Breasts free porn video

Synopsis: A wife urges her husband to get breast implants just like hers. The following story is a bit more fantastic than my usual, if only because the breast procedure it describes isn't yet generally performed, because it isn't yet anywhere known (at least not to me), and may not even be feasible. I aim for plausible truths readers might wish to believe at least while reading. We all have plenty of actual truths, but if this story helps us uncover a few more about what we like, that's good too. The are scenes here depicting plausible if not also actual sex between consenting adults. If not inclined or entitled to read them, don't. (c) 2002 by Vickie Tern. Breasts by Vickie Tern i. "Of course you want your own pair, Barry! Who wouldn't?" She smiled her sweetest, most confidential smile at me, the one that could always persuade me to confess anything to her, because she already knew anyhow. "You're repressing it, that's all! That's why you're so attracted to mine! Well, you should have a pair just like mine for your very own! I won't have you feeling deprived! Believe me, sweetheart, you'll love them!" "Hayley, no!" I had to insist. "You're right, I love your breasts, of course I do! They're gorgeous! On women, breasts are beautiful, yours especially, especially now that they're ... enhanced! But on a man, well, breasts are ... different. Something else. Inappropriate!" That was the argument. On and on, day after day! It had begun innocently enough. One morning I gave Hayley's bared breast a tender kiss, waking her up, and she'd returned the favor by kissing my chest. Then she'd complained that I'd gotten the better of the deal, and I'd smugly agreed. She argued petulantly that it wasn't fair, we were each deprived of pleasures we could each provide each other if we both had breasts. I thought she was joking. But the next morning she deliberately raised the subject again, and I ignored her. A mistake, because then it got serious. When she re-raised it the day after that, she meant it. And each morning afterward, each time more insistent and tense, increasingly resentful, while I dug my heels in deeper. At first I thought it was just one more of her whimsical obsessions -- she threw herself into all sorts of things impulsively and then couldn't understand why the world didn't follow her with equal zeal. She'd been a darling daddy's girl while growing up -- impatient, passionate, willful, a little manipulative. She expected to get her way, and given her cleverness and persistence, her persuasive charm and ruthless determination, she usually did get her way. And I absolutely adored her! She knew it, and she loved taking advantage of it! Even on our first date. We went to a gay bar to see the sights, and on impulse she urged me to pick up a big bruiser of a guy we saw leaning on the bar. Just for fun -- she promised she'd rescue me in the parking lot before we got to his car. I did it, fearfully, my heart in my mouth. Then very nearly his penis too -- she was enjoying the game so much she decided to wait until we were already in the car before she played her appointed role, that of an outraged wife who has suspected that her husband is gay and has followed him. "You did it!" she told me afterward, utterly thrilled, stars gleaming in her eyes! "I knew that moment that I'd love you forever! You looked so absolutely darling, holding that man's prick with both hands, staring at it, afraid to go down on it but more afraid not to! And all for me!" Then another time we went to a sedate lawn party, all proper people, but she told me as we arrived that they were all wild swingers and that this was their monthly orgy, and that she expected me to fit in. We'd just been married, and I knew she loved to flirt, and I knew that her flirting was all very innocent. But now I didn't know what to think as she made the rounds, pursing her lips and weaving her hips and tossing come hither looks at everyone. I was determined to remain true to her no matter what and sort things out with her afterward. So when she hid herself to watch me, she was delighted to see me trying to maintain civil conversations with people while backing away from them into trees and bushes, all the while rolling my eyes in desperation to see where she'd gone. Each time I survived one of her challenges her love for me deepened, so I did everything she asked. Her least whim became my command. But not this one. This one was way off the charts. I didn't know what to think! The idea must have come to her soon after she got herself a boob job. She'd never been satisfied with her figure. Though I always found it marvelous, she didn't. She was thin, not much over 110 lbs even after eating a full meal. I thought she was beautifully proportioned, but she thought she was scrawny and I was undiscriminating. She was always experimenting with nutritional fads, flinging herself into them and trying to haul everyone else with her. For weeks we'd dine on grapefruits, then bananas, then only vegetables, once only on red meat, and she had absolute faith in each diet in turn. Or rather, she had absolute faith in her expectations for each diet. In advance she was never wrong. But not in retrospect either. When an experiment failed, she could always explain why with various bizarre rationalizations. I knew she was always disappointed, and I knew she was too shrewd to believe her own arguments, but I could never be sure. I didn't care, I loved her, and I could always sneak a hamburger with onions or a slice of pizza while at work. She was equally fanatical about various athletic club regimens too, so she kept me in pretty good shape overall anyhow. I thought she was in great shape! Then she got into breast enhancement. She found this marvelous Doctor Portland, a skilled surgeon and endocrinologist who'd invented a new procedure called "natural" breast augmentation. Dr. Portland inserted implants filled with a whole cocktail of breast growth and lactation hormones and medications in addition to the usual saline, the whole thing designed to be absorbed into the enlarged mammary it was itself creating, eventually to become what the woman was. Hayley talked her two closest girlfriends Meg and Patti into joining her, also getting their breasts done over by this new method. A week or two was all it required, start to finish, Dr. Portland assured them, from the first consultation on desired size to the sufficiently healed, beautifully shaped new breasts they'd end up with. The process was irreversible, she did warn them, because the implants altered surrounding tissue and glands while being incorporated into them, made part of the host body. But there would be two marvelous side effects. "Enormously increased sensitivity," Dr. Portland promised. And also as a special incentive for lovers to stimulate that sensitivity, when stroked or sucked the breasts would produce a sweet, milky fluid. "Any man you nurse will feel he's in a second infancy," she observed. "He'll smile and do whatever you want." Two weeks later Hayley's breasts did indeed fall heavily and deliciously out of her spaghetti-strap dresses and nightgowns. The bruising and discoloration were gone, and all swelling was down except around her nipples. These jutted out temptingly as promised, powerfully erogenous, a source of exquisite sensations whenever touched. They begged to be sucked. "That's what's most attractive about this procedure, women tell me," Dr. Portland had told the three women. "the unspeakably intense pleasure!" The three friends had all looked at each other, grinned, and signed up on the spot. Meg came out way ahead. Before the procedure her figure had been very nearly a boy's, her chest almost flat. After her bandages came off, I thought she looked quite womanly, and told her so. She