The Letter free porn video

This is a work of erotic fiction containing transsexual subject matter. If this material isn't your cup of tea, you would be ill-advised to continue. Feedback is welcome at [email protected] The Letter By Baby's Daddy I dropped my bag and was flipping through the mail, sorting the envelopes with half my attention as I headed into the kitchen. But when I reached the light green letter, I stopped. It was addressed to my roommate and best friend, Michael. And it would change everything for him. I recognized the envelope without even opening it because I had seen one years before. When I was 16 my oldest brother, Jeremy, paid an unexpected visit to the family. He was 25 and had been living away from home for years. He had been away for so long that he was more like one of my uncles - I saw him on holidays and at family gatherings, but we had no sibling rivalry, no brotherly bond. That night over dinner, I sat with my Mother, Father, Jeremy, and my other brother Derek, and we all caught up on Jeremy's life across the continent. He had already made great strides in his career, he had been dating, and the city had been a wonderful place for him to start realizing his dreams. At one point, the conversation drifted to a lull, and Jeremy fished into his pocket and pulled out a deeply worn, folded green envelope. He tossed it into the middle of the table, and said, "I got my letter, too." My Mother cut off a barely audible gasp and the rest of us sat quietly absorbing the news. Getting a letter meant sex reassignment or sterilization, and 30% of all males had to make the choice during their 25th year. Stunned quiet hung in the room for a moment. I stared at Jeremy, whose gaze rested on the table just past the edge of his dinner plate. He had a crooked expression to his mouth that made him look almost amused. "What have you decided?" Mother asked, trying to sound comforting and unworried. Jeremy breathed deeply and said, "I've already had the first fever. I'm going to quit my job, and was hoping I could have my room back for a while." He looked up from the plate edge and looked at Mother and Father. "Can I?" "Of course you can, Jeremy," Father said. "I'll have my books out of there by the time your things arrive." The mood relaxed a bit, but was still tense. No one mentioned what was going to happen while Jeremy stayed with us again, but we all knew. The shot Jeremy got would make him sick several times while it changed his DNA and physical attributes until he was a fully functioning female. Most men hoped not to receive the letter at all because they preferred to remain male. Raucous parties on a man's 26th birthday were commonplace for this reason. But once a man received the letter, he had two choices. Receive a simple shot and undergo a change to female over the course of several months, or be subject to several surgeries and treatments that would leave him androgynous with no genitals at all and no capacity for or interest in sexual relations. My brother had already experienced his first fever, so he had apparently decided to live his life as a woman. Jeremy remained with the family for another two days before getting back on a plane to the city. Allusions to his change were made in the form of references to clothes shopping, stocking up on fever reducers, and the need for a local doctor to monitor his condition. When he returned, he moved back into his old room, and got a temporary job at a local store working behind the counter. And for the first time in years, Jeremy was my brother. After work he and I would talk about politics, my school, his work. He'd never talk about his change, but over the weeks, I could see it happening. The second fever came, and he lost a lot of weight. I noticed his waist become more narrow and the shape of his butt changed. On morning trips from his bedroom to the bathroom, he switched from wearing a pair of men's boxers to wearing an oversized t-shirt, and I could see his nipples poking through the shirt. As he passed me, I turned to watch, once, and noticed his increasingly feminine bottom under the shirt juxtaposed against his hairy legs, and marveled at how he was changing right before our eyes. The third fever came and went, and Jeremy's face started to take on rounder, more feminine proportions. One morning I went into the bathroom and dropped my shorts to hop into the shower before realizing that Jeremy was in the room. Motion out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and the instant horror I felt at being naked in the room with him burned the memory of that moment into my consciousness forever. He had been sitting on the toilet, silently reading. In the span of 3 seconds, he dropped a magazine, lunged for his towel, and covered up. But in that time, I saw a naked girl of sorts. Almost as though he were standing in a frozen moment, I saw that his penis was gone. He had a vagina with pubic hair reasonably trimmed, and the breasts of a 12 or 13 year old girl on a still broadly masculine chest. His waist had slimmed and his hips were wider, but he still had a smattering of body hair on his chest and