Koda's Place

The Change: First 50 Pages

The following manuscript was discovered in 2010 by a group of boy scouts hiking in the remote desert of southeastern Utah, USA. It was handwritten in three spiral notebooks and found inside a plastic bread bag at the back of shallow cave.

I'm a prisoner here. And they've stolen my body.

I don't know why I'm writing this. I'm never going to get out of here. Maybe that's why I'm writing, so someone will eventually find out what happened to me. I feel like I have to do something, to at least vent in some way to get this endless stress out of me because sitting here alone for months is driving me crazy. I seriously think I may have lost my mind already. In fact I'm sure I'm totally nuts because what seems real to me isn't impossible.

My name is David Crosley, I think. At least I remember being that person three years ago, or think I remember. I'm sitting naked in the hot sun in the desert, on a pink and white aluminum lawn chair, looking down at breasts and a vagina. I have become completely accustomed to having this beautiful, female body, but I can't see my face and don't know what I look like. Believe me, that's enough to drive anyone insane. There's no doubt about it now. I have to be crazy. I have to get a grip on reality somehow. What do I know is real?

I'm sitting on the edge of a rock outcrop near the top of a narrow box canyon with smooth, reddish-brown rock walls and very little plant life, just a few scrubby bushes and a splattering of thorny green weeds that spread out in clumps across the rocky ground. A small camp trailer painted in desert camouflage is sitting on a wide ledge fifty feet below and to my right. I remember watching a group of people lower the trailer over the cliff using a wench and cable attached to a large, black SUV. There were about six people, and now I can remember helping to put the trailer in place. My god! I helped build my own prison cell.

From up here I can see for miles to the south and east – nothing but a tangle of eroded rock chasms impossible to cross on foot. There are purple mountains to the northeast, and a tall plateau far to the west, but both lie beyond an ocean of grey sand hills eroded into long, sloping pyramids nearly impossible to climb. The sand slides out from underfoot, making every step exhausting and producing very little headway. I tried to hike out over those sand hills and didn't get half a mile before I realized I could die of heatstroke if I didn't return to the trailer. I was lucky to get back alive. Yeah, she picked this place carefully to insure I couldn't escape.

Yes. "She." That woman is the cause of all this, of me not being me and being imprisoned out here till my mind has become mush. Cheryl. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but also a real life witch. I'm guessing she's about 45-years-old, but generally looks twenty-five, and sometimes looks like she's ninety. Oh god, you don't want to deal with her when she looks old, 'cause that's when she's a personification of pure evil. Mean. Cruel. Wicked. Spiteful. Ready to tear one's heart out, literally, if she thinks it might make her feel better on a bad day. Oh, but on a good day . . . true perfection. Even now I lust after her. Thin curvy body, nice firm tits, impossibly small waist, long black hair down to her cute round butt, caramel-colored skin as soft as milk weed fluff, and big, deep green eyes that look like they were stolen from an Egyptian cat. She uses those eyes as a weapon, as a snare to seduce her victims into a trance where they become oblivious to everything but her, only to snap out of it later and realize she has taken everything she wanted and given nothing in return. Yet still her victims come back for more, just as I did, over and over, till I grew some balls and stood up to her, only to end up here without any.

That's the part of this whole experience that repeatedly breaks my sanity. I know I am a guy. I have memories going back to early childhood, but then I look down at my body and see someone else. If I look long enough, I feel like someone else, like the woman whose body I possess. But I have no memory of being a woman till my memory of being a man ends a couple years ago. I was somehow transformed into a different person, and now I am neither of those people because I am a man in a woman's body. Well, there are times when I feel that I have always been female, but those are scary moments because that's when I forget I am really a man and become the pawn Cheryl molded me to be. I'm imprisoned here because I refused to forget who I am.

Being stuck in this body makes it hard to remember I am a man, and I sometimes find myself believing my whole problem is caused by believing I ever was a man, which is "obviously" impossible because everyone is one way or the other for life. That problem totally freaked me out today.

I woke up sort-of groggy this morning, climbed down from my little bed above the table in the trailer, and when I went to the chemical toilet to pee I unconsciously lifted the seat up and reached for my unit, which wasn't there. That's when I noticed it had been about two weeks since I last remembered I am really David Crosley. I was overwhelmed with anxiety and the fear that I might forget who I really am forever. Moments later I realized it had been two weeks since my last delusion of being a man whose body has been magically transformed into that of a sexy blond in her mid-twenties. I don't know which is real, and that's why I started writing all this stuff, because I am desperate to figure this out. I need to write down the facts that don't change.

I don't know what my face looks like because there are no mirrors here, no polished metal surfaces, and no standing water anywhere that might create a reflection. But I can see my curly blond hair hanging almost to my elbows, and this body is damned sexy, particularly these nice d-cup boobs, which I have to admit I play with every day. I don't have periods, and what is even more strange is I can't remember ever having one. I have been here since mid-spring and it is now approaching autumn. There is a large propane powered refrigerator behind the trailer which is miraculously restocked about once a week. I have tried to catch someone as they bring supplies in, even rigging pots and pans to fishing line to act as an alarm, but so far I have yet to see another soul since I arrived here.

This confusion all began when I met Cheryl, so that's what I need to look at to see what really happened to me.

I was playing bass in a cover band, doing a gig at a bar in Moab, Utah. I noticed Cheryl when she first walked in and was so shocked by her sensual beauty I lost my place in the song and totally screwed up. Everyone noticed the bass drop out, including Cheryl, who looked at me and lustfully licked her upper lip. I had to look away just to remember what I was doing. Those brilliant green eyes and half open mouth created an image that is still burned into my mind. I have never wanted anyone so bad in my life.

I kept watching her as we played the rest of the set but she never looked my way again. She was with two younger women dressed in shorts and tank tops, but she was wearing a slinky, short black dress and heels. During the break I deliberately walked past their table several times, and though the other girls looked at me every time I couldn't catch her eye. We were playing the last set when I realized she was deliberately avoiding me, but not because she wasn't interested. She watched me almost constantly I think, but looked away every time I glanced in her direction. She was intentionally acting uninterested. I have no patience with any sort of head games, so figuring she was simply being a tease I started ignoring her. Another girl had been flirting with me all night and we exchanged a bit of conversation between songs, eventually getting to the point where it seemed likely we'd hook up when the bar closed. That girl was talking to me as I wiped down my white, '74 Rickenbacker bass and put it back in its case. When I stood up and turned around she was being escorted away by the two women who had come in with Cheryl, who was now standing in her place.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"She's not the one you are most interested in," she said as she looked down, slowly sliding her hands across her waist and hips, smoothing her thin black dress over her firm thighs. Then she looked up at me with those green eyes smoldering like emerald coals, saying, "I can take you places she can't even imagine."

I wanted to protest that she had no right to interfere with my life but I knew she was right. Just the look in her eyes had already taken me to a place I had never been. I felt her gaze going through my eyes, pausing in my heart and expanding down to my groin. Then she stood with her feet apart, placed her hands on her hips, stretched her back so her fine, firm boobs stood up like mountains begging to be climbed, and said, "Care to join us for a swim in my pool? There's also a hot tub if you prefer."

The thought of being naked and rubbing bodies with those three gorgeous women caused an uncontrollable sigh to escape from my mouth.

"I have to help pack up the gear," I said, "and I kind of have a date with that woman who was just here."

"I think she's already been invited to join us," she said, nodding toward the three girls, who were making out with each other in the corner. I could clearly see hands moving under the third girl's top as the other two were kissing her face and neck.

"OK," I laughed. "I think I am definitely up for a swim tonight."

I told the rest of the band I would meet them at our motel room in the morning and they all shook their heads mumbling about how unfair it was after I told them they weren't invited. I suppose I should have asked if they could come but it isn't every day that a guy gets to hang out in a pool with four really hot babes. I helped load my heavy bass cabinet and other gear into the van, then climbed into the back of a big, black SUV with the four women. The seats in the center were turned backwards so we could all face each other, and a curtain prevented me from seeing who was driving.

"I'm Cheryl. That's Tammy with her hand up your friend's skirt, and this is Debbie."

Debbie planted a big, tongue filled kiss on me while grabbing my crotch.

"You're right again," she said to Cheryl. "It's nice."

"Who's your friend?" Cheryl asked.

"Barbara," said the girl I had been talking with. "Tonight you can call me Barbie 'cause I feel like being someone's toy." We all laughed.

Barbara (scratched out). Barbie was from somewhere in the Midwest and had come to Moab with two roommates from college to float the Colorado River and do some biking. Her friends had met a couple guys and gone rock climbing for the weekend, leaving her behind because she was afraid of heights. She was the least attractive of the four women, but still very pretty. Tall and thin, about five-nine, long, straight blond hair but basically no tits. She seemed like an air head to me.

