Kait muse


kali’s choice


Something’s wrong. The nurse hadn’t asked me to undress and put on the paper gown. She was supposed to, right? This is the final exam before The Big Day. The doctor will need to examine me, clear me for my surgery. No, I tell myself. It’s all in my mind. I’m over-thinking this. There’s a perfectly good reason why I’m not naked sitting on the exam table now. Right?

The door opens. The doctor walks in. I see her face. Something is wrong. She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Kali.”

I want to cry even before she says anything else. I know whatever it is, it must be bad. I can feel the water pressure behind my eyes. No. Must stay conscious.

“I’m so sorry, Kali,” the doctor says again. “But…we need to cancel the surgery.”

Keep it together, Kalista! I manage a meek “Why?” while trying to hold back the waterworks.

“Because of The Gender Affirmation Act. Our legal department says we can’t move forward.”

“Why the fuck not?” Hot anger replaces sadness. “I’m supposed to be grandfathered in!”

“That’s what we thought too. Legal says otherwise. To be on the safe side.”

The safe side!” I ball my hands in rage fists. “I’ve jumped through so many hoops, many of them unsafe hoops--”

“I understand your—”

“No doc. I don’t think you do!” I pound the chair next to be, and the tears flow. I’m a mess for the next few minutes. When I recover enough to look up at the doctor, she’s frowning and looks like she’s about to cry too.

“I’m so sorry,” she says for the third time. “I’ve written you a prescription for Recis. It’ll help with the gender dysphoria.”

She hands me the piece of paper. I take it, see my last name Kincaid on it before I crumple it up. I just know my dead male name is also on it “Why do you think GAA was passed? So Big Pharma can exploit trans women with their drug.” I throw the script on the floor in anger.

My mind fogs up. I don’t remember much of the remaining conversation with the doctor. At some point the prescription winds up back in my hands. On my way out I consider filling it, briefly. A cure for transgender thoughts in pill form. I think about tossing it in the trash. Instead, I crumple it into a tighter ball, put it into my jacket pocket, and leave.


At home, Jake is watching an episode of Vim!Star on his holopad at the kitchen table. He’s wearing only his briefs and it's kinda turning me on, despite the incident at the doctor’s office. He looks up, smiles, then frowns when he sees my mood. “What’s wrong?”

“The doc canceled my surgery.”


“Yeah. Fuckin’ GAA. Even though I’m supposed to be grandfathered in. Their legal department doesn’t want to risk it.” I pulled the script from my jacket pocket. “Wrote me this, instead. So I can be just another cis-het cunt!” I feel the water turning on again.

Jake is up and embracing me. “I’m so sorry.”

The faucet turns on and I sob. Tears roll down my face and onto his bare shoulder. I’m the taller one. A tall trans woman crying onto a short trans man. His body feels good against mine and I get stirrings. The feel of those taut washboard abs, smell of his "manly" shampoo in his dark hair, his carefully trimmed goatee... He got a sculpted cock from the best nanotechnology and organic molds. Why they couldn’t do the same for pussies is beyond me.

We disengage our hug. He says, “Look on the bright side: you won’t have any gender dysphoria anymore.”

Burning anger flushes through me and my erotic feelings for him cool down. “You expect me to fill this?” I shake the crumpled ball at him.

His face makes an “O” of shock.

“Unbelievable.” I turn and go to my room. One thing I've learned about Jake Johnson: he never met a boat he wanted to rock.

That night, I cannot sleep. I toss-and-turn for about an hour before resigning myself to the fact that I won’t get a wink. I blink on my ‘plant, and my vision fills with the internet. I spend the next few hours searching for ways to fight this injustice. Most take a wait-it-out attitude. Wait ’til the liberals replace this conservative batch (which had replaced a liberal batch). The pendulum swings back-and-forth, with our lives being just political pawns.

My eyes burn. The sun is lighting the sky. Maybe Jake is right: resign to being a cis-het man. Or maybe the ’net is: wait ’til a liberal champion comes around. As sunrays crack my closed curtain I find another avenue: someone named Dr. Attis. I contact them. “Meet me at my lab tonight,” they say. I get their address.

With hope renewed, I yawn. I’m finally tired. I call out absent to my day-job. And meet the Sand Man.


I hand the cabbie cash. He looks at me strange. Earlier that day it took me forever just to find an ATM to get that cash. “We good?” I ask, half-expecting his answer to be “no.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.

I get out of the car and look at the red-bricked building. The place is old, must’ve been built mid-last century. I take a deep breath. “Now or never.”

I knock on the forth-storey apartment door.

The knock is answered by a person with short, messy blond hair and wearing a white lab coat. They look past me, possibly checking to see if I’ve been followed. “Kalista?”

“Yeah, but you can call me—”

“Get in.” They pull me into the apartment and close and lock the door.

“I take it you’re Dr. Attis?”

