Date: Mon, 13 Mar 2000 10:35:39 PST
From: Joseph Martin <josephmartin39@hotmail.com>
Subject: Allen's Technology

This is my first attempt at writing any type of short story with sexual
content.  Usual Disclaimer -- Nudity, explicit descriptions of sexual acts.
Discard this now if those offend you.

Allen's Technology
By Joseph Martin

	Allen was my best friend throughout college even though our majors
were totally different and we never shared a class.  Something had always
just clicked with us, and we frequently hung out on the weekend or
double-dated with the girls we were seeing at the time.
	Always a little more on the reserved side, I was usually reluctant
to call and suggest we get together, afraid that I'd interrupt something
important or that I'd be imposing. But I never got that impression from
him. In fact, he often called first to see what I was doing or if I was
available for basketball at the school or a ride up the mountain.  And I
think I only turned him down once, when I was nearly failing one of my
junior writing classes and had to pull an all-nighter to fix a poorly
written paper.
	It was always hard to say no to Allen.  He was incredibly friendly
and just hearing his voice on the phone giving me hell for this or that was
almost surely to put me in a good mood.  "Don't say no to me, Jer, you
wuss, " he'd said when I tried to pull out of a racquetball league
tournament so I could spend more time with my girlfriend.  "Girls come and
go, but you'll only get this one chance to beat Alex and Mark." He was my
best friend, and he was right.  We even won, and Alex and Mark never heard
the end of it.
	I had always been flattered by his eagerness to share his time with
me because, even though I spent at least an hour a day at the gym, I never
felt like I was more than average in appearance.  But Allen was definitely
a very good-looking guy, and I always had a theory about the kind of people
guys choose to be around.  With women, it's not uncommon for a beautiful
woman to hang out with a "plain jane."  But guys are very discriminate and
only fraternize with similarly looking people.  So when Allen, with his
bulky gym- built body, chose to hang with me, I was honored.
	As college wore to a close, we saw less of each other.  Between my
reading projects and thesis papers for my English major, his research at
the physics labs, and our scoping for work after graduation, we hardly had
time for anything else.  When we turned twenty-one at two month intervals,
we took turns getting drunk at a strip club and had a great time.  But that
year was the first year we didn't see each other at least once a week.
	After graduation, it was even harder to get time to have a beer
together.  He moved back to Seattle for a job doing research for an
environmental firm, and I, unable to find work with only a bachelor's in
English, stayed in Minneapolis.  After about four months, I was completely
destitute, living with my parents, my morale regarding my job prospects at
an all-time low.  Allen visited from time to time, and after my girlfriend
of two years broke up with me to take a job up north, his friendship became
even more important.
	It was obvious he was doing well.  While he made no attempt to
flaunt it, his ability to visit from Seattle every other month or so and
treat me to a weekend on the town showed that he had found success.  I
never had the nerve to ask what he was doing because I felt it would shame
me even more, living in my parents' basement, praying the paper would have
some job I could take without embarrassment.  And he never talked about his
work or my lack of it, seeming to understand what a profoundly agonizing
situation I was in.
	Three more months passed, and I became so grossly depressed that I
stopped returning his calls when I saw my mother's notes on the
refrigerator door.  He was my best friend, but he was also a reminder of my
complete failure.  After a three-day period when I only got out of bed to
use the bathroom, my parents' level of concern rose to legitimate worry,
and I was physically taken to a therapist.  Nearly a month of unsuccessful
sessions with my therapist left my parents' health plan at its limit, and
me completely without hope.
	The notes that Allen had called had also stopped appearing on the
fridge.  I was crushed.  My only friend in the world had deserted me.
Never mind that I was the one who stopped returning calls and retreated, he
should have persevered.  I felt abandoned.
	Another week or two passed before I was awakened one afternoon by a
gentle familiar voice, and once I opened my eyes, a face that gave me hope.
Of course, Allen, in his infinite wisdom and endless friendship, had come
to visit.  "I talked to your Dad," he said.  He stood up, and looked a
million miles away, framed against the ceiling.  There was a long pause,
and the expression he wore was one of both concern and happiness.  I knew
what he must have heard.  I was lost and probably suicidal, I never got out
of bed, I needed a friend and some hope.  "Everybody's pretty worried, and
well, it just seems to me that you need to get a different perspective.
Maybe get out of town.  Broaden your horizons."
	"Allen, I'm doing fine, and I just"
	"Bullshit," he said sternly.
	I was stunned.  Normally, Allen would tease me when he knew what
was best and I didn't, but this wasn't teasing. "You're not doing fine, and
you're wallowing in self pity.  You've been my best friend for too long for
me to ignore that, or let you fool yourself into thinking you don't need my
help.  Get dressed."
	I did.  My will to resist had evaporated long ago, and I
begrudgingly got out of bed and proceeded to find clean clothes to wear.
It took some time, but Allen was patient, and watched me the whole time.
	"You've lost some weight," he said worriedly as I finally found a
shirt to pull over my head. I had nothing to say.  Weight was not my
greatest concern.  Then, his mood seemed to change.  The smile returned,
and as I reached for a shoe, he jokingly said, "we're either going to have
to get you back to the gym, or find you some decent shoulder pads!" And he
laughed.  Infectious as always, Allen's laugh brought a smile to my lips,
and I thought for just a moment that there was probably hope after all.
	I saw the sun for the first time in a couple of weeks that day, and
during the evening, he proposed a plan for me that he thought would help me
get started.  "You haven't worked in like, eight months, so it's going to
be a little tough to find the kind of job you would've right out of
school," he said after two drinks and appetizers.  "But you're intelligent
enough, and your grades were always excellent, after a fashion anyway,
right?"
	"After a fashion," I said with a sarcastic tone.  My grades were
never stellar, but I worked hard, and had the respect of my instructors.
	"So, I don't know what you'll say, but I've been thinking that you
need to move to Seattle with me and get started working at this publishing
firm out there."  I paused mid-bite.  "Before you say anything, just let me
finish," he said.  "I know the manager of the human resources group there,
and she's very cool and is looking for someone with an English background
to get in on a lower level, say as a sort of HR assistant.  It wouldn't be
anything glamorous, but at least it would be something.  And it's at a
publishing house, so it's still working for the same industry."
	"Plus, I've got this three-bedroom place all to myself.  I can
easily give up one room without even noticing.  Not that it wouldn't be my
pleasure to have you around, too."  He paused, seeming to wait for my
reaction.
	I began to object. My ego was bruised.  I couldn't let him find me
a job and expect me to move.  "Allen, I'm flattered you're talking to
people, but I can't let you do that -- I'm not even interested in HR."
	"Hey, buddy, it's not like you have that many other opportunities
you're fending off -- and you wouldn't necessarily get this job, either.
You'd have to apply, and while you were doing that you might find something
better.  Maybe in high-tech or something."
