A Strange Thing Happened on the Way

An idea I've been kicking around. If it's good, I'll continue it. If it's bad, just say so and I will drop it. No need to be a jerk about it. I'm not a professional and you didn't pay anything to read this. Just say "it sucks" and move on. That won't hurt my feelings one bit. This story is different, and doesn't yet contain any sex. Now, on with the show.

I hate to burst people's bubbles, but I was not "aware" of everything going on around me, and I don't remember anyone talking to me. Just darkness.

Gradually self-awareness slowly returned to me. The first thing I became aware of was a splitting headache, then the smell. Without a doubt, hospitals have a certain smell to them.

So, without opening my eyes, I figured out I was in a hospital. Obviously not good. On the other hand, I was alive. I was in too much pain to be dead. My headache was a 10, and literally everything else was a 9. Even my hair hurt.

It took a ridiculous amount of time to open my eyes. The light hurt. Even after many minutes, the best I could get was blobs. I detected movement and a new blob moved into my line of sight before hurrying away.

The blob returned with a second blob, who for some reason thought shining a light into my eyes would be useful. There was talking which I couldn't understand, and a couple minutes later, it was like someone turned down the knob from 10 to about 7.

Not great, but enough to let me focus. Slowly the blobs took shape. A doctor was pulling one arm, and then the other, telling me to resist him as hard as I could. He had a Japanese accent. Then I remembered I was in Japan. I am a military man stationed here.

The doctor ran to the foot of my bed and pulled up the sheet. Then we played the "can you feel this?" game.

Satisfied with the results, he let the sheet go. I remember it well, because that was the very moment I became aware something was wrong. Instinctively. I knew what was wrong, but I had to verify it for myself anyway. My hands went to my crotch, confirming my fear.

The doctor motioned to the nurse, and she injected a syringe into my IV. As I drew my hands off my crotch, I saw them. Small, brown and thin. I realized the true depth of my situation. I just didn't lose my "little buddy", I was in a female body.

Once again, I hate to break the stereotypes, but I didn't freak out or have an awkward moment of discovery. I am, or was, a 44 year old man. I have known the feel of more than one women's body in my time. Women have breasts and a pussy. I was not surprised by that. I was only surprised that I now had them.

Unfortunately, before I could investigate this further, I was overcome by tiredness. They must have given me a sedative. Obviously I'd been out for a long while, but I couldn't believe I'd still be sleepy, however I quickly drifted off again.

This time I dreamed when I was out. Nothing significant, but better than just blackness. My headache was greatly diminished but my body still ached. Do I call it my body? Or is it my donor's body?

Fortunately before I got too twisted up in the conundrum, the doctor returned. They must be monitoring my vital signs and knew I was awake.

He introduced himself and asked me what the last thing I remembered.

I told him I was in the military, but the last thing I remembered was unfucking some paperwork two of my trainees had done. Yes, I was close to retiring, with 20+ years in. It was going to take two guys to do everything I had been doing. Mostly because they were greener than a frog's ass. Maybe I was that clueless 20 years ago too, but I silently doubted it.

The doctor nodded his head in understanding. Then he proceeded to tell me how I came to arrive at this place. Two things disturbed me. First, he didn't use my name. I am Sean Wells. Second, he didn't offer up exactly where "this place" is.

Anyhow, it had been an early spring day. I was sightseeing in the north of Japan. Since I was getting out soon, I was basically working 4 day weeks to burn up my accumulated leave.

The doctor explained that there had been a massive earthquake, over 9.0. I was in a medium sized city when it hit. While he didn't have the exact details, apparently upon my 3^rd trip inside a building to pull civilians out, the building collapsed on me, crushing my body.

"But fate smiled on you." The doctor informed me with a bit of excitement.

One of the people I had rescued was the spouse of a high ranking member of the self-defense force. High enough to get me brought to this facility with specific orders to use "any means necessary" to save my life. He explained that it was a matter of honor to him. My life for his wife's.

Apparently "any means necessary" included a procedure the Japanese have developed to transplant a brain to another body. The doctor was very proud of his work. Showing me how he hid the scar in my hairline. Nobody would ever see it if I didn't show them.