was pleased, and commented that her husband Mark certainly agreed with me. "You men!" she said. "You make such a big deal of them! Show you a boob and you drool, then show you a second boob and your brains turn into silly putty! Maybe that's why God gave us two, so we could keep you guys manageable!" "But aren't there those other advantages besides size?" I asked her. I was wondering whether her nipples had gotten as sensitive and juicy as Hayley's. That is, incredibly! "Oh, yes," she said. "Oh, yes, Barry! You can't imagine! Yes. It drives me crazy, and then I drive Mark crazy!" And then she said no more. Hayley's friend Patti was already heavily endowed when she went in, so when she came out she was huge. But that was how her girlfriend Dora wanted it. Patti lived with Dora in what Hayley explained was "a loving partnership just like ours." Dora was so entranced by Patti's new look and Patti's rapturous responses when she touched them that she had her own breasts enhanced too. "Now whenever they visit anywhere they lie around on each other like overstuffed pillows" Hayley told me. "It's so very sweet, really! And they're always touching each other, you know where!" Hayley's own breasts had been modest though I thought quite adequate before her operation. But now? Plump, generous, voluptuous! Soft, yet heavy! Ripe for lifting, fondling, kissing, or sucking. I loved them! And now especially! Her nipples were swollen like the tips of ice cream cones! The implant was shaped to bulge just under the nipple, and charged with hormones to stimulate nerve growth just there. When the healing ended and Hayley's prosthetic brassiere came off, I was amazed by those new voluptuous globes, but especially by their pink-tipped protrusions, the cone-shaped nipples with thick nubbins projected way forward! I simply couldn't keep my mouth off them! The moment I saw them, I pressed Hayley gently back onto the bed and licked first one, then the other. Then I took one into my mouth and began to suck. It was almost as blissful for me as for Hayley! She folded her arms lovingly over my head as I nursed delicately, then vigorously, first on one ripe berry, then on the other. We seemed to melt into each other. In a week or so her nerve sensitivity increased as her body absorbed more of the implants, and she grew even more responsive. I could drive her into a frenzy just by cupping her breasts and rolling her nipples gently between my thumb and forefinger. She'd rise slowly into the concentrated intensity of an orgasm and her body would spasm, and then she'd begin again, rise even higher, and orgasm yet again! And when I nursed on her? "It's like having three clits," she told me breathlessly while my lips grazed from one breast to the other. "Oh, darling, do it more! Caress me down below too! Oh, more, it's just marvelous, God, more! MORE!" When I finally reached for her slit to prepare to enter her, I found that her crotch and thighs and even the sheets underneath her were already soaked! But even better, the first time I began nursing on her there was the taste of something rich and sweet in my mouth. I looked and saw a pearly drop oozing from her nipple tip. "That's right, baby," she told me. "Just like after childbirth! When you make me feel really good my glands exude this special sweet milk, like a syrup, delicious and good for both of us. A natural food produced in the most natural way imaginable!" "God, this doctor of yours is a miracle worker!" I said passionately! First I licked off those milky drops and then I lunged at her sweet pink cones with their distended nipples. I filled my mouth. I grunted and moaned in pleasure, and swallowed, and filled my mouth again. She was just so delicious! And meanwhile, her hips writhed from the pleasure those breasts transmitted! She never stopped climaxing! A few minutes later Hayley asked me in a small voice what it tasted like. I wordlessly lifted my head and with a deep French kiss I fed her a mouthful from her own breast, from my mouth into hers. "Oh!" she said, entranced. "Oh! Like melted vanilla ice cream! Only ...." "Only better!" I said, licking and sipping from her nipple tips. "Yes!" she said. "More!" I brought her more. She licked my lips and sucked on my tongue to savor the last of it. And shuddered into yet another orgasm. So she fed me, and so I fed her. And that became a whole new way we made love. A few swallows for me, then one for her, and delicious licking for the last hint of her flavor. It was so good! And with all that breast stimulus Hayley was enjoying orgasm after orgasm long before I'd gotten around to the main event even once, finally entered her, and finally cum. Some nights, between her delectable taste and the sensations suffused through her body by my nursing, she got so erotically intense, so passionate, so questing of her next orgasm and then the next, that breast feeding was all we did, and I never climaxed at all! Those times, though, I found more than enough pleasure in her repeated ecstasy, and in the comforting intimacy of her warm, soft flesh pulled deep in my mouth as I drew each breast in turn toward the back of my throat, past my lips and tongue, licking and sucking the sweet, rich nectar she suffused. I was satisfied. Hayley too, up to a point. Certainly by her delight in her new shape as she dressed to go out and turned herself this way and that in the mirror to see herself from all angles, appreciating the way her clothes now draped and flowed from her full figure. Certainly by the intense sensations she enjoyed in bed. But Hayley was an enthusiast. She threw herself into everything, and had to share everything! So it seemed innocent enough when she first started arguing that I should know what it was like. One night when we got into bed and I turned toward her she asked in that small voice she uses when she wants something huge if I'd mind visiting her doctor. I thought I hadn't heard her, but followed through anyhow. "Why?" I asked in return. "What for?" "For breasts!" she replied. "For me!" "You already have yours," I replied. And that doctor is marvelous, I was thinking, but there's no way to improve them. "No," she said. "I don't have them. You have them! I get from them only what you choose to give me from them." This was baffling. "You mean your milk?" I asked? "Or whatever that delicious stuff is?" "It's a kind of colostrum," she replied vaguely. "The implants stimulate particular glands -- and then when I'm rubbed or caressed or nursed I feel the pleasure and it makes me all juicy, so I overflow. The same way my vagina lubricates, and your penis after a while, when it can't hold its semen any more! And that's my point! You get most of it. I want my turn!" "Your turn at what?" "My turn at nursing! What we have now is lovely! It's sublime really! I love it! I've never been happier! The way you make me feel now, oh, baby, I just can't tell you!" This was satisfying! I leaned over to kiss her. But she shook me off. "No, Barry, I want all of it, the whole pleasure! I have the same deep nursing instincts you do, you know! I was once a baby too, you know, same as you! I want to taste that delicious stuff for myself, to swallow down as much of it as I want the way you do! Not just get it from you now and then as a gift, sort of second hand!" This seemed to me unfair. "Honey, you get the orgasms! I don't! You keep cumming and cumming while I'm serving both of us that delicious juice you make in there." And with that thought I reached out for her breasts -- I felt an urge to touch a fat nipple again, just once! She pulled away. "No!" she said. "Barry, you can keep your orgasms!" Then she seemed to think better of what she'd just said. "No, you know I don't mean that, not that way, sweetie. It's wonderful, what you do to me! But you should