Trick Or Treat 2 - Descent free porn video

Trick or Treat 2 - Descent By: Enigma Sunday, November 1 My back was starting to hurt, and I had to pee. I was crouched on our kitchen floor, still clutching Sandy to me, mashing her against my ample breasts, rocking her, trying to will comfort into her chilled body. Behind me, Amy had her arms around both of us. Our tears had finally dried up, but I could tell that Sandy was still desolate, and I doubted Amy was doing much better. I knew I wasn't. And I wondered, not for the first time, and probably not for the last, how I had become the middle girl in this girl sandwich. You see, two months ago, I was your average guy. Not a hunk, but not a wimp either. Good job, reasonably handsome, and happily married to the gorgeous girl hugging me from behind, Amy, the girl of my dreams. And we were happy, very happy together and very much in love. I truly felt Amy was the other half of my soul, and she felt the same about me. There was one main flaw in the picture. Sandy, Amy's long-standing best friend, hated me. Oh, not me specifically, men in general. She thought we were all heartless bastards, good for nothing but hard labor and fucking (literally and/or figuratively). She had been hostile to me ever since Amy and I started dating, well before we married. As much as Amy tried to convince her that many men, including me, aren't like she thought, Sandy was too bitter to believe. Out of Sandy's prejudice and Amy's intense desire to achieve peaceful coexistence and hopefully friendship between her hubby and her best friend grew a complicated scheme that Sandy insisted was the only way I could overcome her enmity. Basically, I had to become a woman. Well, not quite completely. I got to keep my male organs, but other than that, I was to become so nearly a woman that I could fool an entire gathering of people at the annual Halloween party. And if I could do that without masculine histrionics, she vowed to give friendship and trust a chance. To Sandy, I was figuratively giving up my manhood, temporarily, to prove my worthiness. Halloween was yesterday, and I should be starting the return to manhood by now, but, as we should have guessed, there are complications. So now, as far as anyone could tell, I am Amy's double and live-in friend, or visiting twin, or whatever they assume. And it was looking like that could be permanent. Complications? Nothing serious. Not! Just that I may have been given so much estrogen and anti-androgens that my male reproductive organs have shut down and may be damaged beyond repair. Just that I have been raped not once, but twice since becoming a woman. And just that I may be falling in love with another man. A kind, understanding man that first became my friend, then became something more. And soon I must decide if I stay Jamie, or try to return to James. If the latter is even possible. Geez, if I keep this up, I'm gonna dissolve into tears again. Damn female hormones! I've cried more in the last two months than in the first 28 years of my life. I gave Sandy one last squeeze, kissed Amy soundly, and struggled out of our tangle so I could hurry off to the bathroom. I did my thing, and as I washed up, noticed my red puffy eyes and streaked makeup in the mirror over the sink. Liberal use of makeup remover, and a good scrubbing with cold water, and the mirror image was somewhat improved. I noticed the scale as I was finishing up. Absent-mindedly I stepped on. A week ago, I had been 123 pounds, well down from the 145 I had been when this all started back in August. This time I was down another 4 pounds, to 119. I had never been a heavyweight, but now I was what, 6 pounds or so less than the last weight I knew for Amy. As I exited the bathroom, I saw my reflection in the full length mirror. What I saw was a beautiful woman, even without makeup and with tousled hair, dressed in a sheer robe that really didn't hide much. Even between my legs I looked female, thanks to the gaff/fake vagina that I wore. This was the image of my wife. But this wasn't my wife, it was me. I was the one that succumbed twice to men in situations that could have ruined my wife's career. I was the one who, willing or not, had cheated on our marriage. I was the one who had professed to my avowed lifemate that I was in love with another person. I was disgusted by what I saw in the mirror. I needed to hide. I stripped off the robe and found the solvent that let me remove the gaff. Looking in the mirror again, I was relieved that I now showed at least some difference from Amy. I searched my drawers and finally found some old sweats. They were bulky enough to obscure my curves. They hung loosely from my slimmed waist, but my broader hips and fanny kept them from falling off. The image in the mirror now looked like Amy wearing sweats. But at least it hid some of these female curves. I made my way to the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and slumped into one of the chairs. Moments later, I heard the front door close, and then Amy stood in the kitchen doorway. I looked up at her, so beautiful, so loving, so much what I wanted in life. And I hung my head in shame, no longer able to look at her. Amy sobbed, "Oh, God, you must hate me!" and I heard her bare feet running to the bedroom, and the bedroom door slamming. Her anguish wrenched at my core, and in spite of my personal shame, I hurried after her, finding her sobbing on our bed. I crawled in beside her, pulling her to me, murmuring assurances to her, willing my love into her. I fought back my own tears that were threatening to spill, knowing that this woman in my arms was the most important thing in the world, and whatever I felt, I must preserve and protect her. When she finally calmed, I whispered "Don't you dare blame yourself for what has happened! I went into this with my eyes open. I made all the choices. And I am the one that made a hash of it all!" A sob erupted from my throat. "I love you. I need you. I need you to be strong, not burdened with guilt! I cannot survive this without you!" Amy drew back and looked at me. "You love me?" I nodded. "Even after all that has happened to you, all that I have done to you?" There she was again, blaming herself, but I was fighting so hard to hold back my tears that all I could do was nod. She sighed, and pulled me close again, burrowing her head against my neck. She started stroking my back soothingly. Then little kisses on my neck. We stayed that way for a while, then her hands became a little bolder, roaming over the curves hidden under the baggy sweats, and eventually slipping under the top to stroke my skin directly. For a while, this was comforting, and I just floated in a numb haze, but as Amy got bolder, trying to arouse me, it didn't feel right. We had always had a wonderful relationship and a great sex life together. We often used sex to sooth each other, to draw the other from depression or sorrow as well as to share our joy. Now, for the first time, it revolted me. "No!" I pulled away, and rolled so my back was toward her. "I'm sorry, I can't." Amy was silent for a while. Our connection was so close that I knew I had hurt her with my rejection, but I couldn't help it. After a time, I felt a gentle, tentative touch on my back, and involuntarily flinched. "James, what is it?" she whispered. "I'm sorry, Amy, I just can't do that stuff right now." "Oh..." There was a pause. "Can I just hold you?" The pain in her voice tore at me, and I weakly nodded, then felt her slide against my back and wrap her arms around me. We stayed that way for a long time, each wrapped in our own pain, unable to break through to the other. That scared me almost as much as my rejection of her touch, but I didn't know what to do about it. Could it be that this was driving a wedge between us? I hoped not, losing Amy would be the end of my