The Treatment
As I lay alone in my bed, thinking of the upcoming day, the clock radio started to boom out "Dead Man's Curve." How very appropriate, I think.
Today is the day I've been dreading all week. Today is the day of my return visit to Dr. Magill. Today is the day I'll find out the results of all those tests I took a week ago. Hopefully, good news will be forthcoming, but, I don't expect good news.
I got up early since I'm going to walk to Magill's office. It's only a twenty minute walk, and the exercise is good for me. Besides, it gives me time to think.
On the way, I think about the football player, who was a patient of Dr. Magill, when I first started seeing her just over a year ago. I can't remember his name, but he had the same symptoms that I have now. I remember reading his obituary, less than a month later.
But not all of my thoughts are bleak, nor are they dwelling on incumbent doom.
I think of Laura Anderson. Laura is the receptionist for Dr. Magill and her associates. She's been there almost a year. It hardly seems possible that its been that long. She's a beautiful blond. The first time I saw her, I knew I was in love, but what would she see in a guy twice her age. I was surprised when I asked her out that first time - she accepted. It was the first of many dates. And more than once, we ended an evening in my bed. Laura was (still is I'd guess) an insatiable lover.
But, my symptoms grew worse and worse. Eventually, I'd felt compelled to break up with Laura. It didn't seem fair to saddle this beauty with someone as sick as me. Maybe after I was cured, we could resume our lives. Maybe I should have discussed it with her. She wept when I told her. She told me she understood. I felt miserable.
But not as miserable as I felt six months later. She hadn't told me she'd wait, just as I hadn't asked her. Six months ago, she married someone else. And today, she's five months pregnant.
My memories came to an end as I reached Magill's office. I entered. Laura was there.
"How are you?" she asks.
"About the same." I reply.
"I'll let the doctor know you're here."
She gets up and walks back to Magill's office. I can't believe how sexy she walks. Even if she is five months pregnant, her walk arouses me.
She comes back to take me to Magill's office She wraps an arm around my waist. As we reach the office, she gives me a quick impulsive kiss. I enter the office, and she closes the door.
I take a seat in the same chair that I've sat in for the last several weeks. "Let's not beat around the bush, doc. What's the verdict?"
"Not good." she says. "You have an inoperable tumor."
I'm stunned. I was expecting bad news, but not BAD news. I stammer out "Is there anything that can be done? Or, is it ... how much time have I got?"
"There is no medically acceptable treatment for your condition. If left untreated, you have no more than three weeks."
Three weeks! No more! Again, I'm stunned. But ...
"Wait a minute. You said there was no treatment. But giving me three weeks if left untreated implies some kind of treatment. How?? ..."
"I said there was no acceptable treatment. But some of my colleagues and I have developed a treatment ... but its experimental - extremely experimental. And you know how the medical establishment frowns on using human guinea pigs."
"Even ... for a volunteer."
"Before you volunteer, let me explain something about the disease and this particular treatment. You have this type of tumor because you have a genetic disposition that favors its growth. Our treatment alters your genetic makeup into something unfavorable for its growth."
"That sounds great. It sounds perfectly acceptable to me."
"On the face of it, yes, it sounds absolutely great. And we have high hopes for its use in the future, but right now the side effects really limit what we can do."
"Side effects? What kind of side effects? Certainly some little side effect is better than being a lot dead."
"Well, maybe. But its not really all that cut and dry. As I said, the treatment changes your genetic structure. Not just around the tumor, everywhere. You become healthy, but quite literally transform into something completely different."
"I don't think I understand."
"Do you remember Andrew Larritson? He was seeing me about a year ago for the same problem."
"Didn't he play football. I thought about him as walked to the your office this morning, but couldn't remember his name. Wasn't he a wide receiver? A big star, if I remember correctly. He was about my age with thinning hair."
"That's him."
"But he's dead. Just about a year ago. I remember reading about it."
"No, Andrew is still alive. He had the same type of tumor that you have, and opted for the treatment. The tumor dissolved and Andrew is now a very healthy person. However, he transformed according to his new genetic instructions. I doubt you'd recognize Andrew now. My associates and I fed the story of his death to the media, then we set up Andrew with a completely new life."
"That's incredible. Is it possible for me to see him? Can I talk to him?"
"I thought you might ask. I took the liberty of speaking with the new Andrew after I read through your test results. Neither of us have any problems with the two of you meeting, in fact, you already know the new Andrew."
That surprised me. I try to remember someone like Andrew Larritson. But Magill had said I wouldn't recognize him. I draw a complete blank. No one even remotely like Andrew comes to mind.
I look quizzically at the the doctor as she reaches down and picks up the phone. I hear her say "He's as ready as he's going to be. Why don't you come in now."
In a few moments, I hear the door open behind me. Someone enters and the door closes. I turn around.
And once again, I'm stunned.
"Laura?" I ask as my mouth drops open.
"Yes." she answers somewhat nervously.
I must be in shock. I can't think of anything to say. The Laura, that I dated, that I took to my bed, that I love is really a man. I look at her and ask simply "You're a man?"
"Once. It seems a long time ago." comes her matter-of-fact reply. "But not any more." she adds in a very coquettish voice, which I find extremely sexy. She giggles, which arouses me more. "As anyone can plainly see just by looking at my extended belly." She giggles again. "Now, I am a young woman. Part of the treatment is like the fountain of youth. I feel like a young woman. And my wants and desires, as you certainly must remember, are just like any other young woman's. About the only time I think of either Andrew or his life anymore is in a meeting like this. Otherwise, I'm simply Laura. And I love being Laura. Even if it were possible to change back, I wouldn't."
