A hush fell over the gallery that surrounded the operating theatre as Professor Gaisford, scrubbed up and ready walked in. His surgical team, gowned and waiting. There were obstetricians, gynaecologists and specialists in sex-reassignment from centres around the world. All of them having read the Professor's paper on cloning genitalia using the patient's own erectile tissue and a suitable vehicle.
The completion of Shaun Maclaren's reassignment program coming at the end of the week long congress was the climax of the event. The Professor and his colleagues knew it would give the stimulus needed to further the cause of the world's transexual population, and those unfortunate victims of genital accidents and diseases. He had said as much during his lecture on the first day of the congress that had been arranged by the Middle Eastern College of Obstetrics and Gynaecology.
Shaun Maclaren lay on the table under the lights. He had been prepped. The Anaesthetist, John Walsh had injected the medication to put him to sleep, and a nurse eased a ventilator down Shaun's trachea. The cloned penis had been removed from the vehicle and was packed in the gas-cooled, stainless-steel container.
Shaun had been told days before that the, now flaccid base of the clone would be grafted into his vagina. That the urethra tube from his bladder would be joined by micro-surgery to the pipette that ran the length of the penis to its heart-shaped head. That his clitoris would be attached to another pipette and buried in the shaft the third pipette being used for body secretion.
Shaun was anxious to know how long it would be before he could use his new manhood to its fullest extent.
"With rest and Leah's nursing, I would say about three months," the Professor told him.
"As long as that? I thought-."
"It's only an estimate Shaun, and a lot does depend on Leah. Manipulation by yourself or your partner could be possible within a few weeks. However there is one major problem we have to overcome first, and that is the closure of your vagina."
"I thought that would have been easy. Surely it can be closed by grafting or some other form of surgery."
"It's not that simple." the Professor said with a grin. "We wouldn't want it to break open. It has to be more than grafted and sutured. Those procedures will help but it not the complete answer."
"What is?" Shaun asked
"When you came here two weeks ago for your final examination," the Professor continued, ignoring Shaun's question. "We removed a sample of skin from the side of your vagina. Perhaps you wondered why."
"I did," Shaun replied thoughtfully, "the patch has almost healed. Leah seems pleased with its progress. But I still don't see what that has to do with closing my vagina."
"To give a rough explanation Shaun. The sample was immersed in a liquid enzyme that breaks it down into millions of cells. Our lab technicians then transferred the cells into culturing flasks containing cells that stimulate growth. They were placed in an incubator, where they multiply very quickly and bond into sheets of skin. Although the sheets are fragile, about the texture of tissue paper they will be grafted, in small sections around the base of the penis and over the sutured vagina. This will ensure its permanent closure. You have to realise Shaun, that it will take some time for the new skin to toughen and take on normal pigmentation. Once it has gained full strength the wound will not break down, and you will be able to use your manhood with satisfaction. One other thing Shaun, testosterone injection will not be necessary in the future. A new pellet has been developed which will be placed under the skin close to your spine every three months. It is a procedure Leah can handle without a doctor's supervision."
Shaun Maclaren was happy. This was the last hurdle before becoming a whole man. He had waited most of his life. A few more months would not matter. Leah had discussed the procedures with him. They both knew, their hopes, their dreams would come true before the end of another year.
Using a high speed oscillating blade the Professor widened the vaginal canal to receive the base of the penis. The urethra tube had been grafted, the clitoris implanted in the shaft. The operation in its final stages, all that remained to do was the base and closure of the vagina and the skin grafts.
Professor Gaisford glanced at John Walsh It seemed that his eyes and forehead had turned amber under the lights. He stood beside his cylinders monitoring Shaun Maclaren's pulse.
The Professor, although occupied with the grafting procedures was still alert to everything else around the operating table. The nurses handling the instruments, the gas bags, expanding and contracting with the patient's in-drawn and out-going breath. The eyes of his colleagues staring at him from the gallery.
It seemed along time since John Walsh had given out blood pressure or pulse readings. He glanced at his assistant surgeon.
"Blood pressure!" the doctor called.
"Pulse fading," the anaesthetist responded, turning one cylinder up and the other one down.
There was a soft purr of oxygen.
"Pulse weak, now erratic," there was a note of anxiety in the voice of John Walsh,
"Adrenaline!" Professor Gaisford commanded.
There was swift, disciplined movement in the theatre, and a muffled gasp in the gallery as two amps of carb were called for.
The ECG leapt back into life. There was a sigh of relief. Shaun Maclaren was out of danger.