be having orgasms like those too! Of your very own! I don't want to hog them all for myself! I want to see you get all tense and deliciously screamy too, feeling what I feel!" This was admirable, typical of Hayley's generosity, I was thinking, but essentially whacko! Men and women are different! Built different to feel different! Everyone knows that! Yet Hayley was really serious! I tried to lay out the absurdity in simple words. "Are you saying I should go to this Doctor of yours and get breast implants of my own, like yours, along with whatever else she does to make those nipples of yours so .... " I couldn't find an adequate word "...so great?" She beamed. "Yes! Yes, sweetie! That's what! That's exactly what I want!" And she lay back satisfied, looking at me as if marveling at how dense I could be, but also finally how understanding! Her new bosom rose enticingly. She saw me looking at them. "It does take you a while to hear me, doesn't it, honey!" I reached for her, and she put up her hand. "No, answer me first! Say that you'll do it!" "Honey, I'm a man! Men don't have breasts." It was like talking to a small child. And she answered the way a small child would answer. "Who says?" "They just don't!" "No? You could have them! You have nipples, don't you. And when you get a little overweight it isn't just chest muscle I see hanging over me when we make love, it's fatty tissue like mine! Inside, you've got all the glands I hear, only undeveloped because they've never been urged to grow properly, the poor things. The same as mine, essentially, but right now they're like a child's, and there's nothing for me to taste when I suck them -- nothing comes out! And there's nothing special you feel there either, nothing like the kind of thing I feel. "I sometimes do feel a little ... erotic there," I said. "But not with the intensity you have now, no." "Some men are very sensitive there, I hear. Mark is, Meg says. She tells me it's very handy! She tells me that whenever she wants something and he doesn't, all she has to do is touch him there and he ...." Hayley suddenly closed her mouth, as if she'd said something she shouldn't. Then she concluded, "But even so, most women don't feel anything comparable to this! And you could feel it too!" "Well," I said. "It still isn't the same thing." "No, it isn't. But it could be! I want you to feel everything I feel, baby!" We went round and round a few more times that night, until frustrated and annoyed, Hayley suddenly turned her back to me and shut me out with a pillow over her ears. There was no lovemaking at all that night. Nor the following night when the conversation resumed. Nor any night for the next week. Nor the week after that! Time passed. We'd get into bed, and instead of turning toward me she'd turn away and say "No! Not until there's complete reciprocity! Not until you're willing to give me everything I'm willing to give you! Not until you're willing to take from me everything I get from you! Not until you learn to be less selfish!" No sex. Not even breast play. Hayley's manner with me became cool, often sardonic. I had failed her, somehow. She took to going to her office earlier and coming home later. At dinner together, when I'd say something to her, she'd just look at me as if I were the cruelest, most hurtful man alive, and say nothing in return. I began to fear for our marriage. She wouldn't yield and I couldn't! Then after a month or so there came a crisis. A new and startling element entered into this deadlock. Hayley was lying in bed staring at the ceiling when I got in beside her and readied myself for one more nightly, pointless bed-time argument, or one more frigid silence. "Patti's delicious!" she said suddenly. "Patti?" was all I could reply "And her flow is so abundant!" Hayley said. "She wanted to bottle it for me to bring back here, but that may not be necessary now that we've figured out what to do. It's different though, more buttery on the tongue. She thinks it's maybe because she's a vegetarian. And you know something else?" I wasn't sure I did, but I realized that if the something else was as astonishing as what she'd just said, I had to hear it. "No, what?" I asked. "Meg says that our new breasts transmit the flavor of whatever we've just eaten. Different flavors, and different medications too. She sucked Mark's cock, and she says that Mark tasted his own slick saltiness in her breast fluid soon afterward. And a while ago she noticed that her birth control pills were beginning to affect him too, in certain odd ways. She decided not to say anything about it to him, she says, because it was getting interesting, but eventually she realized she'd have to deny him her tits or else deny herself his cock. So he doesn't get them any more, and she seeks relief for them elsewhere. His skin is now softer, she says. And it takes him much longer to cum -- he needs a lot more coaxing. But it isn't true that what goes up must come down. She says that Mark can now hold his erection and hold off cumming almost indefinitely. He's still as horny than ever, the same way she is, so she still needs to blow him every morning before work, or else he'd carry a big pole in his pants all day long, and that might give other women ideas. But now she can fuck him whenever she wants for as long as she wants. If he'd do all the other things she wants him to do, she says, he'd be perfect. She's checking into different ways to make him perfect. "Oh?" I said. Why was she telling me this? "Patti's also found that her medications work their way into her partner. She takes Prozac regularly, always has, she's always been tense. She says that now Dora's on cloud nine most days! And I've got to admit it, I get a little woozy too each time I visit her. More happy-go-lucky than woozy, maybe. I just don't care about lots of things, so we both feel free to do other things with each other too, sometimes. Licking and giggling, you know how I can get. I've never been able to go down on you for some reason, Barry, but on Patti? Well, it's very nice! That's why I'm thinking of moving in with the two of them. They've invited me." "You've been....?" I just couldn't say it! "You've ....?" Hayley just looked steadily at me, her cool eyes level, her voice even in tone. "Yes, honey, I have. What do you expect? You won't cooperate. We don't make love any more! Patti's more than happy to oblige. We're friends!" She watched me. I knew that look. Innocent little girl, but shrewd, calculating. "It's very nice, what we do together, me and Patti, sometimes Dora too!" she added. "Meg too now and then. Maybe Mark too, soon. Patti and Dora aren't interested, but I am!" Then she looked away and closed her eyes. "You've been unfaithful to me?" I asked. My ire was rising. But even stronger than anger or rage or jealousy or whatever it was, was a deep dark dread growing in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to lose her! Hayley! She opened her eyes and looked at me steadily again. "Of course not, Barry! I've been intimate with another woman, yes, more than one, but only in ways you refuse to be intimate. That's not infidelity. It's just tender friendship. Any time you want me not to be intimate that way with Patti, I won't be! But don't ask me until you're prepared to take her place and do those things too, oh loving husband of mine!" And tears came into her eyes! "Hayley!" I said. But I didn't know what else to say. My sense of dread grew larger! And of desolation! The grounds of our marriage were shifting, and I was powerless to do anything about it. "Tender friendship" looked a lot like a lesbian orgy to me! A different kind of loving altogether! An end to our own marriage. I'd seen it happen! Wives run off with other women all the time these days! "Does Patti taste you too?" I asked