Phil Fragasso


Going Both Ways


After a prolonged rant about how easy women have it, Patrick awakens as a woman (Trish). But rather than staying a woman, he’s male one day and female the next. The male and female characters share a single mindset – so Patrick is always in Trish’s head and vice versa.

As much as Patrick tries to keep his situation private, he eventually becomes a worldwide sensation sought after by luminaries as diverse as the Pope and Hugh Hefner. While attending a party, Patrick meets a rap superstar named Gi-Slam. Their connection is immediate and powerful.

Gi-Slam’s onstage biker-bitch character contrasts with her genuine girl-next-door persona (Gigi). Gigi is bi-sexual and she has a relationship with both Trish and Patrick. As the relationship with Gigi deepens, Trish takes her leave and Patrick experiences true love for the first time.


Available March 18, 2016

from Wild Rose Press.

Excerpt from Going Both Ways

I had to pee. Now needing to pee when you first wake up is pretty normal for most people and I was no exception. But I was surprised by the urgency of the need and jumped out of bed.

I shuffled to the bathroom, lifted the toilet seat and began to pee. “What the hell?”

Instead of hearing the splash of urine hitting water, a warm stream ran down my legs. I had a momentary thought that my penis must have somehow gotten tucked behind my scrotum during the night. I reached down to reposition myself.

That’s when I screamed. A high-pitched girly sound. In place of my cherished man gland was a soft void.

That’s when I fell backward into the bathtub, bringing down the shower curtain and rod with me. My head hit the tile wall and bounced forward so I was looking down onto a chest that was unmistakably female. I instinctively raised my hands and saw ten newly polished, French-manicured fingers. My butt was sitting on the base of the bathtub and my legs were draped over the edge. I say “my legs” but they really weren’t mine. Unlike the gnarled and hairy limbs that had served me reasonably well for twenty-seven years, these legs were unblemished and clean-shaven. I bent my knees upward and was greeted by painted toenails that nicely complemented their northern counterparts. As the final test, I slid my right hand down my torso and felt what could only be described in mixed company as lady parts. My lady parts.


That’s when I fainted.