belly, and his legs were unshaven. "Dude!" he squeaked, sounding like an adolescent boy 3 years my junior. "Get the hell out!" I was naked and humiliated, and I fumbled in my shorts trying to pull them up as I hurried out of the bathroom. On the other side of the door, I rechecked myself... My heart was racing. The door had been ajar, hadn't it? It had to have been ajar. Years later, Jeremy would tell me that mine was the first penis he'd seen since his had become a clitoris. That afternoon when he had tried to remember what it was like to have a penis or testicles and couldn't, he realized that he'd reached a milestone. He'd started shaving his legs and armpits the next day. --- Seeing the same letter addressed to my roommate brought the memory of Jeremy's experience back into my mind. Michael was my very best friend, but I had no idea how he would react. A little unnerved, I left the letter in the middle of the stack of envelopes addressed to him, and left them on his desk as I normally would. I left his room, made a snack, and returned to his desk, just to make sure the stack of mail I'd left for him didn't look more tidy than it would on any other day. I took a walk and made a call to Jeremy. Her change had been complete for over nine years, but I was still nervous about asking for advice. "Well," she said, "I'd just do what you're doing. Let him go through this on his own. He'll talk to you if he wants to, and you may have to deal with the possibility that you're going to lose a friend." This was a crushing blow. I knew that Jeremy had quit her job and disappeared when she went through her change, and that she had not returned to her previous life when she was done. I knew it was commonplace for that to happen. Although 30% of men went through the same experience, actually knowing someone who was going through the change was pretty uncommon. Men vanished. They left their male lives behind, became women, and started all over. In fact, even though the option of becoming female was chosen by a vast majority of letter recipients, it was far more common to know a man who was being androgynized. Making the choice for androgyny was seen an act of defiance, and men who chose it typically remained in place in their lives. When I was 22, a hyper-masculine 25 year old co-worker received his letter, and chose androgyny. After a two week absence, he returned to work somewhat sad, and without the usual bulge in his pants. I worked with him for two more years, and watched him become a genderless person. He thinned and softened; his personality became more cheerful and mellow. Not quite male and not quite female, he was efficient and friendly. Once a male lothario, he smiled politely at sexual jokes, but didn't even seem to understand them. He served as a constant reminder to those of us who were under 25 of what our options were if the time came for us to choose. And while a few guys I knew disappeared in their 25th year, I never received a letter. On my 26th birthday, Michael, then 24, and I went out and partied at strip clubs and bars with a group of friends. I got so drunk that I didn't even remember the girl I woke up with the next morning. She wasn't surprised, and she was actually really cool about it. "I'm Erica. Happy Birthday, stud." she had said with a sly grin from the pillow next to mine. Even though I was horribly hung over, we had sex again before she left the house. "So you'll remember it," she'd said with a wink. But with Michael, anything was possible. He didn't have family to go to like Jeremy had, and no savings to live off of while he changed. Assuming he chose to be female. I just couldn't stand the thought of losing this friend, and part of me hoped he would chose androgyny, just to minimize the risk that he might disappear. By the time I returned home from my walk, Michael's bag was lying next to the door as it always was, but he didn't answer when I called out to see if he was home. Not wanting to seem suspicious, I went into the kitchen to grab a soda, then wandered back into my room first, before peeking into his room. His mail had been opened, and the torn green envelope was laying on top. I didn't touch anything as I peered over the stack of opened mail, but I couldn't spot the letter. He had taken it with him. Where to, I couldn't know. I worried, but decided that 3 out of every 10 guys get this letter when they're Michael's age, and that there was nothing I could do for him. He would have to deal with it just like everybody else did. So I perused the Internet and then watched some TV to get my mind off the situation. As dinner time approached, Michael was still nowhere in sight, so I decided to go out for some food and maybe a beer. On my way out of the apartment I found Michael on the steps on his way up. "Oh, hey, " I said, focusing on acting casual and normal. "I'm gonna go get a bite to eat. Wanna come?" He stopped in his tracks for a moment, and seemed to think. The pause was longer than normal. He was definitely thinking about his letter, and considering whether he wanted company or not. But then, "Yeah. Sure." "Cool," I replied. "Come