world. I finally dozed off. I roused slightly when I felt Amy slide out of bed, but was soon asleep again. When I woke, the light through the window was dimming, and Amy was shaking my shoulder. "Here, love, I brought you some soup. You really need to eat something." She leaned down to kiss my cheek, then helped me shift around so I could sip the contents of the mug, and nibble on the cheese and crackers she set next to me. I managed to say thanks before she left the room. As soon as I finished, I rolled over and fell into a troubled sleep. Monday, November 2 Of course, Amy had to work the next day. When I awoke, the bed was empty, and the house quiet. Glancing at the time, I saw she would have left a while ago. I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. I didn't feel like eating, but decided a walk would help clear the cobwebs. The weather was cooling off, finally, so I squirmed into one of Amy's long sleeved leotards, and pulled on a pair of her sweat pants. Looking in the mirror, I saw an attractive woman again. Not what I wanted right now, but there wasn't much I could do. I rebelled against the thought of the reattaching the gaffe to complete the look, so the sweats would just have to mask that problem. As I approached the bench where I often met Paul, I was torn about whether I wanted to see him today or not. I was really mixed up in my head right now. I was really glad I was seeing Dr. Simmons tomorrow. Hopefully he would forego some of his psychobabble and give me some hard advice for a change. I really needed it. "Hi!" I was so deep in thought I hadn't seen Paul waiting for me, so I startled at his greeting. I cringed inside. How was I supposed to handle this right now? "Hi." "You OK?" I looked up to see him peering intently at me. "Yeah. Just a lot on my mind today. Sorry. Probably won't be very good company." He fell in step with me and smiled a wry grin, "Oh, from my position, the company is fine." I just blushed and continued walking. "So, how did the party go?" Damn, right to the sore spot! "Um, Paul, please, I don't want to talk about that right now. Like I said, I've got a lot of things to work out in my mind." I could tell he was a little hurt, but all he said was "OK." We walked the entire two circuits in silence, but before I could split off to head for home, he grabbed my arm to hold me steady, and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Jamie, I know you've got troubles. I just want you to know, if you need someone to talk to, or to help in any way, call me." I couldn't answer, I just pulled my arm away and ran for home. When I got inside and locked up, I slumped back against the door, and slowly slid down to sit on the floor. I buried my face in my hands and sat there for I don't know how long. I finally pulled myself together, at least a little, got up and went to the kitchen to fix coffee. Holding a cup between my hands to ward off a chill that didn't come from the temperature outside, I wandered into my office to check email. I found one from last week from my contract client. Darn, I shouldn't let this stuff slide! Opening the email, I found that they had approved the last phase of the project I was working for them, and had forwarded the scheduled payment to my bank. That cheered me up a bit. Of course, it had only passed the preliminary testing so far, there might be more work on that later before the final payment came. They also had included the specs for the next phase. I tried to settle down and study the spec, to see what they expected of me in this next phase. I had worked through this with them before, and the schedule was based in part on my input, so I didn't expect any problems. But they had ironed out a lot of the detail, and I had to understand the goals before I could produce work of the quality I expected, never mind their expectations. It was no use, though. Every few minutes I would find myself distracted by one thing or another. Finally, I decided I wouldn't make progress with my contract task until I had a little peace in my own mind. The biggest problem was coming to grips with what I considered to be my rape. I'm not sure that legally it was, but I wasn't interested in legal technicalities at the moment. I also did not have the first clue how to deal with it. Hopefully Dr. Simmons could begin helping me tomorrow. I knew I felt violated. I felt dirty. I felt ashamed. I also wondered to what extent I had invited it. Was it my fault? Oh, I knew Dr. Albert was a scumbag, but maybe it was me. I was getting too depressed thinking about that one, so I decided to leave it for the expert tomorrow. So, what's next? Ah yes, the minor issue of gender, and whether I would ever be any kind of a man again. Right at the moment, my prospects looked kind of bleak. I got the feeling that Sandy figured the damage was too severe to recover, but that she hadn't given up all hope yet. So what do I do about it? I turned back to my computer and started searching for transgender information on the web, figuring that if I couldn't go back then I fit somewhere in this category. Let me tell you, there is a lot on the net. I was amazed. I read a lot, some believable, some not. But choosing what I accepted with some care, I started to develop a better picture of what was happening to me. Eventually, I followed some links that led me to resources local to my area, including support groups, TG-friendly stores, bars, counselors (Rick Simmons was on the list), and medical services. I saved this link so I could come back later, and began reading the information available about each. I wondered how best to learn more about the local TG scene. I wasn't ready to stand up in front of a support group and confess "My name is Jamie, and I am a transsexual," or some such nonsense. I already had a psychologist to work with, and I'd had more than enough help from a doctor, thank-you very much. I wasn't interested in buying clothes. I had too many already, and hadn't needed to shop in special stores up to now. Then I got to the bars. I'm not a big one for the bar scene, but maybe I could find someplace to make some casual acquaintances that are TS, maybe find someone to talk to, some first-hand experience. Some help knowing what to expect. Scanning the list of social clubs, I read the brief description of each, which normally included the kind of clientele they attract. Some were mostly gay and/or lesbian, some mainly attracted transvestites. Not many seemed oriented to the transgendered. As I scanned the list, one caught my eye. Mikaela's, a tg-friendly watering hole. Tv, tg, gay, lesbian, she-males welcome. I shuddered at the visceral reaction I had to that term. She-male. But technically that's what I am now. I looked at the address and realized it was not far from the Westgate Mall that I had frequented so much these last two months. Glancing at my watch I realized it was past noon, and I suddenly remembered I had an appointment with Sandy at 1. Here I was still in my walking clothes. Oh, well, guess that means no lunch. I wasn't feeling much like eating anyway. In the bathroom, I stripped, and gave myself a spit bath. No time for a real shower. I found panties and a bra, plainest I came across, added a baggy t-shirt, some jeans (nothing baggy about them, but they were looser than last time I wore them), slipped into my cross- trainers without socks, and headed out the door. I made it on time to Sandy's office, but she was running late, so I had to sit a while. My mind wandered, back to the episode with Jerry, about how I lost control and gave him a blow job. At the time, he thought I was Amy, and I sure had looked the part. I cringed at what that might have done to Amy's career. But Amy handled it. Then the Halloween party, and how Dr. Albert blackmailed me into oral, then anal, sex, believing that I was Amy. Twice now, I could