	As always, he was right.  We continued to talk, and I began to see
something positive in the future, and my mood improved with each hour and
each drink.  And the drinks kept coming.
	I still have no idea what time it was that we finally decided to
leave the restaurant, and my memory is very spotty from that point until
the next morning.  I remember I was in no shape to drive, and I was very
concerned about Allen, too.  He'd matched me almost drink-for-drink, but he
insisted he was fine.  In retrospect, we were probably lucky to get back to
my parent's house alive or without a jailhouse detour.
	Allen hadn't gotten a room in town that night, and so I must have
offered to have him stay at my parent's place.  Unfortunately, all the
spare bedrooms had been reused as office or studio space, and the only
bedroom other than my parent's was mine.  But only a drunk could forget
that, so when we got back to my parent's place, Allen ended up sharing my
bed with me.  And something happened.  I'm not sure exactly what, and I'm
not really sure Allen knew, either, but something.  I know because I woke
up at about 5:20 in the morning completely naked with Allen, also naked, in
my arms.  My head was in such pain I could hardly move, but I was so
stunned once I realized who it was in the bed with me that I practically
jumped out of the bed.  And the room moved in an agonizing, nauseating
circle around me.
	I rushed into the bathroom as quickly as I could and threw up for
about 20 minutes or so, I guess, before Allen came in.  Between bouts of
wretching, I'd had time to process some spotty memories, and I knew that we
hadn't gone to bed in the nude, but I didn't remember anything after my
head hit the pillows.  I had noticed a bite mark on my right thigh.
	And when Allen finally took a step, I realized I was still naked.
Horrified, I reached for a towel that should have been hanging near the
toilet, but wasn't.  I fumbled, and then looked over to where Allen had
stopped just inside the bathroom doorway.  He was wearing his underwear
now, and looked like he was in pain, with his hand on his head.  He wasn't
really looking at me, but sortof at the wall above me.  He took two steps
toward me and then one toward the counter, where he picked up the towel I
couldn't find, and handed it to me.  I took it silently, and bunching it
around me, slumped against the wall near the toilet.
	"Wild night," he said, not as a question and without a hint of
sarcasm or humor.
	"I guess," was all I could manage to reply.
	"You should take a shower.  I think I'm going to try to get an
early flight back."  He stood there for about 10 seconds before turning
around and heading back into the room.  As he walked into the room, the
light from the bathroom shone on his back, and I noticed lots of little
bruises on his back, as well as what appeared to be bite marks on his lower
back and upper thighs.
	I wanted to object to his leaving, but it was clear that something
had happened, and I wasn't sure either of us wanted to talk about it or
have to face the other and whatever it was that had occurred.
	I sat in my spot against the wall until I heard him close the
bedroom door behind him and the sound of his footsteps on their way up the
stairs was no longer audible.  I ached, and it wasn't just my head.  My
legs were sore, like I'd done squats the day before or something.  Slowly,
I stood up and turned to face the mirror.  I looked like hell, but I had
two more bite marks on my chest as well as what was clearly a hickee on my
neck, just below my left ear.  What had happened? What had we done?  The
truth seemed so obvious that I couldn't believe it could be that simple.
	"We're both straight," I thought to myself as I turned on the
shower.  "Maybe we got a couple of girls and brought them back with us, but
they left." I continued to rationalize.
	The shower felt wonderful as I stepped under it, and as I turned to
get my entire body wet, my hand hit something that was crunchy in my pubic
hair for only a moment before it got wet, and then there was no trace.  I
immediately knew what it was, and I was terrified.  Whatever Allen and I
did was something completely new to both of us, and I wondered if he knew
what it was, or if he'd ever speak to me again.
	The next day I spent drinking a lot of water and taking plenty of
painkillers, something I try to avoid.  I've always felt that taking drugs
in all except the most serious situations was something to be avoided, but
my head hurt, and I was in no position to turn down my Mother's invitation
to the bottle of Advil.  "I take it you boys had a great time last night,"
she said mockingly.
	"It would seem so," I said, before gulping down the pills.  "Has he
called yet?"
	"No, why"
	"Well, he headed out early this morning and I wondered if he had
any news."
	"About?"
	"He suggested that I move up there with him to get a job."
	"Oh, Honey!" she exclaimed, "that's wonderful!"
	"Well, I just wanted to know if the offer was still good, because
I'm thinking I should take it."
	"Well, of course you should.  You need to get a change of scenery
and get on with your life."
	I knew that as much as anyone, but I was no longer so certain that
I should be going to spend more time around Allen. Would things be awkward?
Would we even be able to be around each other?

	Allen called the next afternoon and we spoke for about twenty
minutes.  He seemed to be in a chatty mood, and asked "Are you packed yet?"
	"Packed yet?" I asked, surprised.  "Why would I be packed already?"
	"Well, I talked to your Mom before she handed the phone over, and
she's totally excited for you, so I figured you were probably preparing."
	"Allen, we only talked about me moving in with you as a sort of
possibility.  If you're serious, though, I'm ready to give Seattle a try."
	"Good.  Well, let me know when your plane comes in, and I'll pick
you up."
	And so that was that.  I was moving to Seattle, and everyone was
totally supportive.  My parents bought me a one-way ticket, and with three
suitcases of clothes, I arrived at SEATAC.  Allen was friendly and gave me
a buddy hug when I came out of the gate, immediately calming my nerves and
eliminating any doubts I may have had about our relationship and how it had
changed.
	We arrived at his apartment on Queen Anne Hill and I was shown my
room.  Allen told me that we were going out for dinner, but that wouldn't
be the norm.  And tomorrow was my interview at the publishing firm.  He
left the room to get me something from the fridge while I unpacked, but
instead of getting straight to work, I sat on the bed in a daze for a
moment.  My world had changed very suddenly in the course of four days.
Here I was in my best friend's apartment in Seattle with a new lease on
life, and a lot of questions in the air.
	Over dinner, Allen explained what he did at Environ Technologies,
the firm where he worked.  He spared me most of the gory details, but it
had something to do with microscopic robots that were designed to repair
damaged ecosystems and do things like clean up oil spills.  I was
impressed.
	"But the best part of all, is that I've quickly become the group
manager, which means that while I sometimes spend late nights, I can still
go in whenever I want," he explained.  "So since you have to be sharp as a
tack for you interview tomorrow and tomorrow's a Friday anyway, you're the
desecrated driver tonight, my friend," he said with a light punch to my
shoulder.
	"Desecrated, indeed, " I agreed.  "But in that case, I want to
watch you get drunk.  Have another drink."
	"For you, my friend, anything.  Well, almost anything, anyway, " he
joked.  And I felt a chill.  I wondered to myself what he meant by that.
	An hour and a half and five drinks later, Allen was barely human.
