was more or less pushed at me.
Again, as the sound of her engine died away in the dis-
tance, I moved to the case, opened it and took out the shoes.
They seemed to sparkle even more than the day before, ...
and I wasn't even anywhere near the sun that was streaming
in the window of the dining nook. Maybe I should have the
stones evaluated.
I looked the shoes over very carefully. There was no sign
of "real" aging, nor of anything that would even hint at the
age of these gloriously comfortable spikes. They could have
been made yesterday, or 200 years ago or maybe even more.
Although there was no sign as yet of aging, the style was defi-
nitely not modern. And no, the toe did not curl up nor did
smoke came from them when I rubbed them.
But, shucking my shoes again, I found the ease and com-
fort that those shoes gave me. I was again comfortable and
again I had even stronger feelings that I should be weaning
silk stockings now firmly attached to a corset that would
take down my thick waist. I almost visualized it but it
seemed to evade me.. Strangely, this time I seemed to notice
that it was more than just the shoes, but a larger comfort.
Simply said, I felt good.
I did not walk out on the cement again. I actually stayed
in and played with my computer and then did some reading
and more or less enjoyed myself. I did not notice anything
unusual. I did decide, however, to give Marge the same mar-
gin for return and so, with greater regret, took off those most
comfortable shoes and put on my own around mid after-
noon. This time, there was a definite discomfort in putting on
my shoes, but I still could not pin it down. It went away al-
most immediately, but was quite notable. It was not a case of
bad fit but some sort of discomfort.
I felt a little guilty about wearing the shoes when Marge
wasn't there, but, on the other hand, it was not generally
"the thing" to do. Men don't go around weaning women's high
heeled shoes. It, well. itjust isn't done. If they were really
men's high heeled shoes of a much past era, then even more
reason not to.
The metal in the heel was iron and not steel, so that was
not a measure, though I don't know when that idea first
came about, or if this was a case of earlier placement for
some other reason.
Thus I didn't know when these shoes were made, as they
seemed so unusual as to defy the "normal" in shoes. Again I
had to admit it myself; these shoes were slowly becoming an
obsession!
Nothing out of the ordinary happened that evening. There
was more tube watching, some listening to music, reading,
whatever. However, that night after we went to bed, there
was a repeat of my impotence. I just could not get it up and
it seemed to even be more insensitive than before.
Again Marge was very supportive, but I was worried.
0-0-0
Thursday was the day we played bridge. There was a
club, sort of, and the members would go to different houses
to play with different couples. Before it got properly organ-
ized, I think we once drew ourselves to play with, much to
the amusement of all but the organizers.
The net result is that I passed the shoes several times in
the morning and had them as a low order distraction in the
bridge game. I consoled myself with the fact that I'd find out
what that message was all about when I got it fully trans-
lated, but that was yet a while off. I really wanted to know
why as I was being distracted above normal by the comforts
these shoes provided, where in reality, there should be only
discomfort and wobbly ankles. At that thought I flexed my
ankles. Was that the source of discomfort? Well, I'd just have
to wait.
That night, for the third night in a row, I could not get an
erection. There was even more insensitivity. At this I decided
that it was time to see our doctor!
0-0-0
Friday morning I went into the bathroom for my morning
ablutions, nothing out of the ordinary there. When I came
out, however, Marge, who had been sitting in bed still, read-
ing, looked up and asked. "Fred, whose PJ's are those?"
"Mine, why?"
"I did not know that the legs were so long on them. We'll
have to have Katie, take them up a bit or get you some new
ones.."
I looked down as I absent mindedly scratched an itch on
a nipple on my chest. It was true. The cuffs dragged and the
front was slightly puddled on the toe of my slipper. I had not
noticed it at all but they were definitely a little long. I hadn't
remembered them as being all that long. Strange.
"It beats me. Could they have stretched or something!"
"Have you been swinging from the rafters on them, unbe-
knownst to me?"
"Hardly." I ambled over to my dresser and got a pair of
underpants. I undid the waistband of the PJ's and let them
drop. I didn't know why they seemed long. I couldn't hike
them up any higher so they had to be long. Marge was now
watching me. She saw the pants fall and noted another differ-
ence that I hadn't.
"Fred! Whatever did you shave your legs for?"
"What do you mean by that? I didn't shave my legs. What
would I want..." I had looked down. "Gak! What's happened
to my hair?"
Now, I had grown up with me and had a very reasonable
idea of what I looked like, or what I was supposed to look
like. When I looked down at my normally hairy legs, I saw
my legs; I was reasonably sure they were my legs, but the
hair on them had diminished to a much shortened pale
shadow of what should have been there. They were not
shaved but the hair had been greatly diminished, enough so
that from her perspective she thought they had been shaved!
