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~From: suelmann@forwiss.uni-passau.de (Michael Suelmann)
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~Subject: TG: The Diary of a Co-ed by Olivia Evans
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I didn't write this and don't know how to reach the author.
TG, (mf), feminization/sex-change (chem, sf)		§§§§§§§

The Diary of a Co-ed

Part one

By Olivia Evans

Feb. 1st, Friday:

    I don't know how I'll be able to continue with my college
education.  When my inheritance runs out at the end of the month, I'll
be flat broke.  Not a penny.  I've looked for part time jobs, but there
really isn't anything available for a college sophomore with no work
experience to speak of, and those that are available wouldn't even pay
for half of the textbooks I need.

    So, at the end of the semester, like it or not, it looks like I'll
be out and the world will lose the most brilliant architect never to
have graduated.

    Marybeth, my girl friend who's a student assistant at the
University Medical Research Labs, suggested that I apply for a student
loan.  I couldn't bring myself to tell her that:

    a. I already had, and

    b. they had turned me down flat.

    Why?  Because I had too much money in my savings account.  What
money?  That's what I asked myself.  It was a mystery until I
discovered that they had checked the wrong account.  By the time I had
found that out and told the loan committee, it was too late, they'd
already given the money to another student, a perky little blonde coed.
She drives a nearly new Porsche by the way!

Feb. 4, Monday:

    When I first saw the notice written by the Dean of the Medical
Research Department on the Student Union bulletin board, I thought that
it was someone's idea of a joke.  Who in their right mind would pay a
student his entire tuition all the way through a Master's?  If a
freshman volunteered, it could cost well over $90,000.

    They would have to be awfully well funded for the experiment or it
was awfully risky... or both.  Still, it is an attractive offer.

    Maybe I'll just check it out.  After all, it won't hurt to ask,
will it?  Besides, I sure could use the money.

Feb. 7, Thursday:

    I couldn't believe the amount of forms that they made me fill out.
There must have been a hundred.  Doctor Westmeir, the man who's heading
the research, explained all about the experiment.  It seems that they
want to test a new multipurpose serum, one that is suppose to cure
every ill known to man, even some that hadn't been discovered yet.

    Yeah, right!  As that guy on TV says.  But still, if it works, who
ever was the first human subject, would go down in history.

    When I asked Doctor Westmeir why the experiment paid so much, he
brushed it off with a casual remark that implied that it was because
the subject, MIGHT have an adverse reaction.  It was all in the
information packet he had given me he had said, all I had to do was to
read it, and it would be fully explained.

    I told him that I would think it over and let him know.  He said
that he hoped that I would agree to volunteer, as I was the only one to
show up.  I saw Marybeth in the lab while I was there.  She sure looks
cute in that lab coat... of course, she looks cute out of it too!

Feb. 11, Monday:

    I talked it over with Marybeth while we were snuggled up in her
bed.  Her parents, who I've never met, had money and were footing the
bill for her rather comfortable apartment.  A lot nicer and certainly
more private than the dormitory room that I call home,

    If course, living in the dorm does have it's compensations.  My
floor is co-ed, with the girls out numbering the boys by about three to
one.  It's nice, but it sometimes take a while to get in to the
bathrooms for a shower.  What in the world do girls do in there that
takes them an average of an hour each?

    Marybeth said she had read the notice and knew Doctor Westmeir from
both the lab and the two classes he still teaches.

    She thought that he was "super", "really cute" and a great Doctor
and an excellent instructor.  She maybe right, a couple of the girls on
my floor had said the same thing.  It seems that he has very few males
in either of his classes, the girls line up for his classes days in
advance.

    When I returned to the dorm after my last class today, I found a
letter from the Dean of Admissions.  It was a reminder that my tuition
was paid through the end of March only, and it was time to pay for the
rest of the year.  March 31, that will have to be my last day, unless a
miracle happens or I volunteer for the experiment.  Marybeth has again
urged me to volunteer.

Still the same day, almost midnight:

    After a lot of thought about it, I've made up my mind.  Five more
years of paid education is just too attractive to pass up.  And while I
don't understand all of the medical terms, the experiment seems safe
enough.

    I don't have an early class tomorrow, so I think I'll sleep in and
call Doctor Westmeir, maybe around noon.

Feb. 12, Tuesday:  Early, early morning:

    Surprise!  I had intended to sleep in, but the girl's choir that
occasionally practices while they're in the shower down the hall were
in rare form this morning and woke me up.  I didn't mind too much, they
are excellent singers and do justice to most of their songs.  I can
think of a lot worse ways of being awaked.

    Well, at least I'll be on time for my appointment with Doctor
Westmeir.

Feb. 19, Tuesday:

    I see by the date of my last entry that I have some catching up to
do.  I suppose that the best place to start is what happened after I
got up on the 12th.  I called Doctor Westmeir and told him that I was
interested.  He sounded pleased and made an appointment for me at the
Research Lab on the 13th (Not a very good day to start a new project I
had thought at the time, but still, FIVE years of fully paid education
was at stake.)

    On the 13th, I reported to the Lab 7:30 AM as Doctor Westmeir had
requested.  I signed some more forms, and was subjected to the most
through physical I've ever had.  I think that every inch of my body was
poked, prodded or punctured.  There were even some tests to check my
DNA, or something like that.

