Chapter 10

When it first happened, I thought I had disappointed Michael for some reason. But whenever I checked, there was never anything wrong between us.

Next I thought there was something wrong with the box, and so I called the emergency number on the top. They sent out Jim who did an on-site systems check, but everything checked out. It was now four years since I had had my surgery. Using the box had become second nature. I never really thought much about it anymore.

But something had gone wrong, for I was feeling nauseous more and more frequently. It took me a few days before I figured it out: it was in the mornings.

And then something else struck me. I had missed my period. Previously, they had been regular like clockwork.

Of course I wasn't taking any birth control pills ... after all, I used to be a man! I don't have ovaries! I can not be pregnant.

But it kept happening and I kept getting sick in the morning. Since I always woke up before Michael in the morning (so I could make coffee, fetch the paper, and prepare a light breakfast), I was able to conceal it from him pretty well. Only a couple of times he woke up to find me in the bathroom. "Probably something I ate," I explained.

One day, I couldn't stand it, I swear my skirts were starting to feel tight, I went and purchased a pregnancy test.

It came out positive.

So, I bought another, a different brand.

Also positive.

Five more pregnancy tests, five more positive results.

"What must the Institute think?" I wondered. I had to plug myself into the box seven times so I could urinate on seven different sticks.

Something must be screwy with my chemistry, I finally decided. "These things probably return positive for all men," I rationalized.

"How did you meet Julia?" I asked Michael.

"What's that?" he asked.

"I mean, Julia set us up on our first date, right?"

"Right..." Michael looked at me cautiously.

"How did you and she meet?"

"Well ... um ... it was a kind-of dating service that I signed up for."

"What? You never told me that!"

"Right, and so that's ... ah ... how Julia became to be assigned to me."

"The Institute runs a dating service?"

"Uh ... sort-of."

But that's all he would say. I started to press him for more details, but I didn't. If he wanted to tell me, then he would.

But the next day, I couldn't stand not knowing, so I went down to the filing cabinets in the basement and started sifting through all of Michael's old paperwork.

It took three days. I think Michael may have been getting a little suspicious, because I wasn't keeping up with the normal work things around the house. The laundry actually built up into a respectable pile, and for the first time ever we ran out of clean dishes.

Tough, I thought to myself.

Finally, on the fourth day I found the folder.

Michael stepped in the door and knew immediately that something was wrong. I did not meet him at the door. I did not give him a 'welcome home' kiss so he could feel the stud in my tongue. I did not ask him how his day went.

I was at the dining room table, I was fully dressed in a conservative outfit, and the brochure from the institute was spread before me.

Michael sat down at the table and sighed. "I knew you'd find out about this, eventually," he said. "You're too smart to not figure it out."

The Institute was a dating service. The perfect kind. They guaranteed to find you a perfect match, the very first time. All you had to do was agree to accept a 'converted' woman (as the literature delicately explained), and pay a ton of money.

"This is sick!" I shouted at him. "Disgusting! Do you know that I didn't want to become a woman? That I was originally a man, but somehow I was tricked or forced, or coerced, or something into getting a sex change operation??"

Michael blanched, "no ... I didn't realize that."

"But you had no problem accepting me, did you? What with your remote control over my body!"

It was the watch. It always had been, even when Julia was wearing it. It all made sense now. The watch gave Michael control of my body. He could stimulate my nerve endings to make me horny. He could use it to prevent my orgasms. Some small computer inside would sense an imminent orgasm and would block it from happening, by numbing the nerves.

But worst of all, he could use the watch to punish me, to make me nauseous, to cause cramping, to give me diarrhea, to insure my obedience to his will.

"Listen, I haven't used the watch in over a year."

"You mean, because I've been such a good girl, you haven't needed to!"

He winced at that. "Yes..." he admitted, "it's been totally wonderful. But, also ... well I love you! I fell in love with you the first day we met! And I just realized that if I really loved you I had to give you your free will back, so you could just be yourself."

"Myself!" I screamed. I took a glass that I had been drinking from and threw it across the room where it shattered against the wall. "How do you fucking expect me to be myself after having been trained by you to be your household slave! Of course you don't have to use the fucking watch anymore!"

"Stop! Please!" He shouted, grasping me by both shoulders and shaking me. Then he rushed out of the room, returning a second later with the watch.

"Here it is," he held it up, "we can destroy it right now."

He rushed over to the counter top and pulled out a heavy iron skillet to smash it, but then he stopped.

"Wait a minute," he said, "I have a better idea." He started fiddling with it.

"Stop that!" I rushed over to him and tried to pull the watch out of his hands. "I don't want you fucking with my body any more!"

Michael easily held me back while he finished punching the controls.

"OK, here," he thrust the watch at me, "but please hear me out before you do anything."

I was able to take a close look at it for the first time. The face of the watch was a small color, LCD screen, and it was flashing a message: "Complete systems shutdown. Confirm?"

"I've instructed it to do a full shutdown. That means that all that gadgetry inside your body which monitors you, which controls your chemical balance, everything, will be shut down. It means that you will be free to urinate whenever and wherever you want to. It means that you will never have to connect yourself to the box again."

"So, why shouldn't I shut this down, right now?"

"Because," he said simply, "I wish you wouldn't, I'm asking you not to," and as he talked, a tear slid down his face. "I am giving this to you to prove that I love you, that I am totally in your power every bit as much as if you had your own watch which controls me. So..." he sighed, "do what you think is best."

"I need to get out of here..." I grabbed a jacket and rushed out the door.

An hour later I found myself sitting on a bench looking over a lake at the local park. It was night, dark, and lonely. I felt numb and chilled. I still held the watch in my hand.

Lost in my thoughts I didn't notice anything until someone asked, "may I join you?"

I looked up, astonished. "Julia!"

"Hi Kathy," she smiled, "may I join you?"

"I guess so," I responded glumly, moving aside.

"So, I guess our little secret is out."

I turned to her. "Why? Why me? Why was I dragged into this?"

Julia stroked my arm, "Why you? Why not you? It was because you were a good fit, that's why. You answered our ad on the internet for participants in medical studies, and we found that you were the ideal candidate for Michael ... or rather that you could be the ideal candidate for Michael."

"But ... I was a man! Why go through all that trouble to change my sex?"