a little more 'flesh' to me now than there used to be." She stepped back and gave me a wide eyed look of disbelief, then shook her head. "I should say so. Turn around, I want to see everything." I did as she asked. I was half way around when she let out a long slow whistle. "What's the matter?" I asked completing my turn. "I normally don't pay much attention to other women's figures, but you've got to have the sexiest looking ass I've ever seen." "What do you think of the rest of it?" I asked cupping my breasts with both hands. "After all, I designed it with you in mind." Susan motioned me to turn around again. I did expecting to see her smiling again when I