have destroyed Amy's career, and twice she had recovered the situation. I felt like a slut, and it disgusted me. I had to do something to make sure that I didn't put Amy in that position any more. I had to stop looking like her. I had to make sure no one mistook me for her again, since I apparently couldn't keep myself out of compromising situations. I was too weak to believe a vow to myself to never let it happen again, so I vowed that if it did (more likely, when it did), there would be no confusing me with Amy. Besides, if I was going to be stuck like this, it wouldn't do to be my wife's double. I had to decide what my style was, and it couldn't be a copy of Amy's. After all, a big part of my decision about completing a transition or going back to James would hinge on how comfortable I could be in a female persona. And it had to be me, not Amy. The nurse called my name, and led me back to Sandy's office. A few minutes later, Sandy strode in with a very professional air, which made me feel better. A quick greeting and it was down to brass tacks. "Well, these tests don't show any significant change, though I didn't really expect anything startling so soon. Testosterone levels are up slightly, but not so much that it might not be normal fluctuation. These levels are still much lower than the average woman your age. Estrogen levels, on the other hand have come down, but are still above the normal range, even for a teenage girl at the peak of puberty. So, these results are about what I expected, but we need to keep better track now. In fact, I would like you to start seeing an endocrinologist, and start treating this the way we should have from the beginning. Dr. Myers is a member of our group, and is one of the top people in the field locally." She paused, and looked closely at my face for the first time, to gauge my reaction. "I've checked, and if you are free, Sol, um, Dr. Myers can see you next Wednesday, at 2. Also, he would like you to stop in to leave a blood sample this Friday." She looked nervously away, waiting for a response. "Sure, Sandy, I can do that if this is what you think is best." She took a deep breath, and switched subjects. "Look, James, I feel terribly guilty about what I have done to you. I know now how poorly I treated you, and I want so much to make up for it." When she paused to take a breath I asserted quietly "It's Jamie for now." That caused her to flinch a little, but she continued "Sol is the best thing I can think to recommend right now. If anyone has a chance to salvage my mistake, he is the one." "OK, Sandy. I trust you." She flinched again. "Before, you mentioned the possibility of testosterone therapy, could that help now?" She paused to consider. "I think we had best leave that up to Sol. There is a risk associated with a testosterone supplement. The body seems to decrease production of the hormone when a supplement is administered. Right now, I would think we want to encourage your body to produce as much as it is willing to on its own. Later, if that proves inadequate...", she looked down with a guilty expression, "then it may be our best recourse. Again, those are decisions Sol can help you with better than I." "OK, Sandy. Thanks for being honest." I looked at her, but she couldn't meet my eyes. "Now, I have a favor to ask of you." She looked up in surprise. "Um, sure, Jam..., uh, Jamie. Anything." It was my turn to look away. I wasn't sure how she would take this. "I want you to help me look different. I need to stop looking like Amy. I want you to change my face." She sat back and steepled her fingers, considering before she spoke. "I thought Rick advised you not to make changes before we determined if you could, um, you know..." "He did, and generally I agree. I am not asking you to make my face the way it was, just tweak it enough that people won't mistake me for Amy." "Why?" "First, if I am stuck this way, I don't want to do it as Amy's clone. I need a look of my own, and getting comfortable with that look will have a big bearing on any decision I make." Then I blushed and looked down before mumbling, "and twice now, I've done things, reprehensible things, while people thought I was Amy. I can't take that chance again." Sandy didn't answer quickly, finally saying "OK, at least we can discuss it. I am not sure I agree with your reasoning, but I can understand your concern, and I owe you, big time." She paused again. "I'll send the nurse back in with the digital camera to take snaps of your face, and run them through my computer to see what I can do with the least trauma. Come back tomorrow at 6 pm and we'll talk about what I can do." The nurse turned my face this way and that to get all the angles Sandy would need for analysis, then showed me out. It was after 2, and I couldn't face going back to reading the spec at home. So I pulled out my cell phone and called Life Style, the salon that had done my hair several times, to see if my stylist, Ellie, could fit me in this afternoon. She was due to be off work at 5, but was willing to see me then, if that would work. So I agreed, and headed off to the mall. I still didn't feel like eating, but my tummy was complaining, so I stopped in the food court and bought a salad. I didn't eat much, but at least it filled the hole a little and stopped the growling. I still had a couple hours to fill, so I wandered the mall, window shopping, trying to decide what kind of clothes would make me comfortable. I sure as hell didn't want to attract the kind of attention I had gotten from Jerry or Dr. Albert, but I also wasn't going to dress like an old maid. I wanted a casual look for everyday, since my work didn't require business attire most of the time, and thought that would be kind of the beginning point. Once I found the style for everyday, I figured I could move from there into the business attire, dressy stuff for going out, and whatever else I needed. I considered, and discarded a lot of outfits as I wandered. Nothing seemed to say 'Me'. But then, I wasn't sure what 'me' was these days. I was headed back toward Life Style when I saw an outfit that caught my eye. I stepped into the store to look closer. The pants were silk, in a hunter green, flowing loosely over the legs. It had a pale green sleeveless silk top with a crew neck, embroidered ivy leaves in hunter green cascading around the neck and tapering down the center. The last piece was a lightweight long sleeved sweater, green to match the pants. I still had a few minutes before 5, so I grabbed one in my size and headed to the changing rooms. It fit well, and as I looked in the mirror, I liked what I saw. Not flashy, not slutty, but attractive. I couldn't remember Amy ever wearing something quite like this, so that was a plus as well. I quickly changed back to my T and jeans, paid for the outfit, and scurried off to the salon. I called and left a message for Amy that I would be a little late tonight, so maybe she could pick up Chinese takeout or something for dinner? I was shown back to Ellie's station after just a few minutes. It had only been a couple days since I was here, but with all that had happened, it seemed longer. "So, what do you have in mind today? Oh, and by the way, how did the party go Saturday?" I tried to suppress the flinch, don't know if Ellie saw it or not. "The hair looked just great with the costume, Ellie. Thanks so much for doing it up for me. Um, today, I want to go for something different. A different look, different color I think. A style that will let me keep some of the length, but will be easy to care for. Any ideas?" "Hmmm. Well, how drastic a change in color? Maybe back to your original? Or maybe a medium brown?" "No, I don't think so. My color is too close to what it is now, and a medium brown would be too close to Amy's natural color. What would you think of me as a redhead? Or maybe with