Recovering his concentration with visible effort, the Professor bent over his patient again.
"Skin hooks Nurse."
The skin hooks came into his line of vision as he drew the open edges of Shaun's vagina together and watched them meet. Then he placed the first suture with the turn of his wrist, driving the half-circle needle of fine steel through and out.
When the other needle had been picked up by the holder, the assistant surgeon had drawn the vagina together. The third and fourth sutures went with similar precision.
A technician from the ground floor laboratory came into the theatre with petri dishes of new skin. Each piece the size of a postage stamp and backed with petroleum-jelly impregnated gauze. With fine tipped forceps Professor Gaisford plucked out the gauze backed graft and position it over the sutured vagina, knowing that once the graft had been laid it could not be removed.
"I'll do several at a time," he informed his assistant, "then the suture nurse can take over and secure the grafts with staples."
The assistant surgeon examined the new skin, "its so thin," he observed realising the problem of the skins fragility.
The normal thickness of the epidermis is about fifteen cells, the Professor added, placing another graft, "this cultured skin is only seven cells thick . In places not even that. Barely visible to the naked eye. Easily torn. No underlying fibrous dermis is the problem."
"Could almost read a newspaper through it," the assistant surgeon quipped.
An hour later the grafts were in place. Each one two millimetres apart, covering completely the closed vagina and the base of the penis.
"This would be about the most painstaking operation I have ever performed," the Professor told his staff, as he stood back from the table, a dull ache in his legs and back.
He watched the head nurse insert a catheter and wrap the area in nylon netting. Another nurse covered it with absorbent gauze and bandaged the whole of Shaun's lower body.
In the recovery room Leah Wainwright sat beside Shaun's bed. His hands moved above the covers, groping, as though to touch the dressing. She reached out and held his hands still.
"He's coming out," she told the nurse at the foot of the bed, "in a minute he'll open his eyes."
He tried to move. Leah told him that he must lie perfectly still. That a catheter had been inserted. She told him that if the area was knocked, even accidentally the grafts would tear. The nurses tiptoed around him, afraid he might be a ticking bomb, waiting to explode.
Ten days later he was taken into the theatre and anaesthetized. The nurses removed the outer dressing. The assistant surgeon took off the netting and lifted out the staples. With his forceps he teased away the gauze. Underneath the patches of skin had grown together. Shaun's vagina, completely disappeared, new skin covered the whole area. The cloned penis, healthy, strong and erect
. Professor Gaisford came into the theatre as the last piece of gauze was being teased away. He examined the sight with a certain satisfaction.
"This is a tremendous success for our hospital," he told his staff, "thanks to your efforts we now have world acclaim. We can help so many people. Not only those similar to Shaun Maclaren, but victims of unfortunate accidents. We can help them to find a better quality of life."
At the end of the following week Shaun put his feet over the side of the side of the bed, Leah was there to help him regain his balance. During the afternoon she allowed him to go to the bathroom on his own to shower. The tears flowed down his cheeks. This was the first time he had been able to touch, to hold his manhood. It looked a pale, delicate pink, it felt soft, warm and smooth.
He wanted to shout, tell the world that he, Shaun Maclaren was now a whole man. In the half light and steam of the hospital bathroom he looked in the mirror, wiping it with the palm of his hands. For one brief, transient moment he saw the face of his angel, yet he wasn't quite sure, perhaps it was the face of his mother. He remembered her telling him, may have been in a dream that one day he would be a complete man.
As the skin slowly grew stronger he carried out the exercises the Physiotherapist recommended. He leant how to control his bladder and how to walk like a man. They spoke about body language, that he should cross his legs at the ankles and to sit solidly in a chair. He felt a sense of outstanding achievement when he no longer needed to wear a napkin. He wondered if babies when being trained by their parents had feelings similar to his own. If, being able to control the liquid that flowed from the tip of the penis gave them the same kind of thrill. He longed for the day when he could leave the hospital. Go into a male toilet and use the urinal, and stand amongst other men.
He thought about making love, wondered what it would feel like, wondered if it would hurt, if it would harm his new-found manhood. He dreamed about women, but wanted only Leah, his manhood too precious for just anyone.
He spoke to Leah about his innermost feelings. He knew she wanted only him.
"It would be better to wait at least another month," she told him, "we will know by then if it will be safe."
Leah Wainwright had never had an honest relationship. As a man, before the sex-reassignment he had dated only one woman. He had been dominated by her, told how to dress, think, look, feel and behave. When Leah the man rebelled the woman turned on him, had him beaten up then dumped him.