We drove north out of town then east along the Colorado river a short way, then took a dirt road south for several miles, winding along the bottom of a narrow gorge which appeared to follow a small stream as the road climbed higher and higher. Not far from the top of the plateau was Cheryl's house, an obviously expensive, low adobe rambler, much larger inside than it appeared from the front. The moment we entered the front door Debbie and Tammy both pulled off their clothes, tossing them carelessly on the floor as they raced toward the pool one floor down behind the house. Barbie and I smiled shyly at each other.

"Take off your clothes," Cheryl said as casually as if asking us to pass the salt at a dinner table. Barbie was naked before the other two girls hit the water and went running after them. Seeing all that fine tits and ass had aroused me and I didn't want to expose my enthusiasm out in the open like that, so I hesitated.

"It's OK. Take off your clothes," Cheryl said, again in that very casual tone, but there was something commanding about it. I found myself getting slowly undressed while she stood there watching me carefully, her eyes slowly scanning every inch of my body. That was the first time I noticed something "not normal" about Cheryl. I couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it seemed that even when she asked someone politely to do something, it wasn't a request, but a demand which could not be refused. It seemed that any resistance one may have felt initially would suddenly become "irrelevant" and no longer make any sense, so you would simply do what she asked without much deliberation. Whatever she requested seemed like the right thing to do.

After standing in front of Cheryl stark naked for perhaps a full minute, she asked me to help her bring drinks out to the pool. I remember going downstairs, getting ice out of the refrigerator and feeling the cold air move across my skin as I closed the door, standing naked in front of a complete stranger in a strange house where I didn't really know anyone. A sense of apprehension came over me, which Cheryl must have noticed,

"It's alright," she said, smiling and looking me straight in the eye. All my discomfort instantly vanished. "Go join the girls. I'll be with you in a moment."

I brought the tray of drinks to the hot tub and slid down into the warm, bubbling water, watching the three girls in the pool laugh and squirm together in a constantly changing group hug. Different body parts – heads, breasts, butts, arms and legs -- constantly emerged from the water with smooth skin and bikini tan lines shining with different colors in the glow of constantly changing pool lights. It was the most sexually stimulating thing I had ever seen and I was so hard I thought I would explode. Eventually the girls all decided they wanted to get good and drunk so they climbed over the narrow, tiled wall separating the pool from the hot tub and joined me. Cheryl was nowhere to be seen.

Tammy has dark brown hair, dark skin and a tiny little body less than five-feet tall and definitely under a hundred pounds, but the first thing anyone would notice about her is her huge boobs, at least an F-cup and obviously fake, though I had plenty of time to play with them and they felt plenty real to me. I couldn't believe anyone so small could have such huge tits and it was impossible not to stare at her. She seemed like a hard core party girl to me, and when I asked what she did for a living she said she was a cosmologist.

"You mean cosmetologist, a hair and makeup person, don't you?"

"No. A cosmologist. I make charts of stars, nebula and other celestial objects. I received my doctorate from UC Berkley."

I suppose I had a dumbfounded expression on my face because they all broke out laughing at the same time.

Debbie is tall and thin, with almond-colored skin and narrow eyes reflecting a widely mixed racial background. Her dark hair is cropped short and cute, longer on the sides than in back, which accentuates her thin form. She looks "pretty" at first, but the longer I looked at her the more beautiful she became. When I asked what she did she said, "I work with numbers."

"Me too," said Barbie. "I'm going for an associates in accounting."

It wasn't till much later that I discovered Debbie is a mathematician and theoretical physicist who once worked for NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

Though tall and skinny, Barbie is the only "normal" looking girl in the bunch. She has dyed blond hair, blue eyes that are always smiling and almost no boobs. She is attractive but certainly no movie star.

The four of us were getting quite a buzz going and with me being the only male I was getting plenty of much appreciated attention in the hot tub. It wasn't till Cheryl showed up again that I realized she had been absent for over an hour. She came out into the patio area carrying a tray of burning candles and wearing a sheer, silk, full length flowing gown covered with images of elves and fairies dancing among moonlit mountains and trees. She looked stunning, sophisticated, almost other-worldly, and seemed to be in an almost meditative trance. Her movements were slow and graceful, and as she placed the tray of burning candles on the tiled floor before her the moon went behind a cloud and she seemed to light up the patio with a light coming from within. The rest of us fell quiet and simply watched as she arranged the candles in a wide circle around her. That's when I noticed the patio tiles there had been laid to form a circle radiating out from the center. Thin metal strips divided the circle into twelve, pie-shaped sections and the ring of outer tiles had been embossed with what appeared to be astrological symbols and animal shapes.

Tammy and Debbie got out of the tub and dried themselves then handed towels to Barbie and I, so we also got out and sat with the others just outside the circle, while Cheryl remained within. Tammy removed a cork from the spout of a small, crudely decorated clay jar and handed it along with five, very small bowls to Cheryl, who carefully poured a very small amount of clear liquid into each bowl, set one in front of each of us, then stepped out of the circle to take her place on the outside. She left the jar sitting in the center then began to speak quietly.

"These bowls contain a small amount of a mild psychedelic drug which has been used by shamans in South American for millennia. It produces a very relaxed but sharply aware state of mind which makes it possible to visualize internal images with great clarity. My mentor taught me how to combine using this drug with what we now refer to as hypnosis in order to cure disease. I have since learned to how to use the same techniques to improve one's body rather than simply repair damage. Tammy's breasts are an example of what can be achieved."

Tammy smile shyly, then broadly and started to giggle, then forced herself to return to a more serious state of mind.

Cheryl turned to me. "You are in excellent physical health," she said, "but you have a problem with your lower back which occasionally causes you discomfort."

"That's amazing," I said. "How on earth can you know that?"

"I can see it, as can Debbie and Tammy. We can see inside the body much like a doctor using an x-ray machine, only better. None of us are medical doctors so we can't always tell what it is we are looking at, but some of my other girls can."

"There are more of you?" I asked.

"Ten so far. Hopefully you and Barbara will complete the circle of twelve required to fulfill our mission." Barbie's mouth fell open, then she looked at me and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "whatever."

"And what mission is that?" I asked.

Cheryl laughed, "To save the world, of course." Then Tammy and Debbie laughed with her.

"And just how do you expect to accomplish that," I asked.

"It's complicated," Cheryl replied, "but in a nutshell, we will bring a new morality to the world where everyone will understand that any behavior which doesn't harm others against their will is OK, even if it is stupid and self destructive. We will also convince the world that the time has come for everyone to be honest and fair, that everyone deserves the same opportunities, that reason must replace the superstitious nonsense of religion, and the same rules must apply to everyone, everywhere, which means having a single world government."

"And you think just twelve people can accomplish all that?"

"Don't be silly," said Cheryl. "It will take tens of millions of politically active people to see such changes implemented. But our mission is to form a group of twelve who will work with similar groups, all of us working to get the information to the masses."

"People are too stupid and lazy, and for that matter, too selfish," I said. "Those who are well off don't want to change the status quo, and those who are struggling are powerless to affect the established machine. Things will never change."

"What you don't understand," she said, "is that events are coming which will bring the existing socioeconomic structure to its knees. In April of 2011 the Sun, Moon and all the other planets will be together opposite Saturn. That will trigger a global social crisis such as the world has never experienced. Billions of individuals will find themselves struggling for day to day survival. The hardships will continue for nearly two years, and if the people have the information regarding how to restructure society in a free, fair and reasonable way, that's when they will act together to make it happen."

"Good luck," I said.

"Luck has nothing to do with it, but you do. You are the one we've been waiting for."

I laughed so hard I fell over on my side. Barbie smiled at me and giggled, but the other three were dead serious.

Cheryl took me by the hand and looked into my eyes. "You may laugh now, David, but before this night is over you will understand that this is no pipe dream. There are people in the world who have almost unlimited control over society. Never before in modern history has it been possible for one individual or group to control the entire world, but technology has finally made that possible. For the first time in history one person can send orders simultaneously to followers throughout the world and exercise control everywhere at once.

"And it doesn't require someone with a thousand nuclear weapons to destroy the world. One person with a thousand followers could simultaneously poison the water supplies in a thousand cities, and the next day blow up all the power transmission lines, and then take out the main gas and oil lines. The world as we know it could cease to exist in less than a week."

"Wow," I said. "I had no idea how fragile our society really is."

"The reason this sort of destruction hasn't happened yet, " she went on, "is because nearly everyone on this planet wants the world to be a happy, peaceful place. The problem is that huge populations have different ideas about how to go about that, and if they can't come to an agreement, when resources begin to run out there will be war, a war that will negatively affect everyone, everywhere, destroying our civilization."