I watched with great humor when he staggered to the bathroom just before we
left.  And after he got in the car, he had a hell of time with his
seatbelt, so I had to reach across him to help him with it.  As I did, he
sat perfectly still with this sappy drunk grin on his face, and as I
finally brought the strap around his waist, he grabbed my hand and pressed
it against his stomach just above his groin and said, "I love you man."
	It was so cliche it would have made me laugh, except I wondered if
it were true.  I wasn't sure of that at all.  In fact, that night, after
practically carrying an unconscious Allen into his room and depositing him
on his bed, I lay awake for probably two hours before I was able to sleep.
Was he gay?  Was I? How could either of us be, we'd both had girlfriends
for years..... I'd never deny that I cared for Allen immensely, and perhaps
even that I loved him the way two best friends do, but I found myself
worrying that there was something more.
	The next morning my interview didn't go well.  I was tired from
having stayed up too late thinking, and I looked the part.  The woman who
interviewed me was obviously unimpressed, and although my credentials were
probably exactly what she was looking for, I doubted that I was a what she
was looking for as far as personality fit.  I went home and got undressed
in my room and stood in front of the mirror looking at my body, at the
person I had become.  I was feeling depressed again, and I wasn't sure who
I was.  I was a decent looking guy.  I needed to put on some weight, but I
still had the broad chest and sandy blonde hair that had helped me do well
with girls.  I stuck my chest out and it didn't look nearly as impressive
as it once had, but I thought I looked all right.  And I should go back to
the gym.  Get my blood flowing.  It'd improve my mood and my looks.
	I spent part of the afternoon looking for a gym to join, but all of
them were so expensive, not like the cheap access I had at school.  Until I
found a job, there'd be no way I could justify that kind of monthly
expense.
	Feeling a little defeated, I grabbed a paper on my way back to the
apartment, and during the bus ride home, I searched for potential job
leads.  By the time I got to Allen's door, I was tired, and had only just
gotten through the help wanted ads.  I collapsed on the couch and began to
look through the ones I had already circled, crossing out half of them on
second examination.  At some point, my eyes closed and I just fell asleep.
	Allen got home at around 6:00 that night, he said, and tiptoed
around the apartment until I woke up about a half an hour later.  He was
sitting on the edge of the couch when I woke up and asked "You want a soda,
or something?" I responded that I would, and he tousled my hair before he
got up.
	The coke he brought back from the fridge was in a glass, and he
apologized that most of the carbonation had left it after he opened the
liter bottle the night before.  "Just didn't close it tight enough, I
guess," he said, handed me the glass, and then went back into the kitchen.
He was right.  It was pretty flat, but it was still refreshing after my
two-hour nap on the couch.  I gulped it down and went in to join him in the
kitchen.
	"Dinner at home tonight," he said as he took some vegetables out of
the fridge.  "Any luck with Cindy?"
	"Oh, I don't think so," I replied.  "I didn't sleep well last night
and I don't think I made a good impression."
	"Too bad, man.  That'd be a sweet place to work.  So I saw you had
want-ads circled."
	"Yeah, well, I figured if I didn't get the job with her, that I'd
better be looking elsewhere, you know?"
	"Good plan.  But hey, don't feel like there's any pressure.  You're
here now, and it takes as long as it takes.  I don't plan on kicking you
out any time soon if you end up having a hard time getting work."
	"Thanks Allen.  I appreciate it.  I do." I said humbly.
	"I know."
	After the stir-fry that Allen had cooked was long gone, and we'd
each had a glass of port after dinner, Allen started talking about his
work.  "You know some of the stuff we're working on could save the planet
if used the right way.  The technology could be used for all kinds of
things.  Contamination cleanup is just the start.  Hell, it could end up
being in food and medicine and all facets of life."
	I had no idea how to talk with him about this issue, but he also
couldn't talk about Hemmingway or Whitman, either.  "Sounds great, " I
said, not knowing what else to say.
	He looked at me quizzically and replied, "You don't really
understand what I'm talking about, do you?"
	"No," I said.  "Should I?"
	"No, I guess not."  There was a good pause as he finished the last
of his port.  Then he said something that really surprised me.  "You know,
I think it's fantastic that you're here.  I really do.  You're my best
friend and I can't think of anyone I'd rather share my home with."
	I was taken aback.  "Wow, thanks Allen.  I'm really flattered.  I'm
glad I'm here, too." I stumbled over my thanks and totally failed to
respond appropriately.  But the subject dropped, and we went into the
living room to watch some TV for about two hours, before the wine really
hit me and it was time for bed.

	For two weeks I continued to look for work through the paper and I
still had no real promising leads.  My resume seemed to be sitting on the
desk of every HR person in the city, but there were no bites.  I was
bummed, but Allen was keeping my spirits elevated as best he could.  He was
a fantastic cook, and since I had more time than he did, I kept the
apartment clean.  Maybe cleaner than he had, I don't know.
	One morning about that time, I noticed it looked like my hair was
growing in a different color.  Puzzled, I chalked it up to the more
northern climate.  But as my roots grew in, it was undeniable.  My hair had
dramatically changed color from its normally sandy blonde to a rich
chestnut brown.  I was disturbed, but not too worried.  Then one afternoon,
Allen and I were in the car headed to a movie he wanted to see when, at a
stoplight, he looked over and said, "So you've stopped bleaching your hair,
huh?"
	"I've never bleached my hair.  It just changed color.  I can't
explain it."  I said, puzzled as ever.
	"Huh, really?  It really changed all of a sudden then?  Maybe it's
the northern climate," he said.
	"I don't really think so, Allen.  I mean, have you ever heard of
something this sudden and dramatic?"
	"I guess not.  Well, it'll go better with your eyes anyway," he
said jokingly.
	"My eyes are green.  How does brown go better with green?" I said,
annoyed.
	"Hey, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but your eyes are brown,
too," Allen said with a laughing tone.
	I was getting agitated.  "Yours must be too, then, because you're
completely full of shit," I said accusingly.
	"Who, dude.  Chill out.  I'm not kidding.  Check the mirror."
	I pulled down the mirror on the sun visor, and sure enough, my eyes
were brown, too.  "Oh shit.  Allen, this is scary.  This kind of thing
doesn't just happen."
	"Maybe you should see a doctor," he suggested.
	He was right, but short of needles, doctors' offices have always
been the place I was most uncomfortable in.  "Maybe I should just wait a
bit and see if it changes back." I said.  I was scared, but it was only
cosmetic, I said to myself.
	"In that case, you should probably dye your blonde to match your
brown." He teased.  I felt better.
	That night he made root beer floats after we got home from the
movie, and he apologized that the fizz was not what it should have been.
	Once it was pointed out to me that my eye color had changed too, I
was on the lookout for other changes, but I couldn't find them.  All my
body hair had started growing in darker, which didn't surprise me, but I
simply got a hair cut so that only my new, natural color was visible, and I
trimmed the hair on my chest, underarms, and pubes so that it didn't look
like I'd been dipped in bleach three or four weeks ago.