After the reassignment she was always too busy for meaningful relationships. She buried herself in her work at the hospital, spent all her spare time studying surgical techniques, and passing exams. Her ambition to become the Matron of a Teaching hospital. The one or two staff members who dated her, made her feel so insecure, that she avoided their company and endeavoured to put all males out of her life forever.
Shaun Maclaren was different. Even before he became a whole man, he had that certain something, that she, Leah Wainwright, found irresistible. She had travelled half-way round the world just to be with him. Now he had given her an engagement ring, and she knew that her dream of getting married in his wedding dress, as his mother had told her really could come true.
The hospital staff held its annual nurses' reunion dinner. Having decided to give up her career, Leah knew this would be her last party. But for Shaun Maclaren it presented an opportunity to prove to the world that he was a real man. He wanted to celebrate. He thought of it as a coming out party, a chance to assert himself as a man.
Halfway through the evening he got drunk, and wanting to dance with Leah, began looking for her. Someone told him she had gone upstairs, and while waiting for her he danced with a junior nurse. Feeling the floor tilt slowly up he hung on to her and as he thought managed to stay on his feet. He turned the girl around, dancing beautifully, reversing with faultless grace. A male nurse pulled him to his feet. It was then he realised he'd been rolling all over the dance floor. They took him outside where he was violently sick.
There was a tearing, stinging pain in his groin. The thought that he might have damaged his manhood quickly cleared his head. He needed Leah. She was the only one who could help him. He looked for her in every car in the park. In some there were couples, a few swore at him, others called him a peeping Tom. Someone threatened to give him a hiding if he didn't go away.
He went back to the dance floor hoping she was there. He looked in the rooms on the ground floor. There were couples in every room, some kissing, some talking ,others near naked making love. The frustration was more than he could bear.
He fought back the tears and as suspicion took hold ran upstairs to the consulting rooms. He opened one door, then another. He ran along the corridor, saw Leah in one of the rooms, wearing only a surgical gown, a man, bending over her as she lay on a bed. Without stopping to think he flung open the door.
"Leah!" he screamed. "Where have you been? What are you doing alone with a man, lying on a bed?"
Leah raised her hand to her face in horror. He saw the ring, his ring. The diamond engagement ring he bought a few days ago when she promised to marry him.
This world. This masculine world he had only just really entered, the world he had longed to be part of all of his life was collapsing around him. His head in a turmoil of love, hate, jealousy. She was there on the bed with another man. He wanted to do something to her, kill her, smash her beautiful face. Anything, something that would humiliate her, and destroy his own humiliation. Leah! His Leah. She knew all his secrets, slept in his home, even shared in the visions of his mother.
'What had Leah and this man, this stranger, been doing?' The thought of him touching her, kissing her, his hands on her legs, where else? Everything he hadn't done, wanted to do to himself. In his mind, the agony of jealousy, brought with it a kind of lustful pleasure.? The man turned, stared at him. "Get out immediately," he shouted angrily. "You are in my consulting rooms. You will be told when you may enter."
Too hurt to argue Shaun left the room and sat on a bench in the corridor, crying as though his heart would break. He tried looking in the window but a screen had been pulled around the bed.
"You may come in now, Mr Maclaren," the doctor called.
Shaun entered the consulting room after an eternity of sitting outside staring into space. The doctor motioned him to a chair in front of his desk.
"You may go to Leah as soon as she has finished dressing."
Shaun thanked him, sheepishly.
"She is one of my very special patients, and needed to consult me on a personal matter," the doctor offered in explanation.
"But surely an appointment in the morning would have been better for everyone," Shaun argued.
"That, as Leah will tell you, would not have been possible," the doctor retorted. "I am going on a lecture tour, and have to leave early tomorrow morning. There would not have been enough time."
"I'm sorry Doctor. I thought - ."
"I know exactly what you thought Mr Maclaren," the doctor said sternly, "I suggest you save your apologies for Leah Wainwright. She's the one who has been hurt. You must know she is in love with you. That because of you she is giving up a brilliant career, which I feel is most unfortunate for the hospital ."
The doctor stood by his desk, gathered up his papers and prepared to leave. "You may go to her now Shaun."
He stood for a moment by the open door and watched Shaun hold Leah's hands as he sat by her side.
"I'm so sorry Leah," Shaun whispered, "please forgive me I had no idea. I know I was being silly. I promise it will never happen again. I should have known he was your doctor."