I glanced at the girls and they all looked frightened, naked, huddling against the chill under large bath towels.

"I have to admit that what you're saying seems possible, but aren't you being a bit fanatical in your fears? Society has managed to keep going for millennia in spite of all the wars and disasters."

"People have been on this planet for hundreds of thousands of years," she said, "so why does our history only go back a few thousand years? It's because we have destroyed our world repeatedly in the distant past. Some of us, through disciplined training, have access to knowledge not available to the average person, or to scientists who haven't undergone the training. We know we have failed before, and we don't want humanity to fail again. We can avoid complete disaster and usher in an almost utopian society simply by educating people about reason, freedom, fairness and opportunity. That's why I said we can save the world simply by teaching people a new morality, one that is easy for people to live up to which won't make life worse for others, but instead makes it possible for us all to live fulfilling lives."

"What has that got to do with these little bowls?" I asked.

"I want to show you how individuals can be completely hedonistic and excessively indulgent while still living up to a morality which can make the world a wonderful place for all of us. We are about to provide you with a sexually indulgent experience beyond your wildest imagination, while at the same time not crossing over the moral principles involved in making society as good as it can get. As long as people are fair with each other and no one is forced to participate against their will, anyone can do anything and it will not harm society in any way.

"With this mild psychedelic drug and your willing cooperation to undergo hypnosis, I can give you something you have always wanted but never thought possible. I can enable you to experience having big, beautiful, firm, sensitive, sexy female breasts."

Day 103

It took me two days to write what you just read. I'm sitting at the table in the trailer now looking out the window at a light rain coming down and dark clouds moving quickly toward the northeast. It's probably about 8:00 AM. I don't know what day it is, but I've been here at least three months, I think, so I thought I would start numbering the days at one-hundred. 103 means this is the third day since I started writing this.

I want to point out a few things I find curious here. I have everything I need, including a big supply of beef jerky which is practically the only thing I eat, though I try to make at least one real meal each day. There are always fresh eggs and milk and various lunch meats in the propane fridge out back, in spite of the fact I never see anyone coming to restock the supplies. And once a week fresh bread shows up in the cabinet inside. That means someone comes in here when I'm asleep, but I'm a light sleeper and I don't see how that is possible. There are two sets of clothes in the closet and drawers, male and female clothes, though the male clothes are far to big to fit me. I've been wearing the baggy male clothes since I started writing this because it helps me remember I'm not really the woman this body tells me I am, though sometimes I feel a little weird when I have to squat to pee after feeling like a man all day. There are razors and shaving cream, though I don't have a beard, and I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I shave my legs every few days because I can't stand seeing hair on these rather shapely legs.

And I'm horny all the time, which is often frustrating. I'm a guy and looking at this hot little babe bod all day makes me want to fuck that body, bad, but I can't. If I want to have sex I have to masturbate as a woman, and there is a whole drawer here full of toys to make that possible. But every time I do that I get so screwed up psychologically it results in hours of arguing with myself about who and what I really am. I either can't get myself off because of those arguments, or I give in and let myself enjoy this body and have multiple orgasms, which after years of being a male is an awesome thing that I don't think most women appreciate as much as they should. But that's usually what convinces me I really am a woman and all this male stuff is just a psychotic delusion. It's much easier, believe me, to accept being a woman when I obviously am a woman. But the pattern has been that I accept being female for a couple of weeks, then start thinking about why I have been imprisoned here, and that reminds me of how I got here, of the fact I am a man stuck in a female body, and the whole identity crisis takes over again.

That first night when I met Cheryl she opened up a part of me I hadn't dared to explore. When she told me she could give me a pair of breasts I nearly had a heart attack. I have always been very male, particularly when I was younger and went around being the bad boy, tough guy type. But that never stopped me from imagining how much fun it would be to be on the other side of all the fine boobs I have fondled over the course of my life. I have always been a "boob man," though I think the sexiest part on a woman's body is the curve from the waist over the hips and butt. I love playing with a woman's breasts, which has made me quite an expert on how to stimulate them in ways that can actually make some women reach orgasm. (Too bad I can't do that with this body.) But I have always wanted to have a nice pair of tits, at least in my fantasies, just so I could feel what women feel.

"What makes you think I want a pair of boobs?" I asked, trying to appear unruffled.

"You shouldn't attempt to deceive me, David," she said. "I have spent a lifetime living a highly disciplined life under the tutelage of a master shaman who taught me the nature of human consciousness. When I feel it is appropriate I can merge my awareness with almost any living creature and understand exactly how they think and feel, because I become one with them. The idea that we are separate from one another is an illusion. From a larger perspective, there is no time or space or separateness. We are all part of a greater whole and this reality is essentially no more solid and real than a dream. I chose you to be part of our mission, in part, because you would prefer being a woman, and our group is made up entirely of women."

"Oh get off it," I said rather indignantly. "I have never wanted to be a woman. Sure, I think having boobs for a few minutes would be great fun. What man wouldn't like to experience what it's like to have them, or even a pussy for that matter? But there is a big difference between wanting to know what it feels like to be on the other side and actually wanting to become that."

"I'll let you take that stand, for now," she said, "but I know you better than you know yourself in some ways. I am not limited by self imposed moral restrictions dictated by society, so I allow myself to feel what I truly feel rather than what I am taught it is OK to feel. For now all I need is your agreement that you would like to experience having a nice pair of big, sensitive breasts while the four of us help you enjoy them."

"Well yeah, I could go for that," I said. "But just how do you expect that to happen?"

"As I said before, the drug in these bowls makes it far easier to visualize internal images. It enhances one's ability to concentrate, and that makes hypnosis operate more effectively."

"So you want to hypnotize me into believing I have a pair of knockers?" I asked.

Debbie chimed in. "It's more than just hypnosis. We'll all experience them as real. What Cheryl is about to do is guide your awareness, and ours, to a parallel universe predicted by quantum mechanics where whatever one believes is real, is real."

"It's easier if you think in terms of entering a dream from a waking state of consciousness," said Cheryl. "What's important is believing that what you desire is reality, and what people call hypnosis makes that possible. Do you want to go there with us?"

"OK," I said. "I don't think I can be hypnotized but I am certainly willing to give it a try."

"Only about ten percent of people can be easily hypnotized," said Cheryl. "That's where this drug comes in. Drink this, and after a few minutes I'll take you to that place you have always wanted to go."

We all drank from the little wooden bowls. The liquid was thick and tasted bitter, then everyone reached for our cocktails to wash the taste out of our mouths. Cheryl led us all into the swimming pool and suggested we relax and enjoy ourselves while we waited for the potion to take effect.

We were standing in the shallow end in about four feet of water. Tammy and Debbie sandwiched me between them, with Debbie in back with one hand on my unit and the other rubbing my bare chest. "This is going to be fun!" she said as she reached around from behind to pull Tammy tight against me. Tammy rubbed her huge boobs against my chest. "Like big, soft ball bearings," she said. "You're going to love it."

The three of us kissed and fondled each other while Cheryl and Barbie bobbed in the water some distance away. Barbie was floating on her back with her eyes closed while Cheryl whispered in her ear and ran her hand gently over her very small breasts. Every now and then Barbie would moan as if she were experiencing a mild orgasm.

I had completely forgotten about having taken the drug till I began to feel light-headed about thirty minutes later. Objects around the pool became difficult to see clearly and seemed to have red and blue "shadows" around them. My skin felt soft and tingly, and when I pushed my finger against my leg, or anywhere else, it felt like I was pushing into thick, sensual foam. That's when Cheryl and Barbie drifted over to where the rest of us were.

Barbie was smiling as if she were bursting to say something she knew she shouldn't, floating with the water up to her neck, as we all were, apparently fondling her breasts below the surface.

"I would like you all to close your eyes and imagine that Barbie has really big boobs," Cheryl said.

I closed my eyes and was astonished to see everything around me with my eyes closed. Well, it was more like a dream version of everything. Nothing held quite still, edges were fuzzy and everyone's faces were constantly distorting. I imagined seeing Barbie stand up with her breasts just above the waterline and her boobs were humungous! Even larger than Tammy's f-cups.

"Now," Cheryl continued, "all of us agree to suspend our previous beliefs about Barbie's body, and we deliberately choose to believe that she has the d-cup breasts she always wanted. We know we can do this because we are pretending to be under hypnosis, and we willingly allow ourselves to believe, that for now at least, desire and belief are one. There is no conflict because we do this willingly. We believe our breasts have always been large and beautiful, perky, firm, and oh so sensitive.