    They even asked for a sperm sample, of all things.  As I had
"donated" a couple of pints to Marybeth the night before, I didn't
produce as much as I normally did.  But they seemed to be satisfied all
the same.

    When I was through, I expected to receive whatever medication that
they were trying out.  Instead, the Doctor said they had to wait until
all my test results came back.  If any test was messed up, I would have
to retake it.  They had to have perfect and exact results.  A baseline,
he had said.  Sounded reasonable at the time, I guess.

On the 14th, Valentines day:

    Marybeth and I cut all our classes.  It was "Our Special Day"
(along with about half the student body who were dating at the time)
and we wanted to some thing that was SPECIAL.  We... well that isn't
really part of the diary, let's just say that we enjoyed each other's
company.  A number of times, ah well... .

    We spent the 15th, 16th and the 17th, doing pretty much the same as
we had on the 14th, screwing.   While I would never admit anywhere
other than in my diary, but I was kind of grateful that Monday finally
rolled around.  Marybeth is a wonderful girl, woman really, but man,
she sure can wear a guy out!

    I don't think I could go another round with her if you paid me.
Then again, considering how much I need the money...

Feb. 18th, Monday:

    Doctor Westmeir finally called the dorm to let me know that all the
test results were back, and he said that I was exactly the right person
for the experiment.  I showed up at the lab half an hour later.

    Ugh!  The liquid they had me drink was the foulest tasting stuff
I've ever drank.  It smelled like a combination of a cesspool, rotten
eggs and I'm not sure what else.  All I know was that when it hit the
bottom of my stomach, it hit like glob of molten metal, and worse
still, stayed there like a lump of raw undigested turnip for over an
hour making me nauseous and feeling dizzy.

    The Doctor told me later that had I actually passed out for a few
minutes, which caused them a great deal of worry.  But as bad as the
serum had tasted by the time I left the lab several hours later, the
"turnip" finally digested itself and I was beginning to feel great.  I
was even ready for another wonderful weekend with Marybeth.

Feb. 29th, Tuesday:

    I still felt great all day and everything looked and even smelled
different.  Even found the trig class interesting, for a change.  As
you know, I like to take a short walk after dinner, a habit developed
to get out of washing dishes according to my dear departed mother,
bless her sole.  My walk tonight lasted the same length of time, but I
walked nearly twice as far.

    What ever had been in that foul smelling stuff seems to have
increased my stamina, and dare I say it, my intellect.

Mar. 1st, Friday:

    It's been a month since I signed up for the experiment, and about
three weeks since I drank the serum.  I still feel great, and my
classes are a breeze.  I'm seriously considering challenging the rest
of my sophomore year.  It shouldn't be hard to do.  No wonder they
offered to pay the education costs of any student that applied.  If
everyone was successful in challenging the classes, all they would be
out would be a single year's tuition, maybe two at the most.

Mar. 15th, Friday:

    Wow!  How about that!  I have just successfully challenged the rest
of my sophomore class requirements, and am now a Junior! Or will be in
the fall, seems the College is rather sticky about students entering a
new year in the middle of the term.  However, at this rate, I can
graduate next spring, fall at the latest.

    Oh, I almost forgot in my excitement about passing the gruelling
special exams I just completed.  I have discovered that my beard is
getting thinner.  The last time I shaved was nearly a week ago, and
from the feel of my cheeks, I won't have to shave for another two or
three days.

    Marybeth says that I look younger without my whiskers, and she
likes the fact that she hasn't had a "whisker burn" for the last week
and my skin felt nice and soft next to her's.

    I was going to mention my mysterious disappearing beard to Doctor
Westmeir during my last weekly check up, but forgot, cramming for the
exams being foremost in my mind at the time.

    While I've successfully passed all of my classes, I'm still
attending school.  I thought that since I had all the free time on my
hands and no family or friends to go home to, that I would do something
useful with it.  Would you believe, I'm even attending a class in
cooking.  And you know, it turns out that I'm not half bad, some of the
stuff I make is actually eatable.

    But still, I can hardly wait until spring break.  Marybeth and I
are planning to spend the entire week up at the lake.  Just laying
around on the beach and the bed... mostly the bed.  Ah well, only
another couple of weeks to go.

    Then PARTY TIME!!!

April 6th, Saturday:

    Well, here we are at the lake on Spring Break, the whole week ahead
of us and the first thing that Marybeth wanted to do was to go
swimming!  I suppose that we have enough time for other more pleasant
activities too.

    Strange thing though, Marybeth commented about the hair on my legs.
She said it didn't seem as dark, or as corse as she remembered.

April 9th through April 11th:  Spring Break:

    Shit!  Marybeth was right, I am losing my hair, not on the top of
my head as you would expect a male to lose it, but over my entire body!

    What brought the realization that my hair was falling out
wholesale, was when Marybeth and I were laying on the bed, having just
finished.... uh, having just finished.

    Marybeth had suggested that I try making love to her in a slower,
less frenzied manner.  She wanted me to take my time so that she could
enjoy it more herself.  I tried to oblige, and lasted almost twenty
minutes before I exploded inside of her.