black hair?" Ellie considered. "I don't think your skin tone would look natural with red. It might be OK with black." She thumbed through a style book, and came up with a picture of a model with sleek straight hair, longer in back, and tapering forward to just skim the shoulders. "How about this? This is similar to a pageboy. I think you have enough length to do it. And it leaves you lots of options. It would work easily into a pony tail, or could be put up for a dressy occasion." I tried to imagine what it would look like on me. "OK, let's do it." For the next while I was washed, dried, dyed, snipped, and combed. When she finished, I thought it looked a little like Cher, before she grew her hair really long. I liked it. As I drove home, I wondered what Amy would think. It made me feel good. Not about myself, I still had issues about what I had done. But I felt good that I was protecting the woman I loved. But this was only the first step. I was greeted by the smell of Chinese as I walked in the front door. I took my package to the bedroom, then made my way to the kitchen. Amy was setting things out for dinner. When she saw me, she said "Oh, wow!" I turned my head from side to side. "You like?" "Um, yeah? Why, though?" "I decided part of any decision about the future would involve knowing if I could find a style that I could live with as a woman. And I felt, to be fair to you, that it had to be something different. It was fun, at least part of the time, looking like your twin, but it wasn't me. I have to find out if I can even be me as a woman." We served the various dishes onto our plates and moved to the table before Amy spoke again. "Uh, so, does this mean you learned something from Sandy today?" "No, not really. The tests were inconclusive. Improved, but not enough to be encouraging. She has me set up with Sol Myers next Wednesday. She wants an expert to handle this." "Well, that's probably best." She took a couple bites. "So, what else are you planning to change? I mean, you know, besides your hair?" "I bought a new outfit today, while I was waiting for my appointment. I'll show you after dinner." The rest of dinner passed pretty much in silence. I didn't feel good about keeping my discussion with Sandy from her, but I didn't feel good about myself, or the things I had done that reflected poorly on Amy either. I only ate a little. It tasted good, I just wasn't up to eating. After we put the leftovers away and cleaned up, Amy followed me into the bedroom, and I pulled off my outer clothes to model the new outfit for her. She was impressed, thought they looked good on me, with my new hair color. As I took the new clothes off and hung them up, she came up behind me and slipped her arms around me. "Hey, I haven't had a kiss yet today. You mad at me?" I noticed she was very careful to keep her hands to 'safe' areas after last night. I was glad, but yet sad that there was this rift between us. I turned in her arms, and kissed her gently. She tried to put a little more passion into the kiss, but I pulled back and whispered, "No, please." She looked a little hurt. I leaned forward and gave her another very gentle kiss. "Can we just take it slow for a while?" Amy sighed, "OK." I was exhausted, emotionally more than physically I think, so I just got ready for bed. Amy went off to the living room to read or something. I was asleep before she got into bed. Tuesday, November 3 I woke before Amy for a change. I kissed her gently on the cheek, and she sighed, but did not wake. I used the bathroom, then went to fix breakfast. The coffee and toast were just ready when Amy came out. She gave me a desperate bear hug, and a quick but forceful kiss before breaking away to eat. "I'm sorry, Amy. I just need some time to get through this." "I know love. What hurts worst is that I don't know how to help you. I'm just glad you're seeing Rick today. I really, really hope he can help." "Me too!" I cleaned up while Amy finished getting ready, then gave her a light kiss that left us both unsatisfied. I got into an exercise outfit similar to yesterdays, and headed out for a walk. I decided I needed to apologize to Paul for yesterday, but tell him until I got my head screwed on right that maybe I shouldn't see him. I was half disappointed and half relieved when he did not meet me today. I tried to push my pace a little, but was feeling pretty weak. I was winded by the time I got home. Then I realized I had hardly eaten since the party Saturday. Any thought of food just made me slightly ill. I showered and slipped into shorts and a t-shirt. I was determined to make some progress on that spec today. I buried myself in work, surfacing after noon to eat an apple, then diving in again till three, when I had to get ready for my appointment with Dr. Simmons. I kept it casual again today. I was not particularly interested in looking like a pretty girl, but since I was modeled on Amy, there wasn't much way to avoid it. Before I left, I called Amy and left a message I would be too late for dinner, due to some things I had to take care of, so she should eat without me. I was ushered into Rick's office just a few minutes late, and settled into the overstuffed chair. Rick started things off. "So, what do we need to discuss today?" "Um. Uh. Weren't we supposed to talk about how to either become James or Jamie? Uh, depending on medical issues?" "That's what we said last week. Is that what we should talk about though?" "Have you been talking to Amy?" I was a little upset to think Amy had been discussing my problems with someone. "Yes, she did call to say she was very concerned about you. She said there was a problem at the party Saturday, but didn't go into details." I was feeling like a caged rat about then, but Rick's chair was between me and freedom. "Um, I'd rather not go into that right now." I couldn't figure out why I was avoiding the thing I most needed Rick's help with, till I realized it was embarrassing to admit the things I had done. "Then that is exactly what we should work through today." Maybe they teach these guys something in school after all. "Take your time. Just let it out and we'll see how best to deal with it. Hiding it away is rarely the right way." So, in fits and starts I managed to sketch a less than coherent tale of my shame. How I was summoned as Amy to an unused room where Dr. Albert was waiting. How he attempted to blackmail Amy. How I gave him what he wanted, submitting to first oral, then anal sex. How Amy interrupted, and my subsequently passing out, finally coming to after Dr. Albert left, and being helped home by Amy and Sandy. Because it was such a difficult tale to tell, my throat seemed to close up periodically, shutting off the sporadic flow of words for a time, so it took quite a while to relate the story. Rick was mostly silent, but would ask occasional questions when I seemed to stall, or when what I said didn't make any sense. Fortunately there was a box of tissues and a wastebasket handy, because I must have used most of a box. When my words finally dried up, and Rick had given me a reasonable silence in case I could think of anything to add, he spoke. "Let me guess. You feel dirty. You feel like a tramp. You think this was all your fault. You feel you are now unworthy of Amy, or indeed, anyone decent. How am I doing?" Each of his points struck me like a blow. Not because he was being cruel, but because he was baring my soul. Bringing my shameful secrets to light. I couldn't speak, only look at him through red puffy eyes. So he continued, "Also, you know logically, with your mind, that none of that is true. But you believe every one of those in your heart, no matter what your mind says. No matter what I say. No matter what Amy says." I could only sob and nod. Rick leaned forward and clasped both my hands with his. "This is the great crime that is rape. It