Professor Lawton watched with outward stoicism as his new assistant put on a bit of a pose, a womanly hand on a curvy hip. Inwardly, he was both immensely pleased and, to his surprise, a bit lustful.

His last assistant had quit, citing the danger and the nature of the Professor's research. "Unnatural". That was the word he used. He tried to explain to his assistant that nothing humans do in strictly natural. We raise domesticated animals. We build homes. We use medicine. None of this swayed his assistant one bit and when he left the professor was in a bit of a bind.

As luck would have it, he would not have to wait long before he found a solution. It was well, "unorthodox" but it was more than a substitute. He heard of a very sick medical student, dying of a failing liver. Shocking in one so young. He also that same day heard of a woman, a street worker on the East End who had been shot in the head by a lover who found out about her profession. She was still alive, but her mind was no more.

It was nothing to get those two off of the hands of their respective hospitals, and with some contracted help, he was bring his idea to fruition.

The man was immensely grateful to be alive, despite his new sex, and immediately agreed to be the professor's assistant. It seems, Professor Lawton thought, that he had chosen well. This new assistant would fare far better than his previous. He was sure of it.