    Marybeth and I were just laying there, naked in each other's arms,
when she ran the inside of her foot along the calf of my leg.  It felt
strange even to me, but Marybeth sat up right so fast that I almost
fell out of bed.

    When I recovered enough to sit up myself she was bending over my
leg and running her hand up and down my calf in obvious shock.  When I
looked too, I was surprised to see that almost all, and I mean all, of
the hair on my legs was gone, peeled off by the movement of her foot
along my leg.

    Marybeth experimentally ran her hand up and down my legs and with
the little pressure her slim and delicate hand produced, stripped even
more hair off.  What hair that remained, was a fine golden color,
almost invisible even in the bright sunlight coming through the window.

    Marybeth giggled and asked me if I had taken to putting a hair
remover of some kind on my legs.  Of course I hadn't, but that didn't
stop her from carefully inspecting the rest of my body.

    She checked every inch of my body and sure enough, the only hair
that remained was on top of my head, and a small dark triangle between
my legs.

    The only explanation my sudden hair loss that we could think of,
was a combination of the strong sunlight at the lake and the serum that
I had taken.  The fact that my pubic hair was roughly the same contour
as my bikini swim trunks tended to support that theory.

    It was disquieting, but nothing I couldn't live with.  After all, a
lot of people don't have much body hair or a beard, I had told
Marybeth.  She had laughed and said  "Sure, and most of them are women."

    That girl has a strange sense of humor.  She called me "Miss Donna"
all week, an obviously play on my first name, Donald.

    I am proud of myself, Marybeth had asked me to take my time and do
things (guess what things?) slower so that she could enjoy it more too.
She and I practiced going slowly every time we made love.  She was
right, the slower I went the more she seemed to enjoy it.  I had
resolved to make a single session last all night, if it brought her
that much pleasure.

    I had learned to slow myself down so well that by Thursday night, I
was taking almost an hour from penetration to climax.  Even though we
were not having sex as much, she seemed to drain every gram of sperm
from my body.

April 12th, Friday:

    We got back to the campus late last night.

    We had fun, but since I have an obligation to Doctor Westmeir, I
wanted to be back in time for my check up.  The good doctor was as
through as usual, even asking me for another sperm sample.

    Why is it that he always asks right after Marybeth has drained me
so completely.  My sample was only about two thirds of what it had been
the first time.  I was almost ashamed to give it to him.  He seemed
pleased however, when I handed him the little cup.

    What was more embarrassing than the quaintly I produced, was the
time it took.  I apparently had grown so accustomed to making love
slowly that even without a partner, it took over an hour to produce the
sample and I was really trying to hurry it along.

    As the old saying goes, the work ain't so hot, but the pay was
great.

    Doctor Westmeir was mildly surprised by the sudden loss of my body
hair and whiskers.  When I left the Lab he was busy writing in his log
and alternately clucking and smiling to himself.  He's kind of strange
too, come to think of it.

April 15th, Monday:

    What a weekend!  Marybeth was in rare form, even for her.  Even as
horny as I usually am, I crapped out early Sunday afternoon after
making love twice that morning.  I love that woman, but sometimes she
can be so demanding!

April 28th, Sunday:

    For some strange reason, I seem to be losing weight.  Marybeth and
I found it out when I tried on a pair of jeans she had given me as a
gift.

    I could tell Marybeth was disappointed when I tried them on.  The
waist had a gap of almost an inch and the legs were too long by at
least as much.  She said she would take them back and get a smaller
size, even though she had taken special care to get the size right in
the first place as I'm normally hard to fit.

    Later Marybeth said and did something that surprised me when we
kissed good night.  She had run her hand across my cheek and commented
that it was soft and baby smooth.

    Considering the fact that its been over a month since I last
shaved, I could understand the smooth part, but when she said that I
had fine little hairs on my cheeks that looked just like a girl's, I
started wondering myself.

    I checked my face carefully in a mirror after she left.  She had
been right, there was hair growing on of my cheeks, they weren't the
beginnings of a beard, but rather strongly resembled what Marybeth had
suggested, a woman's light facial hair.  Peach fuzz at my age!

May 1st, Wednesday:

    I am losing weight!  Marybeth said that it looked like I was
starving myself to death.  Not so!  If anything, I eat almost all the
time, not large quantities admittedly, but still I feel like I'm always
stuffing my face.  I must ask the Doctor why this is.

May 2nd, Friday:

    Doctor Westmeir has confirmed my worst fears.  I am losing weight.
Losing it at the rate of nearly ten pounds a week.  If things keep
going like they are I'll weigh less than a hundred and twenty-five
pounds by the time summer arrives.  A sad state of affairs for some one
who not three months ago was six foot and two hundred pounds.

    Marybeth gave me the jeans she had exchanged for the ones that were
too large for me.  I didn't have the heart to tell her that these were
too large also.  I guess that she forgot that I was losing weight and
bought the same size as she had the first time.  I'll just keep my belt
cinched up tight.

    Speaking of hair, while the hair on the rest of my body seems to be
gone forever, the hair on my head is going wild.  Normally I get a hair
cut about every six weeks, now it's down every other week.  Marybeth
says that she likes long hair and maybe I should just let it grow.  Why
not?  It does feel nice and silk after I wash it, and I've always
wondered what I would look like with long hair.   Marybeth says a
ponytail would look really sexy on me.   Maybe I'll let it grow out
long enough to see if she's right.

