## Archive-name: the_change2

From: p9182@aol.com (P9182)

Subject: Story: The Change Pt. 2

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

WARNING: IF YOU ARE NOT 21 DO NOT READ THIS STORY. IT IS FICTION AND FANTASY WITH VERY LITTLE FACT, SCIENTIFIC OR OTHERWISE. IT IS INTENDED TO STIMULATE DISCUSSION AND IS EXCLUSIVELY FOR THE USE OF ADULTS IN THE EXPLORATION AND ENJOYMENT OF THEIR OWN SEXUALITY. COMMENTS WELCOME. The Change - Part 2.

"But your sex life is about to take a drastic turn, honeybun." Those words came back to me after the initial shock of waking up in a strange place, having no idea where I was, and then discovering that I was strapped to what appeared to be some kind of hospital bed and was unable to move a muscle.
After the initial panic, I began to survey my situation. I was totally naked. Three separate IV drips were inserted into my left arm and ran to three bags of fluid on one of those moveable stands beside the bed. Additionally, there were two more tubes running out of my body: a large one running from an incision in my lower abdomen off to the right side of the bed and out of my view, and a catheter tube running from the end of my penis down between my legs and out of sight. Glad I wasn't awake for that, I thought.
I seemed to remember finding my wife Pat fucking another guy and then . . . but I must have dreamed all that. I must have been involved in some kind of accident on the way home from the airport and was now in the hospital, restrained so I wouldn't dislodge the IVs.
The curtains were drawn on the windows so I couldn't tell what time of day it was. It must be a pretty ritzy place, I thought, because there was a nice couch and end table with a lamp along the left wall and some modern paintings on the walls. The bed itself however, seemed to be a gynecological exam table, complete with stirrups on either side at the foot. Must be overcrowded, I thought, and had to put me in here. I didn't feel any pain, in fact I felt slightly buzzed, if very tired, so I was wondering just exactly what the nature of my injuries might be when my wife stepped through the door in the wall at the foot of the bed.
"Thank goodness you're awake!" she said, "We thought you'd OD'd - you've been out for three days. Richard will be relieved to know he didn't kill you."
Richard. The blonde surfer type who'd been with my wife - it wasn't a bad dream after all. But it was turning into a nightmare.
"Look, Pat, " I could barely raise my head to speak to her I was so weak, "Just let me go and let's forget about this whole deal. I don't care about you and Richard. We can get a divorce if that's what you want. I don't care. Just let me out of here and I promise I won't say a word about any of this."
"And split everything with you? I don't think so, Tim. Besides, you're going to be a fun project to work on for the next few months. You wouldn't want to miss that would you?"
"What are you talking about? Why do you have me tied up like this? And what are all these tubes?" I let my head fall back on the bed, exhausted from the effort of talking to her.
"Let's start slowly, honeybun. First, you've been reported missing to the police, they've found your car - and some traces of cocaine - we were shocked to hear that of course - and they are pursuing the investiation from the standpoint of a drug deal gone sour. They've been very supportive but have told me to prepare myself for the worst."
"Cocaine? That's ridiculous."
"It was Richard's idea, and I told them it was impossible too, but they assured me they have cases all the time where the wife is the last to know of her husband's addiction. "
"Addiction!?"
"Their words, not mine. Anyway, they should discover your blood-stained jacket and wallet down by the river any day now - no money of course - and that should pretty much wind up their investigation. Then Richard and I will have you all to ourselves. But again it's mostly Richard's plan - he's got the expertise - he's a veterinarian you know, and he's actually done this before."
"Done what exactly?" I really didn't want to know.
"We'll get to that. Now, you're restrained because, well of course you know that, we can't have you running around, can we? And we didn't want to have to watch you constantly - or for you to be terribly uncomfortable - so Richard hooked up this catheter and also performed a colostemy so you wouldn't soil your bed." She smiled and my heart sank. "It's reversible though . . . I think. I mean he said he didn't take out too much intestine, but boy it seemed like a bunch to me." She walked over to the couch, sat down and lit a cigarette.
"He said you'd lose some function but that you should be able to retrain yourself - now that you're concious we can get rid of that tube and hook your colostomy bag up directly to the stoma - Richard told me that means 'hole' - in your abdomen." She smiled again and I thought I was going to throw up. I was pale and speechless.
"So anyway, once the process is complete, if it doesn't take any more than a couple of months, and your sphincter hasn't atrophied too badly, and there's enough intestine left to reconnect - again I'm not totally sure about that, he took at least two feet of lower intestine out and the literature says you've only got about 5 feet total. I guess Richard should have looked that up before he took so much out, huh? Oh well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it and I guess there's worse things than lugging around a colostomy bag the rest of your life." She put out her cigarette and walked over to the bed.
"What do you mean once the 'process' is complete?" my voice was a whisper.
"We'll get to that, although you should catch on as I explain some of the rest of this stuff," she motioned to the IV drips beside the bed, "Now this clear one is glucose, but not too concentrated - you've already lost 6 pounds in the three days you've been out - course some of that was intestine," she smiled again at her little joke, "and this yellowish one is morphine to keep you manageable, but not enough to get you addicted unless we increase the drip," she turned a valve on the bag half a turn and my eyes went wide as I felt an almost instantaneous warmth and floating sensation before she turned it back to the original position. "Or if we have to leave you on it too long. We're not real sure about how long but we'll look it up, don't worry."
The slight increase in morphine was quickly sending me back into unconciousness and I was beginning to drift as Pat explained the final, milky-colored IV bag.
"And this one," she squeezed it, "Is a mixture of things, but mostly it's Premarin, which is an estrogen replacement drug derived from horse estrogen used primarily in treatment of post menopausal women, but also," she paused and looked directly into my heavy-lidded eyes, "as estrogen supplementation in pre-operative male to female sexual reassignment therapy. Of course we're giving you three times the normal dosage, but Richard thinks there's not much risk involved in that and it should accelerate the process dramatically, especially given the other procedures we'll start on now that you're awake."
I slipped into a not unpleasant, morphine-induced slumber.

Last modified (12/24/96 14:13:34) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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