James wakes up to his new body.

My eyes flitted open, showing me the plain white ceiling and its white glowing area. As soon as I tried to roll over, I remembered what had happened as I felt my breasts pull over with me. Looking down at my body I was a little surprised to see one of the basic grey scrub like tops. I don’t know why, but I’d halfway expected to be looking down at a naked body.

The man’s voice pulled me out of my confusion, “Well good morning. I know this can be quite shocking. Your body took to the treatment even better than we’d hoped. That’s why it was changing in front of your family. It’s almost completely done, and I’m sure you’re eager to see how you turned out but let’s finish up with the rest of this so that you can have time to yourself, okay?”

Sitting up on what was clearly a cot of some sort I nodded in answer, feeling my hair brush over my shoulders. “Yes, that sounds fi…” I cleared my throat, fearing that the clear song-like sound was truly coming from me “…yes, that sounds fi… is that my voice?”

My hand came up to my throat to feel it moving in time with my words, “Test test. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where’s the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?”

My voice was never all that gruff or overtly manly, but it was clearly masculine. Now it was distinctly and clearly feminine. And more, it sounded young. Like a freshman in college. When I looked at the man he smiled and nodded. “Yup, that’s your voice. It’s lovely, by the way. Again though, before we get into showing off what you’ve become, let’s finish with the rest of this work. First, we need to go over your name.”

I couldn’t NOT focus on seeing what I looked like. Turning to and fro I started looking for a mirror, but feeling my body move and respond to the movements pulled my attention away from that search. Just the little movement of my shoulders sent my breasts jiggling side to side. The scrub top didn’t do anything to show them off, but they had to be huge. And my hair whipped around and seemed to actually slap my face. Only the man’s laughter brought my attention back to him. Clearly enjoying himself he said “Okay, okay, I can see you really can’t wait. Let’s look at your body.”

Standing, he helped me up and guided me over to the wall. With a tap on a seemingly blank space of the wall a portion changed before my eyes into a window. It was only for a moment, but I honestly did think the beautiful young woman I was looking at was someone else. But that moment was short lived as I realized it was in fact a mirror and not a window. I looked closely at the new ‘me’.

When the young man injected me and later escorted me back to visit with doctors Moore and Rodriguez, I was a couple inches taller than him. I now was four inches shorter than him. Basic math said my former five foot ten had been reduced to five foot four. Turning to my side I tried to gauge the size of my breasts, but under the scrub top it was still difficult to guess, although they weren’t the cartoonishly large size they felt like. Unlike doctors Moore and Rodriguez, my hair had previously remained untouched by grey or white, but it had been a dull mousy brown for all my life. Now I was a honey like blonde.

Most disconcertingly, however, was my face. Atticus looked like a younger, more attractive version of himself. Catty looked like a younger, more attractive version of herself. I’d just assumed I was going to look like a younger, feminine version of myself. But that wasn’t the case. Yes, I did indeed look younger. I looked like I might be old enough to drink, but anybody serving **** would surely card me. Maybe 19 years old? 20? Most girls in that age group don’t need beauty to be good looking, but I outdid those youngsters with natural beauty. My hair was left hanging un-styled and my face was left without makeup, but I still looked good enough to go on the cover of a magazine. Lips that were just begging to be kissed hung in a slight smile, almost as if she’d heard a joke or was trying to attract someone, even though I didn’t feel like I was displaying any humor whatsoever. Everything was symmetrical and even. Small ears that were easily covered by her hair, chocolate brown eyes with thick natural lashes, even nose, and naturally arched eyebrows.

The man clearly understood what I was going through as he simply stood back and gave me the time to examine myself. “If you want to disrobe, you can do so. We don’t exactly dress you in clothes made to show off a body.” His suggestion at first sounded crude, but I couldn’t help but take him up on it.

After chewing on the inside of my cheek for a moment, frustratingly making my face look even more adorable in the mirror, I nodded and took him up on the offer. The benefit of seeing my body easily outweighed the embarrassment at showing it to him.

Reaching down for the hem of the scrub top I pulled it up and over my head. Even this simple motion was fraught with problems though as I hadn’t given room for my new chest accessories and pulled them up achingly. And when I finally cleared my new breasts, I was still left in a tangle of blond hair and grey shirt. I fought my inner demon that really wanted to see my breasts and instead took the time to bend forward and loosen the pull string to the scrub pants and let them fall to my feet. Stepping out of the pants I finally turn back to the mirror.