"Please keep your eyes closed David. The rest of you may open your eyes."

There was the sound of oohs and awes, water splashing, laughter and giggles. I was dying to have a look but did as I was told. While Cheryl was talking my internal vision became rather hallucinatory, with hazy colors swirling around in my peripheral vision and images of the women in the pool fading in and out. I distinctly remember the image of Barbie's breasts shrinking from gargantuan to the size of a grapefruit. I was definitely high on something, but I had my eyes closed and couldn't "really" see anything.

Cheryl took me by the hand and pulled me a short distance through the water, till I came up behind someone. She lifted my hands and set them on the breasts of the woman whose back was against my chest.

"Whose breasts are in your hands," she asked.

The boobs I held felt like perfect d-cup breasts. Though I knew Barbie had no more than an a-cup at best, I honestly believed she could have d-cup breasts at that moment.

"Barbie's?" I asked.

"Play with them," she said. Feel how large they are and how beautiful they must be. Pull her close to you and imagine how sensitive and sensual they must feel to her. Squeeze the nipples as you lift her breasts. Can you feel what she feels?"

Much to my amazement the drug caused me to feel like I had my own big breasts in my hands, and I sighed with obvious enjoyment when I rubbed the nipples and felt the sensations go deep down inside.

"Oh yeah," I said. "I can feel just what she feels. It's awesome."

"Whose breasts are you holding?"

"I'm not sure." I said.

"Open your eyes and see."

I knew I was holding my own breasts before I opened my eyes. Amazingly, I was more curious at how she had made me believe I was holding the breasts of someone who was never actually in front of me.

"Like 'em?" Cheryl asked.

"Oh yeah," I mumbled through gasping breaths, squeezing them, rubbing them, even trying to lick them but my tongue couldn't reach.

"Let me help you with that," said Barbie, gently lifting my breasts in order to get me to stand up in the water where she could suck on them. Her breasts were fine looking d-cups very similar to mine, only with larger, darker areolas. Tammy and Debbie both began sucking on her boobs the moment they came up out of the water. As Barbie sucked and played with my nipples Cheryl slipped under the water and a moment later she had my limp unit in her mouth. I thought I would come in spite of not being hard, but she let go and came up for air.

"Oh my god, how did you do this?" I asked Cheryl as Barbie continued to suck and lick my breasts.

"It's simple. The world is what we expect it to be. You believed the drug could make you hallucinate having a nice pair of breasts and that freed your mind to let go of your everyday world and enter a probable, quantum reality which exists parallel to the world you are used to experiencing. Right now your previous reality is the parallel universe, and from here it doesn't seem to exist. Unless you know how to get back to it, your breasts are permanent. They'll even begin to sag a bit as you get older, unless you don't believe they will."

"No way," I said. "I'm hallucinating alright, but I'm not going to argue with you. This is the funest thing I have ever done, and right now I don't want anything to interfere so I'll just go along with whatever you say."

Tammy switched from one of Barbie's boobs to one of mine so both of my breasts were being sucked at the same time. I felt like my entire body was a huge mammary gland with the two girls sucking a gallon of milk per minute out of me. It felt like my body was melting into their mouths. If I had died right then it would have been fine with me, but what came next was even better.

Day 104

It stopped raining shortly after it started a few hours ago. Well, it has sprinkled a few times since then, and it's kind of windy out but the temp is still pretty warm. That makes me think it must still be sometime in August. The nights will get cold when September arrives.

I just got a look at my face, well, sort of.

Something from a survival class I took in college popped into my head and I remembered the international sign of distress is three of anything in a straight line – three fires for example. There isn't enough wood around here to keep even a single small fire going for more than an hour, but I remembered another distress signal, one used to attract the attention of a pilot in an airplane. As a plane flies over terrain the angle of light between objects on the ground, the sun and the moving plane constantly changes. That means there are no steady reflections from small objects on the ground. Pilots have been trained to recognize any steady reflection on the ground as a distress signal. What one does is hold a small mirror or shiny piece of metal so it reflects light up to your outstretched hand. You make a big gap between your thumb and fingers with one hand, then stand where you can see the plane through that gap, and hold a mirror near your eyes so it reflects light on your hand. You keep moving so the plane stays centered in the gap of your outstretched hand as it moves across the sky. That creates a steady reflection the pilot can see.

But wouldn't you know it. There isn't a shiny piece of anything around here. I figured I could put some water in a cast iron pan and try to use that to create a distress beacon. It didn't take long to realize I can't change the angle of reflection because the surface of the water always remains parallel to the ground.

But I did see a dim reflection of my face in the water. I thought that would bring me some psychological comfort, and in a way it did, but it also reinforced the fact I'm a woman, and that makes all this stuff about being a man seem even more insane. I seriously have to admit that the most likely truth here is that I have always been a woman. I don't know why I have these "memories" of being a man, or why I can only remember myself being a woman for the last two years.

I wouldn't wish this kind of mental torment on anyone.

But anyway, I'm pretty cute :) Think of the typical, cute little blond movie star and I look something like that. Little nose, sort of high cheekbones, smooth skin, great teeth. I'd do me in a heartbeat. Of course, the reflection is so dim I can't make out my features that well and I might not look as good as I think. But I am glad to have a face to connect to this body. I felt like a ghost before, and now I am just some insane girl being held prisoner in the middle of the damned desert by figments of my imagination. The only thing I can think to do is keep writing about what I seem to remember and hope it leads me to some answers.

First I'm going to eat some real food. My lips are drying out from all the salt on this jerky I've been munching all day.

I was in the pool with my fresh new pair of tits when Cheryl asked us all to come into her bedroom, which is huge. It's decorated in southwestern style like the rest of the house, with light tan carpet and different shades of brown on the walls, which are covered with a sort of burlap cloth in many places. There is a fireplace opposite a large round bed with a curved, mirrored headboard, a mirror on the ceiling, and more mirrors on the walls near the bed. The headboard drops down into the floor and a large flat screen TV slides out of the ceiling at the foot of the bed. She has video cameras hidden in the walls so she can watch herself having sex on that big screen, and I'm pretty sure she records the action sometimes. If she had the cameras on that night I'd sure love to see it :)

Cheryl had me and my new boobs lie on my back in the center of the bed while the four girls moved into a circle around me. Cheryl got on all fours above me and began to slowly drag her wet hair across every inch of my naked body. I was still very high on whatever drug that was and my skin became so sensitive and sensual that the slightest touch of her hair had me gasping for breath, especially when she dragged her hair over my engorged breasts. I kept trying to play with my tits but she wouldn't let me.

One by one the other three girls joined her, sometimes dragging their hair across my body, or licking me gently then blowing to create a tiny spot of cold on my nipples or balls or unit. Even with my eyes closed I could visualize them moving around my body looking for places where subtle stimulation would be most appreciated. The sensual depth of my skin caused by the drug meant that any pressure by a hand or breast felt like it was sinking a couple inches into me. I continually reached out to touch one of their bodies but was repeatedly told to just lay still and enjoy myself. Holding still became agonizing.

Finally Cheryl moved my arms straight out to the sides and first Tammy, then Debbie, stood on their knees facing each other with my arms between their legs, then the girls squirmed down where my hands could easily reach their wet spots. Barbie straddled over my face and Cheryl sat down on my unit without putting it in. I watched as Tammy and Debbie began to suck on my nipples and again it was as if milk were flowing from my gorgeous breasts into their mouths and deep down into their bodies. Then both of them put a hand on Barbie's breasts and their other hand on Cheryl's breasts. At the same time Barbie and Cheryl both placed their hands on Debbie's and Tammy's boobs. Cheryl slowly slid down on my pounding unit and Barbie lowered herself onto my face as the two of them began to kiss each other. The result was every mouth, breast and sex organ being stimulated and everyone was in sexual contact with all four other bodies.

Everyone moved very, very slowly and I was commanded not to move at all. Wet pussy in my mouth, pussy gliding slowly on my cock, pussy in both hands. You just can't get more pussy than that, and I had real boobs being sucked and licked while experiencing a drug that made every sensation feel like it was sinking inches into my skin -- and I could see everything with my eyes closed. I practically burst with waves of erotic joy. Cheryl really knew what she was doing or I would have blow my wad right then.

It's hard to explain what I was actually experiencing. The drug made me believe, no, made me aware, that all of us were experiencing everyone else's sensations as a single sexual being with numerous sex organs all being stimulated at the same time. "I" had tits and pussies everywhere, five tongues, ten breasts, ten hands and one huge cock/pussy slowly sliding together in a dance which set the pace for all the other movement. And there was so much love I was astounded. The love came from deeply appreciating everyone for making the experience possible.