	But Allen's and my relationship had changed.  He no longer
encouraged me to find work at all, and was much more -- well --
affectionate toward me.  He and I started being mistaken for brothers even
though we looked nothing alike. I figured it was because we had grown so
close that people mistook us for relations based on our behavior.  But what
I definitely noticed more of was an increased tendency to touch me on the
arm, or even the hand.  Very un-buddylike behavior.  Once in a while he'd
call me "Babe" jokingly, and after a time, I had to ask him to stop, which
seemed to embarrass him.
	I was sure he was gay.  But I was also enjoying the closeness, and
wondered if maybe I might be gay, too.  Bi, anyway.  It scared the hell out
of me, though.  What would I tell my parents?  My friends?
	But the obvious kept popping up.  We were very close.  He'd leave
his hand on my leg while we sat on the couch watching TV, and then tousle
my brown hair when he got up to go to the bathroom.  Once in a while, I'd
be on my bed at night naked and sweating with my dick in my hand, and I'd
consciously change the fantasy lover in my mind from some actress to Allen,
just to see if it would help me get off.  Sometimes it worked, sometimes it
didn't.  It was the times it worked that sortof worried me.
	And I started catching him naked in the apartment.  It wasn't that
Allen and I never saw each other in the buff, but it was always a
locker-room situation. This was different.  He wasn't bothering to put on
clothes in the apartment when he got up in the morning before and after his
shower.  He'd walk in completely naked while I was showering and talk to me
through the glass.  I'd see him walking out of the kitchen with a snack on
the way back to his room.  Nude with ever-greater frequency.  And it didn't
bother me, really, it just struck me as odd.  Sometimes, after watching him
walk down the hall toward the bathroom, his ass firm and his back broad,
I'd find myself with a hardon in my pants, and I'd retire to my room to
relieve the pressure.
	And more and more, women had no sexual appeal to me.  On a couple
of occasions, I refused to let Allen or any other muscular stud creep into
my fantasy as I pumped my cock, and I couldn't get off.  The women, no
matter how large their tits were or wet their pussies were, couldn't help
me get off.  Each night, I ultimately had to relent and allow Allen's image
to resurface before I could fill my hand with cum.
	However, one Saturday evening I saw him bent over in the kitchen
getting something from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, and noticed
his balls hanging between his legs.  They seemed huge, and it struck me as
odd that I could see them from that angle.  He turned around to take his
loot with him to his room, and I was awestruck at the size of his member
and his balls.  They seemed gigantic.  Facing me, he saw what must have
been my look of surprise, and grinned.  Holding a carrot in his left hand,
he struck a body- builder's pose for me and then promptly headed on his
way, patting me on the ass as he passed me.  He looked wonderful.  He
looked huge.  He patted me on the ass.
	I made a beeline for my room, an erection in my pants.  But when I
pulled my pants down, I realized I was tiny by comparison.  In fact, I was
too small.  And he was too large.  What was going on?  I reached into my
nightstand and pulled out a ruler.  After pumping on my dick for a few
moments, thinking of Allen bent over at the fridge, I measured my dick. So
hard it ached, it stood at just short of four inches.  I had been at least
that long when soft a year ago, but now this was changing, too?  And Allen
-- maybe he wasn't so huge after all, maybe I had just gotten used to my
own shrinking size.  Still, he must have been at least 6 inches soft, which
made my erection seem teeny.  I finished the hand-job I desperately needed
and then stepped to the mirror.
	Allen had never been so much larger than me before.  I'd never
measured myself prior to that date, but I always knew I was about average,
and Allen always seemed to be about the same size, based on what I saw at
the gym.  Now that was no longer true.  My dick had been shrinking.  I
pulled at it in its soft state.  It couldn't have been more than an inch
and a half long, and strangely enough, it seemed as though it was
uncircumcised.  Not really, but sortof.  Like my foreskin was starting to
grow back or something.  My examinations led me to my balls, which were
also much smaller.  I'd always had especially large, low hanging balls, but
I discovered that they were no longer large or low-slung.
  About the size of acorns, they were held tightly against my body.  What
was going on?  How could I have changed this much without noticing?  I must
have changed so slowly that I didn't even notice the change.
	I began to feel short of breath, and lay down on my bed, my hand at
my crotch.  What was going on?  I concentrated on steady breathing, on
making sure I didn't panic, but I was just plain scared.  Why was my dick
so small?  What had happened to me?  Was it related to the hair and eye
color change?
	I held my little dick in my hand, rubbing it to see what was
different, and there was nothing, really, it was just shorter, and maybe a
tiny bit narrower.  As I played with it, I realized that maybe it felt
different now than it used to, too.  Not really different, just more
intense when I rubbed it at the base of the glans.  Quickly, my breathing
became heavier and I brought myself to another orgasm, pumping a small load
of cum onto my chest.  I wiped it off with a towel from the closet and went
to sleep.
	When I woke up in the morning, I stood naked in front of the mirror
again, examining my body.  Not in a panic any more, but still worried, I
noticed other changes. My dick was still small, as were my balls.  But I
was missing the birthmark on my right arm, and all the scars on my body had
faded to the point that it was hard to find them.
	Perplexed but still determined to lead my day according to my
original plan, I went into the shower.  True to form, Allen showed up
mid-way through my shower, and after peeing, turned to chat with me.  I
could see the lighter outline of his cock as it hung against the dark bush
between his legs, and I felt my erection stir.  I turned so that he
couldn't see it, and as the conversation finished, I was left thinking
about my situation.  Should I go to a doctor?  Would a doctor be able to
stop this?  Had any of this happened to anyone else before?  I decided that
there was nothing a doctor could do except tell me I had a hormonal problem
and give me drugs which I didn't want, so I made up my mind to wait until I
had something real to bring them.
	When I dressed and came of out my room, Allen was lying naked on
the couch watching a hockey game, one leg on the couch and the other on the
floor.  I came in quietly and sat at the other end, just out of reach of
his foot.  "Whattarya doin today?" he asked.
	"I don't know.  I guess I'll look for work again.  It's been
months, Allen, don't you think it's time for me to get a job?" I asked.
	"If you want one, sure.  But I have to say, I don't think we need
another income in the house.  If you'd like something to do with your time,
then by all means."  He reached over and rubbed my forearm with his hand,
then let it fall into his naked groin.
	I didn't know how to take his comment.  "I've noticed you're naked
in the apartment a lot these days," I said, changing the subject.
	"Do you mind?"
	"Um, no, I guess not, it just seemed odd to me that you'd spend so
much time in the nude."
	He took his hand out of his crotch and scratched his head as he
turned away from the game, with a look of confusion on his face.  I took a
quick glance at his cock, which he saw.  And he was grinning again.  "If
you'd rather I don't do it as much any more, just let me know."
	"Well, OK." I said.  I gulped.  "Have you noticed me changing any
more?"