is not so much the violation of the body, but the rending of the spirit that makes rape such an ugly sin. It too often makes the victim feel they are to blame, when in fact that is almost always untrue. This is the struggle that takes place in almost every rape recovery. The victim has to be convinced, they must accept, not with the mind, but with the heart that they are not at fault." My mind believed, had always believed, but my heart knew this not to be true. It knew there was some character flaw in me that led me to what I had done. And I knew I would do it again, and again, until I destroyed Amy, or at least her love for me. I knew the only way to save what was most precious to me was to get away. But I was too weak. I could not face life without Amy. Rick spent way more than our hour trying to draw me into seeing it wasn't me at fault. He kept asking me questions that my mind could answer the way he wanted, but my heart knew that lies fell from my lips. Eventually he had to call an end to the appointment, but confirmed that I should be back here Friday. So I was finally able to escape. Well, it was almost time to be at Sandy's office, so I drove there, and sat numbly in the car till time to see her. Her office was quiet when I entered. It was easy to tell that this was after hours, but her nurse was still there, and led me back to her office. Sandy was already there, studying something on her computer screen. She looked up as I came in, and gave a weak little smile. "You OK?" "No. I just got away from Dr. Simmons, and I feel like shit, pardon the language." "Oh, I see. Well, um, shall we get to the reason you're here?" She stood and moved around to the chair next to me, pulling her monitor and mouse around so we could both see the screen. It showed two pictures side by side. My old face and Amy's face. I stared at them, trying to discern what made them different. "People recognize faces based on a multitude of features, which are catalogued and sorted by the brain to identify an individual. Some features make a face more masculine, or more feminine. Now, in your case, we modified certain elements of your original face..." She highlighted several points on my face using the mouse, "to make it resemble Amy's." "OK, you explained that before." "Yes, OK. So now, you want to look different than Amy, but until the final medical disposition, not the more major transition back to looking like your old self. Just minimal changes to produce a face others will not identify as Amy." "That's right." "OK, I have worked with many women to 'correct' supposed flaws in their faces, so I have done something like this often. Because we want to minimize the trauma, we are looking for minimally invasive procedures to affect the change. Basically, what we have to work with are implants, and injectables such as collagen. We can remove implants we inserted before, or insert new ones. Both are more traumatic than we are looking for right now. Another option is to shift the implants we used earlier. For small relocations, this is relatively low impact. Finally, change the contours with collagen. I know this is pretty boring, but are you still with me?" I nodded. "OK. To get specific, what I would recommend is this." She replaced my original face with a new one. This one was of a pretty girl, but she didn't look like Amy. "To get this result..." Was she really trying to tell me she could rearrange my face to look like this? "We can shift this implant forward a bit to reshape the cheekbone, shift those in your chin like this, shift these just a little." All the time she was highlighting points on Amy's picture. "The collagen we injected to give you Amy's lips will not be absorbed completely for several more months, so we can't easily reduce your lips, but by careful injections we can reshape them here and here, making them only slightly fuller, but making the shape noticeably different." "Wow, just those subtle changes can do this?" Sandy nodded. "What's the impact? Bruising? Pain? Scarring? Time to heal?" "There will be quite a bit of bruising, but much less than last time. It should fade quickly, enough that you could hide it with makeup in 3 or 4 days. Some pain, but just consistent with the bruising, nothing that should require any pain meds. In less than a week, with only a little makeup, it should be hard for anyone to tell it was done." "I'm sold. When can we do it?" "I had kind of planned on right now, if you are agreeable. I asked my nurse to stay late to assist." Two hours later, it was done, and my face felt like it had been worked over by a prize fighter. Sore here, puffy there. Sandy kept me there a while longer to make sure I was OK, then closed up shop and we went our separate ways. Amy heard me come in, and hurried to meet me. She stopped dead when she saw the bandages on my face, and the bruises that were just starting to appear. "What happened? Are you OK?" She rushed to me, almost pushed me into a chair, and started examining the damage to my face. I grabbed her questing hands. "I'm fine, Amy. I just came from Sandy's office." It took me an hour to explain what and why, and as I had expected, she was upset. I just held her while she gave me a piece of her mind. She finally subsided, having of course realized there was nothing to be done about it now. I was feeling the aftermath of the procedures, and was exhausted, so Amy helped me to bed and I soon fell into a troubled sleep. Wednesday, November 4 It took me a while to wake enough to remember why I was so sore the next morning. Amy was already in the shower when I staggered into the bathroom to examine the damage. The bruises had bloomed beautifully overnight. I was going to be quite colorful for a few days. Oh well, nothing for it. I did my thing and vacated before Amy climbed out of the shower. I still could not face her in a situation that had often led to arousal in the past. We ate breakfast with little conversation, then she kissed me carefully before heading off for the day. Since I was in no mood to be seen like this, I had the perfect excuse to concentrate on my contract work. I'm not sure how I was able to maintain concentration today when I had failed so miserably yesterday, but I was glad for it. Not only was I able to make inroads in the task at hand, but I was not continually dwelling on my problems. The rest of the week passed much the same. I made good headway. I drafted a response email with a list of problems foreseen and requests for clarifications on the spec, and was able to sketch out the structure of the work to be done. I let myself be absorbed by the work, and was grateful for it. I worked late every night, and had only limited interaction with Amy. The problem was my sleep time. As well as I avoided worrying about my problems during working hours, they seemed to take over my mind during sleep. I had weird, half-remembered dreams. I relived both rape sequences in my mind over and over again. Most disturbing, the scenes evolved, until I was not only enjoying the sex, I was initiating it. Though only shadow memories in the morning, this seemed to reinforce my contempt for myself, my conviction that I was poison to Amy. By Friday, my thoughts were so negative I could not bear to face Rick, so I just remained buried in work. I did take a break to run down to Dr. Myers office to get blood drawn though. By Saturday night, I had a good high level plan for what I would do for this phase of the contract, but was stalled waiting for a response to the issues I had sent. All I could do was wait. But I needed the break by now. I had been pretty worn out when this work marathon started, and I was much more so now. That night I crawled into bed and whispered to a drowsing Amy that I had reached a breaking point. Sunday, November 8 I awoke to wonderful smells of coffee and bacon. I found Amy doing