After what seemed like forever, which was far too short a time, all the girls got up at once and changed position, each of them moving clockwise one place. Sometime later they rotated positions again, and then again. The women were constantly having orgasms, which I also experienced at various places in "my" large, circular body with countless hands, tongues and sex organs. It wasn't till the sun was rising and Cheryl was again sitting on my unit that this body's male organ finally reached climax. All she did was squeeze, yet somehow all of us knew this was the big moment and everyone groaned in unison, mouths and arms falling limp and convulsing as we exploded like a supernova filling the entire universe. It was in that moment that I understood what Cheryl meant when she said we are all part of a single consciousness. "I" was everything that existed, at least during those few seconds.

As I sit here in this cramped little trailer trying to avoid touching myself so I can get this stuff written, all that seems absolutely real because I remember it so clearly. But how can I be a woman now and a man back then? I suppose all I can do is continue writing this and hope I can discover what really happened.

All five of us immediately fell asleep in a tangle of arms and legs on Cheryl's big, round bed. I awoke hours later, alone, with my brain feeling like someone had drained it's batteries -- just forming a simple thought seemed like it required all the energy I could muster. When I swung my legs out over the side of the bed I noticed those big, gorgeous tits were still there and I felt like I had had them all my life. I suppose Tammy heard me moaning as I sat on the edge of the bed playing with them because she came into the room then, wearing nothing but heels and a frilly, see-thru purple teddy that went no further than the top of her hip. I thought my boobs were nice but those f-cups jutting straight out above her tiny little waist made me wish for more.

"How's my little sleepy head?" she asked, smiling as she stroked my hair then pulled my face into her breasts and laughed. She pushed me back on the bed and pressed her breasts hard against mine and kissed me passionately.

"See. Like soft ball bearings," she said with a sigh, moving her chest in circles with her boobs rolling against mine.

I suddenly felt so confused I had to push her away to get some air and try to clear the cobwebs out of my mind. I apologized profusely saying I simply wasn't feeling well. She cocked her head to one side and looked at me as if trying to decide if she should be offended or not.

"You're very beautiful," I said almost involuntarily, and I meant it. She was laying on her side on the bed with her feet together, accenting the shape of her muscular legs and the dramatic curve of her hip. One of her huge, shapely breasts was exposed under her crumpled teddy and seemed to be asking me to suck on it, which I did. Then we kissed and kissed and fondled each other before collapsing back on the bed too tired to do more.

We could hear the other girls clattering around in the kitchen, and eventually Tammy got up and pulled me to my feet. We were just about to enter the kitchen when I realized I was a naked man with big, female boobs. That was the first of countless moments when I seriously questioned my sanity.

I stopped walking and leaned my forehead against the wall while covering my boobs with my arms.

"Better come quick, Cheryl," she said loudly. Looks like he's about to pop."

I felt sick to my stomach as Cheryl came in and rather forcefully pushed my left eyelid open with her thumb as I tried to pull away from her.

"Get him to the bathroom," she said.

I threw up for about ten minutes then gradually started feeling better, but I still had trouble getting thoughts to form in my mind. My legs and arms had no energy and felt "empty." Tammy gave me a thick terrycloth robe to wear and we joined the others in the very large, modern kitchen. Debbie and Barbie were sitting close to each other at the end of the table playing the card game War. Whenever they turned over a card of the same value and had a "war" the loser would give the other sixty seconds of any sexual favor of choice. They were obviously enjoying themselves immensely because they completely ignored the rest of us, even while we were constantly pausing to watch the winner get paid.

"I don't feel like this is real," I told Cheryl. "I don't feel like myself at all."

"You're likely to feel like that for some time," she said. (What an understatement.)

"I very much appreciate the experience you provided last night," I said, "but I want these tits to go away now."

"I'm afraid that's not really possible," she replied, "at least not right away. You will have to learn how to shift between probable universes, how to believe you have what you desire even when it is clear that you don't have that."

"Can't you just hypnotize me again and reverse the whole process?"

"I could, but I know that's not what you want, and it's not what I want either."

"Of course it's what I want. I can't go around as a guy with huge tits. I'd be a social pariah and couldn't function in the world."

"Everyone here accepts you just as you are now, and besides, you're almost halfway to what you really want, which is to experience sex as a woman."

"How the hell do you know what I want?" I yelled at her. "There's a big difference between having an occasional, impossible sexual fantasy, and actually wanting to be that way. Besides, I'm not gay. How am I supposed to experience sex as a woman when I am totally repulsed by the idea being intimate with a man?"

"We get by in bed just fine without men, and so can you, though for us it's always nice to feel that powerful, animal energy of male orgasm now and then . . . and not all males are men, if you know what I mean," she said smiling.

"I don't know what you mean and I don't want to know. I just want my body back so I can go back to my life. The band is probably freaking out wondering what happened to me. We've got a gig in Kanab tomorrow and they'll be screwed if I'm not there. So how about you undo this little, well, big thing you did to me and I'll be on my way."

"I told you, I can't do that."

"You said you could, but just don't want to."

"Look David. You got what you wanted, and I told you it would be permanent yet you didn't object. It takes a lot of effort to make a change like that, and to put it bluntly, I don't have the energy or desire to undo something so difficult to accomplish in the first place. I also know for a fact that you would prefer being a woman, even if you refuse to admit that to yourself. And I have plans for you, as part of our group. You will write songs that teach the world about the new morality, and I can insure that you get a record deal and make millions in the process. It's what you've always wanted, that and to experience sex as a woman. I can give it all to you."

That woman could read me like an open book, and in that moment I also knew she also understood my frustrations. Yeah, it's true. I've always wanted to experience sex as a woman. I've slept with enough women to know they enjoy sex far more than men do. All anyone has to do is listen to the sounds women make during sex compared to the occasional grunts and groans that come out of men. Women fall into a state of ecstasy where every moment is an emotional/sensual pleasure, while men simply feel good. Women have multiple orgasms while men are generally limited to one. Women are twice as sensitive to touch while men are really only concerned about what's happening to their cock. And women have boobs that are practically two extra sex organs. Of course, making love can be an equally wonderful experience for both males and females, but when it comes to just the sex part the male experience doesn't hold a candle to what women feel. At least it seemed that way from my experience. (And now I know it's true, for me at least.)

I remember standing there looking at those four very hot, scantily clad women, and for a moment I really wanted to be one of them. Cheryl must have noticed my moment of weakness because she pulled my robe open and fondled my breasts.

"Look at you," she said. Look at those long, lean legs and firm tummy." She put her hand out to cover my package. "With those breasts you've practically got a woman's body already, and I can help you make it perfect, though that face will take some work."

I found myself wanting to do it, wanting to let her turn me into a hot babe like they were, and that totally freaked me out.

"Where are my clothes? I want out of here."

"You'll find them folded on the bench by the entry," said Cheryl. "Angela will be happy to take you to your motel."

I ran to the front door, threw off the robe and pulled my jeans and shirt on, then left with my shoes and socks still in my hands. The sun was beating down in the courtyard and I felt like I was having a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. I finished getting dressed trying not to fall over -- the hot brick paving stones burned my feet and I was being thrown off balance by the weight of my big breasts swinging proudly under my open shirt. I screamed out of pure frustration and the sound echoed through the canyon. I was beginning to walk away when the black SUV pulled up. I pulled open the side door and climbed in back, glancing toward the house just long enough to see the four women standing at the front door studying my movements with a sense of detachment.

The curtain was closed but a pleasant female voice said, "Where to?" I told her the name of the motel then broke down and cried, quietly of course. I was actually having a nervous breakdown.

When I arrived at the motel I was very relieved to see that none of the band members were there. The car was gone but the van was still out front so I knew they hadn't left without me. A note said they had gone on a one-day river trip. I grabbed a windbreaker out of my suitcase and put it on to hide my breasts as best I could, then headed out the door. It was hot and quite miserable walking down the main street in Moab looking for a sporting goods store, which I eventually found near the center of town. I bought two long elastic bandages and then went back to the motel where I used them to strap the boobs tight against my chest. Satisfied that I could hide the tits as long as I didn't stand up completely straight, I got undressed and took a shower. I ended up playing with those boobs for an hour and afterward had another nervous breakdown.

The band showed up later that evening and everyone commented that I looked like shit.

"What happened to you?" asked Bob, the drummer, as he pulled the top of my button-down shirt open with his finger, pointing to the elastic bandage.

"Those girls and I went swimming, and I was trying to impress them with a back flip but clipped the diving board with my chest."

"Ooh . . . , that must have hurt," he said. "Was that before or after all the sex?"

"Before. I didn't get any at all."

The guys all laughed.

