Date: Sun, 25 May 2003 18:18:23 -0600
From: Mel . <sub_stance14@hotmail.com>
Subject: For A Million Dollars

For a Million Dollars (c) 2003 Steph Andersen
By Steph Andersen sub_stance14@hotmail.com

**This is my first attempt at erotica. Any comments and advice would be
appreciated!!**

1. The End of an old life

	I would consider myself a normal 22 year-old guy. I've been with a few
women, but no serious relationships. Steve Andersen liked being single and
keeping his options open. Financially, my life wasn't so perfect. I had
racked up credit card bills and was owing money to seemingly everyone. It
may be a cliche, but I needed a million dollars. That wasn't about to
happen, so I just went about my life working and paying off endless bills. I
had resigned myself to a life of debt. Physically, I wasn't a huge guy.
Rather, I was a towering 5' 7" tall, and an earth shattering 120lbs. Long
story short, I wasn't headed for the pro wrestling circuit any time soon.

	One day, about five summers ago, my life changed forever. No, I hadn't won
the lottery -- although that would have been nice. In my inbox was an email
from a local and fairly wealthy psychologist named Dr. Phil Martin. He
specialized in gender issues, and was conducting a study. Why I had been on
the mailing list is beyond me -- it must have been fate. But, he was offering
a million dollars to any man, with no prior transsexual leanings, who was
willing to undergo a full sex change. On his team were many researchers who
had advanced the field greatly. Nowadays, those guys who became chicks were
virtually indistinguishable from genetic women (causing mass paranoia
amongst bar-going men!). Muscle and skeletal changes were possible, and in
some cases the new women could have working uteruses implanted inside of
them. Now, I was not a guy who wanted to become a girl. I liked my dick, and
sticking it in women! But, I was in dire financial straits. The email was
official looking enough, so I figured there was no harm in replying -- I
wouldn't possibly be chosen.

	Two weeks later, I got a phone call from Dr. Martin's office. I had been
put on the short list for the study. If it was alright with me, I would be
interviewed further on the weekend. My heart was pounding; this was totally
unexpected. Not really know what to say, I replied that I would be there. I
couldn't even tell you the thoughts that were going through my mind. Why me?
I don't want to be a girl...but I needed the money. What if I was chosen?
These surgeries are permanent. Would being a girl really be all that bad?
Eventually, I decided to go to the interview. They would take one look at
me, see my nervousness and thank me for my time. I had no doubt of that in
my mind as I went to sleep.

	That weekend, I was welcomed into Dr. Martin's office at the university
campus. I took a seat and waited until I was called in. Let me tell you --
that was one of the longest 15 minutes of my life. Not because I was worried
I wouldn't be chosen, but that I would. I told myself I didn't want this,
but why was I here? Was it really the money? I didn't have time to finish
the thought, it was my turn to see the doctor. As it turned out, I was the
final interviewee. The selection would probably be made within days of my
talk.

	"Welcome, Mr. Andersen. I would like to thank you for agreeing to be a part
of my study. You will be making a great change in your life, but the
scientific possibilities for the transsexual community are endless. I'm sure
the million dollars will be nice for you as well," he said. This had me
shocked -- I thought this was a selection interview. As the good doctor
explained to me, all but myself and another man had dropped out. If I wanted
in, I would be in. Two men would have identical procedures, and their
psychological results would be compared. I was the skinny, more effeminate
man (Hey! Skinny maybe, but not effeminate...) and the other was the more
"manly man."

	I had to make my decision then. If I agreed, I would be paid $500,000 right
away, and the rest of the money at the end of the study in two years. If at
any point I dropped out, I would lose the money and receive no help in
reversing what ever changes had been made to my body. Finally, I would be
responsible for any costs the study had incurred -- including the million
dollars paid to my counterpart. The last thing I needed was more debt. I
closed my eyes, gulped, and signed the forms. My life was over, and a new
one was about to begin.

