Part Three:

His father tried to explain the intricacies of the procedure as they walked through the mall. Now that the surgical tightening of his vocal cords had healed, his vocal range had settled into a high, sweet register that made listening to him rather more pleasant than his usual dull drone, even if his words were just as baffling.

"Explain it one more time," Jason asked. "How can you be both dead and working at the same time?"

"I'll see how simple I can make it," his dad sighed, his pretty face pouting, frustrated that having nobody to talk to capable of appreciating his financial wizardry. He repeated himself, talking slower as if to a simpleton. "Okay. So, as you know, corporations have legal personhood. Our modern economic systems are founded on such an idea and those laws are ironclad. Well, all I did was -via interpretation of certain wording in the legislature- reverse the process to grant myself legal corporationhood. Quite brilliant really, if I do say so myself. Your mother is justly proud of her feminization skills, but it takes a true genius to turn oneself into a corporation! It wounds me that it isn't receiving any of the recognition it deserves."

"The absolute secrecy might have something to do with that," Jason noted.

"Well... yes. The legality of it isn't yet set in stone. There's no reason to declare anything before the ink is dry on adoption papers. But I'm confident that, in time, it will become a valuable tool in any financier's arsenal. It's ideal! The client's identity -and all associated legal obligations- are transferred to the corporation. It holds everything in trust - debts, birth certificates, accreditations, finances and property, even marriage rights. The corporation is everything of the man I was. The depersonalized person is then free to do whatever they wish - start a new life, adopt themselves, that sort of thing. In my case, your mother -as the single controlling shareholder- is leasing certain aspects back to me as needed. She has, for example, granted me my financial accreditations, allowing me to be employed as an 'administrative assistant' under my own corporation, while withholding those aspects that would preclude me from becoming her adopted daughter."

Jason massaged away a headache. "Like the marriage?"

"Exactly. Currently, your mother is technically widowed, or at best wedded to a corporation. In a few years, when it comes time for me to retire, your mother simply returns everything to me. I regain my identity and husband-status, along with all the other... frozen assets..."

He blushed, glancing down. The pink dress he wore did nothing to hide the alterations and excisions done to his body. His most valued asset, his penis, was currently resting at the bottom of a liquid nitrogen-filled pod. It had given Jason quite the startle when opened the kitchen freezer, and certainly put him off his lunch.

"Once everything is restored, I return to being her husband as if nothing ever happened, a very wealthy man."

Jason had rarely seen his father so self-satisified with his own prowess, and all just to deprive the state of a few thousand dollars. His chest puffed out with pride and silicone. Jason tried not to notice.

They paused at a restaurant to get coffee and food. His father slipped off his high heels, rubbing life back into his sore ankles. A true girl would have been delighted in the day's haul, but it had been a grueling shopping trip for the two men. His wife had sent them to buy clothing befitting of a woman his age, keen as she was to make the deception believable. The table was heaped high with shopping bags - soft, pastel-colored blouses, girly skirts with delicate lacing, tightly clinging jeans. There were winter scarves and summer hats, day dresses and evening gowns, high heels and knee-high boots. Ducking in and out of changing rooms a hundred times, modeling each item for Jason's more fashionable eye, it had been an exhausting and dizzying day. And he had yet to be sized for his bra.

Still, it was worth it. Sitting beside his son, demurely dabbing his lipstick after each sip of coffee, one would be hard-pressed to determine if he were the young man's sibling or girlfriend, but there was no way anyone would ever suspect them to be father and son.

Jason was trying his hardest to digest what he'd been told as they ate. "So you retire in five years. What if mom doesn't return everything?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow you..."

"You said mom holds your identity, owns it. What if she decided to keep it? Suppose she decides she likes having 'Emily' around? You know she's always wanted a daughter. Would you be stuck as Emily?" Another thought occurred to him. "And if she gave your identity to someone else -or sold it- they'd become you, right? Legally? They'd even be her husband, right?" He chuckled. "I guess it'd make you your own daughter to that man, wouldn't it?"

His father's mouth had dropped open. He looked startled. Jason couldn't help but think that the man, in all his self-proclaimed genius, had never even considered such an idea. He watched the gears turn in the formidable brain, his absentminded fingers twisting the loose wedding ring around one slender, feminized finger.

"We-well that would never happen," his father stated feebly. "Could you perhaps not mention that to your mother?"