Howcould this have been? Somehow I'd been transformed into abeautiful, sexy young woman. I didn't understand how or why."Please God, please . . . he...lp me" I cried. "I don't want to be awoman . . . I'm a man!" I ran back to the bedroom crying. I fellon the bed, closed my eyes and hoped that I'd fall asleep. MaybeI'd wake up and it would all somehow be over.I awoke several hours later. It was dark outside so I reached overto the night table to turn on the lamp. Even before I turned on. I was trapped in a cloud of love and tenderness. I was feeling so safe and secure and horny all at the same time. My feelings seemed to be way stronger than any conscious thought I had, my feelings were overwhelming, my feelings were calling the shots, while my mind was numb and regressed, expelled towards the back seat, just a helpless observing passenger is this vessel that was my body. This vessel that was succumbing to all the pleasures and arousal. He slipped his finger inside of me and. “A four-hour car ride and you are right on time and looking fresh as a daisy.”“Thank you,” she smiled, handing Contessa a copy of her resume. Contessa quickly gazed at this tall, blonde-haired beauty standing before her.“I apologize for the dress I’m wearing,” she blushed.“Not at all.” Contessa appreciated her well-proportioned figure with her deep cleavage exposed firm breasts and the short hem, long shapely legs. “Definitely made for television,” she thought. “Here, let’s sit,” she offered,. Most had lost their husbands, many their sons and fathers as well. At first they were suspicious of me, but when they discovered I was an American, they warmed. I chatted with them for a while, subtly interviewing each one to find the kind of personality and intellect I would need. The most likely candidate was a woman of about forty. She had been pretty once, but war and living on edge for years had taken their toll. She had lost both a husband and a son. Her name was Badra. Her hands were.