	"What do you mean, like your hair and eyes?" he asked.
	"Well, sure."
	"No, not really.  Maybe you're a little more tan and that's
clearing up your skin some, but that's about it."
	"Oh, OK." I got up and made myself a bowl of cereal at the kitchen
table, where I sat eating alone.  I thought about what was happening to me,
and this sense of overwhelming sadness just ran over me in a wave.  I
sniffled just a bit before squelching the tears.  But as I passed Allen on
my way back to my bedroom after I finished my cereal, Allen saw me and
quickly got up.
	"Have you been crying?"
	"No.  No, I haven't"
	"You've been crying, what's wrong?"
	"I just don't know who I am anymore."
	And he hugged me.  Naked, built, and hung, he hugged me for a long
while until I broke away because I was afraid he'd feel the wood growing in
my pants.  I gave him a smile and a "Thanks" and then went back to my room,
where I stood in front of the mirror once more.  I could still feel the
erection in my pants, but it wasn't visible beneath my clothes.  God, my
dick was small.

	Another week passed and I checked myself daily.  My balls were the
first to almost completely vanish.  At the end of the week, I had a patch
of loose skin between my dick and my asshole, and nothing more.  My dick,
for it's own account, had continued to shrink, and was now only about three
inches at its maximum length, and practically hid in my pubic hair when
soft.  But it was increasingly responsive to stimulation, and I had
fantastic almost-dry orgasms every night, although my technique changed
from a grasping pump to using my underwear to rub its underside.
	When I put on my underwear, my crotch looked like that of a girl
wearing men's briefs.  A big, empty sack hung off the front.  I was no
longer frightened, but more interested to see what would happen.  So far, I
didn't have to sit to pee, but if I didn't, I risked splashing the room if
my pubic hair got in the way of the stream.  I started to sit while I peed.
	At the end of the second week, my dick had practically vanished.
It was about 1/2 of an inch long and about as big around as my pinky
finger when it was completely hard, and hid itself in my pubic hair when
soft.  I had taken to wiping my entire pubic region whenever I peed to
avoid unnecessary mess after I was done.  But this was mainly due to the
fact that my urethra no longer terminated at the end of my dick, but
further down in my groin.  It had, for lack of a better word, "migrated"
over the course of two days to where it now was and showed no further sign
of movement.  As for my scrotum, it had begun to recess into my body,
forming folds of tissue around an ever-deepening, sensitive orifice. I
could put my finger in to just beyond the fingernail.
	I was developing a vagina, there was no question about it.  But I
was not just interested to see what would happen, I was excited.  I woke up
every morning and masturbated for almost an hour before getting out of bed.
My penis, or whatever it was now was so erogenous that once I pulled the
little hood back I could rub it with my index finger and thumb until I came
over and over.  And I never ejaculated.
	Allen commented that I was looking happier when he came home from
work one night, and I simply replied that I was feeling great.  He smiled
broadly, reached for my chest and tugged at my chest hair as he said "good
man."  I couldn't help but smile.  Was I a man any more?  Did it matter?
	That night I had to suppress a scream as I made myself cum for the
third time in 10 minutes.
	Another week passed, and as far as I could tell, I had a fully
formed vagina.  And I was hornier than hell, and constantly wet.  Rubbing
my clit no longer did it for me, and I was having a hard time staying out
of the bedroom.  I spent hours naked on my bed with my legs spread and my
fingers between them.  I loved having a pussy and the new sensations it
offered.  I couldn't believe how great it felt.
	One of the interesting observations I had about my new groin was
the freedom of movement I felt.  And the cool breeze that I felt across my
moist, new lips as I moved around the room.
	About four days after I became complete, I woke up one morning, and
after masturbating and showering, went out to the kitchen for breakfast
where Allen was sitting in the nude reading a paper.  I sat near him with
my bowl of cereal where I could see his dick, and took long look,
memorizing its position, half hard against his leg.  I could feel the
warmth build in my abdomen, and while I ate with my right hand, I began to
work into the leg of my light blue surfing shorts with my left.  Allen was
engrossed in the paper.  I became engrossed in rubbing my clit, and had to
keep my concentration on the bowl of cereal, lifting one spoonful at a time
to my mouth.
	"Having trouble getting your balls comfy?" Allen asked.  I jumped,
knocking the bowl of cereal into the air and upside down on table, milk and
flakes going everywhere.
	I looked sheepishly at him and then got up to clean up the mess.
As I approached the sink looking for a rag or sponge, I noticed the wetness
of the fingers on my left hand, and rinsed it quickly before returning to
the table to clean my mess.  I finally got the whole table clean and was
bent over cleaning up some milk on the floor, when Allen said teasingly,
"You seem to have gotten some in your crotch, too, Jer."
	I straightened up and felt between my legs.  Sure enough, they were
wet.  But it wasn't milk that was there, I was caught getting my shorts wet
over a naked man.  Fortunately, he couldn't have known that.  I chuckled
with him for a moment before quickly finishing up and going back to my room
to masturbate and change.
	After that incident, every time Allen I saw me, he gave me a big
grin. And whenever I'd ask him, "What?" he'd reply with an "Oh, nothing."
And then I'd have to go into my room and sink my fingers into my body until
I bit my lip to keep from crying out with pleasure.  Allen.
	After a few days of this, I was beside myself with horniness and so
one afternoon I pulled on some jeans and a shirt and asked Allen for $50.
I was very determined about my mission, but I couldn't share with him what
I needed.
	"What is it you need fifty bucks for, Jer?" he asked again.
	"I can't tell you, it's very personal.  Just trust me that I need
the money."  He finally relented and gave me three twenties from his
wallet.
	When I got home, he wanted to see what was in the plain brown bag,
but I wouldn't show him.  "I told you it's personal" I said to his pleas.
He was frustrated, but it was an excited sort of frustrated that I couldn't
place.  It almost seemed like the kind of sexual frustration I was feeling
day in and out now that I had become female.  Only he didn't know -- I
still looked male to the observer.
	I went to my room and popped the batteries in, and turned it on.
With my legs spread, I rubbed my lips first with the dildo, gasping from
the pleasure, and then went for my clit.  Electrical shocks - Paradise -
ran through my body.  I sat up suddenly with the shock of it, and then bore
down for more.  I had to turn my face into a pillow to muffle my gasping
and yelping and when I came the second time, I let myself have a break.
The warmth running through my body was astounding and I held the pillow to
my chest until I had recovered.
	I was standing in front of the mirror looking at myself.  I looked
basically like a man with nothing between my legs.  The three day's beard
growth, the hairy chest.  No hips, no breasts.  I was a guy with a pussy.
I ran my fingers down the folds of my vagina, looking for the clit I knew
was there.  A slight rub, and the now-familiar zing ran through me. A drop
of vaginal fluid ran down my leg to my foot. I smiled at the person
standing in the mirror, and he grinned back, knowing my secret and
relishing it along with me.