the domestic thing in the kitchen. I stood and watched her for a while before she knew I was there. God, I loved this woman. How was I going to live without her? In spite of the negative direction of my thoughts, breakfast tasted wonderful. I was only able to eat a small part of it though, because having eaten so lightly recently, I had room for very little. Conversation started very easily, with both of us dropping naturally into the comfortable patterns we had enjoyed for years. But that dried up when the conversation shifted. Amy asked how my appointment with Dr. Simmons went, and was quite upset when I told her I missed it Friday. After I had withstood all the chastising I could handle, I escaped to the bedroom, then out for a walk, leaving her brooding at the kitchen table. It felt good to walk again. I missed it the past few mornings, but my face was such a collage of colors I couldn't make myself go out where I might be seen. Today, the bruises were faded to the point that the walk was more important than my appearance. The swelling was going down too, and when I got back from the walk I removed the small bandages, revealing my whole face for the first time since Sandy's office. After showering, I was curious to see the new me. The bruises were a definite distraction, so I wrapped myself in a robe and set about making up my face to hide most of the remaining bruising. This was the first time since the party that I used any makeup, so I was feeling a bit rusty. I took it slow, and tried to make sure I did it right. I was so focused on each bit of makeup that I ignored the overall effect until I finished. I sat back and was stunned by my reflection. This was no longer Amy's face. While Amy is a beautiful woman, this face was model material. Maybe it was the sunken cheeks from my light diet recently, or maybe it was Sandy's artistry. Or both. I decided I had to show Amy. But I had to dress to complete the effect. I knew just what to wear. I put on red lacey bra and panties. Then decided to go all out, and put the garter belt on too. I pulled stockings up my legs, then went to the closet and slipped into my form-fitting red dress. Silver hoop earrings, and a silver chain with a locket that nestled in my considerable cleavage. Black 4 inch heels completed the outfit. I brushed my hair for a long time, till it shown, and lay sleekly in the style Ellie had given me. I looked in the full length mirror and wondered who this stranger was. It was almost too much for me. The other time around, after the first change, it was strange, but my reflection showed the face of the woman I loved. That made it easier somehow. Now I had no point of reference. I walked out of our room and found Amy reading in the family room. She looked up at the sound of my heels on the floor and did a classic double take. It took a minute before she spoke, "Is that you, Jamie?" "I'm not sure," was the best I could respond. "I don't know who I am right now. This is much more of a shock than I expected." Amy rose slowly and moved up to me, examining this new creature carefully. "You're gorgeous!" she breathed. "This is amazing!" "I know. I don't want to be gorgeous. Gorgeous gets me in trouble." Amy proposed Sunday dinner out, since I was all dressed for it. I was reluctant, but she insisted it would help me rebuild my confidence to be seen like this. So while she quickly showered and dressed, I made myself a good strong gin and tonic. Just a little bottled courage, if you know what I mean. Amy emerged wearing the black twin to my dress, which looked great with her golden blond hair. I could tell that she had worn the corset to get the best fit from the dress, and thought a bit smugly that I hadn't needed one. We went to a quiet, stylish restaurant, down by the river. Amy was right, every male we saw, man or boy, eyed us up and down. I thought I got a bit more of the attention, but then my dress was brighter, so it stood out more. She was also right about it rebuilding my confidence, but not in quite the way she planned. Much as I tried to suppress it, as I felt each pair of male eyes mentally undressing me, I fleetingly wondered how it would feel to be undressed by him. To be held in his arms. To make love to him. This was just the type of feelings I had been trying to avoid this past week. I didn't want to feel this way. I was afraid of what it would do to Amy, to us. But somewhere deep down in my core, it reinforced my new perception of myself as a sex object. I knew, based on the things I had done that that was all I was good for. I wasn't good for Amy. I could only cause her more pain. My emotions were on a roller coaster the whole time we were there. Euphoric with the sexual feelings the lustful looks aroused, followed by despair over my future, and the future of my marriage. I was a nervous wreck by the time we left. Amy mistook my distress for disdain for all the attention I received, when in fact it was just the opposite. I reveled in the attention. Amy wanted to stroll along the river. Even in November, at least this time of afternoon, the temperature in this southwestern city was comfortable as we were dressed. Again, we were the focus of much male attention, and my internal conflict intensified. Something had to give sooner or later, and finally it did. I continued to revel in my sexual role, and my concerns started to fade. Again Amy misinterpreted when I seemed to calm down, thinking I was just beginning to accept the admiration. At any rate, I was grateful when Amy consented to return to the car and go home. I was ready for this experience to be over, and not a little concerned at what might come of it. Back home, we removed our fancy dresses and lingerie, cleaned off our makeup, and donned comfortable lounging pajamas. Amy curled up in an easy chair by my desk while I used the computer to do more research on transgender resources. I stayed at it well into the night, long after Amy gave up and went to bed. This time I read more about the Benjamin Standards of Care, RLE (or RLT), and sex reassignment surgery. What I read was eye-opening, and did nothing to tip the scales toward becoming fully female. But I knew that was not the only consideration, and the decision would rest on other criteria as well. I shuddered at the description and pictures of the surgery. Finally exhausted, I crawled into bed beside Amy as she slept. Monday, November 9 Monday I walked again, and based on how I felt yesterday toward the end of our outing, I put more effort into looking good. Paul was waiting for me at his usual bench. His eyes passed over me, and kept watching the path behind me as I approached. "Hi, Paul." "Jamie?! Is that you? My God, what happened to you?" His shocked remark stung, and my lower lip trembled. I couldn't answer, I just took off down the walking path. Paul caught up quickly, "Jamie, I'm sorry. Wait, please. You just surprised me is all." I was still silent. "Jamie, please! You look really good, it's just that you caught me off guard. I didn't recognize you until I heard your voice. Come on, please, Jamie, talk to me!" I slowed down and took a deep breath before looking up into his face. His forlorn expression was so cute I might have giggled if I wasn't still hurting. I wasn't ready to forgive and forget just yet, but he was making progress. "Nice to see you too, Paul." "Look, I said I was sorry. What do you want from me? Do you want me down on my knees? Do you want to kick me while I'm down? Bring it on, sister." That was it, a giggle did escape. I tried to recover my stern hurting look, but it was too late. Paul had a guardedly optimistic look. "Can we talk about this?" "What?" "Oh, I don't know. Like maybe why I didn't recognize you when you walked right up to me?" So we walked, and I talked, and with the questions Paul tossed in, we made the two circuits before I