"You should have invited us," said Rick, the guitarist. "At least we could have seen to it that those fine babes didn't have to go without."

I considered telling them that I had better sex than any of them could imagine, but there was simply no way to tell them anything. I dreaded the reality of knowing I'd have to share motel rooms with them for another two weeks till our contract was up. If they ever found out I had tits it would be a disaster. Thank god none of us four slept in the same bed. Instead we alternated between sleeping in one of the two motel beds and in sleeping bags on the floor. I knew not letting anyone see me with my shirt off was going to be tough.

Day 106

I saw a deer this morning, in the ravine below the trailer. At first I was simply relieved to see another living creature besides birds, bugs and an occasional lizard, but later realized that if a deer can get into this box canyon, I can get out of it. I'm planning to do some hiking down there tomorrow to see if I can find a possible way out. Right now it's time for coffee, jerky, and getting back to the story.

It was difficult keeping the guys from discovering my breasts, but the worse part of traveling with them was not being able to play with my tits. I knew what was under that bandage and how great it felt to mess around with them, but there was rarely an opportunity to even brush my arms against them. The result was a lot of frustration, which led to obsessing about my next opportunity to set them free. I took much longer showers and spent way to long in rest area bathrooms, which the guys began to complain about. I was also suddenly shy about being seen with my clothes off, which none of us had been concerned about before.

We dig gigs in southern Utah, northern Arizona and western Colorado over the remaining two weeks of our contract. I usually get hit on in bars at least every other gig, but I had to decline every invitation for romance and that was another source of continuing frustration. I personally felt that many, if not most, straight women would be very entertained by the idea of having sex with a guy who had great tits, but if I let anyone at all find out the whole world would know in no time, and the world is not kind to those who are significantly different.

And to tell the truth, I continued to lust after Cheryl and the other girls. In the "real world" I was a freak who couldn't get laid, while with them I was often in complete bliss and they enjoyed my tits as much as I did. But I didn't want to become a woman. That was going to far. I simply wanted a break from all the hiding. It was destroying my self esteem.

I hated playing in front of people because I was in constant fear of being discovered, so my stage presence sucked and the band was becoming fed up with my deteriorating attitude. We barely managed to finish our final gig in Grand Junction before everyone agreed it was time for me to go. I sold my amp but kept my bass and bought a bus ticket back to Moab.

It was a very long walk from town up that canyon to Cheryl's place carrying my suitcase in one hand and bass in the other. I expected to catch a ride but not a single car went up that road beyond the campground at the end of the pavement, so eventually I set my boobs free under my shirt and let myself enjoy having them.

I had a lot of time to think. The canyon was very quiet and beautiful. A small, clear running stream, barely a trickle, meandered alongside the gravel road creating patches of dark green foliage against the rust red of the smooth rock walls, which in some places towered hundreds of feet high. A couple of times I saw hawks soaring high above, and at one point I rounded a corner and startled a blue heron into flight, a massive, long legged bird unlike any other in that part of the world. My footsteps on the gravel road reverberated against the rocks and seemed excessively loud in the intense quiet. I could smell the sagebrush and other desert plants I didn't recognize. When I paused to rest, which I did often because it was hot and the things I carried were quite heavy, it seemed like time had stopped. Only the occasional chirp or whistle of an insect broke the silence.

I made up my mind to ask Cheryl if I could be her songwriter guy without letting her do her hocus pocus and turn me into a woman. At first I thought I would simply demand that she return my body back to normal, but the truth was I didn't really want to lose those fine breasts now that I had them. I just needed a way to be alive and accepted within some sort of community where I could keep my new playthings. I don't know what made me think Cheryl would change her mind about the conditions required to be part of her group, and I was coming from a place of weakness now, having no place else to go.

It began to sink in that if I couldn't get rid of my breasts I would essentially be forced to go along with her intent to turn me into a woman. I couldn't afford to have the breasts surgically removed, and there was that little thing about wanting to keep them.

My mind was beginning to fray again. The closer I got to Cheryl's place the more confused and frustrated I became. I wanted to turn around and leave but there truly was no where else for me to go. I felt like I was being forced to become a woman, but enough of me wanted to do that it also became my honest desire.

As that idea was beginning to sink in I rounded a corner at the top of a curve and was standing in front of Cheryl's house, about a hundred feet from the front door. Nine naked women were bent over, standing in a line on the lawn in front of the house with their feet wide apart, mooning me. Then all together they began to pee. Laughter exploded from the group and pee streams began to waver aimlessly. Three girls on the right lost their balance and fell laughing onto the grass, which caused the other girls to react in much the same way. Nine, naked, hot looking babes were falling and stumbling over each other, roaring with laughter, trying not to fall where they had just peed. I set down my suitcase and bass and lost control, joining them on the ground convulsing with laughter, which didn't end for at least five minutes, till Cheryl stepped out of the house holding her stomach from laughing so hard and shoed everyone back inside.

My involvement with Cheryl has left me with many such unforgettable moments.

So that is how I came to agree to let Cheryl turn me into a woman. I knew it was useless to argue with her because, as she had said, she knew me better than I knew myself.

It is the evening of day 106.

I can't believe I forgot that unforgettable moment, or the decision I made to become a woman. Until a few minutes ago I was convinced the change had been forced upon me. Now I can remember so much. How Cheryl showed me how to use body features from the other girls as a guide in determining what I wanted to look like. Debbie's nose, Kathy's calves, Barbie's eyes, Tammy's hips, Cheryl's voice, etc. I had a buffet of beautiful female features to choose from and I loaded my plate heaping high, blending them together to create what I think is the most beautiful woman in the world. Oh yeah, I do love this body.

The process of transformation was similar to what occurred when I first received my breasts, only it was much more elaborate and required a great deal of preparation. Cheryl told me I had to have every physical feature I wanted burned into my mind with utmost clarity or I might end up with some of my male features left over. All the girls lounged around Cheryl's bedroom naked while I took photographs to assist in creating a composite image of my new self on the computer. They also delighted in taking pictures of my unit, which everyone agreed was a fine specimen, including me. I know I was gifted with a nice member and I was loath to let it go away forever. It was plenty big but not huge, but mostly it simply looked very nice. It's been a long time since I've seen it.

That much of the process took about a week, during which I was also "indoctrinated" into the philosophical principles behind what they call the new morality, which makes complete sense to me now. My main question at the time was why it was so important to the cause that I needed to be a woman.

"It isn't necessary," Cheryl told me, "but simply my personal preference to work only with women on this mission. Throughout modern history men have dominated most of the societies in the world. Men are by their natures competitive, which is good for animal survival, but not so great when it comes to helping people cooperate together. If women ran the world there would be no wars or starvation or homelessness because it is the nature of women to nurture those around them, particularly children. The competitive nature of men means each of them would want to be in charge in some way, to be top dog, which would simply disrupt the smooth flow of cooperation we have established. You're a man. What do you think would happen if there were other men here with all these beautiful women around? There would conflicts.

"But men also have some innate talents which are generally not so well expressed by women. They are good problem solvers, generally, and often possess a drive to get things done quickly and efficiently. They are less prone to shy away from physical or uncomfortable tasks, etc. Men and women all share the same potentials, but in general, society has taught men to be competitive, and we simply don't need competitive egos disrupting our operation.

"But won't I simply become a man in a woman's body after all this?" I asked.

"Yes and no," she said smiling. "You will still have the mind you have always had, but your hormones will be different and that will have a profound effect on your emotions. You will feel that cooperation is far more valuable than competition, though at the same time you will be stuck with stronger feelings of envy and jealousy which could engage your competitive spirit – which women also have, but it simply doesn't dominate in the same way it does in men."

"I don't think I like this idea of being turned into a passive robot who blindly carries out the bidding of my master," I said.

"You've been a robot all your life, just like nearly everyone else. You have worked countless jobs doing tasks that others don't want to do so they simply pass them off onto one of their robots. You've been traveling around in that cramped van and sharing motel rooms without enough beds just to make a living which barely covers your expenses. If you choose to do drugs that doctors and pharmaceutical companies don't make a profit on you can be imprisoned for exercising your own free choice. If someone in power gets a hair up their butt or wants to control natural resources somewhere halfway across the world you can be forced to kill for them, or be killed. People in the industrialized nations are convinced they have complete freedom, while in truth they are slaves toiling their lives away in meaningless occupations that suck the very life from their souls."

She looked at me with an intense sincerity. "If you want to be truly free," she said, "become a slave to the truth, the only master worth following. That is what my mentor taught me and it is the single most valuable bit of knowledge I possess."

"But why do I have to be a woman?" I asked. " I can contribute to the mission just as easily while being a man."

