Copyright© 2003 by Kien Reti

He saw the oncoming headlights and instinctively swerved onto the shoulder. That probably saved his life. But not his manhood.

"Your name. What's your name?" He stared up into the bright light. It hurt to look. It hurt all over. "WHAT'S... YOUR... NAME?"

"Jer- Jeremy. Everybody calls me Jerry. Jerry Morgan. What's going on? Where am I?"

"You're doing fine, Jerry. Just keep hanging in there. You're in an ambulance. We'll be at the hospital in just a few minutes."

"Doctor, I've been here a week now and nobody'll tell me what's going on. I'm still mostly numb from the waist down, but at least I can move my legs. I'll be all right, won't I? Won't I?

"Well, Jerry, in a way you've been very fortunate. If that passing motorist hadn't stopped and pulled you out of the wreck, we wouldn't be talking now. A good thing she happened to be a retired nurse, so she knew just what to do to stop the bleeding. Wrapping the shirt between your legs and cinching it tight with a belt as an emergency tourniquet was quick thinking."

"Between my legs? My... my... "

"Yes, there was some damage there. Quite extensive damage, actually. We're assessing just how much reconstructive surgery you'll need."

"Well, Jerry, in a way you've been very fortunate. The car manufacturer is offering seventy million to settle this matter out of court. That's in addition to medical expenses, of course. You'll never have to work another day in your life. However...

"It was a freak accident, of course, but that bolt shouldn't have sheared off like that. Then the steering column might not have buckled and caused the massive trauma to your -- your genital area. I understand that the surgeons weren't able to save much of anything down there. You have nothing at all left of your organ, and you'll be urinating through a catheter for the rest of your life. For that, and the complete loss of sexual function, seventy million is little enough. Little enough, indeed."

"Thank you, Mr. Tortfeasor. You're a damn fine lawyer, and you're worth every penny of your share of the settlement. Now that I can afford the best care money can buy, maybe the medical guys can see about fixing me up."

"So, what are my options, Dr. Smedley?"

"Well, Jerry, it doesn't look too promising. We can leave you as you are, lacking testicles and not even the stub of a penis, with an implanted catheter to enable you to empty your bladder. Hormone injections can make up for the testosterone your body can no longer produce, and this should maintain your male secondary characteristics. I'm afraid, though, that even our most heroic efforts to reconstruct a penis would be a rather sad affair. At best, you might be able to void urine through it, but you would feel little sensation down there, and, of course, the rebuilt organ could not possibly function satisfactorily in a sexual context."

"There's nothing else you have to offer then? I'll have to give up on sex the rest of my life?"

Mutilated! An object of pity! Half a man! The doctor knows damn well I have another option. I can always... can always put an end to what miserable remnants of life are left to me...

"I hesitate to even bring up the subject, Jerry, but have you ever -- have you ever had any notions, any fantasies... ? Have you ever had any same-sex contacts? Have you ever had any inclinations, any urges... ? I don't know quite how to phrase this."

"Doctor, just come right out and say it. I survived a mutilating accident, and I think I can cope with just about anything you can tell me. Out with it!"

"All right then, Jerry. We have the option of reconstructing you as a functional female. As a woman, that is. The state of the art for that type of surgery is actually quite advanced. We could create a vagina between your legs -- quite an artistic one, in fact -- one almost indistinguishable from those women are endowed with by nature. Using the latest techniques, we could almost guarantee you some degree of sensation down there. In other words, you could have sexual congress, and possibly even enjoy it... depending on your psychological adjustment to your new state, that is."

"Doctor, I-, well, I don't know. I did, out of curiosity, try it with a man once or twice, and... I just don't know. I'll need time, time to think... "

In fact, Jerry had tried it with men once or twice. Maybe even a few times more. Before hooking up with Carole, his first grand passion, he had gone through what he thought of as his "experimental" phase. For a period of several years, he had occasionally had encounters with men when he got horny enough in between girlfriends. He had discovered the exotic pleasures of anal sex, even letting himself be persuaded to take the passive role more often than not. The sensations were intense, sometimes frighteningly so. But, dammit, he liked women! Much more than men, actually. Waking up next to a warm, soft, feminine body was so comforting...

There was something emotionally fulfilling in holding a warm, soft female body in my arms. Never again to have that. Never! Never?

As a surgically-created woman, an artificial damsel, wouldn't that give me entry into that secret female world closed to men? Wouldn't it open new possibilities for meeting and, yes, even loving women? Might lesbian love be as satisfying as what I had experienced in my life as a man, holding a woman in my arms? Was I courageous -- ballsy? -- enough to find out?

"Doctor, let's say we explore that option a bit further... "

All told, it took six months.

Jeri Morgan didn't know quite what to make of her new body. She had breasts. Boobs! One of the effects of the estrogen implants was making breasts sprout. They weren't huge pendulous affairs by any means, but they had a pleasing compact conical shape, and the nipples were exquisitely sensitive.

Her hips were accumulating a bit of padding. Getting quite nicely rounded. Speaking of round, her ass was definitely on the plush side now. What a difference a few hormones made. Aided and abetted by a little judicious plastic surgery, of course.

The face wasn't bad, either. Depilation and minor fixups gave her a darkly exotic androgynous look. Rather fashionable, actually.

Going to the bathroom took some getting used to. Couldn't take a leak standing up any more. Not without dribbling all over her thighs, anyway. Had to remember which direction to wipe. More attention to hygiene was necessary. Not to mention fumbling with undergarments and assorted feminine paraphernalia.

Don't forget the pussy! The artificial vagina. The tunnel of love. A surgically-excavated cunt dividing the junction of her legs. Visually, it was hard to tell it from the real thing. Hey, for all practical purposes, it was the real thing. And, it was plenty deep and elastic enough to accomodate a penis. Or so the doctor had promised.

The usual techniques for a male-to-female sex change operation involved using the skin of the penis as a lining for the newly-built vagina. In this particular instance, it was unfortunately not an option. Instead, they had chosen the risker procedure of using a section of the rectosigmoid colon. When this type of operation worked, it resulted in a deep and self-lubricating vagina. It had worked just fine.