"Margo, they aren't shaved, but what happened to my
hair?" I ran my hand down my legs, forgetting for the mo-
ment that I was naked from a bit below the waist down-
wards. "Is this some of your doing?"
By now she was out of bed, coming over to me, her ample
breasts swaying under her thin night gown. I looked in her
eye and saw that there was no mirth; it was not one of her
jokes. Coming to me she knelt down to look at my legs more
closely. She ran her hands up and down them. She too had a
reasonable idea of what they should look like. Meanwhile, I
had shifted my scratch to the other nipple that was also Itch-
ing slightly.
"The hair seems to have gotten shorter and softer." She
looked up at me and then stood up. "It is almost as ii. you
shaved it and the new hair had started to grow in and a lot
soffer instead of befng a stubble. It feels nice compared to
what you used to have. You sure you didn't shave it? I don't
suppose you could have shaved it and forgotten."
"It is strange, isn't it, Marge." Meanwhile I had snagged
the underwear and was stepping into it. "I don't remember it
going away or changing. I don't look at my legs that much. I
wonder if I should go see a doctor." I fished for her opinion
on going to our doctor.
"I could see you doing that. 'Uh Doc, somebody clipped
my hair and used a softener on it last night'." Her imitation
was poor, but it got the point across.
I pulled off my PJ top and grabbed a tee shirt. I heard her
gasp.
"Now what?"
"Look. Your chest and your arms! They've lost hair too.
All of your body hair seems to have suddenly gone into remis-
sion. What have you been doing to cause that?"
I looked at my chest and belly. It was true, well, almost
true. Here the hair had diminished even more greatly than
on my legs. They had medium hair while by body had just
fuzz. Again, it looked like someone had shaved me clean and
I had only begun to grow it back, from scratch, not regrowth
like a beard. Nevertheless, I pulled on the tee shirt before she
could reach out and feel it.
"Nothing that I know of. Well, bodies do strange things,
but I haven't heard of this one happening before, have you?"
I walked over towards the bed.
"Me neither. Maybe you should see our doctor." She too
had gotten back in gear and had pulled on her peignoir, not
that it really covered all that much more.
At the bed I pulled back the covers. There was no pile of
hair on my side. I'm sure that I would have noticed it if there
had been. As I puzzled about it, I again absent-mindedly
scratched one and then other of my nipples lightly. They
were almost tingling and sort of itching.
But, with nothing out of the ordinary other than
body, I continued to dress while she went into the bathroom
to do her ablutions.
0-0-0
At breakfast we discussed my hair and with it my appar-
ent impotence for a while, but came up with no real solution.
Only when she asked how my shaving had gone did I realize
that I actually hadn't. My hand went to my chin; it was as
smooth and hairless as hers as far as I could tell. Also, I did
not mention it to Marge, but my scrotum had also become
tight and was slightly uncomfortable. If anything, that made
up my mind and so, when the time came, I called the clinic
where I usually went and made an appointment to see our
doctor. She would be free that afternoon and, of course, so
would I.
When conversation turned to the day's activities I told
her that I had the appointment with the doctor.
She asked if she should go along and I said it was not
necessary. So she decided what else to do while I went off
and did my thing. Since she would not be going with me, she
decided to do some visiting, to return in the afternoon to
learn what the doctor said.
When she left, I went to the cabinet and pulled out the
shoes. I had on the wrong socks so went to her room and
pulled out a pair of her black, nylon knee highs. Somehow, it
did not occur to me to put on a pair of my thinner socks.
With the hose on, my feet slipped in with a smoothness that
my socks had not afforded. Again, I had the fleeting images
of wearing proper silken hose, hitched up to the garters of
my tightly laced corset. Silken panties caressed my thighs
and covered my very private parts. Before the image began to
solidify and hold, it quickly faded away and evaporated like a
dream does when you are awakened from a quiet sleep. You
remember the image, but fleetingly for a few moments, and
then it is gone.
Again I moved comfortably about the house on those
high heels. And, again, there was a touch of guilt in doing it
only when Marge wasn't there. I don't really know why I had
this feeling of doing it on the sly. It was strange, yet, I guess I
just was not ready for her to see me again in the shoes. After
all, they were women's shoes and I definitely was not a
woman. I was a man and proud of it, for sure. That is why
the loss of hair bothered me. The tightened scrotum worried
me more as it seemed to be a threat to my manhood.
In the afternoon, I took the shoes off again with a bit
more reluctance and with the same slight problem in read-
justing to my shoes. Actually, I put my shoes on and was
half way out the door before I realized that I was still wearing
Margo's nylon knee highs. Hurriedly I went back and
changed to my socks and departed, getting there just in time
with no leeway to spare.