on." In my car on the way to our usual Mexican spot, we talked about work that day, the television show I'd seen, and the funny coincidence that we'd both been inspired to take a walk after work. He laughed as usual at the appropriate moments in conversation, but his mood was uncharacteristically serious. By the time our bellies were full of beef enchiladas and beer, we were both feeling much more relaxed. His laughter seemed less guarded, and twice, I realized that I was not watching my conversation. Each time, I wondered if I'd said something inappropriate. And then it happened a third time, when I mentioned the ass on our waitress. Michael got a look of surprise on his face, and he didn't laugh. Suddenly, things felt extremely serious. "Look, Dan," he said to me. There was a long pregnant pause. "I got my letter today." He gestured with a nod indicating something obvious. "You know." "Oh," I said. "Sorry." I was stunned he'd told me. Even though I'd known for hours, I was still struck mute. I hadn't prepared for him to actually tell me that he'd received the letter. That had seemed unlikely, and I had not practiced responses that were sensitive and upbeat. "So, you OK?" I asked. "Well, yeah. I guess I'm just gonna have to decide if I want to be chick or a drone," he replied. He was not happy with either choice. "And I kinda like sex, so I don't really want to be androgenized. I'm just a little scared." This was my best friend, and I could see he was taking it hard. By the time Jeremy had told us, he had plenty of time to think about what was going to happen. He had made a choice, taken the shot, and was already undergoing changes. Michael, however, was facing the process from the very start. "I'm really honored you feel comfortable telling me, Mike. A lot of guys would just disappear. You're gonna be fine." "Yeah, I know. But it's scary. Besides, I couldn't disappear on you. You're my family, man. And I need someone to lean on, ya know? What am I gonna do, go camp on my foster parents' graves?" He was trying to make light of the situation, but he was really upset. "You're my best friend, Mike." I wanted to comfort him, to put my hand on his shoulder, but I didn't. He sat there, nodding, looking at the bottom of his nearly full beer. "You know what? Let's finish this and get out of here," he said. He brought the beer up to his mouth and tipped its contents into his mouth. He gulped it down in a couple of seconds and then let the mug hit the thick wooden table with a loud clanging thud. He grabbed the check and stood, looking expectantly at me. So I followed suit, swallowing my beer in six hearty gulps, and we left. We didn't talk about what he was going through. The tacit understanding was there, so we watched TV wordlessly back at the apartment for a bit before we went to our respective rooms to sleep. --- The next morning I was up and out of the shower before Michael's alarm even went off, per usual, but I noticed that a light shone from under the door to his room. He was up early so I considered knocking, but didn't. A paper rustled. Maybe the letter, I thought, but it was none of my business. Michael's letter would give him a deadline for when he had to report to the clinic with his decision, and it was usually only a few days. I knew that whatever decision he made, it would have to be soon, or we'd get a knock at the door from a doctor and four armed enforcers to ensure compliance. Receiving a letter meant you had no choice but the two you were given, and no deviance from those two was tolerated. Two days passed before Michael mentioned the letter again. He was returning to the living room during a commercial break, and popped open the diet Coke in his hand as he sat down. Without diverting his gaze from the TV, he volunteered, "I'm taking tomorrow off work so I can go to the clinic." "Oh yeah?" I replied. "Yeah. Well, I don't want the heavies showing up at our door. It'd be kinda embarrassing to deal with that," he said, turning his focus to me. I didn't want to force him into the meaty details, so I asked, "When was your deadline?" "Not for two more days." "Nervous?" "Yeah." His voice trailed off, like the thought was incomplete, and then said, "Still not completely sure I want to be a girl, but that just seems like the better choice." The show had come back on, and his attention returned to the action on the screen. "Well, you can always change your mind in the lobby," I said, to which he nodded absently. --- I suspected Michael would be home when I returned from work the next day, so I dropped my bag and hollered his name as I headed for a drink from the kitchen. He responded from his room, and I headed back that way when I had what I needed. I got to his room and found him standing at his bed, sorting swimming trunks. "Wanna head to the beach?" he asked, holding a Speedo in his left hand and a pair of surfer trunks in the other. He was shirtless, and I could see a small Band-Aid on his shoulder and another inside his elbow, presumably where blood was drawn. He was wearing a pair of board shorts with flip-flops. I just smiled at him. "Before it gets dark, you