	Crawling back onto the bed, I grabbed the dildo, still running from
my last bout with it, and began to rub my lips and clit until the
incredible wetness inside me seemed unbearable, and then moved the device
to my entry, pressing it in a little at a time.  There was pressure, and
then a shock of pain, which I grinned at.  I had just taken my own
virginity.  I began thrusting it in and out a little at a time, flexing my
muscles against it, loving the feeling of it filling me, and relishing the
smell filling the room.  When I came, the pillow didn't seem to help cover
up my scream and just as I was recovering, there was a knock at the door.
	Allen!  Oh, shit.  "Just a minute, man!" I hollered.  "I'll be out
in a minute."  The bedspread had a large wet spot on it where I had been
laying, and the towel must have smelled like all kinds of woman.
	"Are you OK?  I heard a noise," he said from the other side of the
door.
	"I'm fine.  You ready for dinner?" I said as I pulled on my jeans
and t-shirt again.
	"Yeah, meet you in the kitchen."
	After hiding the bedspread and towel, I made a check of the room.
I turned on the ceiling fan and made a stop in the bathroom on the way to
the kitchen.  My hands smelled like pussy and I couldn't have him smelling
that on me, even though it was my own. Cleaned up, I walked into the
kitchen to find him reading at the table.  He looked up as I entered.
"Your personal thing work out OK?" he asked with a hint of taunting.
	"Oh, yeah, it's fine.  Thanks for the cash."
	"Well, whatever you need."
	He grinned at me and I blushed. "Thanks."
	He was so handsome, I began to feel the wetness between my legs and
a familiar warmth.  But as far as he knew, I was a guy.  Dinner was
wonderful, and he said all kinds of really kind things that I never
expected.  What a pleasure it was to have me around, and how much better
life had been for him since I was here.  Then after we cleaned up the
dishes, it turned out he had rented a "chick flick" that seemed to touch
both of us.
	I noticed his hand on my upper thigh at one point, and I just
smiled and enjoyed its warmth.  And then when we stood up to go to bed, he
hugged me again, and although I felt like I might stain the carpet with
with juices dripping down the insides of my legs, he would never know.  He
held me just tiny bit closer before releasing me, and I felt a hard-on
beneath his pants.  For just a moment it pressed against me, and it seemed
like a goliath.
	We each looked at the other for a moment, he smiled a little and
then we went to our rooms.
	That night I went to bed fantasizing that the dildo inside me was
Allen.  Over and over during the night I woke up and worked it in and out
of me, gasping his name into the pillow.  But when I woke up in the
morning, I felt remarkably refreshed and not at all obsessed with my new
sex the way I had the week before.  I stood in front of the mirror and
marveled at what my male exterior hid from the world.  As I turned and
looked at my body from different angles, I noted a soreness in my hips and
chest.  And suddenly I had an intense sense of impending diarrhea.  I ran
to the toilet and seemingly emptied my body, amazed at the volume of fluid
and matter that left me.
		I recovered and climbed into the shower, feeling the warmth
on my body, and a surprising sensitivity on my nipples.  "Am I going to
look like a woman, too?" I thought to myself without a moment of anxiety.
I just wondered.  I surmised that if feeling like this so far was so great,
the rest couldn't be too bad.  Lost in my thoughts and in touching my
nipples and vagina, I didn't notice Allen come in as usual.  With my back
to him so he couldn't see how female I'd become, we talked about how we
slept, and I mentioned that I seemed to have an upset stomach.
	"I feel fine," he reported.  "You ate everything I did, so it's not
food poisoning."
	I laughed at his defense to the accusation I never made.  "The food
you cooked was great.  Who said it was food poisoning?" I asked.
	"Just wanted to be sure.  Still, I'll be on the lookout for any
symptoms in myself"
	"Wouldn't hurt, I suppose," I said to him, and turned my head to
look at him.  He was naked and seemed to have an erection, but it was hard
to tell through the fogged glass doors. Again, I had the urge to touch
myself, or more accurately, him.
	"Well, seeya in a few," he said with a shrug and headed out the
door.
	My fingers immediately found my clit, and I turned to face the
shower.  The new sensation on my nipples felt burning hot under the spray,
and my fingers quickly brought me the climax I needed, holding on to the
shower rail with my left hand.
	After dressing, I went into the kitchen and sat at the table in the
chair next to Allen, who, of course, was dressed only in a t-shirt and
socks.  "Feeling better?" he asked.  He didn't really look up from the
crossword he was working on, but kept trying to solve a particular clue.  I
didn't respond, too busy studying his form.  He was so masculine in his
t-shirt, the bulge of each pec clearly visible beneath the threadbare
fabric.  His balls pooled on the seat of the chair between his legs, with
the head of his dick resting gently on them.  I wanted to touch it.
	"You OK?" he asked the previous question again, catching my stare.
I was silent again, just looking him in the face as he smiled.  His
expression never broke, and he repeated himself with "Are you?"
	"Oh!  Yeah.... Sure... I'm fine." I managed to get out.  "You want
some breakfast?"
	He said he did, and as I made eggs over the range, he seemed to be
watching me.  Studying me, almost.  I felt a little uncomfortable and a
little excited, but I wasn't sure which I felt more.  When the toast
finally popped up and I brought our plates to the table, Allen ate quickly,
finishing his crossword between bites.  My appetite seemed to be
non-existent.  In fact, I finally offered my full plate to Allen, who ate
it gladly and then asked again if I felt OK.
	"Yeah, I think so.  I'm just a little sleepy, I guess." I replied,
noticing that I was having a hard time staying awake, almost like needing a
2:00pm nap.
	"Maybe you should lay down for a few minutes," he suggested.  I
took him up on his suggestion and went back to my room, already too
exhausted to even work myself up into my now-routine orgasm.

	I slept for 7 hours.  When I woke it was late afternoon, and I
could hear that the house was empty.  Allen was probably at work.  I felt
OK, but was incredibly thirsty.  In a sleepy fog, not bothering to put
anything on, I crossed the hall to the bathroom and gulped down three
glasses of water before feeling the diarrhea pressure again.  And again,
the volume was immense.  When my senses came back to me, I started to
absorb my surroundings.
	Everything seemed different.  I couldn't quite put my finger on it,
but nothing was right.  Every object seemed just slightly the wrong size
somehow, and the lighting was too bright. "Maybe Allen changed the bulb in
the bathroom, and this was throwing everything off," I thought to myself.
	Still exhausted, I stumbled back to my bed and lay there literally
panting for a moment.  Why was I so sick all of a sudden?  Stomach flu or
something?  I was concerned, but sure that it was a virus, I went back to
sleep.  Two hours later I awakened with more diarrhea and the need to pee
like nothing I'd ever known.  And thirst again.  What was going on?  I was
less exhausted this time, though, and had time to soak up my surroundings
better.