was finished explaining the whys and the wherefores. After the initial rocky start, the conversation settled down into the comfortable patterns we followed before the party, and it felt really good. We went our separate ways. After cleaning up, I checked email and found a response to my questions on the spec. They had worked out part of the issues, but the rest would have to wait a day or two. I spent the rest of the morning working the supplied information into my work plan, but finished that about 1. After a salad for lunch I decided it was a good time to visit Mikaela's, since work was stalled. I put on my new pants outfit, applied my makeup carefully. This may be a TS/TV bar I was going to, but I still wanted to look like a real woman. Even in that environment I was scared of being 'read'. I sat outside Mikaela's for a long time in my car, trying to work up my nerve. It seemed like a nice place. Had I not known its special clientele, it looked the kind of place James might have taken Amy. I screwed up my courage, got out of the car, and tried to make an unobtrusive entrance. I climbed onto a bar stool and order a glass of white wine. I sipped the wine for a while, casually looking over the place and the people. Nothing particularly odd stood out. I didn't see any clownish drag queens, or butch-looking lesbians. It was all so ordinary. When the bar tender came to ask about a refill, I queried, "This may be bad form, but I'm new here, so I'll just ask. Feel free to tell me if I've botched it. Can you tell me if there are any pre-op transsexuals here that might be willing to talk to me?" "Depends." "On what?" "On why you want to talk to them." "Um, I need to learn." "For what?" came his almost hostile answer. "For me." I said in a tiny voice. He looked at me skeptically. "Really? You..." I nodded and blushed. He broke out in a grin. "You had me fooled. And after all I've seen around this joint, that's pretty hard to do." He glanced around the bar, then piped up, "Erin!" and waved someone over. A very attractive young woman approached from one of the tables with a broad smile on her face. "What can I do for you, Sam?" while at the same time looking me over. "Not for me, for this young lady here. She's looking for some advice." She climbed on the stool next to me, and studied me with a look of concentration. Finally she smiled, and held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Erin." I shook with her, "Jamie." "Well, how can I help you?" I blushed again. "If it's not too personal, are you really pre-op?" She nodded. "Um, would you mind talking with me about it?" "OK, but lets move someplace a little more private." She pointed toward a secluded booth near the back. I took my wine to the booth while Erin stopped by the table she'd come from and said something to the people there. Then she joined me. "OK, what do you want to know?" "So much, I don't know where to start. But first, I guess, how did you know?" She grinned even wider. "I didn't for sure until just now, but I had a hunch. The place, the questions, the nerves, and women's intuition." "Oh." "But you are really very good. Most people would never guess. Even me, if we hadn't been here." "Thanks." I tried to figure out where to start. "I never would have guessed you either. But then, I don't have any experience at this kind of thing at all. Um. How long have you been dressing?" "Full time, something over two years now. Before that, whenever I could, since I was a kid. You?" I seemed to be blushing about everything in here. "Only two months." "No! That's amazing. No, that's impossible!" "Unfortunately not. I am the walking proof that it is possible, with the right incentives. Um. Can we get back to you please?" "OK, but I expect the full story one of these days." "Maybe, when you have a lot of time on your hands, but it will just bore you." "I don't think there's a chance of that! Anyhow, ask away." "You're pre-op?" She nodded. "Do you plan the surgery soon?" She looked down. "I'm saving up for it. It won't be very soon." "Oh, are you anxious?" She brightened "Yes, very!" "Aren't you frightened? I read about the surgery last night, and came away absolutely terrified of the thought." "Yes, I'm a little scared, but the surgery doesn't frighten me as much as staying the way I am. This is something I need. Something I don't feel I can live without. For me, it's not an option." She looked at me closely. "If it scares you that much, maybe it's not right for you." I considered, "well, if the alternative is to stay like this, I think I would want the surgery. I really don't like the term she-male applied to me." She came back "Well, then, don't think of yourself that way. And don't let others refer to you that way. I don't. For me, this is just a temporary stop on the way to being whole." "Oh." "Look, Jamie. We all come from different places. And for all of us, different things are important. Some want the full package. For some, being a really good transvestite is right. Maybe that's your way." We talked for another hour. Erin was a great girl. And there was no way I could ever think of her as anything BUT a girl. Finally I ran out of questions, and thanked her for being so helpful. I had a lot to digest. She suggested that I come back on a Friday or Saturday night, when there were more of the regulars, and live music for dancing. My mind was racing over what I had heard as I drove home. When I pulled into the driveway, I couldn't even remember how I'd gotten there. I changed into some grungy clothes, and checked email. Still nothing about the contract. So I pitched in and got some housework done. Just before I expected Amy home, I had everything ready and holding for dinner, so I decided to check email once more. Damn, can things get any worse? I know, I shouldn't tempt fate with thoughts like that. But the email I found said the issues I had raised with the spec had pointed to flaws in the architecture of the entire project, including the part I had already completed and submitted to test. They were insisting on a face-to-face meeting in their office, and it was scheduled for early Wednesday. They were within their rights under the contract. It's just that it happens so seldom that there was no way to predict it. Now, just how in the world was I going to pull this off? They had never met Jamie, they had only dealt with James. If I didn't show for the meeting, they would probably claim breach of contract, and I might be facing legal action, as well as loss of the work and damage to future opportunities. Oh, I might have pled illness to get the meeting postponed, but there was no chance I could delay long enough to appear as James. I could show up as James' new 'partner' Jamie, effectively lying to them, but they probably would insist that James get his ass in there. They undoubtedly would not deal with some woman they had never met. Besides, I might be open to legal action if I lied. Or, I could bite the bullet, and face them as the remade James, now called Jamie. If that backfired, it could ruin my career, especially if I was ever able to become James again. But there didn't seem to be a better option. Knowing that this could be trouble, I figured I'd better talk my options over with my lawyer, Ken Gorman. He wrote up and approved all my contracts, and he was pretty sharp. So I put in a call to Ken's direct line, figuring he was still at work even at this hour. Fortunately I was right. I told him I was calling on behalf of James Hastings (well, I was! And it was easier than explaining), that there was a potential problem with the terms of the contract he had drafted, and it was something of an emergency. Was there any way James could see him tomorrow? Fortunately, he had some time set aside late morning for working on preparations for another case. He could see James then. That made me feel a little