know? I'm thinking the Speedo. I won't have a package to show off much longer, and I wanna do it before my first fever." "That gives you, what? Three days?" I asked. He had chosen to be female, that much was clear. And he wanted to make the most of maleness while he still had it. "Yeah, probably. Maybe more, but not much." "Sure, " I said. "Let me change and let's go." Our afternoon at the beach was great. The waves were just right for enjoying and the eye candy was wonderful, as usual. We talked to a few girls and a handful of surfers and swam before lying down and letting the last rays of sun dry us off. Michael seemed to be content at that moment, and we talked about dinner and the weather. He mentioned a website he'd found that was particularly funny, and I talked about a colleague who'd been especially inept. He was lying face down into his beach towel and said, "This is a good day to be a guy." "Why do you say that? " I asked. He chuckled at himself, and turned his face toward me. "It's just nice to be a guy. To have pecs and balls and a dick, and hair under your arms and a 6 o'clock shadow." I looked quizzically at him, and he elaborated. "I know I'm not going to have these things for long, and I know I just got the shot today, but I could swear I can feel something's already different. But not so different I can't appreciate being a man right now... I'm going to have to beat off tonight." I laughed at his comment, and said, "Why not hire a hooker?" "Nah." He shrugged and put his face back down into the towel. I watched a couple of girls in bikinis and noticed a surfer admiring their bodies. The girls clearly knew they had the surfer's attention, and obviously appreciated it. "I think it's probably a good day to be anybody at all, " I suggested. I received no response. --- Four days later I came home from work to find Michael lying on the couch wrapped in blankets with a cup of TheraFlu. The curtains were drawn and the room was dark. He was watching TV, and grunted a complaint when the light from outside shone in through the open door. I closed it quickly, and instead of heading to the kitchen for my customary drink, I sat in the chair near the sofa and asked how he was feeling. "Turning into a chick is awful," he said, and grinned like a very sick person who's trying to be funny. His symptoms were very flu-like, apparently. Headache, muscle and joint aches. He couldn't keep anything down, and his fever had been between 101 and 103 all day. He hadn't been to work, as he had started to feel terrible first thing in the morning. "Is there anything I can do for you," I asked after feeling his forehead and noting that it felt extremely hot. "No, I don't think so. I think I'll just die. But thanks." "How about some soup? Maybe you could keep that down. I could get something spicy from that Thai place." "Mmm. Yeah, OK. I could try," he said. I was out the door in a few minutes time, and picked up a spicy Thai peanut and chicken soup that I thought might be easy to eat. On the way back to the apartment, the flower shop on the corner seemed to call to me, so I pulled over. I browsed over cheap bouquets for a while, wondering how Michael would react if I brought him flowers. He'd shown a good sense of humor, and laughter, as they say, is the best medicine. I decided that I should risk it, and bought a smelly bouquet of lilies and carnations. On the card, I wrote, "For my big sick girl. Get well soon! Dan" I dotted the i's with hearts. When I got back to our place, I sat in the car for a moment. A doubt had crept into my mind. Maybe flowers were pushing it too far. Maybe I'd just spent my money on an insult. I couldn't be sure, and so I decided to just risk it. Michael was still my best friend, even if he was changing into a woman. He'd know my intentions were good. When I stepped back into the apartment, I brought the flowers to him and he grimaced, looking humored and pained at the same time. He read the card, and started to chuckle but the laughter quickly turned to groans of pain. "Damn you," he said in amusement but being careful of his condition. "Too much?" I asked. "No, it's funny as hell," he said. "But it made me laugh, and that hurts like hell, too." "Good. Let's see if you can hold this down," I said and moved to the kitchen to prepare a bowl of the soup for him. When I returned, I handed him the bowl, and he ate from it for a few minutes, testing his stomach with minute-long pauses here and there. We watched TV as he ate until he said, "That was really nice of you." "The soup or the flowers?" I asked, and chuckled at him to let him know I was still ribbing him. "Both. It was nice that you thought of me. Twice even. You're a good friend." --- Michael felt fine within three days, and life returned to normal. The fever didn't leave him looking any different, but other little things were perceptible. I noticed that he seemed to be checking out guys from time to time, although we still admired women together, too. He seemed a little moody. And he opened up a lot about his feelings, which wasn't particularly typical for Michael. I learned that the change he was