May 6th, Monday:

    Marybeth and I broke up over the weekend.

    One of the reasons she told me was that lately I haven't been able
to keep her satisfied.  I don't know what she meant by that, once a day
should be enough for anyone.  She also said that she was tired of
people asking her if she was dating a high school sophomore.  High
School indeed!  She's twenty two and I'm twenty four, hardly high
school students.

    Marybeth said that people who don't know me and see me with her
have told her that they think that I'm about fourteen or fifteen!

    What a bunch of crap!

    I think that she's just found someone else!  Still, I do have to
admit I do look oddly younger than I used to.

    My youthful appearance must be because of the weight that I seem to
be continuing to lose.  I've lost nearly forty pounds and nothing fits
right anymore, not even my shoes, which have suddenly become too big
for my feet.

    When I mentioned that to the Doctor last Friday, he nodded and
explained that overweight people frequently lost a shoe size in width
when they dieted, saying something about less weight to spread them out.

    Just in case however, he's added my shoe size to the measurements
he takes when I have my weekly check up.

May 10, Friday:

    The Doctor was wrong!  I'm not like an overweight person who's foot
width changes as they lose weight.  Their feet get narrower, while mine
are getting narrower AND shorter.

    As disturbing as that is, what is even more disturbing is the
realization that I've also lost an inch and a half in height!  I'm now
five foot ten and a half.  Doctor Westmeir says that's a loss in height
is not uncommon for men in their late sixty's and seventies, but a
little odd for someone my age.

    ODD?  Shit!  It's down right incredible!

May 17th, Friday:

    Something has gone wrong, terribly wrong with the experiment!
Doctor Westmeir has confirmed that I'm still losing height and weight.
What ever was in that stuff is causing me to actually shrink.  He said
that he didn't know how much more I would shrink, but suspected that it
wasn't over yet.  My God!  I hope its not much more.

    I'm now about 5'8" and weigh about 120 pounds, or at least I did
when I was weighed this afternoon.  A regular bean pole, that's me.
Make that a short bean pole.

    The sudden loss of height certainly hasn't helped me look any
older.  It's gotten so bad that I can't get a drink in a bar, or even
buy beer anywhere.  One of the girls on the floor said that I look like
a twelve year old kid.

    I found out one advantage with looking the way I do.  I can get
away with paying children's fare into movies.  Of course the bad side
of that is that they won't let me into most of the movies I want to
see.  At least not without someone who's obviously an adult along with
me.

    While I may look younger, the Doctor says that I haven't actually
become younger, I'm still my right age.  That is, I'm still an adult
male, just a smaller version of what I use to be.  A smaller version
except for one thing, my penis and testicles have NOT shrunk along with
the rest of me.  I look like a twelve year old stud.

    A lot of good THAT fact has done me.  While I've dated a few girls,
mostly high school girls, since Marybeth left me, I seem to have
neither the ability nor the desire to make love to them.

    I had initially thought that it might have been because I missed
Marybeth, but now I'm not sure.  Lately, I haven't been having
erections in the mornings, or any other time for that matter, even when
I try.  And God knows I've tried!  This is carrying the slow love
making technique too far!

    My God, a thought just occurred to me; what if the stuff I drank so
many weeks ago, has somehow chemically castrated me, leaving me
sexually impotent, while leaving my organs visually and physically
intact!

    If that is what happened, I'll never be able to have sex again.
Just the thought of it makes me want to get drunk... except I can't
find a bar that will let me in!

    I am beginning to wonder if the money was worth it.

May 25th, Saturday:

    Marybeth and I made up after a long tearful telephone conversation.
It almost didn't happen.  One of the girls that lives on my floor took
the call.  Marybeth asked for me and the girl, I don't remember her
name, knocked on my door and told me that I had a phone call.

    When I got to the phone and said "Hello?" there was no answer for a
long time.  Then Marybeth asked to talk to me.  When I told her that
she was, she at first refused to believe me, thinking that I was one of
the co-ed.  After a few minutes of talking, we finally realized why she
hadn't recognized my voice.

    I no longer sounded like myself, during the two weeks that Marybeth
and I had been apart, the pitch of my voice had slipped into a higher
range.  I thought that I was a tenor, she said contralto, the lowest
normal speaking range of a woman's voice, maybe even a bit higher than
that.

    I now not only looked like a twelve year old boy, I sounded like
one!

    As a kind of an "I'm sorry" gift to me, she gave me another pair of
jeans and a tee-shirt.  I was grateful for the gift, not only because
it marked a new beginning for the two of us, but because they are now
the only ones that fit.

    That should have made me happy, except for the fact that the jeans
are 28 inches in the waist and 30 inches in the inseam.  Literally 6
inches smaller in the waist and three in the inseam from what I use to
wear.  I've lost over two full sizes in my shirt, going from a 16 1/2
to a 14 1/2.  It seems that a man's small shirt now fits me.  I use to
be a large, or an extra large.

    I told Marybeth about my other concern, the big one, of not being
able to have an erection.  Marybeth, bless her heart, wanted to help.
We tried our damnedest, but still no success, although I did find that
there are more than one way to satisfy a woman.  Judging from her
reactions, I should have tried it a lot sooner.

