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The weeks came and went as Emma and I both came to terms with our new genders and accepting of the fact we’d probably never reverse what happened to us. That meant Emma would probably continue to get made fun of for being a male nurse; it meant I’d have to deal with not being listened to at work and likely a lower salary. I did have a period, and it was every bit as terrible as my wife had told me about.

It wasn’t all bad. I did enjoy my new clothes. Emma would compliment how nice I looked, and I’d find myself blushing.

As we lay in bed each night, it felt like going back to the place where we started. We looked at each other with the same passion we had; we made love often.

Emma asked one night if I wanted to start a family. I took a deep breath and replied, “No fucking way. I’m not squeezing a baby out of this thing.”

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