"He's not only my doctor," Leah said as she kissed him, "he's my surgeon, the one who helped me become a woman." Leah was worried about returning to the coast, worried about Shaun's work as a tour guide. Once they were back, she thought, Shaun in his old environment if she would be left on her own for days, even weeks at a time.
"When are we going back to the coast?" she asked.
"Never!" he answered with a cheeky grin.
"Never! I don't want to stop in this place, day in day out, nothing to do. I might as well go back to the hospital. I thought you wanted me to give up my career, settle down somewhere. Who knows one day with Professor Gaisford's help we could start a -."
"Leah! Stop please," Shaun interrupted. "We have a new life. A new beginning, new hope."
"I know Shaun, and that is what worries me. How will we manage. We need money for so many things."
"We'll manage," Shaun reassured her. "The royalties from the book, even those from the reprint are more then enough to last us for years. You don't need to go back to nursing. There's so much we have to see. So many places I want to show you.
Perhaps in a year or two, when we've had enough of travelling, we could settle down, think about a-. The flat on the coast," he added quickly, "has been sold. This flat, your unit, will you keep it?"
"This place?" Leah repeated, looking a little pensive, "I suppose we could sell it. Lease it out, something like that."
"We could if that is what you really want."
"Not really Shaun," she whispered, "I'd love to give it to the hospital. It would be our way of saying thank you for our lives. Thank you for helping us along the road to freedom. Perhaps it could be arranged that people in similar situations be allowed to use it while waiting for surgery. Or it could be used as a convalescent unit."
British Airways 747 landed at Shannon airport. It was one of Shaun's ambitions to visit Galway. The birth place of his grandfather Angus Maclaren. He hoped to find a relative, someone who might know something about him. As a tour guide Shaun had tried many times to get an assignment to visit the Emerald Isle.
Vaguely he recalled his mother talking about the Twelve Pins. A cottage in Connemara, where his grandfather was born, of a photograph he had given her. Hours before he passed away, how he had made his only son Ian promise to take Rachell, his mother to Ireland, a promise that was never fulfilled.
At the airport a hire car was waiting. With Leah he drove to Bunratty where accommodation had been booked in the local pub. As the open-topped sports car leapt through the lush landscape, it seemed oddly silent, as if it belonged only to them. They drove with a tremendous feeling of elation, a feeling of freedom, of a future they would spend together. Of a life without prejudice, a life they could call their own.
It was easy for them to believe the legend that, "There's no mist in Ireland, its the tears of joy in your own eyes you see."
At the pub a warm welcome awaited them.
"You'd be the Maclaren that wrote that book, 'Spirits of Parallel'" the landlord observed while they were having their supper, "didn't go much on it myself. Caused a stir among the women."
"It was Leah's fault," Shaun said with a grin, "she was the one who sent it to the publishers."
"Everyone talks about it from Shannon to Galway," the landlady interrupted, "we all reckon its given us a better understanding of Angels, of life when we pass over and reincarnation."
"There'd be a bit of old Angus in you Shaun Maclaren," the Landlord added, "I still say you should have made more of our lives and those of the wee leprechauns."
It was late when they went upstairs to bed. To their surprise there was only one room with a huge canopied bed.
"There's only one room," Leah gasped when the landlady finished stirring the fire and left, closing the door behind her.
"They must have booked us in together. I thought I heard them call us Mr and Mrs Maclaren when we arrived. I can always sleep on the floor, in front of the nice warm fire."
"You'll do no such thing Shaun Maclaren," Leah smiled. " Its an enormous bed. Big enough for the two of us."
They sat for a long time in front of the blazing fire, holding hands, neither saying a word. Both of them wondering what the next few moments, minutes, hours might bring. Both of them frightened, yet not wanting, not daring to be afraid.
Leah withdrew her hand from his grasp, and when the fire suddenly crackled Shaun turned, saw her in a blue negligee lying in the middle of the bed. He stared at her as she lay against the white lace-edged pillows. Now, at last he knew that the strand of web, the thread of love had been tried, tested, gained breadth, and would never break.
After moments of being held in a trance by his eyes. Leah became conscious of his soft gentle hands on her skin. When his mouth closed on hers he slid his hand under the negligee and eased out a soft, heavy cream breast. He caressed it, kissed it, ran his tongue lightly over its quivering red peak.
The moment he stopped Leah gave a soft little cry. Caught her breath in a sigh and begged him to go on. She closed her eyes, cupped his face in her hands, her breasts aching to be loved. She felt his hands sliding over the lace, exploring every part of her body. With a wriggle she was out of her negligee and lay motionless in his arms.