morosely, remembering how I'd always thought of Hayley's breasts and pussy as my own personal grazing ground. It was a pointless, obvious question, and I didn't really want to know the answer anyhow. Hayley smiled secretly to herself, the way she did whenever I asked her something she considered too intimate, too private even for her spouse to hear. "You mean both above and below?" She hesitated. Then "We're both quite satisfied, honey" was all she said. A shot in the dark. "And with Meg? Meg too?" I didn't know how to feel! Exasperated? Discouraged? Mainly I felt deeply depressed. "I don't kiss and tell," Hayley replied. She turned and stared directly into my eyes yet again, and spoke with slow, measured words. "But I will say this. Her husband is a lot more considerate than mine! He's already wants to please her in every way possible, and he's willing to learn new ways!" My God! I was thinking. These women are all in this together? And what does Meg ask Mark to do to please her? Are Meg's requests as off-the-wall as Hayley's? I wondered for a crazed moment whether Meg would ever want Mark to get himself a pair of breasts. In his case who'd notice? Mark's frame is large, heavy-set, with broad, square shoulders -- he's built like a defensive lineman. Knockers on Mark would only look like folds of flab, or pecs gone slack. What would be the point? But on me? I have a much slimmer build, narrow shoulders and very little excess fat. Boobs on me would poke out of my chest like small watermelons. They'd be what everyone noticed about me first of all, the same way I always notice large jugs on small-waisted women, especially when they wear those knit blouses that hug their shape. Sometimes they look to me like large breasts with small women attached to carry them around. Hayley dressed like that too sometimes, nowadays -- she knew it made me jealous whenever she put her jugs on display like that. And these days she was doing it a lot, I realized. Probably for spite. Still, was I making too big a deal of this? What was it costing me? What was it risking! "Hayley!" I said, rising on one elbow in a kind of take charge posture, my voice firm, precisely because I was unsure what to say next and I was really scared! This was no longer an absurd whim of hers, it was serious! Our whole lives together were at stake! It was time to have it out once and for all! "Look here, Hayley!" But as I gazed down I saw that her eyes were now shut and that she was breathing evenly. She was asleep. ii. She was up ahead of me the next morning, as happens now and then, doing morning things in the bathroom. I was fully awake almost at once and still anxious, deeply worried by the time she came back into bed for one last lie-in. What could I say? I heard the medicine cabinet door clack open and shut as she got at the toothpaste and so on, but I realized that I hadn't heard the toilet flush. So she'd been up earlier too? Packing, to leave me? That thought disappeared though as her arms suddenly encircled my neck and she drew me down to her breasts. "Now!" she said. "Drink me!" And she threw her head back. I did! After all those weeks and weeks it was heavenly! Better than ever! She was so very delicious, her suffusions really rich and aromatic and dense! And her skin seemed to be perfumed! Her saliva-wet breast slid in and out of my mouth, the nipple reaching far back to be licked by the roof of my tongue, then slipping forward and almost out to be tickled by my tongue, then sipped by my lips, then back in, deep, then when my mouth was filled to bursting back out again, all the while I sucked and sucked and swallowed down that sweet cream! Her fluids flowed abundantly from those beautiful mounds! Then when I rose to share a mouthful, she placed her palm against my lips and turned her face away. "No, just suck me more, baby," she said. "Just drink me and swallow everything!" So I did, first one breast, then the other! She rose up into climax after climax. My stomach filled, yet more fluid came, and I swallowed it all gratefully! Usually she stifled her voice as she gasped and cried out at the height of her orgasms, but this time she screamed out her joy uninhibited! That wild sound only added to the crazy sense of increasingly sweet content I felt! In the midst of her frenzy I grew more calm, comfortable, at ease with myself. Happy. When my belly was bloated, absolutely swollen, I dipped my head lower to lick her clit, but she pulled me back up again to her breasts. So there was where I loitered, barely able to drink another drop. Then finally she wrapped her legs around my waist, and gave a delicious little wriggle, and my pole slid into the drenched, soaked, sticky, heated grasp of her pussy, and I came almost at once! She grunted her approval as she felt my cock spasm its jism into her. "Oh!" was all I could say as spurt after spurt of my sperm squirted into her. "Oh! Oh, sweetheart! Oh!" She looked deeply satisfied. "Oh yes!" she said. Then when we'd both calmed down some and were breathing normally, she just said "See? It could always be like this. Only with more for both of us." I felt no way argumentative. So I tried to sound conciliatory. "Let's say I agreed," I said. Maybe calm rationality could bring her around at last. "Let's think about it. It's a private matter, what we do to please each other. But think about it. How could I ever show myself in public again, with outcroppings of any size at all? There's no way a man my size with breasts proportional to the rest of me wouldn't look as ridiculous as he felt. "Breasts would add only maybe three inches to your bust if we gave you a 'C' cup, which is what I'd like for you," she replied, her answer obviously ready. "Give or take. If you were willing to lose a little more weight and exercise a little more selectively, lose a little more muscle mass too in your shoulders, you'd end up with less bust than you've got now overall, maybe, and a whole lot less middle. Let's face it, honey, your chest and your waistline are filling in. You're not yet middle age-thick, but you hint it. I haven't wanted to say anything about it, not while you were being so disagreeable about this other thing. But you could use a different body image to live up to! You need to take more pride in your own figure, the way women do." I thought about it genially. "I guess that's true," I said agreeably, my mind reaching toward the "but" that would commence my next argument. "You're right, Hayley," I added. And suddenly everything changed! I'd meant what I'd just said as a stalling statement, a willingness to consider these things further, meaning, a readiness to argue about them indefinitely. But Hayley heard it as a capitulation! She suddenly came to life! She beamed the most brilliant smile, and she threw her arms wide open! "Oh, darling!" she cried out. "Come to me! Let me give you the biggest hug ever, baby! I'll love it when you have the cute figure I want for you, one that goes in and out instead of straight down like a tree trunk! I'll love everything about it! Oh, you adorable man! I love you! I love you!" I realized then that she'd misunderstood me, and I realized also with a sinking feeling that there was now no turning back. If I seemed to renege she'd be packed and off to Patti's before I could even get out of bed! Now I had to go real gentle, I had to delay, stall! Was this retrievable? She'd never accept a recantation! "But curves do show," I said. "And not in a way that's appropriate for a man!" Hayley was amused. "Oh, pooh!" she said, her arms still wide open, still waiting for me to fall between them. "'Appropriate' again? Of course curves show! For you to show me your own curvy breasts is the most appropriate thing in the world for us, especially after all our silly arguing about it! For you to show