May 31st, Friday:

    Good news, I think.  Seems that my height and weight is holding at
120 pounds and 5'7".

    Marybeth tried to console me with the statement that she won't have
to stand on her tip toes to kiss me.  That's an understatement, when
she's wearing her heels, she towers over me by a good three inches.
Now I'm the one that has to stand on my tip toes to kiss when she's
wearing heels, which seems to be all the time!

    Marybeth and I discovered an odd coincidence.  She and I are about
the same size, except for her broader hips and bust line, of course.  I
could, if I wanted to, wear her clothing quite comfortably.  Even her
shoes, it seems.

    How do I know that?  Marybeth had me dress up in one of her
outfits, complete with a skirt, high heels and padded bra.  She said
that she want to see what it would be like to have another woman make
love to her.  It was enjoyable for both of us, but like I've said: That
girl has a strange sense of humor.  She had said that I made a cute
looking girl and should consider wearing a skirt and high heels more
often.  That way she wouldn't have to wear flats when we went out.
Yeah, right!

    Doctor Westmeir was pleased that my strange body mass reduction
seems to have stabilized and has promised me a new wardrobe as well as
the tuition cost.

    Marybeth said that we can go shopping as soon as school is out,
week after next.  Why did we decide to wait that long?  Mainly to make
sure that I really have stabilized.  It wouldn't do to buy a couple of
hundred dollars worth of new clothing, only to shrink right out of them.


The Diary of a Co-ed:  Part 2

By Olivia Evans

June 7th, Friday:

    The third week of remaining the same height and weight, and
everyone thinks that I won't shrink any smaller!  Hurrah!

    I'm growing accustomed to my new outlook on things, since I lost so
much height everything appears taller.  Marybeth says that by the end
of the year, I will probably forgotten all about what it was like to be
six foot tall.  I wonder.

    We tried to have sex in the normal way again Thursday night.  Still
no go, but Marybeth seemed well satisfied though.  It's strange, but I
once thought that orally copulating with a girl was kind of gross.  Of
course, that was before I actually tried it.  Now while both Marybeth
and I enjoy it immensely, the act itself is no big deal.

    Speaking of no big deals, I can't be sure, but I think that my
genitals are smaller than they were yesterday.  It could be my
imagination, but I think that I'll mention it to the Doctor next Friday.

    Most of the students on my dormitory floor have gone home for the
summer vacation, leaving three girls, a guy who will leave Monday and
myself by ourselves.  For the most part, they have left me alone to my
own thoughts.

June 14th Friday:

    I AM shrinking again!  Not in my body as before, but where it
counted the most!  My penis and testicles have shrunk to only two
thirds of their original size.

    Doctor Westmeir laughed when I expressed my very real concerns.
His exact words were;  "It's about time.  I was wondering when that
part of your body caught up with the rest of you."

    His comment took me by surprise, obviously.  But he showed me a
number of photographs of naked men that were left of from another
study.  Seeing the average looking men in the pictures and thinking
back on it, my genitals did look disproportionately large.  Now,
proportionally, they are about average for someone of my small size and
slender build.

    Westmeir still hasn't come up with the reason of why I can't get an
erection.  Or for that matter, the answer to the question of why I had
shrunk in the first place.

June 7,  Friday:

    Marybeth announced that she was going on a week's vacation with her
parents and wouldn't be able to see me until June 29th or 30th.  I was
disappointed, to say the least.

    Because our love making has dropped to almost nothing, Marybeth is
becoming a very good friend.   We've found, that in addition to sex
when I can manage it, we have some common interest.  Marybeth said that
when she's with me, its like being with her "best" girl friend.

    I will miss her.

June 21, Friday:

    Doctor Westmeir was away at a Medical Convention, so one of the
other doctors took my measurements.  I didn't care for the man, all of
my questions were greeted with noncommittal grunts or lopsided smiles.
I have lost some more weight, but not quite as fast as I had been.
Hopefully, I've stopped this mad head long rush to a child sized body.

June 30th Sunday:

    I think that I've hit the zenith of the changes, and have actually
started to gain some weight back.  Or at least that's what Marybeth
seemed to think when she got back from her vacation with her parents.
She said that my face was filling out, a sure sign of weight gain.

    Now that she mentioned it, my face does seem to be a little fuller.
Which I also take to be a sign that I'm gaining my weight back.

    But if I'm gaining weight, why is it only apparent in my face?
All that my weight gain really has succeeded in achieving is making my
facial features appear fuller and softer, almost feminine in its
contours.  Feminine?!?

July 4th, Thursday:

    It's been four days since I wrote the June 30th entry, and I'm
changing again.  While the scales showed only a modest gain, only about
five pounds, it seems that the area where my legs join my hips seem to
be sticking out, almost as though they were expanding outward.

    Ever since I started to lose weight and height, I have been keeping
a private record of my measurements and weight.  While not as
scientific or as accurate as the doctor's, they've been an interesting
(and sometimes terrifying) record of my changes.

    For example, when I reached my smallest and lightest a week ago, my
measurements were; chest 34 inches, waist 26 3/4, hips 35 inches at
their widest point and 29 inches in the inseam.  I weighed in at
whopping 115 pounds.