I really needn't have hurried. As is usual, afternoon ap-
pointments are always late as the earlier appointments by
rule of force always run late and over time. And, we were not
so rich to be able to afford our own private doctor. Besides,
Grace Merriweather had been our doctor for many years,
from when she was starling out as a GP and continuing as
she specialized in gynecology, much to Marge's relief. It
wasn't a long wait and then my turn came and I was called
into an examination room after the obligatory and routine
measuring of height, weight and temperature. There I waited
some more before she came in.
She came through the door with a smile and stretched
out her hand to me. I took it and smiled back. She was a cou-
ple of inches shorter than I was with short, dark auburn, al-
most cowl like hair. Her frame was almost wiry yet with all
the cunres in the right places. Her shape was visible in spite
of her shapeless white lab coat, a sign, as she put it, of her
professional demeanor. That and the obligatory stethoscope
poking out from the lab coat pocket. She had a pleasant
smile and her eyes twinkled brightly from behind her wire
rimmed glasses.
She went to a desk next to where I sat and looked me
over. "Hi there, Fred, how are you doing2 What seems to be
the problem. Something about hair, is it?" She looked at my
head. "You seem to be wearing it longer now, aren't you?"
"Well, Grace, it seems that I have lost some but not on
my head; there it seems to be growing faster."
When she looked at the top of my head, I continued rap-
idly, "No, not on my head. I am not going bald. I seem to
have lost all of my body hair. See my arms?"
She looked at my arms and spotted the fine hair on
them. "It isn't lost, it is still there. What do you mean lost?"
"Maybe you don't remember, but I used to be reasonably
hirsute, hairy. I had hair on my arms, legs, chest, even my
back... Now, all I have is a fuzz on my body and this abbre-
viated hair on my arms and legs. Present or not, in contrast,
it seems to have disappeared almost all at once, over night."
"If it did that, it is indeed one for the books, Fred. Hair
just doesn't do that. But now that you mention it, I do seem
to remember that you were somewhat more hairy." She
moved her chair over closer to me and stroked my arm
lightly. "And it was a lot coarser than this." She then looked
at my face. "When was the last time you shaved?"
"I didn't shave this morning; I don't remember if I shaved
yesterday. You know, Grace, I seem to remember being there
in the bathroom, but I don't think I shaved. I don't think that
I even thought seriously of doing it."
"Okay. Time to look you over. Strip and get up on the ta-
ble.
I got up, took off my shirt and pants, and then, wearing
only my shorts, socks and shoes, sat on the paper covered ex-
amination table.
She pulled out her stethoscope and gave me a quick ex-
amination with thumpings, listening and all. Then she
looked at my hair or perhaps, better said, hairless condition.
"Well, Fred, I see nothing that is overtly wrong with you.
You look and sound in the peak of health. I have no explana-
tion for your change."
As I sat there, I absent-mindedly scratched one of my
itchy nipples that I had forgotten to mention. I had bigger
things to mention.
"There is one more thing, uh, Grace. I haven't been able
to, uh, get it up for the last three nights and it seems to be
getting worse."
"Mmmm, now that is a different problem. What do you
mean worse?" She looked me straight in the eye when she
asked this question.
"Well, to begin with, I almost did butjust didn't. Then I
couldn't really get an erection and last night I didn't even
seem to have any sensitivity. It seems to have gone to sleep.
"Now, that does sound unusual. Not unheard of, but un-
usual." She smiled at me and continued. "Let's take a look."
I pulled my shorts down a ways and she manipulated
and handled my penis and testicles. There was absolutely no
reaction whatever. It felt the same as if she were playing with
my fingers, no extra sensitivity at all.
"This has been going on for three days?"
"Yes, and it doesn't seem to be getting any better. This is
what really got me in here. The hair was secondary.
"I see your pubic hair is normal but seems to be in a fe-
male pattern. You sure you haven't been shaving your body
hair or been taking any hormones, or other medications7"
"Nope. I haven't even taken an aspirin." She pulled my
shorts down a bit more. "What do you think is wrong?"
"Has your scrotum always been this tight?"
"I don't think so, but, I really don't remember. Well, yes, I
guess I do. No it hasn't been that tight. It seems to be trying
to squeeze my balls back into me."
"An apt description." She felt the skin of my scrotum
and palpated and manipulated my balls a bit. "If it gets un-
comfortable, you could allow them to ascend back into the
body.
"I could what? They are slightly uncomfortable now. I'm
afraid I could squeeze them badly the way they are ifI sit
down on them. They have no play.