me yours and me to show you mine! It's the right thing to do, and you certainly know that by now! As for showing them to the public, as if anybody cares, which they don't, if you're concerned about what other people may think, total strangers who don't matter, well, I suppose you could always wear loose shirts when you're out there being seen by other people. Or something. You do wear suits to work, don't you? So who'd know?" I must have looked dubious, because she added, "But it doesn't matter what other people think! You should care more what I think!" That was true. She was probably right that I was exaggerating the importance of other people's opinions. What my darling Hayley wanted was what I should have wanted to provide her. I sank down between her arms again, and she enclosed my head and shoulders protectively. Then slowly, with one hand, she lifted up one of her breasts and deliberately offered it to my mouth yet again. Though I'd just nursed myself full, this was different. It was a kind of reward. I bent to receive it. Such a delicious, glorious teat! I began to suck again. Such contentment! I'd been cruel to deny her that same pleasure. I closed my eyes. But just before settling in to nurse myself back to sleep, now feeling more relaxed than in months, I tried one last time. "How about in warm weather, when I wear T-shirts? And how could ever I go bare-chested at the beach?" "Sweetie," she said, "No more! You never wear sun-block, you're always saying it's too greasy. So you can always wear cover-ups like mine when we're at the beach, it'd be healthier. You can borrow one of mine, you've often commented on how pretty they are. Or you can get your own. As for T-shirts or thin clothing on hot days, well, there are ways to deal with that problem. Women always wear lighter clothing than men, remember. That problem can solve itself. As for going bare-chested, of course, I agree with you, that would be altogether inappropriate. Because those new boobs of yours are for me, they're all mine, nobody else's! Oh, I can't wait!" I scarcely heard. Despite Hayley's misunderstanding and my inability to deal with it, I felt so mellow! I was still licking her nipple delicately with the tip of my tongue, and still sipping droplets of that sweet syrup as if through a straw. Exhausted again, I fell asleep. "...so we can be back by supper time!" Hayley's voice said. I opened my eyes. Not two inches away were Hayley's eyes, looking sweetly into mine. She was fully dressed. I lifted my head and kissed her nose. She smiled. "It's best that we do this while you're still agreeable, and also while you're still a little spaced out, honey," she said. "So you won't worry about it and get all fretful again." "Spaced out?" I asked her. Not that it mattered. Nothing much did. "I was so angry with you last night! Really mad!" Hayley said, "So this morning I took a double dose of Patti's Prozac, so I wouldn't do anything foolish like pack up and leave you and move in with her while I was still angry. And the Prozac worked! I didn't want to leave you! And now I don't have to leave you at all!" I considered this. "You mean it worked on me too? I filled my tummy with your Prozac and that's why I got so agreeable, and still feel so good? Was that fair?" "Yes." Hayley replied. "Because it brought you to your senses. All's fair in love, lover. You've had a nice nap now, and here it is already late morning! I hope the effect lasts all day! Because today all my wishes are coming true! Isn't it wonderful? Hurry though. We want to be there for our appointment and be back before dark. Certainly we want to be back before all this good feeling wears off!" "Hurry where?" Not that it mattered. "To see Dr. Portland, you silly! She's juggled her schedule and squeezed us in! It wasn't easy, because the whole procedure takes nearly two hours with prepping, and she has a long waiting list! But I told her how you have special needs, and she knows me, so she was willing to make an exception. They're really my special needs though, aren't they?" Hayley grinned at me, her face apologetic yet unabashed, proud of herself. She was so very happy! Despite what was apparently a stiff dose of tranquilizer still metabolizing in my system, my customary caution spoke out. "Are you sure you want this, Hayley? I mean, it isn't exactly manly for me to have ....!" "There's only one question and one answer you need to think about now, honey! And it isn't 'am I sure'! Of course I'm sure! It's the one question Dr. Portland's going to ask you, and she's going to listen closely to your answer, because men who want their breasts enlarged are uncommon, so she has to be sure about you. I've told her enough already, and all of the preliminaries and paperwork and so on are being waived or handled by proxy, so right now we're ready to go except that she needs to hear your personal consent. So whatever she asks you, answer her clearly! I need to hear right now what you mean to tell her. The question isn't do I want this, it's do YOU want this?" She was looking down at me with that level gaze again, level even though straight down. I was still feeling mellow. I wondered about kissing the tip of her nose again. My mind drifted. Hayley misread my hesitation. "Patti and her partner have invited me to live with them, remember. It's an attractive offer. It would be like sleeping and tumbling around night after night with two soft, overgrown puppies. She's a wonderful friend and all that, honey, and I do mean to go to her if you won't do this for me! But I don't love her. I love you. So I guess now it's a matter of how much you love me. So answer the question!" "A lot," I said. "Oh," she said. "I see. You love me a lot. That's nice. I guess you're still in short attention span country. I better be clear. Do you want this procedure?" "If you do, yes!" "No ifs, honey. When she asks you, just say 'Yes!'" "Yes!" Then to reassure her, "Yes, I want it! Yes to everything!" "What is it you want?" She kissed the tip of my nose. "Breasts!" I said, looking down at her cleft. Would it distract her if I reached for them? She didn't seem to notice. "I want those breasts!" "Good!" she said. "You're the most darling man anyone could hope for! I love you. Go shave. I've laid out your biggest flannel shirt, the one you've always called a tent? You'll need it coming home, what with the bandages and everything. We'll just whisk you there and back and it'll soon be all over!" I vaguely remember some of what happened next, though I wasn't there at all for some of it. This Dr. Portland turned out to be a quick, intelligent woman with short blonde hair, rather attractive, all business. She asked me a raft of questions about transgendered autogynephilia and homoeroticism and transitional strategies, all sorts of wordy jargon I didn't understand, mixed in with alphabet soup talk about RLTs and TGs and TSs and WBTs and DSMs and HRTs and MtFs. Whenever she asked a question I answered "Yes!" as decisively as I could, checking first with Hayley, who was sitting just behind her. I practically stopped listening to her as she read from a checklist of some sort. I remember that at one point she was surprised when I blithely answered "Yes!" to a question, surprised enough for me to look again at Hayley to see if I'd answered wrong. "Really? Are you sure you won't mind?" Dr. Portland asked me then. "You have a beautiful wife, you're asking a lot of her," she added. And she turned to ask Hayley if she accepted that decision. Hayley didn't seem to be troubled -- her expression seemed surprised but agreeably resigned, declaring a kind of "Hey, too bad but I can deal with it!" What she said was simply, "If that's what my honey wants, that's what I want! I'll cope." Dr. Portland turned back to me and said "Some wives feel