My body, much like my face, was beautiful. I guess the way breasts feel doesn’t line up with how they look as I’d guess I had a pair of C cup breasts. Unlike a person of my age, where a woman’s breasts should start sagging, these stood up nice, round, and pertly. My waist nipped in sharply before my hips flared out to probably wider than I had before. This wasn’t a matter of looking young, it was a matter of being given the genetic gift of perfect proportions. I’d never seen a woman with what I could literally call an hourglass figure in real life. Before now, that is. At a quick glance, I couldn’t see any rough or discolored areas to my skin. No moles, no skin tags, no freckles. The only complaint anybody could have would be I was on the slightly pale side, but as this was still my body that made sense. I hadn’t gone out into the sun for over a decade. My new arms and legs weren’t strong looking by any means, but they still had more shape and definition than I’d had before. Just enough to accentuate the beauty everywhere else. Even my hands and feet, both seemingly dainty, added to this reflection’s beauty.

Right between those shapely thighs and their natural gap, right below that cute belly button was the biggest difference. There are plenty of ways to describe this feature on a woman without sounding crude, but all I could think to myself is that I was looking at my own pussy. It had a little fluff of matching blonde pubic hair that added to the perception of youth and vitality.

The weight of what I was looking at finally started pulling me down. I wasn’t looking at some lovely young girl. I wasn’t looking at a student in my class. I wasn’t looking at a model or a porn star. All of these could have been true, but I wasn’t seeing that. I was seeing me. And there’s no way any heterosexual man wouldn’t find me devastatingly beautiful. Even my own hands were trembling, wanting to touch and feel this lovely woman’s body. My new lovely body.

Finally, the man’s gentle touch to my shoulder and his soft voice returned me to the present. “I know it’s a lot to take in. If you need more time, I can step out, but we really do have more that we have to cover before I return you to your family.”

The smart, intelligent, rational side of me says I need to get dressed and figure out what exactly happened, why it happened, and what we can do about it. If nothing else, I need to get through what he wants to present me with and return to Doctors Moore and Rodriguez so we can all figure this out together. But the rough, raw, man in me wants to take this gentleman up on his offer. Wants to take time to get to know this body and find out exactly what pleasures it can provide.

With a shake of my head, frustratingly accompanied by my hair brushing across my face, I redress and take a seat. With the man sitting across from me he pulls up his tablet and I can see a list in its display. “Okay, first we need to have a name. We can’t exactly call you James now. We’ll update your records as you see fit, or we can assign you a name. Do you have a family name that you’d like to use?”

Without giving it any thought I respond “Joy. Both my grandmother and my mother were named Joy.”

The man nodded and tapped at is tablet while responding “Joy? That’s perfect. You’re going to bring so much Joy to the world that it fits you to a T. There, all set. Joy Williams. If you’d like to add a middle name, you can always visit a local bureau. Next up is housing. Since you aren’t genetically related to Atticus Moore, as you’d thought, you can live with him and his wife. He might not be able to suit your needs as he seems resolute that we respect his marriage, but its your choice. He said it’s the housing situation he’d choose. Is that what you’d like?”

I nod. I keep trying to focus on what he’s saying, but everything keeps reminding me of this body. Even something as simple as nodding. I never noticed feeling my loose skin under my chin and around my neck, but now that the skin there is taut and tight, it feels foreign.

“Okay, you’ll all share the same flat. For credit budging, your initial allotment is three hundred credits per month. You can spend these on anything from entertainment to extra or specialized food rations. We know the economies of the Eastern Coalition and the Free Union are vastly different, so please remember all of your housing, food, and medical expenses are already covered. You’ll have full access to the network, but we’ll only be providing you with a basic audio earpiece. I’d highly recommend you get a visualizer adapter so that you can see all the information.”

He pushes what looks like an old school, behind the ear, hearing aid across the table to me. “This is already programed for you. Please put it over your ear and I’ll cover the basics with you.”

All the information is becoming overwhelming. Maybe if there wasn’t a gender change involved, I could keep up, but I simply follow along with what he tells me and hook the item around my ear. Immediately I hear a bell like tone and a pleasant female voice. “Greetings Joy, your Winnie is now active. Is there anything you require?”

