I Need to Tell My Story Pt. 01

This letter to you, Manny, (actually a story) is meant for your eyes only. After you've read it, you must destroy it and not show it or mention to anyone else (not even members of my family). I wrote it because I want to correct your impression that five years ago, I passed away in that horrific auto accident. I don't want you to try to follow up on the story in any way, but because you were my best friend at the time, I need to tell SOMEONE from back then the hard-to-believe truth of what happened. Then, maybe that can erase some of the sadness you felt upon my "passing."

I sincerely hope this letter reaches you at the last address I have for you. Please pardon my writing skills, but I'll do the best I can to describe my last five years.

2016. My recollection of the accident is as follows: I was driving Highway 26 through the state park on my way to a job interview. There was some lingering fog at 8 a.m. I was in a hurry because I was running late. No one wants to be late to an important interview! I have this bad habit of involuntarily veering over the center line when I'm playing with the radio. A BMW coming from the other direction, which I only saw at the last moment, just happened to veer over the center line at the same time. Maybe the driver was distracted by a cell phone. We met almost head on. The speed limit was 55. I was probably going 65.

After the collision and the air bags going off, the brief sound of crunching metal and breaking glass was all I was aware of before I passed out. There's that brief realization that, yeah, I'd fucked up royally. You can't argue with the physics of a head-on collision.

You probably heard some of the details of the accident: there was only one ambulance available, and of course only one nearby hospital.

I slightly came to, off and on, as the ambulance was racing to the ER. There were two IVs in me, one in each arm. God, my head hurt. In one of my brief interludes of consciousness, I hazily saw, on the other side of the ambulance, on another stretcher of sorts, a woman. She seemed to be unconscious, and was also hooked up to an IV. Her shoulder was bandaged and seemed to be in some sort of sling.

Two paramedics were tending to us both, working so efficiently and quickly. I don't think they realized I was in and out of consciousness. I heard one of them say, obviously referring to me, mixed in with the siren, "Too much blood on the brain. Afraid for him."

At one point, when the paramedics had done all they could and were communicating with the ER doctors on a phone, I noticed that the woman patient's free arm was hanging loose near me. I assumed the accident was totally my fault and I wanted to convey I hoped she'd make it OK. I was able to reach over and briefly hold her hand before I passed out again. Her hand seemed so delicate and warm. I remember that very clearly.

I understand that I succumbed before reaching the hospital. And now, you're wondering, how do I happen to be writing this?

The woman was hospitalized with a concussion, a broken collarbone, a broken rib, and some cuts on her arms and face. Maybe her BMW was a safer vehicle than my Toyota.

She was in the ICU for several days before transferring to a regular hospital room, where she remained for two weeks. There was one additional aftereffect -- to the dismay of all her family and friends, she apparently had developed a total amnesia concerning her life to that point. She couldn't remember a thing, except her speech remained intact, though halting.

How do I know all of this? It's because, to be straightforward and completely rational, I was now inside her body (where I continue to exist today). I was her. I don't believe in God or religion or in paranormal or mystical stuff, but somehow as my life was being extinguished, my spirit traveled over to her, where it found a loving home.

Of course, I had been Daniel "Froggie" Szarachan. Froggie's body had been cried over and buried. However, Froggie's mind and all that went with it (me) was now occupying the womanly body of Jacqueline "Jackie" Colville. I had been 24. She was 29.

Jackie's family members, relatives and friends, and even my supposed boyfriend, one by one, dropped by. They soon realized I couldn't remember them. The docs told them I had near-total amnesia, and that my memories might return over time, but not to count on it.

I don't think you can appreciate the strangeness of suddenly occupying a female body. I reached down to see if my penis had any sensation remaining, only to find labia there. I now had long hair, and my voice had a higher register. Instead of stubble on my face, smooth skin. I had breasts. My arms were more slender.

I DID NOT want people to think that Jackie was behaving strangely, in a mannish manner, so I tried valiantly to act as I thought a woman might. I had little idea of how this Jackie behaved and moved, but I got a clue when some of her friends showed me cell phone videos of her with them.

I knew my manner of speaking and my choice of words could be quite different than Jackie's, and some visitors remarked about this, but my answer was that "I think my nut got screwed on differently. I'm so sorry I'm not quite the Jackie you remember!"

My new dad and mom (that is, Jackie's), and my two brothers and sister (Taylor), were all so supportive, even though the new Jackie was not exactly the Jackie they knew and loved.

As the time approached for me to leave for home recuperation in my apartment, Taylor brought some of my clothes and underwear. She had to show me exactly what to wear, helping me understand how to put on a bra, how to make my hair look nice, and so on. Jackie had great taste in lingerie -- if I'd been a guy putting on those things, I'd have had an erection for sure!

So, there I was standing there, nicely filling out my lacy bra (a C cup) and panties as Taylor helped me get into a dress and showed me how to slip into my shoes. She'd also thought to bring some basic makeup and helped me apply some subtle lipstick -- "just to get a feel for the old days."

She let me pick out some earrings to wear while I exclaimed, "All of this is so new. Am I really starting to look like the old Jackie?"

When Taylor and I stepped into my old apartment on a rainy day, assisted by my brother (who soon left), I took in more of Jackie's past life. Everything was rather neat. There was classy art hanging on the walls. The kitchen was impressive -- obviously, Jackie loved cooking. A great variety of pans hung from a ceiling rack. Finally, there was the bedroom, with two cuddly looking teddy bears adorning the large bed.

I was still getting used to wearing a bra, of being aware of the straps over my shoulders, and the feeling of the fullness of my breasts -- along with the feeling of earrings dangling from my pierced ears.

"Do you remember any of this at all?" Taylor asked. Taylor was shorter than me, and had the nicest blue eyes and blonde hair. Her breast development was about the same as mine, and she was a little chunkier.