that way, but many more simply file for divorce. You're fortunate! Very well then. I'll prepare your implants. You'll be fine within a few days, the incisions themselves heal very quickly. But then after a few more days the more drastic changes will begin, and those can be distressing." "More drastic changes?" I asked. "Breasts don't just hang from a body in isolation. They need a proper environment. You'll be getting lots of hormones and medications all at once, and they can hit a male body pretty hard at first. It's not used to them. You'll probably be quite sick for a few days, bedridden. But you want it that way? All at once, get it done? You're sure?" Behind Dr. Portland's back, Hayley nodded her certainty that this was how we wanted it. I nodded that I believed her. "Good! Just so we understand. It's probably for the best. Then when your body's fully readjusted it'll be much easier for us to do anything further you might want done. Meanwhile I'm sure you'll be pleased." I hadn't the foggiest idea what she was saying, but I saw that Hayley was now looking at me with real admiration and respect! So whatever I'd agreed to, it was all right. I did so love that woman! "After the general discomfort, probably some nausea, there'll be a few days or so of gradual recovery, with everything already functioning as intended. And well worth it, that's what I'm told by women like you who've been through this procedure. Just eat lightly, and take lots of nourishing fluids. Try to be active whenever possible. My nurse will visit you to help you through the worst of it. There're other advantages to eating lightly anyhow, as I'm sure you know. By the time your body has accommodated and you're feeling fine, you'll have slimmed down beautifully, and the breasts you want will look just glorious on a slim figure. I suspect you'll end up with a figure as impressive as your wife's -- you're a lucky girl. But do remember to drink fluids when nothing else wants to stay down." Her reference to "women like you" and her calling me a "lucky girl" made me uneasy, though I supposed it was merely habit, her patients were almost all women, and this pre-operational speech sounded pretty rote. But the way she described my recovery was troubling. Nausea? Hayley and her friends had recovered almost overnight, and their new erogenous sensations had appeared almost as quickly, then intensified over the next weeks with no associated discomfort at all. Was I that different? Before I could ask, she told me to lie down and signalled a nurse to start up my IV. I was almost immediately out of it. Asleep. And two hours later we were back home. It was supper time, as Hayley had anticipated. But I wasn't at all hungry. I was still zonked by anesthesia, and my whole body felt under siege, stressed, exhausted, and my chest was terribly, sore, as if I'd had the skin flayed off. I told Hayley that. "You did have your skin lifted," Hayley replied. "Your implants are now spread out underneath your skin half-way to each armpit. And all sorts of darling things are seeping from them into your nipples and on out, all sorts of medications. You were wonderful, sweetie! I can't tell you how proud I am. In a few days you'll feel fine, for a few days more anyhow. The soreness will be gone and your incisions well on their way to healed. Then as the doctor said, the next wave will hit you, but we'll have a few days first to start getting used to everything." "Worse than now?" I asked, crawling into bed and carefully lying down on my back. "Maybe not," she replied. "Dr. Portman says it'll be like morning sickness, a rush of hormones that prepare your body to manufacture its own hormones. That can get pretty stressful, because your whole body changes over into the kind that has boobs. But then afterward you'll be fine, with no more such problems ever. You'll survive, women who have this procedure all survive! And they all love it! And we'll have our whole lives ahead of us! It'll be so great!" "Yes!" was all I could think to say. I hoped it was still the right thing to say. I still remembered that much of our conversation when I woke up the next day. I felt much less sore, and my head was a lot clearer. Hayley was sitting beside my bed. "You took the day off," I said. "You're awake!" she replied. "Do you know how long you've been asleep?" "Overnight?" I asked. "Four days!" she replied. "Dr. Portman thought you'd heal faster if you kept perfectly quiet. So she gave me some shots to keep you peaceful. We're both on one month holiday from work now, I phoned. I figured, you're going through all this for me, so the least I can do for you is stay with you to keep you from being worried and miserable. How do you feel?" "Better. When I came home my chest felt on fire. Now it's just a little sore. "It has every reason to be sore. You don't know! When Dr. Portland cut in she did some sculptural reshaping of the pectoral muscles under your boobs too, and she took out your two lower ribs, so your figure could look slimmer still and your boobs more prominent. Barry baby, you now have such a long, thin, lovely waist! I'm so envious! She really is a magician! And the incisions are almost healed, and the swelling practically gone! By tomorrow you'll be up, and the next day you'll feel fine! Your skin is already growing into your implants and incorporating them, and soon it'll be as if you've always had breasts. She says that for a few years you won't absolutely need a bra, no more than most young women with 'C' cups! Bra-less in a satin blouse, you could be a sensation, baby, if you ever wanted to be a sensation. Though like most of us you'll find wearing bras more comfortable I'm sure." I looked down at my chest for the first time. It was swathed in bandages. Atop them was a heavy cotton Prosthetic bra, the kind Hayley had worn for several days after her procedure. It supported two huge mounds that blocked my view of my toes. "A bra." I said. For some reason, having breasts for Hayley's sake and wearing a bra to support them had never linked up in my mind. I decided that it was best to keep the two ideas separate. A man wearing a bra? C'mon! Hayley understood me. "That bra's only to hold you in place until the inserts are secure," she said. "Just till tomorrow. Then we can get you the more usual kind. I don't advise going bra-less even when you're all healed. Women wear bras to look young and firm and well-projected, and so they won't bounce. And also because they like feeling secretly sexy. But you can decide for yourself, there're all sorts, lacy, satin, seductive, support, front hooking, padded, something to delight every heart." "I have breasts," I said stupidly, still staring at my two huge padded hillocks. "Yes honey," Hayley answered softly. I think she finally understood that my mind was still waking up to this new world. "They're beautiful. Just like mine. Just what you wanted. Let me give you a sleeping pill and a glass of water, and tomorrow you'll see for yourself. This has been a long few days for you I guess! One very long day, if we subtract all the time you've been asleep." "Thank you," was all I could reply. A long day, yes. After many weeks of discord and the near dissolution of my marriage. I was glad that Hayley was at last satisfied with me. That was what I wanted. But I did still feel a little bit sore! iii. Hardly at all the next day. When I awoke, Hayley was sleeping beside me. I sat up and looked at her. Dr. Portland was right, I thought, whatever prompted her to remind me that I have a beautiful wife. A little impetuous, utterly determined to have her way, but still ... my heart melted. She was wearing her soft beige nightgown with a deep-plunging neckline, and one of her enhanced breasts hung out of it like a soft, plump, white sculpture resting gently on