"Okay, let's adjust them." She felt them carefully, squeez-
ing lightly. "They don't seem to be abnormal, however. This
might be a bit uncomfortable for a while but you'll adjust to
it." With that she pressed and manipulated and there was a
sharp twinge on each side as she pushed them back up into
my body. The scrotum was now looser, but empty.
She had now become quite senious.
"This does not look good, ked. I don't want to be an
alarmist, but this could be a hormonal problem, or it could
also be a tumor." She looked at my chest, examining my nip-
ples. "Have your nipples been sensitive?"
"As a matter of fact yes, they seem to be itchy or some-
thing."
She then palpated my chest, my nipples in particular.
"Ok, ked, you can get dressed."
As I dressed she went to her desk and wrote extensively
in my records and then wrote a series of referral slips. When
I was all together again I sat down next to the desk and
waited until she finished. She put her pen down and looked
at me. Again there was a seriousness that was not unknown
but was rare for her as she did have a good sense of humor.
"I don't want to be an alarmist, but it looks like you may
have a tumor. I am going to send you down the hall for some
X-rays and I want to draw some blood, urine and some other
body fluids to do a complete check on what may be going on.
It will take a day or two for the full results. I'll make an ap-
pointment for you for tomorrow and we'll go over the prellmi-
nary results to see what may be going on." She cracked a
thin smile. "I think it is merely a hormonal imbalance that
we can treat."
"By tumor, do you mean cancer?"
"Well, let's wait on the results before we go to that
length". She handed me a sheaf of slips and directed me
where to go. I spent more time getting X-rayed, needled and
sampled. When I'd finished, I left for home. My crotch felt
very strange with my nuts in the tight grip of my abdomen
and not hanging down loosely; it felt a lot stranger than what
I had come in.
That evening I told Marge of the visit and the appoint-
ment the next day. Naturally she was concerned, but was
very reassuring. When she again asked if she should go with
me, I again said no, that it still wasn't necessary. She was
now more concerned than before. Of course, we tried again
that night and I got even more frustrated.
0-0-0
In the morning I noted that my scrotum had shrunk even
more. I could feel where my testes were, sort of up above and
to each side of my penis in my abdomen, but now when I
tried to make them descend, there just wasn't any room, not
even for one. As I looked in the full length mirror in the bath
room (not wanting to use the one in the bedroom), I looked
for all the world like I had been castrated. When I scratched
the itch on my chest, this time I found that there seemed to
be something under my nipples, both of them, some sort of a
hard lump of some sort.
Was this (these?) the tumor that Grace had mentioned?"
When I came out of the bathroom, Marge again noted my
long pj's. This was a different pair. I laughed it oh but won-
dered why they had suddenly gotten larger. It wasn't until I
put on my slacks that I found the night answer. They had not
gotten larger, I had gotten smaller. It wasn't all that much,
but any shrinkage when you are still young is something to
take seriously. Age does make a difference. Yes, old people
tend to shrink somewhat as the cartilage wears out, but not
young people!
I did not mention it to Marge but tnied to down play it by
taking a pair that I had always thought of as having "high
pockets" with a shorter instep and putting them on. Even
they were just a bit long on me now, but not as long as the
others. I'd have to mention this to Grace when I saw her,
These changes were going to have to stop!
At 9 A.M. on the dot I was at the clinic, waiting for her.
She was there earlier but, as usual, an earlier appoinhnent
ran a bit late and so it was 9:05 when I got called. Again I
was measured for height, weight, and temperature and then
went to the examination room, and she came in almost right
behind me.
"Fred," she began before I could speak, "something is go-
ing on in your body that needs immediate attention, Your
blood test showed a hormonal balance of a young girl going
into puberty. Your testosterone level was exceedingly low,
and to match that, the other Indicators all showed female."
"What does that mean?"
"It means either you have a tumor or something has gone
wrong with your whole endocrine system and it is affecting
your body chemistry. How do you feel?"
"Me? Oh I feel fine, Grace. But I found that my scrotum
is now so tight that my balls are locked up tight in my body.
Also, I found that I have somehow lost some height."
She ruffled through my medical history and then looked
back and forth for a bit. "According to this, you lost a quarter
an inch last night and over one inch since your last visit.
Medically that is highly improbable."
"What do you mean, 'medically improbable'?"
"You lose some height during the day due to the crunch-
ing down and compressing of your cartilage. But compensat-
ing for that you are still shorter today than yesterday. To lose
more than an inch must involve the bones and barring some
dire bone disease, it is next to impossible. If you had such a
bone disease, you'd know it."
As I scratched my chest again, I added,'Well, to add to
this, maybe I have a tumor in my chest. Something seems to
be growing there and it itches too.
