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TG 116: Youth - PART 1/2 (M2F Story w/ RC + AR)

After nearly three decades of saving lives, the prestigious surgeon known as Dakota Monte decided to step down at the age of 67. Despite his enthusiasm for life and countless accomplishments, he never married and had lost touch with the few friends he had ages ago. He took up a job as a physician to keep himself working, fearing that he would wither away in his own loneliness without a task to do.

However, Dakota had ulterior motives for choosing this job. Over the past decade, he’d been devising a plan to reverse his aging, wanting another chance to develop a social life as a young adult. He carefully examined every man that came in to see him for appointments, trying to get DNA from the fittest, most handsome men anywhere from the ages 20 to 40. The end goal was to turn himself into a clone of a younger man; he’d already made plans to move to a different state months after getting this job for the ultimate clean slate.

Dakota began his job as a physician in October, and now it was August of the next year. His move to California was coming up fast, and he had collected over 30 men’s DNA samples to mix and match as he pleased.

“Dr. Monte, Sophia went home early. Can you take her last client?” the receptionist asked him as he was getting ready to head home after another long day of work. “Yeah, fine,” he replied, figuring he might as well relish the last couple of days before bailing New Jersey.

“Hey there,” a woman said, sauntering into Dakota’s room. “I’m here for my physical and blood test,” she continued. Dakota’s glazed eyes brightened as he looked her up and down; he couldn’t remember the last time genuine lust bubbled within him. His patient was a goddess – a short Asian woman with perfect proportions from head to toe. Her makeup exaggerated her eyes’ natural slant, making it hard not to fetishize her.

“Yes, let’s begin,” Dakota said. His fascination with the patient only grew as he realized that her assets were natural – not a trace of surgery could be found. Never thought I’d feel this way again, he thought to himself, thinking of the days when he was young. I shouldn’t feel this way toward anyone, I’m an old doctor. Digging around in bodies for years destroyed my attraction to mere looks. Despite his rational thinking, he couldn’t stop his immoral mind’s gears from turning.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Dakota asked the patient after drawing her blood. “Guess not,” she chuckled with her head turned as far away from the IV bag as possible. “So, is that everything?” “Yea-” Dakota began, cutting himself off. “Almost,” he started over, “there’s just one more easy thing. We’ll need a urine sample.” “Really? Well, alright,” she responded, clueless to the fact that a urine test wasn’t planned for this checkup. Once the woman had left the room, Dakota grabbed the IV bag and distilled some of her blood into a small, capped vial, then put the bag back where it belonged.

“Here ya go, Doc!” the patient cheerily handed him the cup of urine as she put her jacket on. “Yes, thank you, thank you. You’re all set, have a lovely day Ms. Akira.” Dakota quietly closed the door behind her, then rounded up his illegal samples of DNA. He stuffed the capsule of urine into an inner coat pocket, made sure the small vial of blood sat well in his pant pocket, and carefully carried one of her long, black hairs between his fingertips. Picking a hair wasn’t shady, but taking an illegal urine sample and stealing blood would have him marked as a criminal for the rest of his life if his coworkers found out; these facts made him jittery as he left the building that night.

I couldn’t let such perfection walk away, he thought to himself in the car, trying to justify his actions. He’d never taken more than hair and skin flakes off of men, and now he suddenly had more data from this woman than every male patient he’d seen combined. Now at his desk, his mind raced with possibilities.Can I clone this woman? Can I apply her DNA to anything? Can I… His thoughts trailed off as he remembered his game plan. I want to be young again. I want to be free. I want to be liked. I want to be…attractive.

Dakota had never used a sick day for his job and it all led up to this moment. The moment when he would finalize his concoctions with the proper blend of DNA he had gathered throughout the year. His superiors knew that he would be leaving his job soon, and with Dakota’s stockpile of vacation days, they weren’t surprised to receive a call from him early next morning, alerting them that the physician would likely not be coming back to work.

Blasphemous. Impossible. Illogical. These words ran through Dakota’s head throughout the day as he prepared multiple syringes for his de-aging. But was my original plan any more ethical? Only DNA from his female patient was put into play – the entire stash of male DNA was set aside. Dakota spent three days rearranging molecules, splicing strands of DNA, and organizing which injection should happen on what time and day.

“Today is Wednesday,” he told himself, “and I’m leaving the Thursday of next week.” He had lined up a total of five injections to restore his youth. Dakota swallowed hard, sticking the first needle into his left shoulder. The unorthodox liquid entering his bloodstream was enough to make the hardened old man shiver in uncertainty. He flung himself into his armchair and turned on the TV to drown out the uncomfortable crackling coming from his skin.

Dakota’s flesh tightened toward his frame overnight, relieving him of unappealing bags and elderly blemishes. However, the rejuvenation also made him feel like he was wearing a suit three sizes too small.

“Aaarrgh… Eeerrugh…” The simplest movements pained him, especially as he woke up the next morning. Can I call this a success? he wondered, pleased with how youthful his skin looked, but weary of the fact that there were four more shots to go. If all of them put him in this much pain, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to function, let alone survive.

Most of his day was spent in front of the TV. When he didn’t have to move, he could actually smile at himself. Bright, peachy skin, he thought when he looked down at his arms. I could probably stop here, or after one more fix, he continued to think about the risks of this experiment. Becoming a woman, bah! What was I thinking? I already feel decades younger, all I have to do is break in the skin a little more.

Before Dakota went to sleep, he took another look at the syringe scheduled for tonight. Thursday’s needle should fix my posture, give some life back to these old bones. Suppose I should take this one, but Friday’s… He picked up the note he’d placed at the third needle. Sizeable anatomy changes, he read in his head. Think about this tomorrow, not tonight. Dakota hesitantly injected the second syringe into his right arm before crawling into bed.

“AAAHHRGH!! SSSSHIT!” Dakota woke up in great pain around 4 AM that Friday morning. Nearly every bone in his body could be felt grinding against one another, sometimes leading to excruciating snaps. The limbs and spine were the worst offenders since they squashed and stretched his flesh as they either shortened or elongated over several hours. Revitalizing his skeleton was torturous and nearly led to heart failure several times throughout the morning.

The pain finally wore down that evening. Dakota had become a foot shorter. Despite being hungry and forced to urinate in his bed multiple times, he was afraid to move. His mind still couldn’t work with his modified figure. He was still mostly bald, but looked like a man in his late 30’s from the neck down.

It wasn’t until 10 PM that Dakota decided to get up. Swinging his legs over the bed wasn’t as laborious as he thought it’d be, and he stood up surprisingly well, only using one hand to balance himself on the nightstand. No more shots. I’m done. I’m complete, he thought as he trudged to the bathroom.

Dakota observed his penis while he sat on the toilet. No…God, please, no!! He pinched the small nub between his fingers. Not only were his genitals limp and shriveled, but his urethra had closed. His penis was a little stick of skin with no opening. Dakota broke out in a cold sweat. What have I done? Damn me! Damn me to Hell!

No one could survive more than a few days with a full bladder. Dakota continued to curse himself as he walked to the table of syringes. As much as he hated to admit it, there were only two options at this point: struggle until a pathetic death, or trust his years of research to turn him into a full-fledged woman.

Click here for PART 2

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