2. A New Life

	As a part of the study, I had a week to settle old affairs and move across
the country. With the money I was given, all my debts were erased, and I
still had many thousands to spare. I could finally use black ink! I told my
family I was moving away, and may never be back. They weren't happy, but I
was never too fond of them anyway. As for my friends, they were all
assholes. I could care less if I ever saw any of them again. I was all ready
to go. I had one final masturbation session (I was getting rid of Little
Steve, he needed a proper send off!) and took a cab to the airport. Not much
luggage -- I couldn't bring any of my clothes other than what I was wearing,
and I could just buy new stuff in two years.

	The flight was long, but I eventually arrived at my destination. I was
given what amounted to a dorm room. It was definitely a woman's room -- but
not overly girly. It took me a minute to realize that I belonged in this
room -- I was becoming a woman.

                I had a few simple rules. From now on, my name was
Stephanie. I was a woman now, I was just waiting for all the parts to
arrive. As such, I was to live as a woman which included the clothes, makeup
and shaving. The hormones, surgeries and electrolysis would take care of the
rest. Now, it finally began to seem real to me. Was I ready for this?

	Luckily, I wasn't on my own. I was given teachers who instructed me in the
fine arts of makeup and female mannerisms. Shaving my legs was hard to get
used to, but eventually I could do it without seeing a pool of blood in the
rub. I was given hormones twice a day, which did a number on me! My skin got
softer, and my penis became useless. As time went on, the shape of my body
was getting curvier (I had an ass to die fore, and I was even growing boobs
-- so much fun to play with, even if my nipples were huge!) Maybe it was all
the chemicals in my body, but half the time I was elated, and the other half
I was nervous as hell. A trachea shave took care of my adam's apple, and a
daily mouth wash took care of my voice. After a few months, I sounded like a
real woman -- not like those bad trannies you see on Springer.

	After 7 months, it was time for some major surgeries. Over the next 5
months, I was going to be on the receiving end of facial feminization
surgery, muscle/skeletal refinement surgery, and breast enhancement (36C, I
was told). Six months after that would be the big one. I still wouldn't
admit to myself what it was, despite the rest of the changes to my body. The
face surgery was painful, but when the swelling went down I was gorgeous.
I'm not exaggerating -- I looked hot, and you couldn't tell I was ever a man.
The skeletal surgery was the most painful and debilitating, though. They had
to reshape my feet, hands, legs, collar bone and shoulders which left me
immobile for a few weeks. These guys were good though, after I healed I had
the shape of a woman from head to toe. The breast augmentation was the last
one, which gave me a nice rack. I was already turning heads.

	Mentally, I was doing alright. As I got more and more hormones, my thinking
process was changing. They had told me my sexual orientation might change,
and they weren't kidding. When I saw women, it wasn't the same as before. I
was comparing myself to them! If I saw a man, I would sometimes find myself
attracted to him. That took the most getting used to. In the mirror, I was
getting used to seeing the new me. My penis actually began to look out of
place. I had long brown hair, a cute face (my modesty was surgically
removed, it seemed), a curvy body was nice breasts, a flat tummy, nice round
hips, amazing legs, and a penis. Well, in a few months that would be take
care of. There were weekly interviews, and Dr. Martin and his team seemed
very impressed with me. I was beginning to identify as a woman, and there
were fewer and fewer pronoun mistakes.

3. The Big One

	Eighteen months into the study, it was time. I was to undergo advanced
sexual reassignment surgery. My body, it appeared, would be capable of
receiving a uterus grown from my own DNA, which had been altered. In fact,
they had grown eggs for me. I was ready for this, and I was wheeled into the
OR. A mask was put over my face, and everything went black.

                I woke up screaming. The most terrible pain I could have
ever imagined was radiating from my groin. A shot of morphine took care of
that. When I calmed down, Dr. Martin was standing over me, congratulating
me. I was officially a woman -- no one could ever tell I was ever a man. The
procedure went well. I had a fully functioning vagina, labia, clitoris and
all. The uterus was functioning, and I was advised to purchase some tampons
or pads within the next 28 days or so. Because of new techniques, I didn't
have to spend any time or pain douching to keep my new vagina from closing
up. I was also shown a statement that the remainder of the money had been
deposited in my account. It was over, or so I thought. I was ready to leave
and start my own life. But, it wouldn't be that easy.

