Coma

 

 

It happened three years ago. David, who recently dropped off college on his third year, was standing at the corner of the street, waiting for the crosstown bus. His back ached from his shift today, his eyelids were heavy and he felt like he could take a nap literally anywhere. Then came the sound. A mechanical shriek of grinding metal and screeching tires that cut through the city noise. Before his brain could even register the danger, David felt an impact. The pain lasted barely a fraction of a second before his consciousness was snuffed out, plunging him into a silent void.

When David's consciousness finally returned, he felt dull pounding behind his temples. Slowly he opened his eyes and a sterile white of a hospital ceiling greated his vision. "Doctor! Doctor! She's awake!" The panicked voice of a nurse echoed from somewhere near the door. "Huh? Who is she talking about?" David thought. He turned his head there was no one else, just him. A moment later a white coated physician rushed through the door. "Doctor, wha..." David stopped dead. The sound that left his throat was wrong. It wasn't the deep, tired baritone he possessed. It was high and melodic. He sounded like a young girl. "Zoey, I know this is entirely overwhelming, but I need you to calm down," the doctor said, rushing forward to check the monitors. "You've been in a coma for a few months". David wasn't listening. He raised his hands into his field of vision. They weren't his hands. These were impossibly small, delicate and the fingernails were neatly manicured. Panic flooded his veins. With trembling hands, David grabbed the fabric of the hospital gown at it's collar and pulled it to peek underneath. His breath hitched. His eyes widened to the size of saucers. There, on his chest were two small mounds. They weren't massive, but they were unmistakably breasts. Utterly horrified, David shoved his hand down between his legs. He groped desperately, but he couldn't feel his penis. Instead he felt a different shape, something that shouldn't be there. A pathetic gasp escaped his lips. Logic didn't work, but the physical evidence was undeniable. David was somehow a girl now. Or as the medical file would suggest soon, he was now inhabiting the body of a thirteen years old girl named Zoey.

About an hour later, the door swung open again. A middle aged couple, a man and a woman tumbled into the room. Upon seeing him sitting up, the woman burst into tears and threw her hands over her mouth. "Zoey! Oh, sweetie, you're awake!" She sobbed, rushing to the bedside and clutching his small shoulders. "How are you feeling, baby girl?" The man said, his voice trembling as he reached his hand and rested it gently on David's head, smoothing his long hair. David sat frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. He had no idea who those people were but it was obvious they thought he is their daughter. "No, I'm sorry... You've got it wrong" David said wincing at the youthful, girly sound of his voice. "What do you mean, honey?" The woman asked. "I'm not Zoey. I'm David. I know this sounds insane but I'm a guy. I somehow found myself in this body" David explained. "Excuse us for a moment" The doctor interrupted. He gently ushered the bewildered parents towards the hallway. Through the crack in the door, David heard the whispers. Traumatic brain injury... Amnesia, post coma psychosis. For a second, David thought that maybe the doctor is right? Maybe he was just loosing his mind. Maybe he was always Zoey and the life as David was just a dream he had while laying in coma? He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head violently. "No" He said. He remembered his life as David. HE remembered being a boy, growing up, his teenage years. The memories were too vivid to be a hallucination.

For the next two weeks, David was kept under observation. The medical staff, backed by psychologists and Zoey's concerned parents, tried to ground "her" to reality. David fought back at first. He argued, he pleaded, he demanded they listen. But as the days passed, the reality began to dawn on him. Nobody was going to believe him. To everyone else he was a traumatized teenage girl suffering from severe psychotic break. If he keeps insisting he was David, they will double his antipsychotics or even lock him up in a mental institution for a while. And so, with a heavy heart, David made the hardest decision of his life. He surrendered. He lied that the confusion was clearing and that he is in fact, Zoey. It seemed like playing the part was the only ticket to get out of this place. Another week later, David was discharged from the hospital. He found himself standing in Zoey's room, wearing her clothes and surrounded by her stuff. Slowly he approached the full length mirror, raised his hand and pressed his fingertip against the cold glass. "What ma I going to do now?" He whispered to the empty room.

Three years had passed. Now sixteen years old, David was surprisingly doing well against all the odds. The beginning was hard, but David knew he has to adapt. He had to completely assume Zoey's identity, learn how to walk, talk and live as her, or at least create a convincing illusion. The initial months were awkward and humiliating, yet as the calendar pages turned, his anxiety began to dull. He managed to forge a genuine, affectionate bond with Zoey's parents, thought heavy guilt constantly gnawed at his mind. He felt bad for lying, but he kept telling himself that it was for the greater good. He was keeping their daughter alive and sparing them a grief that would destroy them. Re-entering the social sphere as a teenage girl brought it's own unique trial. Navigating the halls of high school and integrating into a pre-existing friend group felt intensely bizarre. Spending days surrounded by teenage girls, listening to their chatter felt like being among alien species. But over time the novelty faded. David began to actually enjoy their company. He was meticulously studying their slang, adopting their mannerism and diving headfirst into their interests until the act of fitting felt less like a performance and more like second nature.

Simultaneously puberty continued it's course. David found himself undergoing developments he had never anticipated experiencing firsthand. Watching his body change in ways foreign to male biology was jarring, yet he soon came to accept the natural progression of the female body he inhabited. His hips widened and took on a distinctly feminine curve, molding his silhouette into the classic hourglass shape of a young woman. His backside gained a noticeable roundness and plumpness that was drawing the lingering, appreciative glances from his male peers as he was walking the school corridor. His breasts continued to develop, growing fuller, rounder and taking on the mature shape and size characteristic of late adolescence. Their weight and presence became impossible to ignore, but much like the rest of the developments, David learned to live with them, treating them simply as a normal part of his body. The strangest twist however came from the inside. Fueled by a raging cocktail of teenage hormones, David began to experience a genuine romantic interest in boys. The realization hit him like a truck, but in the grand, chaotic experience of his new life, he had simply rolled with it. Today, David navigates the bustling and surprisingly mundane life of an average teenage girl. While nostalgic ache for his male self still occasionally surfaces in quiet moments. But there was no way to undo it. Instead of fighting the current, David decided to ride with the wave and he had to admit. Against all logic and expectation, it was working out just fine for him.