I can't think of anything else to ask. I stare at Laura, as she smiles back.
Finally, Dr. Magill breaks the silence. "So," she asks, "Do you still want to be a volunteer?"
"I don't know. This is all so new, so very strange. I need to have some time to think this over."
"That's only normal. Think it over, then, one way or the other, give me a call. You have about a week to decide. After that the tumor will be too large for the treatment to be effective."
"Okay. I'll call you within the week."
I rise out of the chair and turn towards the door. Laura is still smiling at me. If I were butter, I'd melt. God, she's gorgeous. Damn, I'm so horny.
My thoughts, as I walk home, are very different from those I had this morning.
What should I do?
Do I or don't I take the treatment? I don't really want to be a woman, I enjoy their company too much, but, on the other hand, I don't want to be dead either. Being a woman seems like taking the lesser of two evils.
Damn! What a stupid thought!
There's nothing evil about being a woman. In my case, being a woman means I will be alive. Being alive is infinitely superior to being dead. Dead is dead.
I've made my decision. I want to live.
When I get home, I call Dr. Magill. Laura answers, as I knew she would.
"Laura. I've made my decision. Tell Dr. Magill, I've decided to take the treatment. I don't want to die."
"I think she figured you would." Laura replies. She sounds very happy. "She penciled you in for tomorrow morning at eight."
"I'll see you tomorrow then."
I hang up the phone.
My subconscious is very active in my dreams tonight. Its not unusual for beautiful, nubile, young women to inhabit my dreams, but tonight my dreams are very different. Tonight, the sexy women of my dreams are me.
At first, I have blonde hair, like Laura's. My body reminds me of Laura, as my features melt and reform into Laura's. I am Laura. No, I realize. Not Laura, but Laura's younger sister. I'm an only child, but I've always wanted an older sister.
Then I change. My blonde hair darkens to brunette like Dr. Magill's would be, if it were not streaked with gray. I grow taller, more svelte. I'm wearing a white bridal gown as I walk down the aisle with my arm held by a man I don't know. Dr. Magill sits where the bride's mother would sit. As an orphan, I have always wanted real parents.
Another change. I've tousled flame red hair. I look like some wanton, wild-eyed tramp. I'm sexy and I know it. If someone could see me, they'd think me a provocative tease. And as I prance about in my lacy teddy, I know they'd be right. I am sexually aroused. I don't know from where in my mind "Red" comes, but I guess she must be some personification of my sexual libido.
Throughout the night I am changing continuously. It is as if each new woman gives flesh to some aspect of my personality. I lose track of the women I become. As I climb towards wakefulness, they merge together and then begin to fade.
I am anxious to get started. The twenty minute walk to Magill's office seems to take only seconds. I open the door to the office and Laura is there.
I smile at her. She smiles back.
She comes to me, embraces me. She draws me into a passionate kiss. I can't help but respond. I'm aroused. I want her. Then, without warning, she pulls away.
"I'll tell the doctor you're here."
I wonder. Will she still love me after this treatment? But, then. Will I still love her? For the first time I'm worried.
I am on the examination table. I have been strapped down. Magill says its for my protection. She doesn't want me to fall off the table.
"The treatment is a single injection. It may or may not hurt. You will become drowsy, then fall asleep. When you wake, you will be something different."
Its a good thing its only one shot. The needle looks like a porcupine quill, one of the longer ones. I watch her give me the shot. I'm sure she could have filled a small lake with the contents of the syringe. Fortunately, it doesn't hurt much.
I'm sleepy. I've closed my eyes and am drifting towards sleep. Just before I drop off, I wonder why she keeps saying something different, not someone different. I guess, it doesn't matter.
I hear voices as I drift back and forth, in and out of consciousness.
" ... 5 foot, 6 inches ..."
Nice height. I knew I was going to be shorter.
" ... good weight ... about ... ..22 pounds ... very healthy ..."
My mind fills in 122 pounds. Not bad. Healthy means no tumor.
" ... hair ... silver ... age ... guess ... 17 years ..."
Wow. A teenager with silver hair. Should make me popular."
" ... kind ... gentle ... so like him ..."
Laura's voice? Strange. I chuckle.
Everything is suddenly quiet.
I open my eyes and see Dr. Magill looking down at me. I see Laura, and I smile. She smiles back, but she looks sad.
"Don't try to speak." says Magill. "Everything went almost perfectly. The tumor is completely gone. And your physical transformation is complete. Over the next few hours, you'll undergo some mental changes. We've already arranged the death certificate, and we're going to go out now and set up your new life. I'm going to keep you sedated for now."
I feel the shot in my arm. I only have time to grunt, before I begin to feel sleepy.
I hear Laura ask "Shouldn't we have told him?"
Him? I'm male? Told me what?
I wake again. There is a smell in the air that I don't recognize. But it arouses me for some reason.
I look around. I'm on the ground. Where is my nest? Nest? I am in an enclosure. There are fences designed not to look like fences. Just what is a fence?
I see two females, one has dark hair, the other has light hair. Colors once had names. These females are small, not like me. One is crying, I can hear her.
I stand. I curl my hands at the knuckle and walk on all fours to the puddle. I look in, and see my reflection. I'm a silverback, a dominant male.
I recognize the smell. It is a female smell.
I spot the female. I recognize her, she is my female. Right now, nothing else matters.
END