undergoing wasn't so scary any more, but that he was very confused about his moods and new emotional extremes. A couple of weeks later, I learned some things I didn't necessarily want to know, too. His testicles, of example, had pulled up into his body during the fever, and did not descend again. The sack just stayed kinda bunched beneath his dick. He thought his dick might be smaller, but he wasn't sure. He still got erections and masturbated, but now he seemed able to fantasize about women and men alike, and find them equally erotic. "So you beat off to fantasies of guys?" I asked, incredulous, but fascinated. "Yeah, I have." "Like, with you as a girl?" "Well, no, not really... just as I am today... but..." "But what," I asked. As long as we were on the subject and he was being so open about it, I wanted to know. "Sometimes they suck my dick, and sometimes they fuck me." "In the?" I asked. "Ass. Yeah," he confirmed for me. "Whoa." "Turning into a woman is totally messing with my mind, Dan. I shit you not," he said, and chuckled. I laughed with him, agreeing that I was sure it would. And then he asked, "Have you ever known any women that went through the change? You know, women you *knew* went through the change?" I knew I couldn't out my sister Jeremy, but if they ever met, he'd obviously know. Jeremy, like most women who went through the change, was completely indistinguishable from a born female, except that she kept her male name as a token of who she was. "Yeah, I know one. She's really cool, " I replied. "How did she deal with the change?" He asked. "Well, I dunno. She wasn't as open with me as you are, you know? She was more private. But she had a girlfriend for a while when her change was almost done, and then another before she started dating guys. She seemed to handle it pretty well, and she's married right now to a great guy." Jeremy had been a little sheepish about her first boyfriend, and said only that it was "very nice" when she started dating him. From that point on, she dated men almost exclusively until she met her husband. "Hmmm." he replied. I wondered what he was thinking. Three more weeks passed and Michael still didn't change much, as far as I could see. We talked about how he felt about sex, sexuality, and his body. He let me know that his penis had definitely shrunk, and that erections weren't coming as easily. To cope with this information, I had to think of Michael as a girl who was getting back to normal, which made it easier to hear. Michael's second fever came, and amazingly, it was worse than the first. Early that morning I heard him coughing through his bedroom door asking me to bring him water. I measured his fever at 104. Concerned, I called his doctor, who told me to monitor his condition. So I stayed home, bringing him water, fever reducers, soup, and changing the movie playing on his TV. When he recovered on a Saturday 5 days later, things were different. I had not seen him out of bed since the fever hit. Michael had been in the shower before me, and when I stepped into the shower, it was like a tornado of body hair had hit. His razor lay in the garbage, and it was clear he'd shaved just about everything. After I pulled on my shorts, I went into the kitchen for breakfast, and almost stopped in my tracks when I spotted Michael. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, but his body was shaped very differently than it had been. The shorts were cinched around his narrower waist with a belt, but his hips were wider as were his thighs. His legs were shaved. And when he turned around to say good morning, his nipples pushed out his t-shirt like a pubescent girl's. Otherwise, he was Michael. Same face, same broad shoulders. He obviously saw me checking him out, and he stood there with butter on his knife for a moment before grinning sheepishly and saying simply, "hi." I moved toward the counter and started pouring some cereal, and he said, "pretty amazing, huh?" "Well, yeah. Last time I saw you standing in the kitchen did you didn't have hips like that" "Or nipples like these," he offered. "True enough." I couldn't help but agree. I sat down at the table, and he joined me with his bagel. We chatted about how he felt and what it was like to wake up feeling better but so different. "Strange, wider, but comfortable" he said. "But the trippiest part is having to sit to pee. Well, and some other things about that, too..." he trailed off. "So, you're... " I pressed. "All girl. At least between the legs, I am. I don't know about the rest of my plumbing, but yeah. I've got nothing to aim, and the act of peeing is trippy - it comes from a totally different place." I just looked at him. I was dumbfounded. I hadn't realized that Jeremy had been female for so many weeks before I saw him naked in the bathroom that day, and I was stunned to find out that Michael was already female. "Wanna see?" he asked. "See?" I asked, incredulous. "Oh, god. No, Mike, no... that's OK, I don't need to see. I know what ... that... looks like," I stammered out in surprise. But he was already standing and had his belt undone. The waist of his shorts was giving