    When I took my measurements an hour ago, they were still the same,
except that my hip measurement had increased by a whole two inches.
The only thing that bothers me about all this "weight" everyone seems
to think that I'm gaining, is that there isn't any!  Or at least not
much.  I weigh 120 pounds, only five pounds more than I did two weeks
ago!

    At best, all that's happened is that what little fat I have gained
is just being redistributed.  I still look like a short skinny man,
with wide hips and thighs!

July 12th Friday:

    Doctor Westmeir has confirmed what I had been beginning to fear was
the truth.  My hips (which are now 37 1/2 inches) are still expanding
while the rest of my body is remaining more or less stable.

    I've become very self conscious about the way I look.  Even
Marybeth hasn't seen me undressed for over a week.  I look, if you want
to know the truth, like an pear stuck half way down a sock.  Skinny,
with a large bump where my hips are.

    It's getting to be a real struggle to get my jeans past my
expanding thighs and hips.  Once on however, the 28 inch waist fits a
quite loosely while the rest is almost skin tight.  Marybeth, of
course, thinks that the tight jeans look very good on me.

    I wish that I had just accepted the fact that I wouldn't be able to
afford a college degree and hadn't volunteered to be a guinea pig for
the Research Department.

    Damn them anyway!

July 14th, Sunday:

    According to the scales, I've gained a few pounds, guess where it
all appears to be going.  Yep, you guessed it, to my hips and thighs!
My hips are now a full 39 inches, while my waist is still only 27, no,
make that 28 inches.  I seem to have gained a little there also.  The
added inch in my waist makes my body appear to be more symmetrical to
the width of my hips, although my waist is still too slender to look
right.

    The last pair of jeans that Marybeth gave me no longer fit.  I've
had to go back to the pair she had given me before, the ones with the
thirty inch waist.  They fit snugly through the hips and thighs but
have a two inch gap in the waist.

    The strange part of my sudden "growth" is that none of my other
body measurements have seemed to budge even so much as an fraction of
an inch.  For example, my chest is still 34 inches around and my neck
measurements have remained at slightly more than 13 1/2 inches.

    The jeans are comfortable, and because of the snug fit through my
hips there's no fear that they will fall off, but it would be nice to
have something that doesn't look like I've starved myself to death
above the waist and pigged out below.

    Marybeth noted my odd fitting jeans the last time she was over.
She said that she would find me some pants that would fit better.  I
asked her to try to find a pair of shoes also, the only thing that
seems to fit are a pair of beach thongs I wear when I take a shower.
Now, compared to my tiny shrunken feet, they look like they would look
more at home on a snow bank.

July 16th, Tuesday:

    Marybeth has come through again!

    Somehow she's managed to find me a pair of jeans and pants, even a
pair of new high top shoes that fit perfectly.  When I protested that
she shouldn't have spent the money, she assured me that she hadn't,
having bought everything on sale at a discount department store she
usually buys her own clothing at.  Besides, she had admitted, it was my
own money she had used.

    She had drawn some money from the clothing account the Lab has set
up for me for new clothing.  Regardless of who's money she used, I
certainly appreciate what she did, I needed both the shoes and the
pants.

    Only... there's one thing wrong, two things really.  The pants
don't have back pockets.  They're also tight through the crotch, which
is to be expected, my genitals are still close to their normal size.
What is worse, the jeans are, well, if the label hidden inside is to be
believed, women's size 11/12.

    I'm sure that she just bought them at one of those unisex places.
You know, where they have dual sizes marked in the clothing, one for
adolescent boy's sizes and one for the compatible woman's size.

    The shoes are European size 7, which seems to be my new shoe size.
I rather suspect that the American size is different, they also look a
little narrow.

July 17th, Wednesday:

    This has got to be one of the blackest days in my life,  I'm
shrinking again.

    Not in height or weight as before, but in the one area, my penis
and testicles, that had so far had remained relatively untouched by
whatever strange compound in the serum that shrunk the rest of my body.

    Once they finally started to shrink, they did so rapidly.  Almost
as if they were trying to make up for lost time.  In fact, in one very
short week, they're only half the size they had been the last time they
had shrunk.   Or, to put it simply, my penis is only a quarter of what
it had been when I started the experiment.  Oddly, my testicles do not
appear to have reduced as much, they are roughly a third as large as
large as before and extremely soft to the touch, kind of like rotten
grapes.

    My penis in its flaccid state, which is ALL it's been in for the
last two months, is only about an inch and a half long.  I have to be
really careful when I go to the bathroom.  It's getting hard to hold on
to aim.

    That's bad enough, but there is another disturbing development.  My
chest is starting to itch.  It seems to be centered around my nipples
which are swollen and tender.

July 20th, Saturday:

    I know that Marybeth bought all those panties as a joke, but she
could have forgone the bras.  And I wish that she hadn't had one of the
girls on the floor sneak into my room and steal all of my underwear.
All I have to wear are those damned panties!

    Marybeth says they look nice on me, very sexy.  The way she acts
half the time, you would think that I'm turning into a girl or
something.

    Although, I do have to admit, the soft panties do feel kind of nice
next to my skin.  And from the rear, as seen through a mirror, they do
look sexy.  The illusion of their sexiness is marred by the small, (too
small!) bulge of my genitals in the front.

