"You know this could be aproblem," he said. "If you randomly forget your name is now Claire forinstance."I stared in shock. Did he seriously want me t... go through more surgery? It turned out to be something much worse than surgery. Hypnosis. I wasprogrammed to be incapable of mentioning being a former man. The hypnotistspent hours going through my life's story. He conditioned me so when Itold those stories, old girlfriends would become boyfriends, sports wouldbecome make-up and anything boyish. It was bitterly cold in my pen, and I was lying on my side, curled up as bestI could to preserve my body-heat which had warmed the damp, filthy straw beneathme. Its smell was the first thing I noticed, but I was used to it after allthis time, and with the ease of long practice I drew up my knees up into mybelly and rolled into an upright position, the tether chain attached to mynose-ring rattling against the metal trough on the pen door. Sitting with my legs folded under me, my broad, muscular. More

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