Unfortunately, the only "donor" available was a female who had contracted a brain eating amoeba. The doctor said it was a perfect match. Her brain was ruined, and my body was ruined. The only complication was she was female.

"Not the ideal donor, but given the urgency of your condition, we could not wait for another donor." He explained.

Although my look had been quick, I learned 3 things when he showed me the scar in the mirror. First, my hair was about 5 inches long. That means I was in a coma for around 10 months. Second, my "donor" was not pure Japanese. However, the third thing is that she wasn't bad looking. I certainly could have done worse. She was dark tanned, which is not a good characteristic to Japanese, but in the US where I am from, it would be a plus.

I wanted more Information, of course, but the doctor said he was not authorized to say anything else. Tomorrow, I would be transferred to a rehabilitation room, and a member of the military would come brief me. That might be my opportunity to learn more.

But today, I would begin the process of getting unhooked from all the tubes and devices, and if I felt up to it, get my first solid food in 10 months. I was also given a good look at myself. The girl I was looking at was indeed pretty. A touch on the thin side, but pleasant features.

I was surprised how much all of that wore me out, and I slept soundly that night despite all the questions running through my mind.

The next day I was transferred to a room with all kinds of exercise equipment. I met the physical therapist and we mapped out a plan. It would take a month to get to a point where I could stand on my own. I would be rewarded at that point with exercise clothes instead of a hospital gown.

After that, once I could jog a mile, I would be discharged. He estimated 3 months to accomplish that. Much longer than I had anticipated. We would start with stretching after lunch, and meet 3 times per day.

But before lunch, I had my meeting with the military. They were about as amicable as I was going to get out of the military. At least they managed to thank me for my selfless actions the day of the earthquake.

Basically, the military had wrung every ounce of good publicity out of my accident as possible. It went a long way towards improving relations. Especially with the local residents who lived near the military base. To top it all off, I had been buried in Arlington as a hero. No politics in that (wink wink).

So, what did that mean for me? Due to their desire to keep the secret procedure from being known to the world, I could never have any contact with anyone from my former life. I was pretty much being orphaned.

In return for my good deed and my respect of their desire to keep everything a secret, not that it was presented as an option, I would be given a payment for my service and a US birth certificate and identification. Under no circumstances was I to remain in Japan after I was discharged.

I was given the courtesy of learning that my donor had been a Japanese-Filipino student. Due to the unusual circumstances of her death, it wouldn't be hard to figure out who she was, but again I was informed that it would not be wise for me to even think about it. She had also been buried 10 months ago.

So, with their usual efficiency, the military had tied up all the lose ends to their top secret information. I chuckled to myself thinking who would believe me anyway. It was better to start over fresh. Nothing but pain down the road of me contacting my or my donors family.

I don't know if it was my military training or just my own resourcefulness, but I compartmentalized it and moved on. Adapt and overcome, right?

Well, that lasted until my first therapy session. I'm not saying physical therapist are psychopaths, but they are psychopath adjacent for sure. I've never hurt so much in my entire life, and I've broken bones, torn ligaments and got 3^rd degree burns on my leg.

By the time our second session of the day was over, I was literally in tears it hurt so bad.

Nobody wants to hear about rehab, but I met my goals and a month later, I could stand on my own. My first walk was to the door of my room and back, but once I was on my feet, progress came more quickly.

I was nearing my release when we hit the anniversary of the earthquake. The nurse who took care of me most days brought in a photo of me and my donor and we lit candles as we stood in silence commemorating the day. She said it was both a Japanese and Filipino tradition. She said it was good to mourn the two lives that were lost, and in a way she was right.

It made me think a lot about my donor and her sacrifice so that I could be saved. Yes, it was weird and I still felt like I was piloting an avatar more than I felt like myself, but without her I would be dead.

Even though I greatly appreciated all the work and help they provided me, I was really happy to complete that mile on the treadmill. Just to be sure, the therapist made me repeat it again the next day. After that, we reviewed the exercises I should continue to do to build my strength. I was capable of taking care of myself now, but I was not fully recovered yet.

We had a little party and I got to thank everyone who had cared for me. The doctor that performed my surgery even returned to say goodbye.

