The Gemini
Keywords: Gemini, The,
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"Let me see if I have this straight," Janice snorted angrily. "You had an affair with one of my patients?" She glared at me balefully, which served only to make her more attractive than she already was. Janice Merrill could easily have been a successful model; she was a tall, willowy brunette with striking features and a perfect complexion. In fact, she had done some modeling in college and med school. She was now a clinical psychologist and director of the Leto Clinic. The clinic was her 'baby' from the start; the only facility in the world that treated all facets of Gender Dysphoria under one roof, from assessment and counseling to sexual reassignment surgery.
Janice had become involved in the transgender scene in college. She had developed a special empathy for boys who wanted to be girls and had devoted her practice to treating them. Somewhere along the line she had found time to marry me, although I am not really sure why. We had been happy enough at the beginning, but she was a woman possessed; first with treating her 'girls', then with the idea of the clinic. Once she got it going, she began spending more and more of her time there. When we did see each other, she seemed increasingly preoccupied, distant, aloof. I had my job as a broker to keep me busy, but it was a lonely existence. I had committed a little indiscretion the night before. When I found out about the connection, I felt obligated to tell my wife. It was an honest mistake - as honest as Infidelity can be. She was not taking it well.
"I didn't know she was one of your patients and it wasn't an 'affair'. I was only with her once - last night. We met. We talked. One thing led to another. I didn't find out she was a patient of yours until afterwards."
"Oh, well, that makes it all right, doesn't it? Just a little fling with a pretty girl you met in a bar - you did meet her in a bar, didn't you? That doesn't count against 'love, honor, and cherish', does it? That doesn't compromise my professional ethics, DOES IT?!"
I hate it when Janice is in her 'dripping with sarcasm' mode. I always get very defensive.
"I hardly ever see you anymore, and when I do, your head is still at the clinic with your 'girls'. They seem to be the most important thing in your life, and I had never even met one, let alone talked to you about them. I heard through a friend about a bar uptown where transsexuals go, so I decided to check it out. I didn't go there with the intention of getting laid. I went to find out more about the people you treat every day. I met Jade there..."
"Jade! Please, God, no!! What was the name of this place?"
"Tush Street."
"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, NO! Tush Street is a HOOKER bar."
Janice slapped her forehead with her palm, paced back and forth frantically, then turned back to me and grabbed me by the lapels.
"Richard, this is very important. Did you PAY Jade to have sex with you?"
"Well...yes."
She flung open her fingers, releasing me from her grasp, then turned, folded her arms across her chest, and walked across the room to the picture window overlooking the well-groomed yard. She gazed out the window silently for several moments, as though collecting her thoughts, then turned back to me and solemnly spoke.
"Well, Richard, you had a busy night last night. Not only did you break your marriage vows to me; you may have just undone six months of intensive psychotherapy. I don't talk about my patients to anyone, including you, out of respect for their privacy and confidentiality; you know that.
Since you have already met Jade, I suppose I can tell you a little about her, so you will know exactly how much your little peccadillo may have screwed things up. Jade is my most difficult case. She came to me a couple of years ago and seemed to be an ideal candidate for SRS. She was bright, out-going, and had the right attitude about herself and what she wanted. She already exhibited advanced female secondary sex characteristics; breast and hip development, feminine vocal range and pattern, little or no facial or body hair, and almost no testicular development. She said she had always been like that. She was a beautiful boy, like you, who became even more beautiful as I transformed her into a woman - but then, you already know that, don't you?
Later, after we did her surgery, I found out she was also a very good actress. She had hidden from me a dark side of her life; chronic sexual abuse by her father, leading to low self-esteem, substance abuse, transvestism - she was a full-fledged Drag Queen and shooting up female hormones and androgen blockers by age Fourteen - which only made her more attractive to her father. That led to rejection and abandonment by her mother, who mistakenly thought Jade was to blame for the whole situation and was trying to steal her man away from her. Jade's father eventually abandoned her as well, leaving her alone and on the streets.