"Because you actually want to be a woman, and I am able to give you the freedom to be who you truly want to be. And also because I am entertained by seeing the changes in men as they become women. You'll find out eventually, so I may as well tell you that I was also a man at one time, but that was long ago."

That news sent a shockwave through me. I couldn't believe that anyone so feminine, beautiful and sexy could have ever been a man. We had had sex together and there was no hint of anything male about her at all. I also felt a twinge of disgust to think I had had slept with a woman who had once been a man.

"Don't act so stunned," said Cheryl, obviously offended by my momentary sense of revulsion. "Three others in our group were also men before they joined us, including Tammy. Although a respected scientist, she was a big, tough guy type who loved to have sex with little tiny women he could toss around in bed like a rag doll. He called women like that "spinners" because they were small enough to figuratively set them on one's cock and give them a spin. He envied such women to the point of wanting to become one, but since they almost always had small breasts he became obsessed with huge boobs, as you can see."

"But Tammy is a little sweetheart," I said, "not at all like some tough guy."

"That's true now. Within a few months of her transformation she completely forgot her old personality, which is like a previous incarnation to her now, one she can only vaguely remember."

"Am I going to change that dramatically?"

"I don't think so," said Cheryl, looking a bit troubled. "In fact I am a little concerned about you. You have a huge male ego and I doubt it will be willing to let go completely. But you also have a well developed sensitive side, which is what makes you so talented at writing words and music."

"But how would you know that. You've never heard any of my original songs."

"I can see it in your aura, or more precisely, I can sense it in your energy field. I can sense you are aware of a creative connection to the Source, and that connection is strong in you.

"But getting back to the point. You won't be all that different when you become a woman, and that means a lot of your male energy will still be around. I'm concerned that rather than become a woman you might simply remain a man but be stuck in a woman's body."

Oh god. So that's what happened.

I can't remember where the conversation went from that point, but I know I'm getting close to the answer. I think it may be because something in the transformation process didn't take for some reason. That's why I helped lower the trailer down here, because I am here voluntarily. But why?

It's mid-afternoon on day 107. I was going to see if I could find out how that deer got up here, in hopes of finding a way out today, but I've been writing since I got up and feel like I need to keep thinking about all this.

-- It must be about midnight now. I've been wracking my brain trying to understand what happened to me and why I'm here, but I keep drawing a blank.

I do think I know what I should do next though. I need to stop wearing male clothes and become as feminine as I can. I don't want to forget I used to be a male, but I need to emphasize that maleness is in the past. I am a woman now. I even have a different name, Candi. Only a man would name a girl Candi . . . but I like it :)

Day 108

I've been strutting around on these cliffs in 4" yellow heels and a tiny bright yellow bikini all day. And guess what. A makeup bag, including a small mirror, suddenly appeared in the trailer last night. I can signal for help now, but I suppose Cheryl had the mirror brought here because she knows I won't use it that way.

The more I look at myself, in the mirror and just looking down as I walk in the sexiest way I can, the more I feel like a woman, a very sexy woman. I might even be sexier than Cheryl, though I admit that is a tall order. I've got better legs, longer anyway. Here I am "competing" with Cheryl, but I can't tell if that is the male stuff coming through or just the petty vanity I see in women all the time. Wanting to believe I'm sexier than another woman has got to be female. Big sigh of relief.

I really like this body now. It feels like home, like it's who I really am. I can masturbate without guilt and rejoice in these boobs again. I haven't enjoyed them this much since I first got them.

I'm also beginning to realize that I haven't been a woman for a few years as I thought, but only a few months. The transformation happened in the spring, this spring, and I've been here almost since then. Maybe a couple weeks went by between the transformation and coming here. I keep racking my brain but I just can't remember what went on during that period, but I have been remembering more about the transformation ceremony. Yeah, it was a big to do, not a casual thing like the boob job (ha ha). Maybe if I write down what I can remember about that it will help me remember more.

During the first week of my stay Cheryl started teaching me concentration exercises. I learned to count backwards from one-hundred waiting five seconds between numbers, then skipping three numbers at a time, then skipping down three numbers and up two. She would have me walk into a room and look around briefly, then ask me to describe twenty items in the room. She would go in and remove something then bring me back in and ask me what was missing. There were numerous exercises like that she made me do for about an hour three times a day. I also did visualization exercises three times a day for twenty minutes each, where I laid on a couch and pictured myself walking around her house as the woman I wanted to be. I had to walk through each room physically first, move a piece of furniture or open a drawer, etc., then repeat the same actions in my mind while laying on the couch with my eyes closed. When I finished the visualizations I would walk through each room and put everything back where it was originally, all the while imagining I was doing it as –

Something just shook the trailer. It sounded like it could have been a large branch falling against the side, but there are no trees here. I actually felt the trailer move.

I went outside in the twilight to look around but couldn't see anything unusual. The wind is blowing with some strong gusts now and then, so I guess that is what made the trailer move. Perhaps the sound I heard was a loose piece of siding, or a rock falling down from the cliff above, but I think a falling rock would have made a much different sound.

I am actually afraid, for the first time since I arrived here. As a man I avoided fears like this by simply telling myself I would be able to handle anything that happened. But being a woman now I don't have that kind of blind confidence. There aren't many animals out here I need to worry about, no bears or wolves, but I suppose a mountain lion might wander across this place. Anywhere deer can be found one can also expect a mountain lion to show up. But what frightens me most are men. I'm not big enough to fight off some asshole man, or group of men, determined to rape me.

Wow. There are a lot of things about being a woman I hadn't really understood. I have never felt so vulnerable. I've been nervous before when walking through run down neighborhoods alone, particularly at night, but now I can see how women must feel that sort of insecurity quite often, in less threatening situations, especially attractive women. As a musician I have been in a lot of bars and seen how women have to deal with drunk men all the time. Some of those guys can be such jerks, and some are outright dangerous.

For the first time I am realizing what I will have to put up with from men being an attractive woman, and I want nothing to do with it. No wonder so many women let themselves get fat and ugly once they've roped some guy into marrying them. Damn, this is going to suck. There were only women at Cheryl's place so the reality of being a hot babe around men never occurred to me before. I'm sure I will be perceived as a bitch from hell as I don't see any other way to keep the dogs off me.

I like having a female body and now that I have one I don't want to go back to being a man, but I don't want to be a woman socially. I honestly wish I were dead because I just can't see anyway to be happy now. I just don't want to die at the hand of whatever it was out there that made that noise a while ago. I'm sure it was just the wind. Yeah. That must be it.

I don't want to write anymore, and for the first time I'm bored, and scared.

Day 108

Last night I ended up masturbating for hours and I'm over all that unhappy stuff now.

My emotions can become overwhelming sometimes, which never happened to be before, at least not outside of very intense situations light getting into a fight with someone. I've been an emotional wreck about half the time I've been here, and little things, like not having a mirror, sometimes overwhelm me to the point I can't get my mind to think logically. But I have decided to simply accept the reality of being a woman in the same way I had to accept the responsibilities and hardships of being a man. There are pros and cons to being either gender.

After a week or so of preparation Cheryl got all the girls together to help with the transformation ceremony, or ritual. I don't know what to call it. It wasn't like some religious thing with smoke and mirrors and symbolic objects and all that, but it wasn't just some casual thing either.

Cheryl spent most of the day with me, going over everything I had learned about concentration and visualization. Then she started talking about "intent."

"Intent is silent," she said, "and silence is power."

We were sitting on small cushions inside the tiled circle on her patio. No one was allowed to eat anything all day and in the afternoon the girls had formed small groups where they meditated together. Cheryl was emphatic that I understand what she was saying to me.

"The first thing you must realize is that the physical universe is not as solid and real as it appears," she said. "Time and space and physical objects are all illusions. This is obvious if you think about it.

"All objects are made of atoms, which are made of subatomic particles, and those particles are actually just vibrating strings of energy millions of times smaller than an atom. And energy is not a thing, but a potential, so no object of any kind actually exists in the way we think they do.

"If you ask yourself what the boundaries of the physical universe are, you will discover that the universe is bounded by infinity in every direction. Space is infinitely small in one direction and infinitely large in the other. Time comes out of the infinite past and moves toward the infinite future. Infinity is not a thing, but a concept, an idea. Physical objects can not exist inside an idea – unless, physical objects are also nothing but ideas, which is what they are."

She left me to think about that for a while.

"What is the nature of an idea?" she asked when she returned. "Ideas are structures which are not physical objects, but some ideas can become objects or events. The idea of walking can result in the perception of walking. The idea of a house can become a house. Every manmade object begins as an idea, and as I mentioned earlier, all objects are nothing but ideas when you look at the whole truth.