	Allen still wasn't home. It must have been 6:00 or so by this time,
so he'd be home soon.  But I felt different, and I felt like I was in a
different place.  It took longer to reach the bathroom, the toilet was
higher off the floor, and on the way back to the bedroom, I noticed my
breasts.
	They were definitely small, like a young teenage girl's, but they
were there, and when I touched them they were very sensitive.
	I stood naked in front of the mirror for probably five minutes
examining the changes my body.  My face was much more rounded, with softer
features.  And very different.  I could hardly recognize myself except for
those deep brown eyes.  I had no body hair on my chest or face at all, and
my pubic hair had visibly receded into a triangle close to my pussy.  My
breasts were sensitive and I could just cup them in my hand.  And my hips
seemed wider just a tiny bit.  Maybe not even enough to see, but I could
feel it somehow.  They were wider, my stomach flatter, and my bottom
somehow rounder.  I wanted to explore, to look at the girl in the mirror
and see it happening, but I was exhausted, and then the pressure again.
	Another dash to the bathroom, and I made it back to bed just in
time to hear the door open as Allen came into the apartment.  I didn't wake
up until 3:00 am, made another bathroom trip and awoke again first thing in
the morning.
	It was a Tuesday, and I heard Allen's alarm going off down the
hallway.  It must be 7:00am.  It was turned off abruptly, and I knew the
weekday morning ritual had begun.  I moved my arm under the covers, and
realized my body had changed significantly over the night when the tingling
of my nipple as it rubbed the cotton sheets woke my senses in an exciting
way.  I realized I had an opportunity, so I climbed out of bed, only
stopping momentarily to admire the svelte brunette in the mirror before I
dashed to the shower.  I had been in the shower for only about 5 minutes
when I heard the door open and in walked Allen, nude as ever.
	I turned so that I didn't face him, and continued to explore the
new shape of my body.  My hands were smaller, and as I cupped each breast
in a hand, they filled the hand, seeming large. As the spray hit them, I
had to move to avoid sharp pain, but could angle it so that it was
intensely pleasurable.  Letting my hands move down my body, it was obvious
my waist had become more narrow, but my hips were much wider.  Running my
hand around the contours of my hips my hand found its way to my clit, which
excited me, and brought to mind thoughts of the possibilities with the man
standing nearby.  Were my legs further apart than they used to be?  The
space between them seemed wider.  As my hands found their way around to my
backside, I smiled with pleasure.  My bottom was round and sensitive and I
caressed it a moment before Allen spoke up.
	He stood at the toilet peeing while he said he noticed I had slept
all day and wondered if I felt better today.
	"Oh, I'm fine," I said in a voice that surprised me.  It was higher
and softer.  It was a woman's voice.
	"Say that again," he said with interest.
	I looked over my shoulder and I could see he was staring at me
through the fogged class door.  "I'm fine, how're you?" I said, knowing
what we both knew.
	"Jeremy?" he asked incredulously.
	"Yes?"
	"Can I come in there with you?"
	My pussy felt warm the moment I heard his words.  I felt my nipples
stiffen, and my breath became short.  "Please do," I said.
	The door opened, and a muscular naked man stepped into the shower.
He stood two feet away from me, staring at my naked female body before a
hand reached out and touched one of my nipples.  "You're beautiful," he
said, and then he stepped up to me, pressing his erection against my belly.
He seemed so tall.
	I reached around him and caressed his ass for a moment and then
said, "Let's go to bed."
	Wordlessly we dried off, never taking our eyes off each other.  His
erection bobbed with each beat of his heart, and I had a hard time drying
off the insides of my legs, as my vagina was producing in volume.
	He took me to his room by the hand and laid me down on the bed,
then stood at the foot of the bed for a moment as if trying to decide what
to do first.  He smiled a broad smile and then spread my legs wide, lying
down with his head in my groin.  His tongue moved my labia apart and moved
up and down the length of my vagina before resting in the area of my clit,
which he tongued lightly and sucked until I came. He sat up and wiped my
secretions from his mouth.
	"May I?" was all he said as he crawled up next to me, licking my
body the entire length and dancing erotic swirls around each nipple with
his fingers.  I writhed under his touch, tingling everywhere and aching for
him.
	"Of course" I whispered to him as he got close.  He smiled and
brought his penis within reach.  I touched it and was surprised at how hard
it really was.  It was incredibly firm, and as I squeezed it in my hand, it
pulsed.  I jacked it a couple of times, and began pulling it toward my
vagina.  He reacted with surprise and had to try to get his balance above
me, falling on his side and nearly off the bed.  We both laughed for a
moment, and then, as he positioned himself above my body, he kissed me at
the same moment I felt his penis press against my vagina.  And then it slid
in, further and deeper until his pubic hair was grinding against me.  I
couldn't believe the whole thing was inside me, and I felt so full of him.
He leaned forward and began thrusting, and each time my clit was rubbed I
cried out in ecstasy.  I hit my orgasm, but it didn't seem to end, lasting
for an eternity as I gasped and writhed under him.  Then I became aware
that he was close -- each thrust became more powerful, sending me to a
higher plateau.  He started grunting and bucking and then pulled out
suddenly leaving me feeling empty, and began spilling semen across my belly
and breasts.  For a moment, he convulsed above me as I started to come down
and then when the last drop seemed to leave him, he collapsed.
	We rested for probably fifteen minutes, and when I reached around
him, I found that his cock was hard again.  "My I?" I asked, to which he
responded, "Of course."
	I laid him on his back and positioned myself above him so we were
in a sixty nine position.  His cock was hard as stone again, and I kissed
it, licked it, and was rewarded with each touch by a sigh or a moan.
Finally I took the whole thing in my mouth, moving my tongue feverishly
around the head while I pistoned up and down it's incredible length. I
tasted precum mixed with what must have been the taste of my own body, and
I was hot and wet as could be.  Soon he began grunting, and I found his
hands on the cheeks of my ass, pushing me toward the foot of the bed.  I
crawled forward and he kneeled behind me, entering me doggy style.  Again,
it felt good to have him inside me.
	"You're so soft and your hips are so wide," he panted just moments
before I felt him withdraw and dump more semen across my back.

	He got up and went straight to the bathroom while I basked in a
warmth I'd never known.  After a while I heard the shower start up, and
decided to join him.  I walked in and opened the door to enter, but he
said, "Don't!" in a sharp, almost angry tone.
	"What's wrong, wasn't that wonderful?"
	"I'm wrong.  I shouldn't have done this to you."
	"What do you mean, I've wanted it for weeks," I protested.
	"I turned you into a woman. And you're beautiful and perfect, but I
shouldn't have done this."
	"What?" I said.  "How could you turn me into a woman?  I figured it
just sortof happened, like some freak medical anomaly."
	"Oh, no," he said from within the shower.  "It was me."  He turned
the water off and opened the door.  "God, you're beautiful" he said again.