July 26, Friday:

    I had thought that the 17th was the blackest day of my life, I had
been wrong!  Today is!  Doctor Westmeir was giving me my normal weekly
checkup, when he performed the test for a hernia.  You know the one,
were you turn your head and cough?

    When I coughed the first time, I had the strangest sensation in my
groin.  Before I could look downward, Doctor Westmeir had me turn my
head the other way and cough again.  I experienced the incredible
sensation again.  This time I looked down and received the shock of my
life.  My testicles were missing!  Gone!  Completely!

    The Doctor explained that when I coughed, he had pressed and the
testicle he had been pressing on was just sucked right up inside of me.
He hadn't believed what he had just seen when the first one
disappeared, so he tried to see if the phenomena could be duplicated
with the other one.

    Of course it was, and I was suddenly without any testicles, at
least not ones that were where they should have been and a tiny little
penis.

    When I asked where they had gone to, Doctor Westmeir merely
shrugged his shoulders.  "Up inside your body somewhere, I guess," he
has said, then continued with the rest of the examination as though
nothing strange had happened.  When he pressed on the two small lumps
of fat under my nipples, it was painful, almost as though he had
squeezed my now nonexistent testicles.   It was the first time I had
felt any pain in that area.

    If I hadn't known that the small lumps under my nipples were there
before my testicles had been swallowed up whole by my body, I would
have sworn that they had traveled through my body and had lodged in my
chest.  But of course they hadn't.

July 26/27, Friday night/early Saturday morning:

    There's the strangest sensation in my lower abdomen, which started
about half an hour after my testicles disappeared inside of me.  It
feels something like little mice are crawling around inside, moving
slowly upward toward my navel.  It isn't unpleasant, in fact, it kind
of tickles.

    I had wondered briefly about the strange "crawling" sensation in my
lower abdomen, although it is obvious what is causing it once I thought
about it.  My errant testicles were on the move.

    When Doctor Westmeir finished with my examination, I went straight
back to my small dormitory room.  I immediately stripped my jeans and
the panty briefs from my torso and with a mirror, studied the results
of his experimentation.   My empty scrotum sack and tiny one inch long
penis look really forlorn.

   The crawling sensation has stopped, what ever had been causing it,
(my wayward testicles) seems to have centered themselves close to, and
on either side of my navel.

    The lose folds of my empty scrotum are slowly and visibly
shrinking, pulling themselves into a narrow elongated shape running
from front to rear between my legs.  My minuscule penis, barely larger
than the tip of my little finger when I had last seen it, had been
swallowed up between the folds of skin less than an hour after I had
positioned the mirror to watch and was no longer to be seen.

    When I searched for the missing appendage with my slender finger to
determine if was gone completely, I was stunned by how sensitive and
how good it felt to rub my finger over the little nubbin.  I hate to
admit it, but it took all my will power to remove my finger, the
feeling was so pleasant.

    If what happens next is what I now greatly fear it will, a small
opening will appear in the center of the soft folds.  By this time
tomorrow, I will have something that I have so loved in Marybeth, a
nice tight little pussy.

    There is one bright note about this, if you can call it that, my
panties and bra fit better.   Oh, yes, I haven't mentioned the part
about a bra yet.

    While I was busy watching my groin in the mirror, the small lumps
of fat under my nipples suddenly inflated like a pair of some kind of
gel filled balloons.  Their growth was triggered, I think, by what was
happening between my legs.

    While I was upset when Marybeth had bought me some bras, I am now
grateful.  Like my panties, they fit my body quite well.  Actually,
with the size my breasts have grown to it's more comfortable to wear a
bra than not.

    I have finally admitted even to myself, abet somewhat reluctantly,
that Marybeth was right, I am turning into a woman.  A WOMAN if you can
imagine!

    A very odd thought just occurred to me.  Until I had volunteered
for this stupid experiment and my body started changing, I'd been a
sexually active male.  Given that supposition, when my body completes
its final stage of the transformation from male to female, will I be a
virgin?

    A virgin who had enjoyed an active sexual life style BEFORE she
became a virgin!  The concept is intriguing, to say the least, and
would be an amusing topic of discussion if it wasn't happening to me!

July 28, Sunday:

    I spent the entire day in my room, wearing only one of my old, now
tent like t-shirts that hit me about midway down my thighs, panties and
of course, a bra.

    The only time I left my room was to go to the bathroom.  Even then
I hurriedly took care of my business and rushed back to my room in fear
that someone on the nearly deserted floor would recognize me.

    It wouldn't have mattered, the three girls still on my floor had
been watching my progress with a great deal of interest. They have left
me alone for the most part.

    I discovered an odd thing about people who knew what had been
happening to me.  The girls seemed to accept my gradual change to a
woman quicker than the boys did, who seemed to tend to treat me like
some kind of defector or worse.

    The full impact of the havoc the experiment has had on me caught up
with me with a vengeance.  I spent most of the day alternating between
crying, and wondering if I would be able to have children.  The thought
of which would start me crying again.

    However, even I have to admit that my long slender legs look
terrific, as do my firm well shaped tits and the rest of my womanly
body.   All in all, I think that I'm turning out to be a pretty cute
girl.  You know the kind, the ones that have to beat the guys off with
a stick.