"Tumors don't itch. Let me look at that. Take off your
shirt."
I took off my shirt and she examined my chest in quite a
bit of detail, flicking my nipples and getting a reaction out of
them, pressing first one then the other nipple and then feel-
ing all around them as well as under them.
"I don't know exactly how to tell you this, Fred, but what
you have there is not a tumor or set of tumors. I can feel no
lumps or other irregularities. Your nipples react as they
should for the growth pattern exhibited." She stood back a
step and crossed her arms. "In short, you are growing
breasts just like the hormones in your blood say you should.
Your body thinks it is passing through a female puberty and
seems to have shut down your testes in the process; so,
there's no male resistance or counterbalance."
"What do you mean female puberty? I can't do anything
like that, can I? I am not a female. I'm a man. Granted last
night again I, uh, couldn't function fully as a man, but, dan
mit all, I am a man!"
"Not according to your body. To all intents and purposes,
you seem to be on the initial stages of turning into a woman."
"But how? That's not possible is it?"
"Not as far as I know it isn't. Are you taking any medica- tions, or
other such unusual food or dnink?" She went over to the desk and began
writing in my history.
"No, nothing out of the ordinary. This just seems to have
come upon me suddenly! I have no explanation for it at all.
That is why I came to see you.
"It is not in my book of answers. I am going to send you
to the hospital for a full check up. All that I can see indicated
normalcy; that is, you appeared to be a normal male but
something unknown to me is changing all that. They should
be able to sort it out over there and give you the answer to
what is going wrong."
She got out the x-rays and put them into a lighting fix-
ture on the wall. I could see my bones and all but I couldn't
tell normal from abnormal.
"Yes, for all that I know and have known of you since I
flrst met you, all seems to be in apple pie order as far as we
can see; that is why it will have to go to the hospital. They
can do more sophisticated tests than we can do here, maybe
a CAT-scan or some MRI imaging will discover the source of
your problem."
She wrote out some slips and then gave them to me.
"Here are some referrals. Check with the desk and they
will make the appointments for you. I have put on here that
this is an A-i priority so you should get in relatively quickly.
She stood up.
"l'm sorry I can't do any more, Fred, but it is definitely
out of my league to explain this. Let me know what they And
out. I'd like you to add me to your set of appointments when
all of the testing is done so I can check out what they find;
they don't always pass results back to us.
"Ok, I'll do that. I wish you had an answer and a'cure',
but I guess we'lljust have to see, right?"
"Right. And don't slough on this. I don't think it is life
threatening, not yet, but it could take a turn at any time, de-
pending on what it is.... Be careful!"
With those words echoing in my ears I left the room and
went to the receptionist desk and told them what she had
told me about the referrals. They called and called and called
and took a lot of notes. Then they gave me a sort of schedule
of times and days and people to see. There was the explana-
tion that these dates and times were slots that were open for
emergencies and were thus not really negotiable. The last
thing they did was to make an appointment after all of the
other appointments for me to again see Grace.
I thanked them and took the list.
The first one was for 1:00 that afternoon. I'd have lunch
or brunch in town and then go there and see what was to be.
0-0-0
This hospital was like all hospitals, large and imposing
(or is that intimidating?). It was most unpleasant as I was
sort of run through my paces for the various specialists. I felt
like a lab animal. Money talks many languages, but in this
case, I did not have enough to have a long conversation, so
to say, and so ran the maze, lay on the beds, took the tests
and so forth. The doctors hemmed and hawed and con-
sulted and talked, but not to me. When I had been there for
several hours, they finally said that they had nothing conclu-
sive and told me to return for my further tests the next day.
Yes, I had more slips for more tests the next day. And so,
I went home.
Marge, bless her heart, was all questions and was very
supportive, especially when I said that they had found noth-
ing but had more tests to do. I did not tell her of Grace's
main diagnosis, about turning into a woman, but told all
else.
Again I said that there was no point in her going with nx
as she could do nothing when I was in testing and would
thus sit around all day and probably not learn anything any
Way.
So, she said she'd go visiting and wait until I got home
for any reports.
That night, during our love making, I, of course, could
not get anything up. She was fascinated by my flattened and
taut scrotum. When I mentioned my nipples, she played with
them and I got stimulated, but not enough to produce an
erection nor, even more unfortunately, an orgasm. I have ex-
perienced orgasm without an erection or with a weak erec-
tion, but such was not to be the case this time, sigh.
I, of course, could bring her to orgasm and did, several
times, but she ended up being frustrated in trying to do any-
thing for me. I could only suggest that we wait until this
problem was clarified and then we'd have more conventional
rolls in the hay.