	Two weeks after surgery, I was told that I still had to remain here for
about another 6 months to complete the study. I was to be put in social
situations to see how I reacted, with no elaboration. Also, life began to
get back to normal (whatever that was). Peeing was interesting. I'll admit
and say I stood up to pee a few times before the surgery, even though I was
told not to. I wasn't going to be doing that anymore. Also, I had my first
period. That was a messy event, and an awful week in general. I knew what
other women felt like, and I suddenly got mad at all the PMS jokes I had
ever made. I chose pads, since the idea of inserting something inside of me
still seemed not quite right. For the first time, I got to wear a bathing
suit! I chose a skimpy bikini that left nothing to the imagination. I also
increased my collection of thongs and other panties (that's a weird word to
say, isn't it?). I was interviewed countless times, and went through many
tests. Being wet in response to the sight of a hot guy is an interesting
sensation. As the 2 year mark neared, I was told to prepare for the final
test.

4. The final exam

	A week before I was going to leave, I was to undergo the final test. I
didn't know what it was, but I taken to a mock up of a nightclub. It was a
good time, even if all the people there knew something I didn't. I was
shocked to see the number of hotties in the crowd! What was better, was that
they were all hitting on me. Wearing skimpy clothes does pay off! I was
grinding all night, and getting hot and heavy with some major cuties. If
this was the final test, I couldn't complain. I never liked dancing before,
but as a woman it was too much fun!

	At about 11:00, one of the guys I was dancing with shocked me by asking if
I wanted to go back to his room. I wasn't drunk at all, and I don't know
why, but I agreed. We got back to his place, and started making out on his
bed. I felt so weak and not in control. I was being kissed (as opposed to
being in control of the kiss), and rubbed all over. I was getting seriously
turned on, and so was he. Eventually, we were naked, and he asked if I
wanted to go all the way. Maybe it was the hormones rushing through my body,
but I said yes. I grabbed a condom out of my purse (don't ask why it was
there, I still don't know who put it in) and slid it onto his rock hard
cock. He was lying down, and I placed myself over him. My heart was
pounding, I was out of breath, and I slid myself down onto him. I screamed
in pleasure at the feeling of being penetrated. It was like nothing I had
ever felt before. I had this urge I couldn't control to move my hips up and
down. I was not in control at this point, and I was loving it. The guy I was
fucking (a phrase I never dreamed I'd say), Matt, was had one hand on my
hip, and another on my clit, bringing me incredible pleasure. Eventually,
the pleasure began to become too much. Every fiber in my body was filled
with the best feeling I had never imagined. I was having an orgasm, and it
turns out I was a screamer. At the end of my three orgasms, I just passed
out.

	When I woke up, Matt was still beside me. In the next few hours I found out
what it was like to be fucked doggy style, and with my ankles near my ears.
It was a morning of pure pleasure. I went back to my place to change for my
final interview. As it turns out, my test was my reaction to sexual
intercourse. I passed, apparently, and was ready for a new life. I reacted
as any woman would, and excellently for a woman who had been male only two
years before. I was elated that everything went so well, and was ready go
embark on new journeys. On my way out, I thanked Matt for everything he had
done by giving him a blow job (it's a very submissive feeling to be on your
knees blowing a guy - I could get used to it!) and left for my old city. I
was Steph Andersen, ready for anything.

5. Prologue

	The last few years have been great. I'm happier than I've ever been, and
I've had a more active social life than ever. I love being a woman. The
clothes are great, being so smooth and soft feels great, and the sex is
great. I've had sex with 4 guys since the study, and I've been with the last
one for about 2 years now. I think he might be the one, and we're already
planning a family. Being pregnant should be interesting, but I think I'm
happy being his submissive love toy. Maybe one day I'll tell him about my
old life and the million dollars I have hidden...

**I hope you enjoyed this!! Send me comments, please!
Sub_stance14@hotmail.com I might think about writing a sequel!**