Juliette heaved a gentle sigh of frustration. I could tell she wasirritated that I was ignoring her. She saw me as her equal more thanlikely, so the f...ct I was snubbing her was probably doing all sorts ofwild things to her brain. She asked me, "How come?"I continued ending the lives of robotic zombies, pleased that my hand-eye coordination had seemingly improved. Or was it just easier tomanipulate a touch screen rather than a controller? I answered,"Because."Juliette said, "What's in your bag?. ”They continued talking. I said, “Mister Mason, is Karen’s phone plan under a contract?”He shook his head. “We bought her phone and put it on month to month. It’s similar to ours. We just don’t use them except for emergencies.”“I need to talk to my dad but we could add you three to our plan for ten dollars a month each.”“I did that for mine and pay him quarterly. It makes for a flat rate when you have unlimited minutes. I will check and let you know. Karen can call you more often now because. His voice, unlike mine, is not tattered or gasping. It is resonant and polished.“Not exactly.” My laugh cracks at the edges.He growls and dips his face again.“More,” he says, into my aching cavity. But the flow slows, and he grows flaccid. Before I can peel myself from the damp sheets, he shunts his broad torso up so we are face-to-face and chest-to-chest. The thin, galvanized layer of his control is stripped away by the acid of his hunger.I’m given no time to assent or protest. Sudden,. I did appear as a woman to them thewhole time. My dress, my deportment, even my name were feminine. Arevelation popped into my head. When I got my forms to fill out in thewaiting room, there was no box for gynecomastia and no place to indicatesex. I had looked around the room briefly at that point. Most of thewomen were also filling out the light pink forms like mine. The only manin the room was filling out a light blue one. My god. I had been given aform designed for female surgeries. I was.