Chapter 7

I had spent Sunday afternoon in a closed-door session in my mother’s salon chair for the first phase of my makeover. With my wife bearing witness, my shoulder-blade-length sandy blonde hair had been transformed into a huge, layered explosion of Platinum Blonde puffery, worthy of an 80’s rock video. It would require work on my part until the following week, when it could be permed. Then I would be able to wash, dry, fluff and forget. My evil ‘twin’ added two more features right from her own heart; arched, microbladed eyebrows and a set of long, thick curly false eyelashes, affixed with a new adhesive, very similar to that which I used to attach my prosthetics. Result: a set of showgirl lashes that would remain in place a month or more, through showers, tears, repeated makeup applications and removals and anything else I might throw at them.

Monday morning found Alexis, my mother and I in Mama’s Lexus, headed into the hills at the edge of town. With the salon closed on Monday, as usual, Mama had insisted on accompanying us. Under instruction, I was dressed casually in T-shirt and sweats. The hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, talons and toenails all shouted “Brandi”. Otherwise, I wore no makeup or prosthetics, which felt really weird. They had been deliberately evasive of my inquiries, saying only I wouldn’t be sorry we made the trip.

The high stone walls at the end of a private access road, far removed from the nearest neighbor, gave it away. We parked outside the main building, which resembled a huge French chateau, and made our way inside. We were expected, and escorted down the hallway to a door leading to an anteroom staffed by an attractive secretary, who announced our arrival via telephone, then ushered us into the inner office.

The sign on her desk said it all:

Elizabeth Masters, M.D., PhD.

Director

The dazzling redhead stepped out from behind her desk to greet Mama, Alexis, then me. Then we took our seats.

“I have to say, Brandi,” this truly exceptional woman began, “I have been quite intrigued hearing about you, first from your mother, then from D’Arcy – I’m sorry, Alexis. I am proud of the results we have accomplished for each of them, just as I am proud of what we have done for all our clients. Your case is of particular interest to me. Mind you, we have performed gender-transformative procedures in the past, both male-to-female and the reverse. In each case, the client was well pleased with the outcome. What sets you apart is the level you have already transformed yourself, with the help of your mother.

“Hearing her description of you is one thing. Seeing you with my own eyes Saturday night, watching the way you comported yourself in a public setting, was another matter. If I hadn’t known better, I would have surmised your transformation was already complete, rather than just getting underway. The Harry Benjamin Protocols require an initial period of counseling to determine whether the subject is a suitable candidate for transition. After observing you Saturday night, I have already determined you are, and we can progress to the next phase.

“Alexis chose surgical procedures to make her appearance mirror that of her idol. As it happens, that woman is also a client of ours and we had already digitally mapped her physiognomy to fractions of a millimeter. The procedures themselves were exacting, and the recovery arduous, but the results were a foregone conclusion. You, too, enjoy a similar benefit. We already have your mother’s dimensions mapped, from head to toe. Your results are, as they say, a ‘shoo-in’. Given the almost-surreal resemblance between you two already, the cosmetic procedures to transform your face into hers are actually minor and can be accomplished this afternoon on an out-patient basis. The... adjustments to the dimensions of your lower body can be performed the same way.

“Normally, Hormone Replacement Therapy is the longest, most drawn-out portion of the transition. It might take a year to see noticeable results and two years to see appreciable ones. Professionally, I do not condone the subterfuge you and your mother conducted, although I understand the motivations. You have been on low-level HRT for ten years now. Your bloodwork confirms...”

Bloodwork? How ... I turned to my wife. She continued looking at the Director, a coy smile on her lips. Okaaaaayyyyy...

“ ... your body is ready. In fact, it is at a tipping point. With the application of higher-level dosages of next-gen synthetic female hormones, plus a new medication we have recently developed, your physiological changes will be rapid and profound. Our computer modelling projects you will be ready to undergo your final surgical makeover in six months.

“The introduction of an androgen suppressant in conjunction with your hormone therapy is the norm. Your file indicates that you have already initiated sporadic use of Depro-Gen. If we were to put you on a more aggressive régime with that medication, we could achieve the desired results in sixty to ninety days. Of course, the female hormones would be at war with your male hormones during that period, delaying your progress and final surgical date. Because of your advanced-phase status, I have a different protocol in mind; a more extreme one, which will resolve that conflict immediately.

“The bottom line is, by the time you leave here this afternoon, you will already feel more female than male. Eight months from now, you will have difficulty remembering you were ever male at all.”

Information Overload. My head was swimming with all the data Dr. Masters had poured into it. Mama and Alexis were beyond solicitous and supportive as I signed the necessary consent forms. Then a nurse appeared to lead me out of the office and further down the corridor to the surgical wing.

My two companions helped me to the car three hours later. I was still woozy from the sedatives and anesthetic. Radical Bilateral Orchiectomy. They had resolved my hormonal conflict, all right. I wished Doctor Masters had been a little more forthcoming about the procedure up front. It wasn’t that I was sorry to take such a great leap towards Womanhood so soon. I just wished I had had an opportunity to prepare myself mentally. My groin would wear the heavy gauze padding for forty-eight hours. After that, I would no longer have to worry about tucking my testicles inside my abdominal cavity.

Then again, I wouldn’t need to wear the pussy panties anymore. There are several injectable body fillers available, ranging from short-term to permanent. Given the changes expected from the hormone replacement therapy, my hips, thighs, and buttocks were injected with a collagen-like agent that would gradually be absorbed by the body. That way, they could monitor my dimensions month to month, injecting more as needed, until my body reached the extent of its hormonal development. Then they would switch to Perma-Plast, a more permanent injectable media, to fill me out for the long run. I would wear heavy-duty support pantyhose for the next twenty-four hours while the filler ‘set’; infused itself into my tissues. Now, my wide hips, thick thighs and beautiful Brazilian bubble butt were all me – with a little help from modern medical science.

My face had already received the permanent media. My cheekbones and lips were bruised. That would resolve itself over the next few days. More to the point, they were dramatically fuller. I now had my mama’s face and hair. From the neck up, we were identical twins!