"I am so sorry, really, for not remembering a thing," I said. "This is so totally new, it's like starting life all over again. It's a bit threatening, to tell the truth."

I was being (almost) completely honest.

"I've been waiting to tell you more about your life," said Taylor, sitting back in a chair in the bedroom. "The hospital wasn't the place, with all the comings and goings."

"I'm all ears," I replied. Being a sister to a sister was something so totally new. How do sisters talk to and confide with each other?

"Where can I start?" Taylor asked. "As a child, you were the adventurous one. Not a tomboy, just adventurous. One of your favorite things was to climb trees. Meet a new tree and you had to climb it. In school you were a B student. You were smart and read a lot, but you didn't like doing homework much.

We had some good times together, Jackie. We shared a bedroom for a while, and I used to complain that you kept the room light on too late so you could read. We took bicycle trips together around the neighborhood."

"So, what did mom and dad do; I mean, did they have careers, or what?"

"Dad worked for a large food corporation for years. Mom was a teacher, but became a stay-at-home mom after the first child. After 20 years together, mom had an affair -- you should know this -- and they separated for a couple months, but they reconciled and seem happy enough afterwards."

"Oh, really. Nice to know."

"So, yeah. Then, you know, there were the growing-up years. You were big into basketball and soccer, and eventually, boys. Oh, you were a cupcake. You started to look after your appearance more, and you liked to be competitive with the boys, especially mentally. You didn't want to be a bimbo!"

I laughed a little.

"So, in high school, I remember you telling me about your first kiss, then your first makeout, with a guy nicknamed Bids, and your first going steady, with Logan Small -- not that he was under-endowed."

"What do you mean, under-endowed?"

"I mean, nobody suggested that his penis was dinky. You know, like a little finger."

We both laughed. I really had to play my role to the hilt. It was actually enjoyable to pretend to be so innocent .....

"I remember distinctly when you told me you'd lost your virginity. Do you know what that means?"

"Hmmm. It means, maybe, having full sex?"

"Exactly. You know, intercourse. Penis. Vagina. All that."

"OK, I really want to hear. It all seems like I'm hearing about someone else, but go ahead."

"You were at the university then. Second year. You were a biomed major. There was this teacher you had a crush on. He mentored you. Mentored you in more than coursework ....."

"Oh, my gosh."

"But I think you both loved each other; he wasn't a dirty old man. I met him one time. He was very nice, but of course inappropriate. His wife had died of cancer young, and he was lonely. So you had an ongoing relationship for about a year."

"And then?"

"You graduated, and almost immediately began working for Readdie Pharmaceuticals -- where you were still working at the time of the accident. You were doing so well there; they paid for you to get your MS degree and you were even considering going for your PhD. You loved your work, Jackie. You were happy."

"There's this thing about my having a boyfriend, who I met,." I said. "Carlos. What's the thing about him?"

"Oh, yes. He's so disappointed you don't remember him. You two had been an item for a year and a half. I think you were considering moving in together. How about that?"

"Do you like him? He seemed nice."

"Yeah, we like him well enough. But we think he smokes too much weed. He's so laid back. He's in the music business, trying to manage bands, with mixed success. But you had a lot of fun with him; he helped you get out more and have fun."

"Oh, so I was too taken up with my work?"

"Maybe. I mean, you were such a smart, vibrant person; with such good looks; and with such a future ahead of you."

"And now, I don't remember a thing about being into biomed. My god, what's happened to me?"

"I'm sorry, Jackie. I really am."

"I suppose I'm sort of a disabled person now, hoping my memory will return."

"We all hope that. And now, dear, you must be tired. I'll leave you alone in your girl cave, and see you again tomorrow. Go out for lunch?"

"Please. You're so good to me, Taylor. How would I get along without you?"

After a peck on my forehead and a hug, Taylor left. I found a beer in the fridge, and lay down in Jackie's bed, MY bed. My shoulder still ached a bit. I fantasized calling Carlos to get some of his weed.

Carlos would most likely want to continue our relationship. Somehow, I couldn't quite get my female mind around him fucking me. I felt more like a brother to him when I met him. He was handsome in a darkish, Hispanic sort of way, with a short beard and longish black hair. He usually had a bemused expression.

Imagine, me with a vagina and all my womanly features! Having to keep myself up as a woman. Going out in public and trying to re-orient all my old male inclinations to present as a good-looking female!

With that, I was curious, and feeling horny. Whatever female hormones were now affecting my consciousness, they were certainly having their way. I couldn't quite pin it down, but my new horniness was different than my old male horniness. Just different.

As I lay there, I began caressing my nice breasts through my bra, which I soon removed. At first, I was kind of detached, as though I was playing with a girlfriend's breasts -- except that when I came to my nipples, they hardened and became ever so sensitive. So this is what a woman feels!

I WAS a woman. I hadn't had sex for weeks. My hand soon drifted down to my cunt, like getting into a girlfriend's panties. It was wet down there. I poked a finger into my vagina. MY vagina! Soon, I located my clit, the little bud that I'd explored before on women. Several had directed me to touch it in a certain way -- to circle it with a lubed finger gently. They used it say, "circle it faster now. Faster, Froggie."

My eyes closed as I tried this on my own clit. It was really something. So much of a thrill from such a little bud, without an erect cock. An overwhelming gust of pleasure blew me open-- took over my entire female body. I spasmed big-time.

And then a few seconds later, playing with my now-ever-so-sensitive clit again, a second powerful orgasm. Multiple orgasms were something new, indeed!

I lay back and soon fell asleep -- a deep sleep while falling further into the body I had inherited. I had completely become one with Jackie's nerves, her heart, her brain, her life. My god, I was even capable of having a baby.