When I read older stories, I try to have a bit of leeway for the general attitudes and goings-on of the times. What my grandfather felt and thought about is completely different from what I do in 2026.
I’d like to think we’ve grown a bit since “The Sex Serum” was published in 1935—it’s almost cartoonish in its gender stereotypes. The concept is something I think many queer people would agree is pretty sick, and I would like that to exist right now, thank you.
The story begins with a note that “It is the first time that this subject has been used in science fiction.” I find this hard to believe; more likely, it was the first time American fans of the genre had seen it.
Our narrator explains they have knowledge of a crime involving the disappearance of a professor and his daughter, with the fiancé, a man named Gilmour, the only witness. The corpse of an older woman and a young wounded man were at the scene. It’s baffled police and investigators for ages!
Gilmour goes to visit Jeanette, who he loves deeply but has a great distaste for her father, Professor Neville. He describes him as “stone-mad” and possessive of his daughter, but at the same time laments how awful it is that she was born a girl. His plan is to badger the man once again for Jeanette’s hand in marriage, using his poverty as a woe-is-me. I already hate him.
When he arrives, the professor says alright, I’ll hear you out. But first… “I must give you a brief idea of the workings of the sex machine.” Incredible opener. He goes into great detail about how embryos develop sexual characteristics and has discovered the secret “switch”, isolating it into a so-called Seventh Serum. After injection, and a few days time, you’re magically Trans-formed (my own pun, sorry) into the opposite sex. Don’t think about the mechanics too hard because we won’t be seeing any cool body horror. He does mention it happens “without pain or consciousness,” so that’s nice, I suppose.
You can probably guess who Neville has tested this Serum on—Jeanette.
Gilmour deals with this as well as one would expect. His emotional outburst is described as “sobbing like a child,” and he collapses on the floor, among other things. It’s interesting that when Jean—who is all regards, still the same person—caresses Gilmour’s face, it’s disgusting. How can a man show such tenderness to another of the same sex? When I was in high school, the trend was to follow a vulnerable moment with “no homo,” so everyone knew, “Well, I can do this, but don’t ever mistake that for being gay.”
The idea of being with another man is treated as an impossibility. Of course, to Gilmour, this is just something that would never work. As a man, Jean is not the person he loved anymore. He says that she’s dead, that “She had been swallowed in frightful inaccessible nothingness!” It’s no different from parents who describe their children as deceased when they’ve just…come out as trans. It feels selfish; to only understand the issue with how it affects yourself and not the person going through it.
Jean, for his part, seems pretty chill about the whole ordeal. He’s “enraptured with the novelty and the possibilities of his new life”. Masculinity has awoken an interest in science, in following his father’s work and exploring the world. It’s so close to having a nice message about coming out being a freeing experience—only to be ruined when the story describes what would happen in the other direction.
Gilmour flipflops from rage to sorrow and decides to give Professor Neville a taste of his own serum, locking him in a room during the process. I really wish we got any suggestion of what’s happening, even if it’s only in Gilmour’s imagination. He just stomps around the house for a few days until the transformation is complete. How boring!
This is where my biggest issues lie: While masculinity is applauded, with how charming and bright-eyed and wonderful it can be, there are no positive words used for femininity at all. Neville’s a “mannish old woman”, she spits and wails like a cat and has zero interest in science anymore. She whines about wanting to go out and look at roses instead. It’s a double whammy of the “man in a dress” trope and “old women are disgusting” rolled into one.
Realizing there’s no saving his lover, Gilmour beats Neville to death and throws a microscope at Jean before fleeing. A final note reveals Jean as the one recounting this tale, and that he is happily married with two children. So there’s that at least?
Admittedly, I found the story less interesting than an article inserted halfway through: “Manhood for Girl Dwarf Sought in Surgical Test.” The extremely dehumanising language—she’s a creature, not a girl that they hope can be turned into a normal being. Intersex individuals have been treated horribly throughout history, and here is a perfect example.
I wanted to know more about Clara. Who was she? Were there any records of her besides this?
After searching her name and some keywords, it turns out that not two months ago, a forum user had the same thought. “I really want to believe this person found some peace and contentment in their life,” they wrote. There are few records about her besides another article reflecting on the surgery. I have no doubts that her life was difficult, and I’m sickened by the way Clara was treated like an experiment and would have been better off dead. People are not projects to be tinkered with.
We have no way of knowing how she really felt. But there’s a bit of solace. A potential obituary reads “Clara W. Schreckengost died at age 69 in 1985 in Niagara Falls, unmarried, survived by several of her siblings.” I hope she was surrounded by love. I hope there was joy in her life, that she found happiness. We all deserve that.
“The Sex Serum” by H. O. Dickinson can be read for free at the Internet Archive.
Lor Gislason (they/he) is a sentient pile of worms from Vancouver Island, Canada, known for their goopy gross body horror. Find them at lormaggot.ca
Copyright 2026 Lor Gislason.
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