She giggled at this, but I knew she was still unsettled
With what was going on in me. She would probably been
have even more unsettled had I told her all.
Maybe later.
0-0-0
It turned out that the next two days were a repeat, but
all day long. I had never before felt So thoroughly irradiated,
measured, poked, sampled and examined. Numerous doctors
had their go at me and all of them went away, so to say,
shaking their heads. None of them could 8nd the source of
my changes. All looked and none saw.
Both times I came home exhausted and perforated. I had
given them samples ofpractically every fluid I had. They even
managed to get a small amount of seminal nuid though it
was a clear liquid, apparently free of sperm, by massaging
my prostate gland. I was told to come back the next day.
By now, the development on my chest was proceeding at
an alarming rate. I had also lost the major portion of another
inch. My clothing had become very ill sitting. I wasn't about
to buy new clothing until I knew what was going on and
what would eventually happen. I wanted to return to my
original (taller) male self. I wanted them to reverse it, but be-
fore they could reverse it, they had to know what it was.
It was Marge who noticed that my voice was also starting
to rise. Now that was not a part of puberty as Grace had men-
tioned it.
Something else was going on, but what?
I'd have to wait until the conference in the afternoon the
following day.
0-0-0
The next day I managed to have the morning to myself.
And, what did I do? You guessed it. I put on the shoes and
felt a definite easing of my stress. Again there was the image
of soft, lacy lingerie and the firmly laced corset, only now a
stronger image with miles of long petticoats (petticoats? no
one wore petticoats these days). It persisted longer and I be-
gan to wonder what it would feel like. I liked the feel of the
nylons on my legs only now, I felt I should really shave them,
short hair or no, for proper appearances. Somehow, I felt
that these feelings and thoughts should be alien to me, but
they seemed to be almost as comforting as the shoes them-
selves.
Was my mind going along with my body in changing) It
was odd, but not all that much. One part of me wanted to
quit the whole thing and go back to normalcy, whatever that
was, while another part was being exorably bent into weird-
ness that I felt I must fight.
In time I took off the shoes, but none too soon for Marge
seemed to be there almost at the same time that I was clos-
ing the cabinet.
This time there was no stopping her from accompanying
me to the hospital it was results time. I'm afraid that I had to
roll up my pants a bit even though they had begun to feel
tight at the crotch when I cinched in my belt at my waist. I
actually wanted to wear the hose and felt a bit uncomfortable
in my regular shorts, feeling both that the lit was poor and
that something softer was more appropriate, but I knew or at
least felt that I was all male when I left the house with Marge.
We arrived at the hospital in mid afternoon and went to
one of their conference rooms. It was set up with a screen at
one end of the room with a long table in the center with ten
or so chairs around it. There were windows on one side but
the blinds were drawn in such a way that maximum light
came in but we could not see out. To one side was a hospital
scale.
As I came in a number of people were already sitting at
the table. All were weaning their doctor jackets, the ubiqui-
tous white lab coat, and most of them had stethoscopes in
one or the other pockets. I recognized most of them fiom hav-
ing seen them (or having them see me) over the past few
days.
We waited a bit until two more showed up. We ended up
with seven doctors and Marge and I. With a sort of
"harumpf!" one of them started out.
"Uh, Mr. and Mrs. Murchison. I am glad you both could
come today. I understand we forgot to invite you Mrs. Mur-
chison; sorry for the oversight, but it is good to see you here.
I have asked the others here to report any last minute find-
ings that may have been made. Before we go any further, are
there any comments on new findings?"
One of the two women present spoke up, "We have done
some more checks and double checks on the endocrinology
of his system and have found nothing really new, but we
have confirmed the findings made previously. According to
our tests, Mr. Murchison is rapidly developing what could be
termed a normal female count, endocrinologically speaking.
Comparison of measurements made by Doctor Merriweather
show that there is an intensification of these readings rather
than any form of diminution. There is, however, no known
reason for such changes taking place. It is very enigmatic as
far as we are concerned.
Marge looked at me with a most quizzical expression on
her face.
"Thank you Doctor Wells. Does anyone have anything
else to add to that?" He looked around the room at each doc-
tor in turn and all of them shook their heads "no" in re-
sponse. When all had been queried, he opened a fat folder
that lay before him on the table and consulted it, ruffling for
a bit through what seemed to me to be a considerable vol-
ume of papers. Finally, he looked up at me.
"I hate to say this, Mr. Murchison, we all recognize the
problem and where it is leading, but there is to date, neither
a source to the problem nor any solution as far as we can
see."
I just had to ask, "And to where is it leading!"
