Healthy Behavior

"Uhh…is Mr. Stanford around?"

"One moment dear…ooh, damn heels. Makes it impossible to walk through doorways. Here I am ma'am. So, did the maid get you here alright? Hello? Earth to…"

"I can't believe this…"

"Oh, the heels? Yeah, it is kinda stupid to wear 6 inch heels with a 3 inch platform when you're my height. I'm almost as tall as Shaquille O'Neal like this."

"No…I meant…th-that!!!"

"Ah, I get your message. This l'il pink spandex number isn't my style, but you wouldn't get the hint of my, er, changes is I walked up to you wearing a hoodie, some baggy jeans and some Tims right? You can definitely SEE my changes with this, right?"

"How big are they? I mean.."

"I know. It's not exactly normal to see someone born a guy with hooters this big. These, my friend, are courtesy of the Dow Corning corporation. 40DDD if you're thinking about that. Small enough that I don't look like a cartoon version of a woman, like those big tits strippers you see around, but big enough that not only can they make me look feminine, but I can still hit the gym hard without looking too much like the androgyne I am. There are some other changes I might show ya if you're willing. Wanna have a seat? Besides, these heels aren't exactly made for comfort."

"Sure, no prob…er, what should I call you?"

"You can call me Miss K if ya want. That's how I'm known in the world nowadays. The name 'Mr. Stanford' is OK too. After all, that's how my money managers know me as still. So what mag are you from again?"

"Wired. They sent me out here to do a profile on you."

"Ah yes, the sweet joys of the tech world press. What's the deal with it?"

"Well, Mr. Stanford, you did disappear under, shall I say, unusual circumstances. It was enough to get the feds to investigate you on that stock."

"Eh. It's understandable. With the money I got out with, I'd be suspicious if I were them. But anyway, how long are you assigned out here for?"