"But I used the nanotechnology from Environ -- the microscopic robots -- to
turn you into a woman, and I shouldn't have."
	I was aghast.  Stunned.  Here he was, beautiful, naked, wet, the
man of my dreams, and I found out he used me as a science experiment.  He
saw my look.
	"You seemed so lost, and then there was that night when we messed
around.  You seemed so into it and then we both felt so bad afterward.
Every moment I spent between when I walked out of your parent's house until
I called you was spent deciding what to do.  Was I gay?  Were you?  Could
two guys really make it, or should we end the friendship?  I couldn't
decide.  Plus, I realized that I do love you, not just as a friend or
brother or something, but as a partner.  But I couldn't get past the fact
that you were a man.
	"And then I got to thinking about the technology I had access to.
It had already been used to reprogram the DNA of mice and monkeys, as well
as rearrange tissue and whole organs.  It was just another step.  It could
cure cancer, and do all kinds of other things, but it could also transform
my best friend into my lover.  And so I decided I'd program the robots to
reprogram you."
	"All this was caused by robots designed to clean up oil spills?" I
asked, shocked.
	"Oh, yeah.  By the time you noticed your hair color changing, you
were already genetically female.  That's why your eyes and hair changed the
way they did -- pigment is one of the easiest things to reprogram, and
shows success the quickest... The DNA I selected for you had brown hair and
eyes.  I needed some sort of visual cue that it was time for the second
stage, anyway."
	His moral problem seemed to have been forgotten, and was talking
about the science, now.  "I was very careful not to replace any behavioral
coding, with the exception of your sexuality, of course.  Even though I
still needed you to be the same person, I still wanted to make sure you
wouldn't be predisposed to be a lesbian.  But the rest of the physical
changes would never have really manifested themselves without help, so I
gave you a dose of the technology that I programmed to reconstruct tissue.
	"You probably don't even remember, but I gave you dosages in soda
-- I think the first one was a coke that had lost all its carbonation and
the second was a root beer float that was similarly fizz-less.  Something
about the nanites causes the carbonation to leave quickly, kind of like
adding salt.
	"Without the second stage dosage, your body might have started
producing some estrogen, and you might have developed some secondary sexual
characteristics of a woman, but that would have been the end of it.  You
would have been a sort of androgynous being.  We both needed your
transformation to be complete.  So the second dose was designed to
reconstruct and repurpose your body's existing tissues.  Primary sexual
organs such as the vagina, uterus, and ovaries came first because they're
what has to be in place before the body can produce the proper hormones.
And without the estrogen your ovaries produce, the nanites wouldn't have
known what tissues to reconstruct and how much to get rid of because they
were programmed to speed up the processes that would have occurred
naturally over time with the presence of estrogen.
	"Judging from your behavior, your vagina was complete about two
weeks ago, and there were no additional visible changes until yesterday,
right?"
	"That's about right," I said.
	"And you were horny as hell the whole time, right?" he asked.
	"Definitely.  I think I still am."
	He nodded, as though he expected it.  "Elevated hormone levels.
The nanites had to trigger elevated hormone levels to determine exactly
where they should begin work.  You'll probably settle down into a normal
female libido now that the changes are just about done.
	"So I really am a woman?"
	"According the standards set my medical science, you should be
indistinguishable from a person conceived in the womb as female.  We should
probably get you a gynecological exam, and start using birth control,
assuming you still want to have sex with me."  He paused for a moment,
looking questioningly at me.  Then continued with a smirk, " My personal
examination certainly says you look, feel, taste, and react like a normal
woman."
	"I can have children?" I asked.
	"We'll have to wait and see if you menstruate, but you should be
able to," he continued.  "I hope you're not angry with me... you seemed to
be having a great time at about the time your primary sex characteristics
were completed, so I figured everything was OK.  When did you notice your
dick and balls shrinking?"  He seemed to be trying ask carefully, but was
still curious.
	I sighed.  "Oh, a month or so ago"
	"That was probably just after I administered the second dose.
Maybe two weeks.  It starts slow and then accelerates, it seems.  Were you
scared?"
	"Oh, initially, yeah" I replied.  "Panicky, actually.  Imagine
noticing that your own cock is shrinking.  Especially with you, naked all
over the apartment to compare myself to.  But once the physical feelings
started to change, I wasn't so worried.  By the time my pussy was complete,
I'd never been hornier in my life.  I could hardly keep my fingers out of
myself.  And then yesterday morning when my breasts began to grow and my
hips felt wider, it was almost just a curiosity, not a concern.  I was
already a woman as far as I was concerned.  But the stomach problems, was
that part of it?"
	"Probably. I'm sorry," he said, obviously sorrowful.  "A lot of
body mass had to be expelled to change you from a 170lb, 5'11 guy into the
beautiful 120lb, 5'6 woman you are now.
	"As for my nakedness," he continued, "You know that was for you.
I'll stop now if you want.  It was just that once I knew you were female,
genetically speaking, I figured you'd notice your interest in men
developing.  And I wanted you to feel comfortable around me and be able to
picture me nude because I wanted to be the first place you came when you
needed a sexual release with a man.  I wanted to be your first."
	"Don't apologize about the nudity.  From about day one I was
enjoying the view. I only wish I'd known why I was getting the show a
little bit sooner.  I might have come to you," I said.
	"I probably would have helped." There was another pause, as if he
were considering the implications of what he was about to say. "After the
time we messed around when you were male, I know that I don't mind dick,
although it's definitely not my preference.  At that point we could have
gotten off and maybe I could have done you... you know, up the butt... if
you'd wanted.  I was open to it.  But I definitely prefer you the way you
are today."
	"I definitely liked being with you the way I am today," I assured
him.
	"It felt good?  You're not angry?"
	"Yes, it feels good." I replied.  "I guess I'm not really angry,
but I'm a little hurt.  That was really underhanded.  Still, it's hard to
be angry.  I've felt so wonderful with you ever since you 'reprogrammed' me
and I do love you."
	"Really?" he asked, unsure.
	"I think so.... Don't do that again, though. Not unless I ask or
you at least have my permission."  He smiled and stepped out of the shower,
and I stood up to meet his embrace.  We hugged, naked, a man and woman, for
a moment. Then I let go.  "I just have one more question for now.
  Can you change me back if I wanted to go?"
	He looked at the floor for a moment, and said, "Well, no, not
really."  Allen's eyes came off the floor and met mine.  "I can turn you
back into any guy you'd ever want to be, with any kind of body you could
want to have, but I screwed up and never got a DNA sample of your original
DNA, so you can't go back to being the Jeremy you once were."
	"Well, at this point I'm not too concerned about that," I assured
him.  "And I'm still feeling awfully horny.  I think I'll want to keep this
body for a while, at least.  To have fun with it and see how I like it.
And how I like you, of course. You taste and feel amazing, by the way.  Do
you think you could take the day off work?"