Instant Karma ... The Lives of Trehorn Sandhu-Smythe
— Life 16041 —
After the thunderous applause from the audience dissolved into an eerie silence, Trehorn realised that he was the centre of some special event, and he supposed that he was the recipient of some award, an award that apparently demanded he make some kind of acceptance speech. He struggled with the idea of giving a speech, when really he had no real sense of having done anything spectacular at all.
Honours of any kind were foreign to Trehorn. At one time, he had been an Olympic athlete, but that was many years and many lifetimes ago, and to be honest, although he excelled in the sport of track and field, he didn't much care for the life of a jock athlete.
"Awfully poor timing," he groaned to himself, "I wish I had arrived just ten minutes earlier. Then I suppose I would know what this is all about."
Nevertheless, Trehorn was happy to be back in the human realm.
"Such a long journey," he continued to reflect, " I was wondering if I would ever make it back, and yet here I am."
The bright lights of The Los Angeles Microsoft Theater were blinding. Trehorn tried to look out over the crowd gathered in front of him, but most of what he could see was simply a blur. Then he caught something out of the corner of his eye. When he raised his hands in front of him, he noticed that he was wearing nail polish, bright red nail polish.
His gaze circled in a flurry, and he saw that he was also wearing a tight white evening gown. For a moment, his knees weakened and his thoughts went blank. He looked down over his body, and his bright red lips gaped in dismay when he recognized that he had returned as a woman.
"A woman?" he gulped as the idea gurgled inside his thoughts. "A woman? I have never ever been a woman. Something is terribly wrong."
He allowed his hand to smooth the ripples of his tight dress, and in so doing, he lightly traced a line over his midsection and down to his thigh. What he felt in this singular motion was even more dumbfounding. He felt beneath his dress a substantial pocket of flesh. He had a penis tucked tightly between his legs by some kind of corset-like undergarment.
"Something is terribly wrong," he muttered, as his face began to flush and his body began tosweat perspire all over.
Then the room seemed to darken and close in around him. In the next moment, he hadpassed out fainted.
When Trehorn regained consciousness, a swarthy looking EMS was taking his pulse just above his plunging neckline and flicking a small light into Trehorn's eyes.
The man looked concerned.
"Do you know where you are?" the EMS asked.
"Yes," Trehorn answered, despite the fact that he really had no idea.
What he did know was that he had not reeled off into the spirals of life and death again and become a toad or a gnat. That much was certain. That much was, above all else, a great relief.
"What is your name?" the EMS continued.
Trehorn thought for a moment. A name. Yes, he must have a name, but certainly not Trehorn Sandu-Smythe.
"Caitlyn," Trehorn whispered. "Call me Caitlyn ..."
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or actual events is purely coincidental.
— Life 16041 —
After the thunderous applause from the audience dissolved into an eerie silence, Trehorn realised that he was the centre of some special event, and he supposed that he was the recipient of some award, an award that apparently demanded he make some kind of acceptance speech. He struggled with the idea of giving a speech, when really he had no real sense of having done anything spectacular at all.
Honours of any kind were foreign to Trehorn. At one time, he had been an Olympic athlete, but that was many years and many lifetimes ago, and to be honest, although he excelled in the sport of track and field, he didn't much care for the life of a jock athlete.
"Awfully poor timing," he groaned to himself, "I wish I had arrived just ten minutes earlier. Then I suppose I would know what this is all about."
Nevertheless, Trehorn was happy to be back in the human realm.
"Such a long journey," he continued to reflect, " I was wondering if I would ever make it back, and yet here I am."
The bright lights of The Los Angeles Microsoft Theater were blinding. Trehorn tried to look out over the crowd gathered in front of him, but most of what he could see was simply a blur. Then he caught something out of the corner of his eye. When he raised his hands in front of him, he noticed that he was wearing nail polish, bright red nail polish.
His gaze circled in a flurry, and he saw that he was also wearing a tight white evening gown. For a moment, his knees weakened and his thoughts went blank. He looked down over his body, and his bright red lips gaped in dismay when he recognized that he had returned as a woman.
"A woman?" he gulped as the idea gurgled inside his thoughts. "A woman? I have never ever been a woman. Something is terribly wrong."
He allowed his hand to smooth the ripples of his tight dress, and in so doing, he lightly traced a line over his midsection and down to his thigh. What he felt in this singular motion was even more dumbfounding. He felt beneath his dress a substantial pocket of flesh. He had a penis tucked tightly between his legs by some kind of corset-like undergarment.
"Something is terribly wrong," he muttered, as his face began to flush and his body began to
Then the room seemed to darken and close in around him. In the next moment, he had
When Trehorn regained consciousness, a swarthy looking EMS was taking his pulse just above his plunging neckline and flicking a small light into Trehorn's eyes.
The man looked concerned.
"Do you know where you are?" the EMS asked.
"Yes," Trehorn answered, despite the fact that he really had no idea.
What he did know was that he had not reeled off into the spirals of life and death again and become a toad or a gnat. That much was certain. That much was, above all else, a great relief.
"What is your name?" the EMS continued.
Trehorn thought for a moment. A name. Yes, he must have a name, but certainly not Trehorn Sandu-Smythe.
"Caitlyn," Trehorn whispered. "Call me Caitlyn ..."