“Yes. Yes” The strange fellow replies. They move toward the kitchen area of the crowded space. I follow, looking at the piles of books, papers, and clothes everywhere. Dr. Attis turns to me as I approach. They seem haunted. Or hunted. Or both. “We haven’t got much time,” they say.

“When we spoke you said you had a pill or serum or something that will—”

“Reconstruct the genitals. Yes. Yes.”

“Forgive me, but how?”

Dr. Attis shakes their head. “How not? We have the technology to construct a penis from a vulva. How not the opposite?” They dig through a drawer sitting atop the kitchen counter and pull out a little red pill. “This right here the so-called Great New Right doesn’t want you to have. Using advanced nanotech it’ll dissolve your pole and dig a hole." They chuckle. "Sorry, I get a bit poetic at times.”

I shake my head. It had to be too good to be true. In addition to the fare to pay the taxi, I needed to scrape together a grand just for a down payment. I feel the 10 crisp Benjamins in my pocket. “Sorry, I think I made a mistake.”

“Hey babe, I didn’t just make it, I’m also a client.” They drop trou and rub a smooth vulva.

A loud bang sounds from the front door.

Dr. Attis startles. They drop the red pill. I hear the clink! of it hitting the floor.

“Christopher Atkins, open up! You are under arrest for the creation and possession of contraband.”

“Shit! Shit! Fuck! I knew the connection we talked over wasn’t secure!”

The door busts open and I surprise myself by diving for the floor instead of running away. Somehow I find the little red gel-cap that Dr. Attis dropped. Then I claw myself up and run toward the rear of the apartment just as the SWAT team storms in.

“Hey you!” one of the SWAT members shines a bright halogen light on me. I stare the man down as I clamber through the rear window. “You get back here.”

I give the man one last glance before I scamper down the fire escape. I can hear Dr. Attis and the police yelling at each other but can’t make out individual words.

Down at ground level I hop into a nearby dumpster to hide, thankfully cushioned by trash bags. Sirens sound in the distance and I see the orange glow of flames in Dr. Attis’s apartment. Dr. Attis screams obscenities as they’re hauled away from their now-burning home.

I wait. Once they throw Dr. Attis into the SWAT van I hear two of them talking. “Did you see someone else in there?” one asks.

“Nah, man. I think I was seeing things.”

“Oh, OK. Well, I’m sure boss-man will be satisfied. We will destroy all traces of the serum.”

I peek above the dumpster lid and see fire fighters just standing around. Other residents are being evacuated. I see and hear their faces and voices of confusion. The fuckers are waiting for the whole apartment to be consumed by fire before putting it out.

I pull out the pill. Is Dr. Attis telling the truth? These goons surely believe him. Lotta effort just for snake oil, if that’s what it is.

The SWAT team is leaving and the FD is finally getting to work on the fire. I can’t help but think that I’m somewhat responsible for Dr. Attis’s arrest. Did I lead the authorities to them? All this ‘cause I want a cunt.

I pull out the crumpled script from my other pocket. In my left hand is the pill. In my right, the prescription. Was any of this worth anything?

I throw the cap into my mouth and dry-swallow. I feel nothing. Surly, I should feel something. I shake my head at my stupidity. It was all for not.





I look into the bathroom mirror at my nude body. I can hardly believe it. I glance at the prescription lying on the counter. Still crumbled, still unfilled. I had thought about filling it, several times.

Two weeks ago I had a cock. I was so sure then that the red pill had been just a placebo. But a couple days after I swallowed it my bra no longer fit. I bumped up a cup size. Down below, I began to itch. A lot. It took every ounce of effort not to constantly scratch myself. My balls were the first to go. Just retreated into my body, never to be seen again. Then my cock folded and caved in on itself. Finally, the depression formed, the inner and outer labia became defined, and the clit—Oh my fuckin’ God!—the clit replaced the cock.

Now I’m rubbing her and moaning. I just can’t stop! I close my eyes, lost in the ecstasy. “I so fuckin’ love living in the future,” I say to myself.

“Looks like it’s done reconstructing.”

I startle, see in the mirror that Jake is behind me. “Don’t know, for sure,” I say. “Certainly looks and feels that way, though.”

“Well,” Jake says with a wry grin, “there’s one way to find out.”

I turn toward him and grin myself. He’s nude too, and semi-hard. I give his cock a gentle tug. It responds by growing. The nanotech certainly gave him a large member. But I’ve felt it only in my ass or mouth. “I’m looking forward to losing my virginity. Again.”

Jake gives me a quick peck on the lips. “Then what’re we waiting for?” He tugs me into the bedroom.

But I lose my balance. I use my other hand to grab the bathroom sink to stabilize. In the process, the crumpled prescription topples to the ground.

Jake has let go of me and now flops on the bed. “Come on, already.”

“Just a sec.” I pick up the crumbled paper and toss it into the trash by the toilet. My decision is now final.