Changed- on the outside only.

Dear Gentle Readers, I was requested by some, a few, that is, for a story like this, Haxsaw style. What with the work week at the construction site and my wobbling, shaky fingers, why not then? I present the story of a man who meets sexual gratification in ways he never thought possible. Is it a one way street or a one way heart? Let us begin, as has been said in the past.
Gregg heard the door bell. He was in the bathroom. Steam was still fogging the tile walls. Even the medicine cabinet, complete with a faded mirror was fogged from early morning bath time. He grumbled. Wrapping haphazardly in a bathrobe, limp over the door, he streaked to the front entrance of his flat.
A man in a company uniform was there. He held a clipboard. "Morning, Sir." He let his vision gaze over the clipboard. "A Mr. Gregg Dumont, please?"
"Yeah, that is me."
"If you should have some photo I.D. and please sign for this, Mr. Dumont I will leave this package with you today?" Gregg excused himself. In his bedroom he fumbled over belongings across a dresser top. He returned with his State License. A photograph was embossed beneath the surface.
"Any idea what is inside?" Gregg asked the deliveryman. His answer was only a shrug. "It came from overseas on a late night shipment. Instructions were clear. My supervisor sent me over as soon as we loaded the truck." Gregg signed and the deliveryman wheeled in a rectangular, cardboard box. The deliveryman tipped a hat he had on and closed the door as he left.
Alone in his deep, carpeted living room Gregg looked over the package. Good size! The day was Saturday so no work this day. Gregg was twenty seven, single and living near his employer, Marticules Inc. Gregg huffed, returning to shave.
After breakfast he had a steak knife and scissors. He was a small man yet finally got everything opened. Some other boxes were within the package. "W.T.F?" Gregg exclaimed. He was seeing pantyhose, heels, various ladies underwear and a dress. In other package were jewelry items. Gregg was disgusted.
Placing the main box aside he was intrigued with the other, smaller box. He found an electrical device that plugged into an outlet in any regular home, a set of headphones, C.d.'s and various wiring. Indeed, the electrical devices were what had him.
Having studied I.T. and computer programing Gregg was always attracted, drawn to the electrical. He also found some device that was electrical magnetic. It was complete with wiring harnesses. There were instructions yet Gregg skipped them. His deft ability with computerization was what landed him a cushy office job at Marticules Inc. Nanotechnology, programming and devices being sold overseas to clients he could not pronounce was the name to the order of business. In The U.S., his home country, Gregg's citizen's believed the evil was U.S. Government 'Black-Op's. Such dreams and fears concocted by average American citizens caused many to believe a 'big brother' mentality. Such was that so the average citizen honestly believed The U.S. Government collectively and selectively brainwashed and controlled the masses.
"Bullshit...."
Gregg's job was to ship out the finished product from Marticules, Inc. The devices were package deals sent to clients overseas who wished to peacefully control crowds. Meanwhile, the very citizens who pointed fingers, terrified the Cell phone towers and H.A.A.R.P. towers were being used by The U.S. Government were not, no way, meant to be mind controlled. It was a signal sent out to control the masses overseas who bought Marticules Inc.'s products! With a lid being kept on the temper and drive to minds of the average citizens, overseas, the likelihood of full scale warfare breaking was cut significantly. Gregg snickered, remembering Crazy Kim and his threat of World War. Nothing came of it, not more than it did from his ancestors before him. As usual, tempers were being monitored. Food items being sent to Crazy Kim would be injected, as before in past shipments, with very mild sedatives.
No T.V. No radio. Gregg had his computer humming. He interconnected the wiring to the devices. He worked with these before at the office. He put in a C.d. and slipped on the headphones. On the computer screen he noted a slight flicker rate. He was reading some poem. He wondered what this was about. The music was the sort played at theaters. It was the sort of music before some action took place. Ever see this? Picture your favorite action hero bursting through a pane glass window and machine gunning the enemy. Gregg liked the music yet it seemed to play on yet it seemed so nice yet it seemed too long while at the same token of time he enjoyed this and....
Gregg awoke.
His arms and legs felt numb, really displaced from his body. It was that sort of feeling. Gregg stretched and reached. It was next he became quite very alert. He was wearing a dress! Gregg gasped and stood. The headphones were gone yet something was around his forehead. He found he was bound. He had on one of the dresses and heels. He was with pantyhose and movement was difficult. As he stepped across the floor he even walked, rather lightly, as a girl would. Something seemed to be wrapped about his throat. In speaking he discovered his voice was lighter and higher pitched. Gregg moved about the room as best he could. He was mad yet could not seem to become very angered, as he would before. In the bathroom the now clearer mirror he peered into revealed a lovely lady staring back!
He looked and appeared very much so as a former girlfriend he once knew. He looked, falling in love with the face he saw. Lighting within the mirror was clear, definitely. As he walked out, in a clicking yet little stepping pace, he felt something was out of place.
"What happened to my dick?"
Gregg was waved over with panic and sheer fright. He walked about the room, not knowing what to do next. He returned to the computer, once more. After tapping in some commands he wondered just where did the package come from, anyway?
Ruffling about he found it was sent out from South Africa. That was all. There were no letters. He remembered. Instructions!!!! Where did they go to? After snagging up torn bits of cardboard he came across the letters, within.
To whom it may concern:
Based on our experience with this said product our government wishes to ask how long the side effects are? Another concern was the electro magnetic device. Running it nearby created undesirable, long-term hypnotic effects of a degree we were not wishing for.
With a Coup de'etat eminent we removed our leader, Honorable, General ***** ********** from office and transported him to an unmentioned area. We hoped the device would simply change his personalty. As was discussed with our Government's representative Tony Leonce in last months correspondence, we need temporary control of our leader's decisions for the hard working NATS. With major voting power our South African Region would not be in fear of rebellion, which it now is.
We played the C.d's over all state controlled radio stations. Crime dropped. Drug usage dropped. We still could not tell, for certain, if overall citizen support was still for the National Party. We are, admittedly, a bit turned off by results from your product.
We please request a 50% discount. The said packaging was shipped out via U.P.S. QUICK TIME OVERNIGHT-NOW! for immediate receipt to Gregg Dumont, product engineer. We are hoping he can learn of what causes troubles before anyone tries on this said device again. Should you explain, better, in regards of our language difference, I am more than happy and confident to pay the remaining balance to your credit department.
Sincerely yours,
Tony Leonce,
Representative and Head
National Party Headquarters,
Suite 11, 13 E,
Free State of Balfour,
South Africa
ghs-739
"Okay,okay," Gregg figured. He found himself bringing a hand tenderly and far beneath his neckline. He was suddenly angered and shook.