There was another pause. "To all appearances, there is
no life threatening aspect to this; however, as far as we can
tell, and as far as the symptoms seem to confirm it, Mr. Mur-
chison, you seem to be metamorphosing somehow into a
woman in the physical sense." There was a pause as he let it
sink in to both my and Marge's minds.
Now she knew the truth of what was happening. Now she
looked at me and the quizzical look was there but there was
also a playful smile. What was she thinking?
"I know that several of my colleagues, and I too, would
like to do a study on you, to track the changes and such.
However, there just does not seem to be anything to study,
other than tracking the changes. There doesn't seem to be
anything that is, uh, out of order other than the obvious. For
some unknown reason your system is changing. Would you
please do me a favor and come over to the scale here?"
I got up and walked over to the scale, stepping on it. He
took my weight and then measured my height, writing both
down on a slip of paper. I then went back to my seat and he
went to his.
"Medically, what I see here should be impossible. I know
that a person can lose weight, sometimes at phenomenal
rates, but no one is supposed to lose height as well." He tran-
scribed the numbers into the booklet of my medical records.
"According to my own measurements, you have lost 10
pounds since you first came here and have lost a bit over a
half an inch in height. That is more than mere compression
differentials in spinal cartilage would indicate, taking into ac-
count the times of the day that your height was measured."
He closed the file and looked at me, crossing his arms
and leaning them on the table.
"As there is nothing that we can find wrong, there is noth-
ing that we can treat you for. But, since your case is unique
to science, would you permit us to study the course of its
path? I can only request since there is no reason to enter you
into the hospital as a patient as there is nothing threatening
about your condition as far as we can tell."
Nothing threatening? He says that I am shrinking and los-
ing my manhood and hefinds nothing threatening in that? I
was angered but kept that anger to myself, internalizing it
but not showing it. If they can't find anything wrong, then
there must be nothing wrong. My body must be spontaneously
doing this bit. But why? Can't I stop it? Can't they?
I put on my most diplomatic external image but had difR-
culty holding back the inner anger.
"I appreciate your interest. but I refuse to become an ani-
mal in a cage or a specimen in a test tube. I came here for a
solution, an answer to what Is going on and what can be
done to stop it. You have given me answers to neither ques-
tion." I was getting pissed off I stood up and Marge slowly
stood up, looking at me questioningly.
"Please, Mr. Murchison, do not misunderstand me. You
are a phenomenon of some sort in medical history. You pre-
sent us with a unique opportunity. We do not know what is
happening, but we would like to. It could take time to do the
extensive and probably lengthy testing and examinations
needed." He now also stood, with a sort of pleading tone in
his voice.
I looked down at my shirt, the points of my nipples were
plainly visible to me. Below, I could see my cuffed pants.
Then I looked him in the eye.
"Thanks but no thanks. I don't know what to do to fight
it, but I shall do whatever I can. But, you won't get me to
study unless I will my body to science."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, but I have no strong argu-
ments to convince you other than advancing science and the
possibility of a solution, somewhere down the road.
"'Somewhere down the road' I may be back, but you've
lost me for now. I will not be studied. Sorry, but that is that.
I had more than enough these last two days."
I looked quickly around the table at the various doctors,
all of whom where looWng at me. "Sorry, but I have already
had enough of being your lab animal." I turned and left the
room, cutting of his last "but, but, but".
"Are you sure you are doing the right thing. Fred7" Marge
touched my arm as she asked this question.
I stopped for a moment and looked at her.
"Margo, they had their chance and made their choice. I'm
not going to be some object for them to continuously probe
and experiment on."
"You could give Grace more of a chance..."
"I suppose so, but she's no expert and those guys were, .
..supposedly...I still have an appointment with her. .. OK,
I'll talk with her and see what she says though I don't hold
much if any hope there at all."
"Well, it is an idea. Besides, she now has the expertise
that would help you in the outcome, should it really run in
the direction that they are apparently so sure of." Her eyes
went to my chest. "And it does look like that may be true, for
whatever reason."
I too looked at my chest.
She could be right.
"Ok, we'll have to see. Right now, I am off of doctors." So
saying, I turned and left the hospital and the so-called "ex-
pert" collection behind me.
0-0-0
Next morning, I was slower in getting out of bed. As I lay
there, contemplating the events of the last few days, I almost
absent mindedly stroked the lumps on my chest. No longer
was it a case of swollen nipples. They were now protruding,
cone shaped lumps about the size of half walnuts. It felt good
to rub them. They we'e sensitive, very sensftive.
Margo had said with a smile that she knew about this
Stage of puberty as she had passed though it some years be-
fore. As I lay there, Marge got up and did her morning toilet
and dressed and put on her face as she did every morning.
Before she left she turned to me.