I look up at the man as he nods. “I’m assuming you heard the welcome message? Good. Only you’ll be able to hear it, so the information is kept private. Everybody has one of these, although they come in many different forms and you might not see them. They also have visualizer adapters available so you might see people looking at tablets and seeing information that you don’t. Advanced ones even display information over their complete visual cortex, so you’ll see them reading or looking at things that aren’t there. Again, I highly suggest you get one as it will help you interact with the world. Until then, you have all the basics you need. If you need more information, you simply focus on something and tap your Winnie. You can also speak to it if you want to ask more detailed questions. Again, there are more advanced models that keep that private through either visual cues or direct CNS interactivity but those are considered entertainment and therefore not covered by the government. You can also turn on certain features that will automatically trip your Winnie. As a fertile, of age, non-pregnant, medically able woman, I’d highly suggest turning on the compatible match. Your Winnie will then be scanning all men near you for compatibility. Go ahead and turn that on by saying ‘Winnie, please turn on fertile compatibility search.’ Don’t worry, you’ll be able to turn it off later if it becomes overwhelming.”

I let my mouth hang open for a moment. I understand all of the words he’s saying, but they almost don’t make sense in the order he’s saying. I can’t help but immediately ask “Wait, who is Winnie?”

The pleasant female voice answers in my ear “I am your Winnie, Joy. Winnie is not my name, it’s an acronym. W I N I I for World Information Network Interactive Implement. Although if it helps your acclimation, you may consider that my name.”

The guy just sits back and smiles when I focus back on him. “See? Your Winnie will be there for information whenever you need it. Now, let’s try the scanning mode. ‘WINNI, please turn on fertile compatibility search.’”

I can’t help but turn my eyes to the side, as if I were going to see a person to my right. “Winnie, please turn on fertile compatibility search.”

The woman’s voice returns pleasantly as if I were ordering a glass of water in a nice restaurant, “Fertile compatibility search activated. One subject found. Harrison Berger, immigration assistant second class. Last medically cleared on May fourth of this year. Sperm count 87%. Last ejaculation May fourth, during medical clearance. Birthing compatibility measured at 90%. Your fertility period begins in twenty-three hours.”

My eyes grow wider and wider with each bit of information that Winnie spells out for me. When she stops I look up at the man and say hesitantly “Umm… so you’re Harrison? Harrison Berger? And…” it sounds like I can ask this Winnie about most of this information later, but one part just begs for an immediate answer “…you haven’t ejaculated for almost a month?”

Harrison smiles and answers “That’s right. So, your WINNI has identified me as a fertile compatible match. Almost assuredly not 100% since you’re from the Eastern Coalition, but probably high. And to answer your direct question, that’s right. I haven’t ejaculated since early May at my medical clearance. Before that it was four months. With my position, I don’t get a lot of offers for fertility coupling. Like I said, you’ll get a lot of men with higher compatibility, but if you wanted to have sex just to try out your body, I’d be happy to help you out. We actually match up quite well now as I’d only be wasting a month worth of sperm and you’re not in your fertility period yet so there wouldn’t be any waste on either of our parts.”

I keep holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This man is talking about us having sex as casually as if he were offering to help me fix a tire or letting me go ahead of him in a que. And all of this talk seems to surround not just sex, but sex for birthing purposes above all else. As I slowly let out my breath and try to look calm I hope that I’m not being rude as I say softly “That’s… um… nice of you to offer. I think I’ll hold off for now though. It’s a lot to take in and I just want to see… um… my family.”

If Harrison was upset at my turning him down he doesn’t seem so. With a flick of his wrist he clears his tablet and answers calmly “That’s fine. The last thing is your appointment at the fertility clinic. I have you scheduled for June 9th. They’ll hopefully confirm your pregnancy at that time. If there are any problems, or you aren’t pregnant they’ll help you solve them at that time. Oh, and I heard once that in the Eastern Coalition you have to keep track of your sex partners so that the father can be identified. Don’t worry, with our genetic technology we’ll be able to identify the father. So, have as much coupling as you can and leave the paperwork to us! Now, ready to see your family again?”

Harrison chats pleasantly as he walks me back to Atticus and Catty. But the entire way I can’t get his voice out of my head as I hear him saying over and over and over ‘Have as much coupling as you can!’