After some research he discovered many companies that sold electro-magnetic devices claimed they rid the room of cockroaches. Research showed him more. Finally, Gregg discovered he needed to use the toilet.
"I am still a woman!" he declared, angrily. In his bedroom he wiggled and shook until he was out of the dress. After, he need struggle to remove a tight, maximum strength sort of girdle. Afterwards, he found the panties and bra were stuffed. It gave him the hips and bust line. He stepped into a pair of trunks and went back to work on the project. It was nearing noon time. The girdle, complete with light padding, kept his male reproductive organ tucked up and around, somewhat. Gregg shook in revulsion. Should it have been a prank he was in no laughing mood. He was approving many a team project. Just what was this design from?
A certain model of electro-magnetic device was with a variable, pulsating sort of discharge. Though it was questionable it turned the user's home into some gigantic electro-magnet it did emit a questionable degree of pulse. Gregg found the electro-magnet device was still turned on. He rose from his seat and went to unplug it.
As he stepped over the device flashed a green light. "Was it with a motion detector installed within it?" It was then Gregg's mind was fuzzy and stalling from thought pattern. His hands went to his temples.
He later, awoke again.

Gregg was dressed as a lady, once more. Cursing beneath his breath he went to move. He could not! He was at the monitor, staring straight at it. He picked up a flicker rate. "Flat screens with flicker rate?" was all he struggled to surmise. His neck became limp and his body went paralytic. He ignored the fact the face mask and jewelry were still upon him. That explained the tight wrap about his forehead and neck. As the electro-magnetic device pulsed, in variable frequencies, Gregg fought and argued hard.
"No! I am Gregg! I am Gregg Dumont, damn it! W.T.F.?" his brain screamed to no one in particular. His eyes closed once more.
Within his mind a program was running, full tilt. From the C.d. the programming intended for crowd control was now controlling he and he alone! Gregg was unaware the electro-magnet was never, ever included, not even once.
An electro-magnet, at the office in South Africa, was on during trial time. Later, over in South Africa, the Electro-magnetic device, used for cockroach control, was shipped from office to office. Not aware and unknowingly, each trial run was made with the cockroach repellent, included. What none in the office of the National Party Headquarters realized was the cockroach repellent device was not part of the equipment. The acute central nervous system toxicity of chemicals may be detected and analyzed with relative ease in the isolated abdominal ventral nerve cord of the cockroach. Stable electrophysiological measurements of axonal and both inhibitory and excitatory synaptic transmission can be made for several hours with extracellular electrodes using a mannitol-gap technique. These can be analyzed in terms of site of action, be it on the axons, the synaptic nerve terminal, the post synaptic receptors or the termination of neurotransmitter action. Yet no one, not even Marticules Inc. realized while stimulating the mind of man, plus direct interface with a device effecting the synaptic transmissions of a cockroaches nervous system the one and same were both quite similar. In other words, the device thrown in and looked over had caused Gregg Dumont, I.T. specialist and program director of Marticules Inc., to be entrapped within his own device! Worst, oh far worst, the reception to the jewelry he was now wearing created a mannitol-gap technique within his skull. Instead of an isolated nerve cord, as the cockroach, Gregg had a ventral nerve cord feeding his brain to do this and to do that.
The 1 Mm Cd2 and microM Ag fibers within his mind were, unbeknownst to himself, clamped down as the electro-magnetic device beamed out. Add the effect of the jewelry picking up signal and the effects were fibers inside his mind paralyzed. Like it or not, until told otherwise, he was the woman the system programmed him as. Gregg's darker yet smooth face stared out, blankly. The breathable material, snug yet with movement, allowed he be concealed. Along with the wig he appeared as any other black woman.
It was the next day someone opened his door. A consultant from Marticules Inc. was at his apartment with a lab tech.
"I found her at the screen. She only blinks a few times, Ted." Ted nodded.
"Any sign of Gregg?"
"We cannot find him anywhere, sir, sorry."
Ted huffed a desperate, intentional sigh of despair. He was picking up the signal on a monitor and used G.P.S. to track it here. How would he explain Gregg being possibly kinapped and who left this middle aged black lady behind?
"Well, she is rather submissive, isn't she?" Both men laughed at that. They led the lady out to the company van and hopefully to find answers to what was happening.
As the van drove away with the contents to the package the lab assistant, a burly, middle aged blackman, told Ted, "I sure don't know yet I would like telling her to blow my Popsycle." As they drove on they laughed, while heading for the office during this odd hour.