"You going to get up orjust he there all day?"
"I guess I'll get up shortly. I just have a lot to think
about, " I let go of my nipple and put my hands behind my
head and stared at the ceiling.
"Ok, let me know ifyou want breakfast or lunch, depend-
ing on when you get up." With that she left me to my contem-
plations.
Was what the doctors said true? Could it be true? I had
two answers readily at hand. My burgeoning chest, or three
if you included my now balless scrotum. What had caused
this sudden metamorphosis? How could such a thing be possi-
ble? I hadn't gotten any hormone shots nor any sex change
shots, should such a thing exist.
At the thought of sex, the paper with the shoes came to
mind. I did not know what it said. Could it have something to
do with this? It did have sex in the text, What did it mean?
What then was the cause? I pondered for a while longer,
Finally the odor of coffee assailed my nose and I thought
seriously ofrising. I pulled the blankets up off of the floor
and swung my legs down and slipped into my slippers and
headed for the bathroom.
First off, relieving the pressure of my bladder, I sat down
and peed and then took a bit of tissue and blotted. I arose
and went over to the sink beneath the mirror to brush my
teeth. Looking In the mirror something did not seem night.
But I brushed my teeth and washed my face and then went
out to get dressed.
I dropped my pajamas as I headed for the dresser where I
snagged a pair of shorts and pulled them on. I then got a
pair of pants and pulled them on not really paying attention
to much of anything as I dressed by rote. Only when I went
to get a pair of shoes to wear did I notice my slippers. Well, I
probably noticed them earlier but did not really see them.
They were red and jewel encrusted. Yes, I had pulled on the
high keeled shoes and worn them and manipulated my dress-
ing in them without even seeing them. That also explained
why I saw a difference in the mirror; I was looking into it
from a higher angle or perspective.
How did they get in here? Why did I not notice7 Was there
possibly something to them that was magical?
I did not know what to do. I decided to check it out and,
after putting on a polo shirt, one that was looser than I really
liked it but not loose enough as it still showed my small
breasts (yes that is what I felt I had better start calling those
lumps; they were not just swollen nipples any more), I
headed to the glass case.
I looked in and the shoes were gone. The note was there
but the shoes, naturally, if I was wearing them, were gone. I
wallked to the kitchen where Marge was still fixing some
breakfast and told her to fix me the same. I went to the table
and sat down. Then, after watching her for a while, noted
that she was still wearing her scruffy slippers beneath the
simple skirt and blouse that I had seen her draw on earlier.
She did have a fine figure, even from the back, with slen-
der waist and full hips and butt that were just right. When
she finally approached the table with our breakfasts, I posed
my question.
"Margo, why did you swap my slippers?"
"Why did I what?"
"Why did you swap my slippers for these shoes?" I raised
up my foot to show her my foot clad in the glittering. red
high heeled shoe. My pant legcame down almost to the in-
step. If I were wearing women's pants designed for high
heels, then they would have been just about right. But, these
were not women's pants and they were definitely not de-
signed for high heels. They were mine and were for a man!
She looked down at my glitteringly shed foot. "What did
you put those high heels on for?" She then looked up into my
eyes. "I thought they were for display only, even if they fit
you."
"When I got up this morning and put on my slippers, I
found that what I had put on were these shoes. What hap-
pened to my slippers? Did you swap them for these and if so
why?"
"I did no such swapping. Maybe you did it last night
when you got up and went to the bathroom or something. I
know that I didn't Why should I?"
"That is what I wanted to know. These shoes are strange
and quite comfortable. In fact they are so comfortable that I
did not notice they were not my slippers until I had pulled on
my pants and was going to put on some shoes. When I found
that instead of my slippers I was wearing these, I thought
that I would check with you as to what is going on. If you
didn't do it, then how did it happen?"
"Well, I didn't do it, whatever it is.
"You sure?"
"Positively. Now let's eat. You can take the shoes off any
time you want to.
We then sat up to the table and had a good breakfast of
bacon, eggs, toast and coffee. We chatted about the doctors'
results and of what I could or could not do.
I decided to follow her suggestion to call Grace and reaf-
flrm my appointment, although I felt it was totally useless. I
had originally thought of calling her and just canceling.
When we were finished, I got up and put my dishes in the
dishwasher. I then went out to the phone and made the
phone call and reaffirmed my appointment. It was for tomor-
row at 9:00.
The nurse said that it was fortunate that I had made one
before as Grace, uh, the Doctor was popular and was almost
constantly booked. But that I knew.
When Marge came out of the kitchen, she stood there for
a while just looking down at my feet.
When I finished my call I looked up and saw her and
then what she was looking at. Oops, I'm still wearing the