"What we perceive as physical matter are ideas which vibrate at a particular frequency, like a radio station operates at a particular frequency. Probable realities, or parallel universes if prefer to call them that, have a slightly different frequency. When a hypnotist hypnotizes a group of people on a stage, that entire group can perceive a probable reality which the audience can not perceive, because the hypnotist has altered the rate of vibration his subjects are tuned to perceive. The audience laughs as the people on the stage chase invisible chickens, but the chickens are absolutely real to those under hypnosis. It just as true to say that the audience has been hypnotized into believing the chickens are not there."

I sat staring blankly at the patio tiles. I understood what she was saying, but felt like any argument I might come up with would be shot down in a heartbeat. After all, I was a man sitting there with d-cup breasts as a result of that woman's knowledge. Still, that didn't mean what she was saying was true. There could be other explanations for how the universe actually works, in spite of her ability to use those particular ideas to produce such fantastic results.

"You're a very intelligent young man," she said. "I can sense your objectivity and reluctance to accept anything at face value without thorough investigation. That is a quality which can serve you well, but it can also prevent you from recognizing the truth when it is staring in your face.

"Let me offer a demonstration of the non-physical nature of physical reality," she said.

She moved her cushion so she could sit directly across from me on the patio floor.

"The first thing I want you to do is look around and notice how you can see everything in this environment with perfect clarity."

I looked around and agreed that everything looked perfectly clear.

"Now look at my left earring," she said, "and without taking your eye off it, attempt to see my right earring just as clearly."

"I can't," I said. "It's out of focus."

"That's because human visual perception can only see a small area clearly. My earrings are two feet away from you and that means your area of clear perception is only a couple of inches across. Ten feet away the area of clear perception is only about one foot across. When you looked around the patio and told me everything looked perfectly clear, you had no idea that ninety-nine percent of what you were looking at was completely out of focus. That's because our subconscious mind recognizes familiar shapes and objects and instantly manufactures the impression of seeing what we expect to see. Do you understand that our visual perception is largely a construction of our subconscious mind?"

I agreed.

"Now," she went on, "rather than focus on what we think we see, I will show you how to focus on what you actually see, and that will give you a glimpse at the reality behind reality.

"Look directly into my left eye," she said. "You can see my eye clearly, but the rest of my face is somewhat blurry because your vision can only focus on an area the size of my eye at this distance. What I want you to do is try to expand the area of clear perception to include my entire face. Blink only when your eyes need wetting – not to regain a clear focus. Ignore any thoughts you might have and simply concentrate upon what you see. And relax. This is a very easy thing to do."

She sat there and stared into my right eye as I stared into her left. As I tried to see the rest of her face as clearly as I could see her eye, her face began to distort and appeared hallucinatory, with light and dark areas constantly shifting. Then I could see facial features which belonged to other people – an older woman's nose, a man's chin, part of a woman's hat, etc. For a moment it seemed that I was looking at a different person's face, an older woman. Each time I saw something a little different she described what I was seeing, almost exactly.

"How can you tell what I'm seeing?" I asked.

"Because the visual changes happen to both of us at the same time," she said. "I don't see the same images you do, but I experience very similar perceptions, and basically I am just describing what I am seeing."

We returned to the visual exercise and everything happened much the same way for a few minutes, then everything became blurry and I had to blink to regain focus.

"Stop thinking," she commanded. "Look only at my eye and concentrate upon what you see. Any two people can experience the kind of visual changes you just saw, and emotional reactions to those visual changes can be monitored by measuring galvanic skin response, proving that the changes happen to both people at the same time and with the same level of intensity – which also proves that telepathy is linking the perceptions of both participants. But I want to show you that when you concentrate fully upon what you see it begins to lose its solidity, because it really isn't there as a solid object. Quiet you mind and concentrate upon what you see."

We started the process again and this time I tried not to think about what was happening. Her face immediately dissolved into a hallucinatory image of a dark haired man about forty-years-old. I felt like he was inside her looking right back at me, and the moment he appeared I felt a sense of revulsion that made me want to turn away.

"That's the man I was before my transformation," she said.

"You said you didn't see the same images I did, so how did you know I was seeing a man?" I asked.

"Because that is who I felt like just now," she replied. "We are perceived by others as the person we honestly believe we are. Right now I am remembering being him, rather than believing I am him. It I honestly believed I was him, I would become him again."

"I really didn't like who I saw just now," I said.

"I don't like him either, and I'm surprised he showed up because I try not to think about him. Let's just forget that and move on."

We went back to doing the "eye thing" and her face became distorted again, then slowly shifted into that of an old Mexican woman, then a young Asian boy, then into that of a dog -- a Collie. That came as such a surprise I shook my head and the normal world immediately reappeared.

Cheryl laughed. "Yes," she said. "I was your dog once, when you were a girl in Scotland about a century ago, and you will be, well, are, my cherished puppy in a future life."

"Do you mean all those people I saw are other incarnations of you?" I asked.

She looked confused briefly. "Well yes, but not in the way people think of reincarnation. I told you before that we are all part of one, infinitely huge consciousness which contains everyone. As individuals within that vast awareness we are able to be anyone who ever lived, but because our puny sense of identity can't maintain awareness of the whole, we end up becoming familiar with only a few particular personalities, and those are the ones we identify with as being our incarnations."

"Did you see other incarnations of me?" I asked.

"Of course. Anyone can see the incarnations of the person they look at while doing this exercise. They will also see hallucinations of monsters and demons if the strangeness of the experience causes someone to focus on fear. But that's simply a result of how the brain attempts to make recognizable images out of blurry bits of perception. Blink your eyes and such images immediately disappear."

"But who did you see? Who have I been before?"

"That's not important now. You have a lifetime to look into such questions. I simply want you to understand that the world is an illusion, a highly structured illusion, and that illusion can be manipulated by manipulating unconscious beliefs.

"Your long time desire to have a fine pair of boobs created the idea structure necessary to experience that reality. That made it easy for me to manipulate your unconscious mind in a way which enabled your body to tune into the probable reality where those breasts already existed. You have to understand that in the quantum multiverse everything that can happen, does happen. It is just a matter of tuning the unconscious portions of our identity to the vibrational field where what we what to be real, already is real.

"Tonight our group is going to assist you in becoming the woman you have been visualizing yourself to be. We are going to do that by manipulating your unconscious mind so that it believes you are that woman, a woman who already exists in the spacious present."

"But why haven't I already become that woman? You told me I must visualize being that woman as if I honestly believed that is who I am, and I have felt totally convinced, especially when playing with my boobs, that I really am a woman, only to open my eyes and discover I'm not."

"It doesn't matter what you "think" you believe consciously. The reality we experience is determined by the idea structures held in the unconscious portions of our being. The unconscious is part of our identity, but not part of our conscious awareness. It is part of who we are, but it makes more sense to think of it as part of what we are instead. For example, our hands are part of who we are, but we can't identify with being just a hand. We can't think the way a hand thinks, if it thinks at all. So it is easier to think of our hands as being part of what we are. We can use our hands to do certain things, and we can use our unconscious to do other things.

"I didn't want to get into all this so deeply, but since we've come this far, let me point out that we can't control our unconscious mind with our thoughts, just as we can't control our hands with our thoughts either."

"Now you're being ridicules," I said. "If I want to raise my hand all I have to do is think about it and it happens."

She laughed. "I thought you'd say something like that. OK. I want you to raise the index finger of your right hand and tell me how you did that so I can use the same method to raise my finger. What do you think in order to raise your finger?"

"OK, I don't have to think, I just want it to move and it does."

"Not quite. You intend to move your finger. It's not just a want, like a wish. It is a very deliberate thing with absolutely no doubt involved. The intent controls unconscious processes which result in the precise movement of your finger. Your intent manipulates your unconscious mind, and when you can manipulate other aspects of your unconscious in the same way you can accomplish almost anything.

"It took years of practice as an infant and toddler to learn how to control the unconscious processes involved in moving your fingers. It required many more years to refine those movements in order to play a guitar well. You should be perfectly aware that you don't think in order to move your fingers, or to walk or talk for that matter. The unconscious processes are controlled by your intent.

"Tonight we are going to manipulate your unconscious mind as a group, in a similar way to how a hypnotist changes someone's unconscious beliefs during a stage performance, only the beliefs will be changed permanently. Of course, the process can be undone with the same methods, and you can learn how to do that yourself with enough practice. But like they say in music classes, only perfect practice makes perfect. Once you have your new body you will have achieved it without understanding the intent involved, and until you can discover how to manipulate your unconscious with the necessary intent, you will remain a woman."

End of first 50 pages of The Change by D. C. Candi