A simple miscommunication (Patreon)

Sunlight streamed down, warming the sandy beach while a warm hand slathered cold sunscreen along my back. The gentle rush of waves and distant calls of seagulls filled the air before I felt a warm kiss against my cheek. The shadow pulled away as I stretched out on the soft sand, and when my boyfriend, Marcus, whispered something into my ear, I couldn’t help but smile. “I think I might get a drink,” Marcus said. “You want anything?”

“Just water,” I told him. “I’m trying out a new diet, so I don’t want anything you’re getting.” I knew Marcus all too well – he loved getting sugary alcoholic beverages. I’d developed a bad habit with him, and after gaining a few extra pounds, I realized that I didn’t want to lose my perfect figure.

He returned as quickly as he left. He gave me a bottle of ice-cold water, while I watched him take sips from a glass of something yellow or green. Every so often, he would lean over to adjust the parasol, ensuring I stayed in the shade while we both enjoyed the beautiful summer day. With every protective gesture, I felt a rush of affection for him that I wouldn’t have felt in my old body. My life’s little mistake let me experience things that I wouldn’t have experienced under normal circumstances, and I couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. 

It was such a contrast to the rage I had felt not too long ago when I woke up in this very body. It still amazed me how a routine visit could take such a shocking turn. No matter how many times I told my friends, nobody could ever believe the serious fuck up my favorite private clinic did. A simple miscommunication with the plastic surgery staff, and before I knew it, I was left in one of those newfangled body transfer pods. It was here where donor bodies of cloned models were given to willing purchasers – the difference was that I didn’t mean to get a free body. Body transfers were for severe cases where surgery couldn’t fix people, and simple fat reduction was all I needed. Sadly, that didn’t save me from being transferred.

The memory of the mind extraction was still fresh, despite the months that had passed. I could still feel the cold gel they slathered over my scalp and the tugging sensation as wires, each no thicker than a strand of hair, were meticulously attached to specific points on my head. Prior to being placed in that situation, I was forced into a sedated state – I thought I was going to get my thigh fat melted away. What I felt next still gave me goosebumps. At first, it felt like a gentle pull, almost as if someone was massaging my mind. But then, the sensation grew intense, like my very essence was being squeezed out. I wanted to shout, to scream, to tell them they had made a mistake. But before I could even muster a cry, everything went black while the body transfer pod’s lid closed on top of me. My consciousness felt like it was floating, moving through a vast digital space. It was like being inside a server, with data streams rushing past. Then, as quickly as it began, the darkness lifted.

When I opened my eyes, the room was unfamiliar. My body felt different. A glance down confirmed it – I was no longer the man I used to be. My rugged features and strong physique were gone. In their place was a delicate, feminine frame. I touched my face, feeling the smooth skin, and ran my fingers through long, flowing hair. The shock was unimaginable. The realization hit hard, especially when the doctors, with somber faces and hushed tones, informed me that my original body had been disposed of in an administrative error. I had been adjusting to my new body for a month at that point, so there was no going back. My old body was gone. 

The months that followed were a blur of legal battles and therapy sessions. The hospital settled, granting me a substantial sum for their monumental blunder. Though the money was of little consolation, it did offer me a chance at a fresh start without having to worry about working for the next ten years. 

And that's when Marcus entered my life after asking me out while I bought my first tampons. Initially, a pillar of support, he soon became much more in my life. His kindness, understanding, and patience helped me navigate my new life, even after I told him that I used to be a man. Yes, my life had taken an unplanned detour, but in the end, it led me to a life that I wouldn’t regret for long.