better. But it also meant I would have to 'come out' to Ken. Amy arrived home while I was on the phone, and pecked me on the cheek, overhearing part of the conversation in the process. By the time I finished, she had a concerned expression, and wanted to know what was going on. I told her I would explain over dinner. I finished fixing dinner while Amy changed into something comfortable. Her 'something comfortable' could have really revved my motor before the hormones did their thing. They even might have after, had it not been for the new image I carried deep inside. The dirty little tramp that circumstances had shown me to be. I couldn't defile this wonderful woman with an intimate touch. Needless to say, I was pretty down by the time we sat across from each other to eat. I had trouble meeting her eye, and even more getting the words out to explain my current predicament. The conversation was rather somber, and petered out before we finished eating. Or should I say, before Amy finished eating. All I could do was move my food around my plate, choking down only a couple bites. Amy offered to clean up after dinner. I really hadn't left much of a mess, so I snatched the opportunity to flee to my office. Several hours and many tg-related websites later, a visibly sad Amy poked her head in the door to say she was off to bed. When she was gone, I almost cried for not being able to comfort her, to tell her how much I loved her. It was very late when I crawled into bed, and Amy was already asleep. Tuesday, November 10 I slept through Amy rising and preparing for work. She roused me with a gentle shake, and a kiss on the cheek when she was leaving. I had stayed up too late, and only wanted to sleep, but I needed to walk. I made it to the bathroom and did my business. Stepping on the scale, I saw I was down to 116. I really should start eating better, but food just held no appeal for me recently. I pulled on panties and a sports bra, some powder blue tights, red short shorts, and a powder blue sweat shirt. Then I added some multi- color striped leggings. It was finally getting chilly out there, at least in the mornings. Socks and walking shoes, and I was out the door. Then I realized I hadn't eaten anything. Oh well, I didn't feel like eating anyway. Paul was there, his face showing some anxiety. He tried to get me to talk to him, but I was pretty down, and couldn't muster more than a word or two in answer. Most of the way we walked in silence, but when I was about to split off toward home, he stopped me, turned me toward him, and looked searchingly into my eyes. "What is it, Jamie? You seem so down. You look so different. Where is the beautiful girl I was falling in love with?" I jerked away and snarled "That was Amy you were falling in love with. This is me! Maybe you ought to go after her if you don't like what you see!" And whirled away and ran home barely able to see through the mist of tears in my eyes. Oh God, I was losing Paul too. But that was good wasn't it? I was poison. I was a tramp. I did terrible things, had sex with men. It was better that Paul stay away. It was better that I stay away from Amy. They were both such good people. They deserved so much better than me. Then it occurred to me. Since I can't be with either of them, maybe they should be with each other. Paul already loved Amy, since I was an imitation of her when we met. Yes. I loved them both. What better way for the two people I loved to get over me then by helping each other. Loving each other. Making love to each other. Having kids together. Growing old together. All the things I thought I would have with Amy. Each new thought wrenched my gut, but I knew I had to help them, no matter how much it hurt inside. If I couldn't be with them I would rather they were together than alone, or with someone I didn't know or love. I stood under the hot pounding shower for a long time, trying to burn the hurt out of me. And gradually a touch of hope began to grow. Just a bit of light in the darkness. I could see some happiness coming out of this mess, happiness for them, so in spite of my anguish, maybe I could be happy that they were happy. Finally I was able to gather my wits enough to get out of the shower. I was revived enough that I could face preparing for the meeting with Ken. I had to look good for this. I had to convince Ken that this was right for me. I had to lay the groundwork for getting on with my life. I selected a business suit that I thought looked especially nice on Amy, a light gray that I thought went will with my raven hair. I chose the lingerie to be sexy, black, trying to bolster my feminine self- image that has been in tatters. Nude pantyhose and medium black heels. I spent a lot of time on the makeup. I wanted it just right. Gold jewelry to add a little contrast to the grays and blacks. I decided to redo my nail polish, choosing a deep red, not too bright, but adding some color. I looked at the final result, and nodded in approval of the total effect. I strode determinedly to the car and set off for Ken's office. "Hello, I have a 10:30 appoint with Mr. Gorman," I told the pretty receptionist. She lifted her phone and dialed an extension. "Mr. Gorman, your 10:30 is here... OK." Turning to me she said "He's ready for you, third door on the left." I walked down the hall, fighting the urge to turn and run. I tapped at his closed door, then opened it and walked in. Ken looked at me, and a surprised look came over his face. "Oh, excuse me. I was expecting someone else. Can I help you?" "Ken, it's me, James." Ken looked confused. "Pardon?" "It's me, James Hastings." That didn't seem to help his confusion. "I don't know what is going on here, but I don't appreciate this charade one bit. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave now." "Ken, please. It really is me, and I need your help. Just give me a chance to explain, OK?" This was not going as well as I'd like. It took me more than half the time he could give me to convince him, and give a sanitized explanation of what had happened. Finally we got around to why I was there. He still looked uncomfortable. "I've got a problem." He snorted. "More than just this." I said, gesturing at my body. "There has been a hitch in my current contract project, and they are demanding a face to face meeting tomorrow. They know nothing of this. They were never supposed to know about this. I should have been James again by the next expected meeting, 8 or 10 weeks from now." I took a deep breath. "I have to show up for this meeting or risk defaulting on the contract. So I need to know what they can do if they take this badly. Am I protected?" Now that he had something to divert his attention from my body, his discomfort morphed to a look of concentration as he skimmed the copy of my contract he had waiting. Finally he said "I think the way we have this contract written, and considering the current anti- discrimination laws, there isn't much they can do about it, at least legally. They can claim you weren't able to meet the specifications, but unless you are behind the stated schedule..." I shook my head, "that would be difficult to prove." He leaned back, thinking. "Or they could invoke the escape clause. The one that lets them out of the contract for whatever reason they might have, in return for paying you a percentage of the remaining value." I had forgotten that. That obviously wouldn't be good for me or my reputation, but it was better than some scenarios I could imagine. "Except for forgetting the escape clause, that's pretty much what I thought. I just wanted to be sure." Ken paused a moment. "You go by Jamie now, when you're like this?" "Yes." "Well, judging from your looks, this is a pretty serious thing for you. And whether you reverse the changes or not, you will continue to look like this for some time. I think you should f