The face belongs to my father's.

The sight of his face unusually doesn't lift my spirits up. Instead of encouraging me, a **** inside me turns and twists in disgust. It is like it knows what is going to happen in the next moments. I can surely feel my legs move involuntarily. This is when I find out that I do have something missing. In between my legs, where I would have a hibernating cock, is emptyness.

Urging to feel something, I move one leg, preferably my right, and shift it forward and rub it backward against my left leg. I am correct when I know that I have no penis, but in place of it, the feeling of lips in between my thighs. While moving my legs, I could feel a small garment in place of some pants. With a breeze of unknown orign, I feel that my legs are bare and the only thing I have on is some short shorts. Short so short in fact that my butt cheeks, which I feel are more bigger, are beginning to stick out.

I stop squirming by instinct, maybe to prevent the men and other subject in the room to notice. But I believe they have already noticed me. The stout man to my left nods like he is assuring someone of something. He sure is directing his action to the man sitting in the desk in front of me. The profile of the man, leaning on his office seat in leisurely form, is terribly the profile of my father. But he is not my fathe anymore because since I'm in this female body I am a nobody to him. For sure I'm not his son.

For some reason I can't hear what they are saying, like their speech is inaudible. But a minute goes by and I faintly hear everybody's voices. Judging by the different tones of voices in the room, I can say that there are at least six people in the office, men and women, including my father.

The question my father asked the bodyguard was simply, "Is she awake?" The nod gave him a positive answer and all the question delivered from my father's mouth were pointed directly to me. To me the question he asked is pointless, because I'm sure everybody noticed my squirming. Maybe it's because of the dark shades they are wearing. If I had sunglasses in this dimly-lit room, I might think I was blind.

I am caught not paying attention. I'm unsure of what my former father asked me but he repeats himself. "Who are you?" he asks me, now staring me in the eye. His gaze, unbelievably attracts my sight to him and to him alone. As I stare back, I'm unable to turn my head.

I stare back in response. Not in rebellion but simply that I do not know who I am. Before I was his son, but now I'm a man in a girl's body who doesn't know the name of the curvy avatar my mind is in.

He asks me again the same question but I look at him again with no emotion of anger, sadness, happiness, or any other known emotion. I can only give him a blank stare because my mind too is blank. The only thing I know is that I ran from a guy who shot me with a tranquilizer dart. I got hit, blacked out, and woke up in the womanly body. Knowing that if I had a womanly body before I got shot is an unknown fact, but it's possibly a fact.

After receiving my answer, he looks down at his desk in disgust. under his breath, he mutters to me, "That amnesia stuff won't work. I know that you know who you are." I continue to stare, not knowing my identity. Well, if I did know my name, a gut feeling would tell me to keep it in, maybe to avoid the option of ****. He looks up and asks me a different question. A question not about me but about a certain someone else. That someone else I do recognize. He asks his question, "Where is my son?"

He doesn't get a blank stare from me but a shocking reaction to the word 'son'. Obviously, I can't handle my response. Again, my former father receives from me silence. I can tell him where his son is but I doubt he would believe the truth. I know I can't handle the truth, because truth is, his son is standing right if front of him. I can simply tell him, "I don't know."

I hear a person scoff behind me. Then I hear footsteps getting closer to my position. I then feel pain searing from the top of my head as someone behind me grabs a chunk of my brown locks and pulls them back. I can also feel my neck being handled, as if a collar around my neck was being pulled back, like you would a dog collar.

"Funny, you should say that," the man tells me. His voice registers in my mind but the pain originating around my head prevents me to connect voice with person.

Simply buying time, I reply, "What's so funny?"

"Well, I found out that you were the only person near the car my brother was driving out of town. His father waited for a call and then he called him to see if he was okay after that little mishap at the office. I am led to believe that you are the only person who knows where he is." After hearing his message, I connect the voice to the person in my memory. I can't believe that the person behind me is my former older brother.

Curious, I ask, "What do you mean?"

Out of disgust, my former brother lets go of my brown hair but pushes my hair forward forcefully. My father retaliates by saying, "You don't have to hurt her, y'know."

"Hurt her? Dad, for all you know, my brother could be dead, thanks to her," he finishes his remark in true hatred towards me, pointing a finger symbolizing me as guilty. He makes sure that everybody sees him as the accuser, continuing to point at me while walking counter-clockwise around me.

"Sorry, you're absolutely right, son," he says to my former brother, "but I do have an idea on how to get her to talk." I can't believe my father would stoop so low that he is lower than my brother. I feel that my older brother is the Boss and my father is the right-hand man.

My father's ideas were one of the best in the world, even since I got to know him in a father-son relationship. But knowing that I am in a body that is the complete opposite of my previous one, I'm not too sure that his ideas are beneficial, in my case anyways.