It was late evening after my discharge from the hospital where I stand alone now, entranced by the red brick exterior of my apartment building. It greeted me like an old friend which I hadn't seen in ages, but with coldness that I didn't expect. Or realize. A light breeze brushed against my raven locks, snapping me back to my surroundings. It was late, I had a long day and a new life awaits me. At my side was a great luggage filled with all manner of things I would need. With a strained cry, I heaved that luggage up the stairs step by step. It didn't use to be this hard, I recalled times when I'd offer to take such loads for my mom or sister, but I suppose I was a different person back then. This delicate body of mine is not meant to be burdened carrying such weight. Even so, I won't be caught dead asking for help. When I look down at myself, I could scarce believe I am the same person.

Earlier that day my doctor sat me down in his office, the chair letting out a sigh of protest as I stiffened against the cushion. Seconds passed between us as he scanned his computer screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Finally he spoke up.

"There is no trace of your symptoms, ${1Name}. It seems to have disappeared while you were comatose." His mouth carried a hint of a smile as if I should be pleased.

"Okay, so what's next?" I asked, dreading his reply. These last few weeks - I was not looking forward to another battery of tests that found nothing.

The doctor's eyes were still glued to the screen as if he were reading a script. "Nothing. You're being discharged. We've concluded that your illness is not contagious and that it's not causing any long-term effects." I felt heat rise in my cheeks at those words. I couldn't believe what he was saying! What did he mean "no long-term effects"? My new face is unrecognizable. My formerly masculine visage had been replaced by these gentle curves and soft eyes framed by long eyelashes. With every sudden movement I can feel my breasts bouncing underneath my medical gown. Breasts that I didn't have a month ago! Between my legs was no longer a manhood, but a pair of smooth pink lips. The change is so complete that its undeniable that I have this slender, feminine body. A woman's body in fact. No long-term effects my ass. It took a lot not to just snap at him.

The doctor stopped whatever he was doing on his computer and turned to face me. After a moment, he cleared his throat with and continued, "Well, we gave you a full medical work up looking for problems caused by your sudden change. We believed all that excess calcium and potassium from your reduced skeletal and muscular structure as well as a myriad of other factors could be causing life long problems. Luckily, we found nothing to indicate that."

"'So what now? I'm free to go?"

"Yes, although you'll have to come back here once a month so we can monitor your progress. There's still so much that we don't know yet about your disease."

I suffer from what the medical community is now calling "Transformation Syndrome" - a bizarre illness which causes a spontaneous sex change and I was patient zero. No one knew what caused this illness. Hundreds of theories circulate among the scientific elite, but none were conclusive. The only thing they knew for certain was that it was preceded by a coma and it was irreversible.

So that's it. Any hopes of changing my body back to normal were dashed. Though to be fair, they never really had a chance to begin with. At least my family were supportive. At first they wanted to cloister me away from the world until I got use to my new body. But I wasn't going to locked away as if I were a criminal and insisted on living my life, damn the consequences. So here I am, lugging this suitcase to my apartment. It was laden with woman's clothes given to me by my older sister, as well as other supplies. Apparently the hospital had my belongings destroyed as a precaution against an outbreak. I didn't know what to expect when I finally opened the door and entered my apartment, my eyes took in everything. The place looked like a tornado had gone through it. The furniture was gone, the walls were bare. It was completely stripped like a desiccated husk long pilfered by carrion and maggots. There wasn't even a hint of anything personal left behind, nothing to show that I once lived here. All that greeted me was the smell of bleach and disinfectant. Well the hospital did promised to reimburse me for all this. Small mercies, I supposed.

My sore arms thanked me when I set down the luggage and began unpacking. Faint citrus filled the air as I ran my fingers along the gentle warmth of the clothing still fresh out of the dryer. I picked through them, arranging them into piles. A realization dawned upon me and I stopped to get a closer look at my new clothes.

"Damnit, sis." A soft whisper escaped my lips as I plucked a little white dress and held it against my body. The fabric barely reached my thighs and it would be held up by thin spaghetti straps that met at my neck. Just holding it felt dirty, not to mention the thought of putting it on. A blush of pink began spreading across my cheeks as I imagined the thin fabric wrapping around my hips and the sway of the skirt with every step. The eyes that would be gazing upon me, judging me. Desiring me.

I shook my head at the thought of it. I couldn't believe my sister had given me something like this. It was so... so...

Slutty. The idea of wearing this dress in public made me cringe. But I couldn't deny this craving between my legs. It was like a hunger, an itch that had to be scratched. I set aside the dress as well as my own thoughts and looked at the rest. More dresses. Skirts and stockings. Thongs and lacy tops. Did my sister only pack the clothes I specifically asked her not to pick out? It's like she's sending me a clear message: "You're a girl now, don't hide it under baggy clothing." I mean, I get it. My new body is hot. Like drop dead gorgeous hot. I remember seeing these kinds of girls in night clubs and knew that they were too good for me. Didn't stop me from asking them out and getting flat out rejected. But now, I look like those girls and I guess she wanted me to accept that fact. Still, I can't help but think this was a little excessive.

After I finished unpacking, I lied down on the futon, my aching body begging for reprieve. But try as I might, I just couldn't sleep. My mind kept wandering, thinking of the possibilities of what was to come. I was finally alone now. I was free to do whatever I wanted without anyone's judgment. I decided to ${Action}.