He advised me that I needed to educate myself about my new body, and warned me that I should expect things to be different. Apart from the physical differences of going from 6 feet 2 inches and 180 pounds to 5 feet 2 inches and 94 pounds, there would be mental and emotional changes.

I had to get use to how women act different and are treated differently, but also the hormones in my new body would be different. Of course, my mind was still mine, but there could be subtle and subconscious changes. Since I was the first person to change sexes, they really didn't know what the full effects would be, but he cautioned me to be understanding and forgiving of myself if I noticed different feelings and preferences.

Not anything major, but I could be more emotional or have dulled feelings about things I felt strongly about before. Just subtle changes.

Unfortunately, reality slapped me in the face pretty quickly. I was not allowed to wear the exercise gear out of the hospital as there was to be no trace of me there after this. Instead, I was given a dry cleaning bag that contained the clothes my donor had worn when she was brought into the hospital. Damn Japanese efficiency.

So, this former military man put on her underwear and a white floral print dress. I skipped the white hose in the bag and pulled out the white high heel sandals. The heels were tiny, and I figured I was about to break my ankle and end up right back here at the hospital.

My amazing nurse took pity on me, and ran to her locker, fetching the shoes she had worn into work that day before changing into her nurse shoes. They were still high heels, but were wide block style that are infinitely easier to walk in. I traded shoes with her and had no problem walking in them.

Finally, the military came to release me. I was unceremoniously given an envelope and escorted to an elevator that took me above ground to a more "normal" looking military hospital. I was literally escorted to a taxi that took me straight to the airport. Definitely a hint.

As I rode in the cab, I opened the envelope. There was a check for $1.2 million dollars. Given my life expectancy would have been about 35 more years with a pension of $35,000 per year, that was about right. Actually kind of generous of them.

Also inside was a birth certificate, a US passport and Japanese yen in the amount of approximately $10,000. A nice bonus.

I opened my passport and my new name was Keiko Horie. Thankfully the military had made me 21 years of age, despite my donor likely being 17 or 18.

I got to the hotel, and had to decide. Where would a 21 year old girl with a million dollars go to live? I had thought about this for 3 months as I sweated away in rehab. I had led a mostly nondescript life before. Although I had been happy, I had been essential given a do-over.

I wanted to have a fun and happy life. I wanted to enjoy myself and live every day like the gift it is. So, to answer the question, Vegas baby!

So I bought a ticket for the next morning to fly to Las Vegas. That me enough time to get some supplies. I literally had the clothes on my back, and that was it.

Shopping in Tokyo is crazy expensive, so I booked a room at a hotel near the airport and set out to get some stuff.

I laughed at myself a little as I was marching through a department store like it was a military exercise. Get in, secure the target and get out. For sure I didn't like shopping, but I got enough of the basics to get me by for now.

Bluejeans, shorts, tee shirts and some sneakers so I could get out of those damn heels. Normal bathroom stuff like toothpaste and soap. I saved the worst for last.

I much preferred the sports bra the hospital gave me to exercise in over the regular bra I had to leave in. Despite being Asian, my donor had some fairly nice breasts. According to the tag on her bra, a 30C. I had worn size small sports bras in rehab, so I bought a few of them.

Underwear was a more difficult decision. Without having external sex organs, boxers were baggy. They didn't go well with women's bluejeans. Frankly, they felt weird with a women's body. So I bought a couple different types of panty, and figured I'd just have to try them out.

By the time I was done, I had two suitcases full of supplies. I grabbed some dinner and went to my hotel.

I'd like to tell you I spent my first night of freedom getting to know myself, but the truth is I was more tired than I expected after all that walking and I collapsed after dinner.

I woke up feeling refreshed the next morning an hour before my wake up call was scheduled. It's true you can't sleep well in a hospital. I jumped in the shower, but felt myself get aroused as I washed my breasts.

I could make an attempt to describe the feeling I had, but I'm not neat a good enough writer to do it justice. In a word, amazing. Twice.

As much as I would have like laying around masturbating all day, I had a flight to catch.

I was sad in a way leaving Japan. My life changed so much here. But I had a fresh start and a new beginning to get to, and I am going to make the most of it.