by James S. Cole
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Journal entry May 1st 2001
It's been more than three months since "it" happened, and if you don't know what "it" is then you have been living in a cave. All over the world, members of the Transformation Story Archive mailing list, TSA-talk, were transformed into all kinds of forms. BlueNight said we became the form "we most identify with" or "wished for the strongest" at the time; of course he also says we are in a story universe and our "authors" are behind this. Though with how things are going, I'm almost ready to believe him. I think perhaps this was the greatest thing that could have happened to me, but I reserve that until I am nice and rich. I'm not rich yet, but the offers are coming in like crazy, and of course I am not the only one. I intend to be a celebrity and I followed the first rule, stay visible. Now that I think of it, this will stop the government from trying to make me "disappear" too.
Within the first week of my change I did something strange: I requested to be bathed in a tub of holy water and crosses in a church. Sounds a little odd, I know, but my reasoning was sound. Christians are one of the largest groups in the United States and one of the most powerful, and with my current looks, being labeled a demon was the last thing I wanted. By pulling off this stunt, I hoped to prove I was still "one of God's creatures". I think it convinced most of them. There will of course be those who refuse to change their minds. After that stunt, a priest told me that my transformation was a "punishment from the Lord", and my only chance at redemption was to become a nun. A gargoyle nun? Yeah, right.
My parents, well, mother and stepfather, are still having trouble accepting it even now. One day I know they will understand, but for now they can keep their distance if they like. Every news agency in the world seems to want a piece of me, a piece of every "Listee" as they call us. My life for the past three months has been testing, testing, testing. Everything I do seems to be monitored. Though the constant presence of others has curtailed my "exploration of my body", it was comforting when I had a period. Of course mine wasn't normal -- as if I know what a real one is like -- but then I'm not normal any more. After about 2 months I found myself laying an egg. That's right, an egg! Now, I never realized how painful this could be, after all I'm no chicken. The egg was huge, and after several ultrasound readings the doctors proclaimed it a dud. This was a relief; having kids is not something I am ready for!
Clothes became a new problem. With my body type, I can't exactly buy clothes off the rack. As luck would have it, I was, like many, quite breast obsessed. I always envisioned Sasha having a perfect chest that required no bra, and I had one now. The doctors tried to explain to me how it was my boobs just stood out with no support, but I didn't quite understand. I was mostly stuck with sweaters and sweat pants, as they could be easily modified, and someone brought in swimsuits. I liked wearing swimsuits more, they felt more comfortable to me. In fact any garment that came close to my skin, anything that was tight, felt better. I wondered how much of the personality I'd made for Sasha was creeping in. After all, I'd accepted the change so fast, even insisting to be called by my new gender in the first few hours. I'd always played Sasha as being more at home in skin-tight outfits, and now it seemed that translated to real life.
Hustler and Playboy and a whole gaggle of other nudie magazines sent me offer after offer to appear nude for them. These offers when to every female Listee, ones who had always been female or ones only female now. I am still considering this, somewhere in the back of my head a voice -- not a real one but a metaphorical one -- urges me to do this. I wonder what to do now? It seems my personality is altering, becoming more like how I acted on-line. My biggest surprise came when Demask, a big company that sells latex clothes, contacted me. Everything TSA-related was plastered on the news, made public, including the drawings of Sasha on the Alternate Realities MUCK web site. Since I always depicted Sasha in latex, and everyone who's drawn her has done the same, Demask wanted to provide me the outfit I designed for Sasha. Of course they also wanted me to become their spokesmodel and be available for fashion shows and parties they sponsored or held. This naturally appealed to me, I always liked latex, but now I was positively obsessed with it. The lawyers are still going over my contract and the outfit is still being made.
Journal entry May 7th 2001
The doctors are surprised how quickly I am adapting to my new body, both physical and mentally. I think part of the transformation was in my brain. I was never this outgoing, but I always played Sasha that way. It's getting harder not to refer to myself as Sasha, even when I write in this journal I have to try hard to think of Sasha as my MUCK character, and not as me. Also, my quest for celebrity is very out of character for the old me, but not for Sasha. I don't feel a sense of loss, or that my old self is being erased; I remember everything and still think clearly, but my mental identity is changing now.