    Needless to say, it has been a very depressing day.

July 29, Monday:

    Marybeth called this morning.  She said she had to see me right
away, could I come over to her place, or would it be better if she came
to the dorm.

    Even though, for all practical purposes, I am physically
indistinguishable from the other girls in dorm and could pass almost
unnoticeable anywhere except in a men's shower, I'm very self conscious
about the way I look.  I asked her if she could come to the dorm
instead.

    Marybeth said she understood and agreed.

    When she arrived, she was in an extremely good mood.  She insisted
that I remove my clothing so that she could see the end results of the
experiment.  Still somewhat shy, I turned my back to her when I
undressed.  She had laughed when I had bent over to pull my panties
off, saying that she hadn't quite had THAT end in mind.

    She didn't seem a bit surprised when I turned around and she saw my
full, and rather large, breasts.   The last time she had seen them they
were little more than two small bumps on my chest.  I explained how
they just seemed to grow and grow until they'd reached their current
enormous size, much to the delight and amusement of Marybeth.  I think
she was a little bit awed, her magnificat breasts took more than a year
to reach the size they are now.

    Marybeth laughed until she almost cried when I told that they felt
like they were a "double D" cup.  She cupped them in her hands, as
though she was somehow measuring their size, and tried to reassure me
that they weren't "DD's", at best they were only a "C" cup about the
same as her's.

    A "C" cup!  Not nearly as bad as I had feared, but still, I have a
very healthy set of "lungs" indeed.

    It was while I was starting to get dressed again that she gave me
some more new clothing to wear.  I was distressed to see that she had
selected a short faded red denim skirt, white blouse, and a pair of
women's red leather shoes with 3" high heels to wear.

    The skirt had been bad enough, but when she brought out the
pantyhose and makeup kit it was almost too much.

    She teased me into getting dressed in the woman's outfit.  She had
argued that since I would eventually have to wear things like that
anyway, I might as well start now.

    Much to my surprise, the skirt was actually more comfortable than I
expected, and cooler than wearing the jeans I had intended to wear.
Besides, as I said a few days ago, I really do have decent looking legs.

    Marybeth said my legs were better than "decent", they were
terrific, especially when I put on the pantyhose which added color to
my untanned legs.

    Once I had dressed, Marybeth set about fixing my long hair, now
down about to the middle of my back, and applying makeup.  I won't bore
you with the details, and will only report on the results.

    The makeup felt strange on my face and the lipstick tasted funny on
my lips.  But visually, ah yes, visually the effect was devastating.  I
was no longer just "cute" but actually quite beautiful when she
finished.

    Reluctantly I agreed to leave the safety of my room, when Marybeth
insisted that we get out and get some fresh air.   I think that she
just wanted to show off her handiwork... me!

    Marybeth offered to drive because my driver's license didn't
exactly fit my physical description.  That was the second biggest
understatement she had made all day.

    Our destination was a mystery until I remembered that she said that
she had wanted me to come to her small apartment, just off campus.  I
was surprised when she drove right by the apartment complex and on to
the interstate.  All my attempts to discover where we were heading went
unanswered, much to my annoyance.

    We had driven twenty miles into the country before she took an off
ramp and drove a few miles down a side road, then turned off of that
onto a gravel road, obviously a driveway.

    The house was huge, twenty rooms at least, and set in the center of
a even bigger manicured lawn.  She pulled around the side and drove
into a garage.

    I asked her if we should have done that.  You can imagine my
surprise when she said that it was alright, this was her home.
Besides, no one was home, nor would return until later this evening.

    Marybeth gave me a tour of part of the house, saying that just like
her little apartment, we had it all to ourselves, at least for the next
five hours.

    We decided to go swimming.  Marybeth loaned me a stunning two piece
suit that wasn't quite a bikini, but wasn't quite a traditional two
piece either.

    Feeling more self conscious in the skimpy swim suit than I had in
the skirt, I took a shallow dive off the edge into the deep end of the
pool.  It was when I hit the water that I discovered something
interesting about wearing a bikini top, the force of the water that
filled the cups along with my breasts, acted exactly like a sea anchor
and cut my speed in about half.

    When I reached the other end of the pool, Marybeth was laughing and
pointing to the center.  I looked where she had been pointing and saw
my top floating on the surface!  The damned thing had come off!

    Later that evening I got to meet Marybeth's parents.  Needless to
say I was surprised, make that shocked to learn that her step father is
none other than Doctor Westmeir!   Knowing that I was an orphan, the
Westmeirs offered to treat me like a second daughter.  It wouldn't be
hard to pass myself off as their daughter, for once they had pointed it
out to me, I do resemble Marybeth and her mother.

    I had no other place to go so I accepted.  Besides, I've got a lot
to learn about being a woman let alone being a sister to Marybeth.  I
once had hopes that we could become closer than mere sex partners, but
never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined we would become close
enough to share the same clothing, right down to our bras!

    Marybeth has been really understanding about my strange
predicament.  She has graciously said that she will help me over the
rough spots, like when I have my first period.  I certainly do
appreciate her offer to help, although I'm not sure that I'll accept.

    After all, she's done so much for me already.