She now equates being a man's sex toy with being loved. She has a compulsion to be used, and therefore 'loved', which drives her to prostitute herself. The money doesn't really interest her in the usual sense; her real turn-on is being wanted sexually by a man - any man. The money is the key; if he pays her, he is somehow proving to her that she has worth. The more he pays, the more valuable she feels. She somehow sensed that telling me this would have caused me to postpone, or even cancel her surgery, and she was right - I wouldn't have touched her without extensive therapy.
As it was, we were making real progress. She was really starting to come to terms with herself, and I thought I had gotten her to stay off the streets. I have no idea what she was doing in Tush Street last night. Nostalgia? Catharsis? Denouement? A full-fledged relapse? Whatever the causality, she was there. Then, along comes good old Richard with hard cash and a hard-on. I wondered why Jade missed her appointment this afternoon; now I know. I'll put word out on the streets with the other girls, but she may never come back. Thanks a lot, Richard. You can sleep on the couch tonight."
I felt considerably smaller than my 5'7" stature. I really did love my wife, and had not intended to wreck our marriage or ruin her work. I tossed fitfully for several hours, finally drifting off into some semblance of sleep. I awoke with a start sometime later, as several pair of enormously strong arms held me down. I shouted out for help. Then my cries were muffled by a cloth forced over my mouth and nose - a cloth with a sharp, pungent odor. I saw stars - then nothing.
I drifted into hazy consciousness, disoriented and alone. I couldn't command my arms or legs to move. I was in a bed, in a room... like a hospital room, with an IV inserted in my right arm. The clinic? That's silly - what would I be doing there? I heard voices outside the open door. I couldn't quite make out the conversation, but thought I heard the word 'Gemini'. Then two women walked into my room. Janice was dressed in a white lab coat, looking every bit the Director of the facility. The other was dressed in green scrubs.
"Good morning, Richard. Don't try to move; you are under sedation and have no muscle control anyway. This is Doctor Collins, my Chief of Surgery. Forgive the unorthodox method of getting you here, but I anticipated you might not cooperate fully once you found out why. The more I thought about what you did, the angrier I got. I really can't forgive you, either for ruining my work with Jade or for cheating on me, so I have arranged for a 'divorce', so to speak.
One of the nice things about being the Director here is that the staff is intensely loyal to me. I made a few phone calls, and voila; everyone turned out in the middle of the night to assist me in my plans for you. Since you want so much to know about my work here, you are going to experience it first-hand. You want to be a slut instead of a faithful husband? No problem; I can arrange that, too. Sweet dreams, Sweetheart!"
Janice turned a dial on the IV line, and before I could mumble even a feeble protest, a cold, drowsy humor came over me, followed by blackness.
What followed was a kaleidoscopic montage of sights, sounds, smells, and scenes. There were operating rooms, bright lights, people in masks, a bustle of activity. There was a hospital room, with nurses going in and out, Doctor Collins and Janice hovering over me, examining me, gadgets whirring, tubes, needles - lots of needles.
These images were replaced with other, even more disturbing ones. Beauty parlors. Long blonde hair being curled, shaped, fluffed out. Long, long crimson fingernails. Furry coverings over my eyes. Make-up, a lot of make-up. Fitting rooms. Bras. Panties. Stockings. Something squeezing me. Tighter, tighter - I can barely breathe. I'm walking back and forth, back and forth, again and again. I'm getting taller all the time, like Alice. I'm swaying back and forth, as though I were on a boat rocking side to side.
I am not alone; there is a beautiful, busty blonde walking back and forth, too. She is walking towards me; I turn and walk away. I turn back towards her and she turns and walks toward me at the same time. She is so beautiful, so sexy - I am in love with her! I see her everywhere - in the malls, on the streets, in bars, making love to men. Oh, yes - making love to men! I watch her sucking their cocks, impaling her pussy on their long, slick love shafts, and it makes me so hot! I sense she knows I am there, watching her, but does not mind. In fact, she seems to get off on having an audience.
Above all, I see the image of Janice, speaking softly, reassuringly, offering words of encouragement. I cannot remember the words, but somehow I now know all about the blonde, everything she does, everything she thinks, everything she feels. I know her intimately, as though we are old friends who have no secrets between each other. Her blatantly-sexual nature intrigues me - no, more than that. I feel excitement, desire, longing, in a way I cannot describe.
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Keywords: Gemini, The,