the fold of a pleat. It's conical nipple beckoned, and my lips pursed, and I bent down to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss on it. Then I began to suck on her, ever so lightly. It excited her. "Oh, darling," I heard her moan, though she was still asleep. "Why can't I ever get enough of you? Come into me, fill me up! Fuck me!" Her voice grew imperious, as she spread her legs to accommodate some spectral dream-lover, and then she began to writhe her pelvis. I considered mounting her, but that seemed pretty strenuous at the moment, and anyhow my cock was still soft. And it was only a dream! Was she remembering me from some earlier time? She'd never spoken to me that passionately! Maybe she was talking to some fantasy hero of one of the pot boiler romantic novels she loved to read? Probably. We hadn't been intimate for a long time -- when I finally surrendered to this thing of hers about breasts she'd hustled me into surgery before I could rethink anything. So I sucked on her breast even more devotedly, and placed a hand on her mound, then slipped my middle finger into her moist slit and found her clit. Her legs thrashed as if feeling for a waist to wrap themselves around. Then she was awake. She placed her palm against my cheek, so she could feel my cheek muscles working to draw the first flow of her creamy fluids into my mouth. I drank, and stroked the moist fold of her clit with my fingertip, until she went all tense, then relaxed. Then I lifted my head from her breast. "Lovely," she said. "Lovely, honey. That was almost as good as my dream. You'll see!" "As good as what?" I asked. "What were you dreaming?" "About making love," she said vaguely. "I was talking in my sleep, wasn't I? Did I name anyone?" "Someone called 'darling'," I said with a certain self-satisfaction. "That's me I guess." "Yes, you're my darling," she said reassuringly. She sat up. "Today we take off those bandages, Barry honey, so we can see what we've got. The swelling is down, and any discoloration will be fading by now. Can you stand up in front of the mirror? Go slow, baby!" I stood carefully, then took small steps toward the full-length mirror on the closet door. I was all bare from my crotch on down, I saw. At some point Hayley had seen fit to strip off my flannel sleep-shirt and dress me in one of her baby dolls. Pink, with a pink ribbon sewn just below the huge outcropping of bandages and bra that was now my chest. I looked at her inquiringly. "The weather changed, honey! The warm weather's here. You were perspiring, and I thought you'd be more comfortable wearing something smooth and dry I could easily slip over your head! Big in front. So I did. You don't mind, do you? I think you look sweet!" I was about to comment that she might have been a little more respectful of my masculinity when she dressed me in something so frivolous girly, but with my boobs pushed and padded way forward, I realized that such a remark would be as absurd as it was ungracious. "Thank you," I said to her sincerely, instead. "That was thoughtful. You're a doll!" "You are too, honeybuns," she said, checking out my exposed rear end with an amused gleam in her eye. "And that's what those buns look like, too! If you're that pleased with that nightie, it's yours, wear it all the time. And seduce me over and over while wearing it -- you look so precious I can't possibly resist! But now it's time to take it off. Take it all off!" I found I could just barely raise my arms, so Hayley helped me perform my striptease, lifting off the babydoll nightie and then unhitching the heavy bra and unwinding the bandages wrapped around my whole torso. Round and round. "Don't look just yet!" she said. "Close your eyes!" Then, "Now, hands on hips, twist your torso a little, and push out your chest!" Then "Now look!" And I looked. Stark naked, me. Much leaner than I remembered me, gaunt, my cheekbones prominent, with thin arms and legs. But then, I hadn't eaten for days, and I hadn't felt much like eating for weeks while Hayley and I were still quarreling. I was leaner in another way too. My sides, instead of coming straight down from my armpits to my hips as usual, tapered gradually inward from my underarms to my hips, then flared out at my hips in a steep curve. The impression created was of a narrow chest, a teeny waist, and wide hip-bones atop which my hands rested like a model's in a fashion magazine. It was a girl's frontal view! I had a girl's figure! "Yes," Hayley said thoughtfully. "I was right to ask Dr. Portland to take out those lower ribs." She looked more closely, and her face brightened! "Adam didn't have any lower ribs either after Eve took away one and that bad girl Lilith took away the other. You won't miss them. Sweetheart, the effect is marvelous! And just look at your new boobs, framed against your remodeled chest. Scrumptious!" I couldn't help but look! There they were! Beauties, I'd call them, if I saw them hanging from any girl's naked body! Swelling proudly out from my now-narrowed torso, voluptuous and full-bodied, seemingly all the larger for the implied fragility of the chest holding them up! They looked huge! Two stunning half-melons! My new breasts, draping generously from my collarbones, thrust out and up as if suspended from their tips, but then rounded generously underneath as they curved back to my chest! Each massive orb tipped with a large pink circle with the dot of a developing nipple centered inside each, now poking out instead of lying flat! To my eyes, formidable! Generous, to say the least! And attractive too! I felt a stirring in my loins. Finally coming back to life? No, I saw after glancing down. But it felt like it! I saw too that I was hairless! My whole body! I'd never had much hair, but still ...! "Don't be disappointed, babydoll!" said Hayley. "Your nipples will get bigger as your implants do their thing and tell them to get bigger, you'll feel it happen in a few more days. Dr. Portland says they'll probably end up fatter than mine, and at least as sensitive, maybe even more. And that's the lovely, lovely sensation I want to share with you when I drink you the way you drink me! Soon. Don't be impatient! Oh, and Dr. Portman took care of your chest hair of course, breasts don't have hair. So I had the rest of you done here while you were asleep. The effect is much more in keeping, don't you think?" I simply stared. I'd expected to see a man standing there, me, a man who happened to have breasts. That was a sight I could deal with, I'd decided. But what I saw was something else. There was my head. But below the neck, I saw a girl, a superbly endowed girl, the kind I've always admired and desired, her white, gleaming breasts swelling out from her thin, fragile-looking chest and perked over a narrow waist. Below the neck I looked unmistakably female! Insistently female, as if my breasts comprised a third of my body weight! I gulped. How could anyone disguise or hide these tits? Above them, my face, way below them, dwarfed and half hiding as if half-ashamed, quite out of place, my cock and balls. "You said these are 'C' cups?" I asked in a high, small voice. My God, I was so intimidated by my own image that I was even sounding feminine! "Oooh, you sound as wonderful as you look!" Hayley said. "You should practice that voice! They're 'C' cups in a 'B' cup world, honey! Your band size -- that's the chest measurement below those beautiful balloons -- is only 34, so those things swollen out in front of you look bigger than they are. I know women who'd kill for boobs like yours. And men have killed to get their hands on those kinds of boobs! I was watching your expression just now, and I agree with you, you are gorgeous! I'm so very pleased! Do you mind if I cop a feel?" She grinned and reached for me. I tried to stand