Murmuring low, unintelligible words he moved an began to fondle her breasts. Holding them he suckled her, gently at first, then firmly, with a greedy insistence.
"Shaun! Oh Shaun! That's wonderful, unbearable," she cried, holding his head to her breasts. Lost in the pleasure of his soft drawing lips, all conscious thought deserted her. Suddenly he stopped.
She released him. He poised himself above her, with one hand held her wrists to the bed. Leah gasped, tried to reach him, and writhed in frustration when his new manhood grazed the inside of her legs.
"You can see me," he whispered in her ear, "you can't have it until I allow it." He slid the other hand down her thighs.
Leah moaned, pleaded beneath him. "How can you? Please Shaun, now I need you now. How can you stand it when you know I need you?"
Shaun ignored her pleas for release, her low moan of pleasure as he stroked the soft silken curls and warm enfolding flesh. Leah out of control, writhed beneath him, oblivious to all but his hands.
He recalled the sessions he had with his Physiotherapist who had taught him so much about control.
"Male babies," he told Shaun, "with a few exceptions, as they grow develop male, sometimes, dominant feelings. You Shaun, having been born a female is something you will have to learn."
The therapist told him that his aim should be to avoid losing control of his body. That this could only be achieved by concentrating his thoughts, his mind on his partner.
He was taught how to make a woman reach heights of pleasure and passion she may have never known, and hopefully would never find with any other man. He learned how to control moods. How to change from gentle passion to a wild abandonment, then back to a gentle, lasting love. To treat his new manhood, his beautiful, cloned penis as if it were no less than a God. Now as the therapist had told him he found it easy to read Leah's mind. To know her body, her needs, for which she longed.
Shaun loved the excitement he was able to summon in Leah's warm sensual flesh. To feel her writhing, helplessly beneath him, knowing he had control. To him it was an achievement, something he had wanted all of his life.
Long before her sex-reassignment Leah had dreamed of a romantic bliss. The memories of her dreams, unforgettable, if only because they were unlikely ever to come true. Now Shaun! Her Shaun was creating a passion that occurred once, and then, only in a dream.
With both hands she took hold of his manhood. It felt hard, silky, warm, yet soft. She stroked it with gentle loving movements, the guided it inside her as Shaun hung over her, his whole being on fire.
Keeping his weight on his forearms he stretched out on her, moving rhythmically in slow penetrating strokes. Leah brought her legs around his hips and squealed with delight at every rise and fall.
Shaun knew he had reached his height, but waited, as he had been taught. He felt Leah stiffen. With a shudder he moved faster and faster inside her as the room rang with the cries of their first ever release.
Clinging to each other they reached heaven, stayed for ever, then slowly descended. There was pain. There was ecstasy, a kind of intoxication. There was delight, and a sudden desperate anxiety.
"We did it," they both cried, amid tears and laughter, as they realised they were all right.
Shaun lay on top of Leah's limp body, his head resting between her breasts. Her lips curved in a smile as he drew a nipple into his mouth and teased it with his tongue. Unable to resist she slowly rotated her hips.
This time there was no gentle beginning. He lifted her up and thrust deep inside her with slow insistent strokes. For a moment Leah lay still, held captive by his every move. Suddenly she caught up the rhythm, braced her feet on the bed and rose to meet every surge of his body.
Shaun felt his heart race, his body jerking involuntary in the aftermath of spent passion. He rolled off Leah and fell asleep with a contentment he had never known.
When her heartbeat settled Leah looked at Shaun, stroked his forehead and broke into a fit of uncontrollable crying. She felt suddenly, indescribably female. At last a complete whole woman.
Leah awake before Shaun in the morning felt happy with a warm, inner glow. She felt the soft waves of a now gently remembered passion. The landlady brought in the early morning tea, laid the tray on the bedside table and smiled at the animated Leah, still glowing as only physical passion can make a woman glow.
They left Bunratty and drove towards Galway. The strength and wildness of timeless Connemara fascinated them. In a pub at Clew Bay, many of the Maclaren clan awaited them. All eager to shake the hand of Shaun, author of 'The Spirits of Parallel', grandson of Angus Maclaren.
Many had tales to tell, most handed down, of the wildness of his grandfather, before leaving the old country. They were taken to a tumble-down cottage, where some said Angus was born.
Shaun saw the Twelve Pins, he remembered seeing in a photograph, and felt that this lush green land and good-natured people were part of his heritage, and as he sat with Leah in front of the fire, he wondered if it was this land, the land of the Leprechaun that had made him write the book.