I received the costume from Demask, and it fit like a glove. My mom didn't understand, she's still reeling from my amazing transformation, I'm worried my mental change might be too much for her. Somehow... when I wore the outfit for the first time it was like, I dunno how to describe it right, putting on my true skin. People keep telling me to not wear it, but I can't help it, I need to wear latex, there's something about the material. I thought latex was interesting, and nice to look at before, but now... Well, I'm not sure even I understand.
I found out today the doctor who admitted me got fired. He declared I wasn't contagious, but had no proof. Even though he's now been proven right, he still got fired for doing it. Not sure I can take living in the hospital much longer. The constant tests, the lousy food, the fact they keep making me take off my outfit... it's getting me annoyed.
Journal entry May 15, 2001
The change in my personality is undeniable now. I simply cannot think of my self as anyone but Sasha. What I want, how I want is changed. All the personality traits I portrayed in her character are my own now. It's a bit creepy to know what your personality is like, to know it has changed so radically. I find myself attracted to anyone, and constantly thinking of ways to "improve" them. The fact I don't have my powers is frustrating.
My mother couldn't take it. She hasn't disowned me or anything, but I know she doesn't see me as her son. Truth be told, I don't either. To use a metaphor: It's like I am a butterfly, and have finally emerged from a pupa as a completely different being than what I used to be. Maybe I should be afraid, but I'm not. I'm terribly excited.
I finally left the hospital, I made a deal with Playboy and got my first check forwarded. I'm renting a hotel room, and have hired a manager and accountant. It takes me great restraint to try not to brand them. Everything that is considered remotely sexual I want to do -- model, porno, all of it. Demask sent me a second outfit and it is just wonderful, in fact now I simply can't bring myself to wear anything that isn't latex.
My second egg came yesterday. Again it was a dud, but this one I am not donating outright. I am auctioning this one off, part of the profits will go to charity, the rest to myself. I am interviewing bodyguards; I am not bulletproof, and the stalking from religious types is getting annoying.
Journal entry May 26, 2001
Happy Birthday to me! Well, I am chronologically 22 today, and have never felt so good. Today I discovered I have some powers, at least one aside from my great strength. I can hypnotize people. I have already used my power, on the asshole accountant who was pocketing my profits, the little weasel! Now, however, he'd never try to steal from me. I had to hold myself back from going too far in my brainwashing of the little snot.
The photo shoot for my Playboy spread is in 2 days, after that my first official catalogue shoot for Demask. I am very pleased with the 12 outfits they sent me last week. I am trying very hard to keep a high profile, and so far the plan is working wonderfully. Many people have said they don't like me, but what do I care? So long as enough other people love me, I am pleased. An overpowering desire for wealth and power is in me. Not surprising, as James made me that way. Oh, did I forget I have changed from referring to myself in the third person? I'm Sasha now. James is just a part of me, my base.
Journal entry May 31, 2001
I was very pleased with my two photo shoots. I really enjoyed displaying myself. The really good part was the looks from the photographers. I could see they found me attractive, but the poor dears felt ashamed. After all, I'm not a human like them. I have hired a security staff, and a few post-hypnotic suggestions during the interviews will keep them loyal and in line. With the funds I had my accountant redirect from his Swiss bank accounts to mine, I will be sitting pretty quite soon. My problem will be the IRS. After all, in a few short months I have gone from no money in the bank to the start of a small fortune.
The calls from the cults and others are getting worse, though I have a plan. I intend to convert one of these cults into a cult that worships me! I'll do it discreetly, of course, but I must solidify my power base early. Were I still James I'd be surprised at my behavior, but he made me to be a power-hungry bitch -- and I am. I'm going to have to deal with the press, and my financial condition is still too poor, I don't intend to try to rule the world, such a thing is not feasible realistically, but I have decided to gain power and keep it. I have plans for things to help others too, I never was all about myself. Protecting my fellow Changelings (a new PC term that Cubist fellow seems to have made up) is tops on the list. This will all require me to gain considerable wealth, and despite how I might sound that road will be a long one.
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