my ground, but despite myself I stiffened. "Don't worry, sweetheart," she said sympathetically, no longer trying to tease me. "I know they still hurt a little, and that they haven't even begun to get ... erotic ... well, you know the feeling, maybe. That 'blow in her ear and she'll follow you anywhere' feeling? Those implants have only begun their work. In another few days you'll begin to feel something of what I feel when you touch me there. That's what I want you to feel. And that's when I mean to claim sole possession of those boobs, make them altogether mine for whatever my purposes. Though I hereby appoint you their caretaker!" Gently, her fingers traced thin red lines in the crease just under my breasts, and another set just above my waist where my lowest ribs had once been. "You heal fast, almost all better," she said to them in her consoling, little girl voice. She was serious, though. I could tell she'd been concerned about me. "Hayley, they're enormous!" I said, carefully modulating my voice a little lower. I was pleased that she cared so deeply, but I was still a little stunned. I couldn't see how I could survive life as a man from now on, given my spectacular woman's figure. "I'm not so sure that big shirts and oversized jackets will cover these ... things and preserve my masculine appearance. They poke way out ahead of me. And they're heavy! I don't want to bind them tight until they've healed completely." "Don't you dare try binding them, ever," Hayley said, suddenly frightened. "You might stretch them out of shape! They're beautiful! And anyhow, they may be on you, but they're mine!" She was quite serious now. Well, all right. They were hers. They were my gift to her. But I still had a problem. "I was worried about warm weather before, remember? How once the warm weather came I could ever wear T-shirts or light clothes and not reveal to everyone that I have these things, that I'm a weird pervert, a ridiculous spectacle? How can I hide them?" "Hide anything so beautiful? Why in the world would you want to do that?" "Hayley, I'm a man! Men don't have breasts!" "Well, then?" I just stared at her! "There's no problem here, sweetie! Not at all! Yes, if you did just toss a thin T-shirt onto those headlights and step outside, people would certainly go blind staring at you, I don't doubt it! They really are impressive!" Hayley grinned, and elaborated. "You really do need to wear a bra! If you were to exhibit jugs like those without a bra, other women would wonder where your decency had gone, and men would be dragging their tongues all over the sidewalk. Also, breasts feel much heavier when they're self-supported, you need to distribute some of the weight to your shoulders, the way women do when they wear bras. If you're worried about your appearance, that's where the answer lies!" "Where?" I was seriously worried now. Would I end up explaining to everyone at the office, and every passerby, that I'd done this for my wife, it wasn't really me? They'd know better, because it was really me! Talk about confessing that you're pussy whipped! "If you can't raise the bridge, honey," Hayley said, enjoying my mystification, teasing me again, "then lower the river!" "What do you mean by that?" "I'll show you. Let's go visiting!" "HAYLEY! The way I am??!" A pang of terror stabbed me in the vitals! I tried to control myself. "How can I do that? Visit who?" "Oh, baby, don't be a baby! Only go visiting Meg! Meg knows all about you! She's all sympathy, believe me. And she knows how much I care about you, she'd never laugh. She cares about you too, really, she likes you! She appreciates what you're doing for me! Anyway, we'll stay there for only maybe five minutes, then we'll come back here. We need to take it slow the first day anyhow, that's what the doctor ordered." I was near tears! "Hayley, go all the way across town to see Meg, and stay only five minutes?" "Not for the five minutes, honey. For the coming and going. You need to learn something about having breasts as beautiful as those! You're too worried about what other people may think, and you're too worried about your appearance. Well, people will think they're gorgeous! You need to think so too. So we'll make this little trip, and you'll be a different person when you arrive back here, I can promise you that!" I had no argument against that kind of certainty, but the panic I felt in my guts persisted. "If we visit Meg, what about Mark? I can't let Mark see me with these things! He'll think it's ridiculous! What kind of man lets his wife persuade him to get breasts? What would he think? He'd tell the other guys! I'd be ruined!" I suddenly closed my mouth. Not smart! I had just told Hayley that I was ashamed of them, ashamed that I'd tried to please her, done what my beloved spouse wanted me to do. That in my heart I thought I should have ignored her, that I should have been a man and stood my ground. Hayley had to regard me with contempt after hearing such a confession! In fact she did. "First of all, dear," she said a bit bitingly, "They aren't 'these things.' They're 'my beautiful breasts' or 'my pretty figure'! Aren't you able to call them that?" She waited. Then waited longer. I realized that she expected me to say something. "They're certainly beautiful," I responded. "But Mark may not think that about the rest of me after he sees them." Now I was feeling really depressed. I'd given Hayley what she wanted at some considerable cost to my self-respect, and I was losing her respect anyway. "Is that your problem?" she asked. "Vanity? You don't think Mark will admire you as much as I do? Well, let me assure you that Mark will think no less of you. He has no reason to think any the less of you! But there's this other thing I find shocking! Do you really care more what a man thinks about your masculinity, or your supposed lack of masculinity, than what women think of it? Does any man's opinion matter more to you than your own wife's, or her best friend's, Meg's? Is that how it goes? Is that how you men keep yourselves in line?" I was downcast. "No, Hayley, that's not how it goes." But it was. And that seemed all the more shameful. I was confused, this was more than I could handle. I backed away from the mirror and sat down on the bed again, depressed. In another minute, I thought, I really would start to cry, for the first time since my early teens. Men don't cry. But I was a man who now had a woman's torso and who knows what else working its way through my bloodstream. Reason enough! Hayley sat down close beside me. "Sweetheart, I know," she said in the most gentle voice imaginable. "I know. Don't worry. I was only teasing you some more. I love the way you look. I wish you could feel proud that you did this for your wife out of selfless love, because you did. But that'll take time, and it might never happen. Meanwhile, I know how to get you to Meg's house and back without anyone giving you a second glance. And that's what you want, isn't it?" "In the trunk of our car?" I asked. She was happy to see that my sense of humor had returned. My sense of proportion. "No, you'll see. Just sit here. Oh, and don't worry about Mark at all. He isn't home. He's away for training, not due back for another week or so. It's just Meg there, no one else. She may even be feeling lonely without her hubby. I know she'll welcome our visit. OK?" She took my face in both hands, and looked earnestly into my eyes. "And I'm proud of you, I want to show you off!" What could I say? "OK," I said. "Sure. But how can you get me to Meg's house without causing all sorts of ruckus? Or worse, ridicule. If some man, or woman, or child, points a finger at me and laughs, I know I'll come apart! I just know it!" She looked stern and protective, all at once. "It's easy, sweetie. We'll just hide yo