way as he undid the top buttons and he said, "Oh, it's OK. You're not getting the good show. But look," and his shorts hit the ground. There my best friend stood, in a t-shirt and women's panties. Facing me, expecting me to see him, sharing the experience of losing his manhood and becoming female. And he *was* changing, too. He held up his shirt a bit so I could see his belly, and it was astonishing to see how flat his stomach was. He wore simple white women's panties, and his groin looked every bit like a model's in a newspaper flyer. The usual dark patch of fur on his belly was gone, probably due to the shaving he had done that morning, and he was totally hairless. His hips were noticeably wider than his waist, and his crotch was just a smooth sweep back between his legs, save for the slightest bulge of his vulva. I was mesmerized. And a little turned on. Girls didn't usually drop to their underwear for me. "You're a girl, Michael." "That's what I was trying to tell you, Dan." He pulled his shorts back up and cinched the belt around his waist again. "Kinda wild, huh?" "No kidding," I said, still dumbfounded. I sat there, eating my cereal, wondering why Michael had just done that. Jeremy had been so quiet about her change. It was obvious enough to all of us what was going on, and she hadn't needed to share that kind of information. And yet Michael had just dropped his pants to show me his smooth crotch. Michael seemed a little embarrassed, and was blushing. He obviously detected that my mood became quieter after his presentation, and he ate his bagel silently next to me. Finally, the silence got the better of me and I said, again, "Dude, you're a girl." He turned toward me, looking a little patronizing but still blushing, and said, "You know, you should go into medicine. You'd make an excellent diagnostician," and looking a bit smug, stuck out his tongue. "And you know what else? If I'm going to be a girl - and I am - I'm going to be hot. You'll see." I chuckled and gave him a fake punch in the arm. "Well, dropping your pants like that may be a good way to make sure the boys like you," I suggested, and then moved quickly to avoid the punch I knew was coming. "Ha, Ha, Funny Guy," he said, and stood. Our breakfasts done, we started our days. He had shopping for basics to complete now that he was built so differently, and we parted ways. --- Another five weeks passed and Michael was dressing in more feminine things around the house. He padded to the bathroom in panties and a t- shirt on a regular basis, pert nipples poking off his otherwise masculine upper body. I watched with interest as his bottom filled out and developed a womanly shape. He let his hair grow and started practicing feminine hair styles, coming out of the bathroom while I watched TV to ask me how I liked a particular style. He explained that he couldn't pass as a girl in public until after his third fever, but he wanted to practice so he didn't look like a boy awkwardly making the change. I didn't have the heart to tell him that with his hips and ass, and those nipples, it was pretty clear what was going on. Late on a Friday night, he'd finished his practice and flopped down on the couch across from the TV and announced that he wasn't tired. He suggested that we should go have a drink. When I agreed, he padded barefoot into his room in his t-shirt and panties, his round bottom shaking the entire way, and emerged looking pretty much like a guy. He'd found some pants that mostly hid his shape, and the t-shirt he wore helped by hiding his waist. His enlarged nipples weren't even visible. It was comforting, seeing my old friend in a familiar form, even though he'd lost so much weight during his second fever. We headed out to our favorite sports bar, and spent a couple of hours yelling at the screen and talking player stats while we polished off 5 beers each. I caught myself feeling very comfortable, and comfortable with Michael at that moment. He was my best friend. He was a great guy. And who cared if he was turning into a chick or had a pussy between his legs, he was a good person. And then the question that had bugged me when he first came out of his room dressed in boy clothes came out of my mouth. "How'd you hide your nipples?" I asked. He looked at me and grinned. "Big t-shirt, and clever taping," he said, smiling broadly and tipping back in his chair. "You're very convincing, " I said. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Convincing as what?" "A boy, I responded. You look like a guy tonight." "Thank you. I think," he said and chuckled. In the car on the ride home, his nipples came up again. "I'm a little worried about pulling the tape off my nipples, " he said, rubbing them through the t-shirt. "I think I was a little too eager to hide them, and it's going to hurt like hell to take off the tape," he said, turning to look at me. "Are they sensitive?" I queried. "Oh, yeah... sometimes I can come just from playing with them." He paused, and I looked at him in surprise. He seemed to consider my reaction, and then made an expression that read as 'fuck it' across his face, and he continued, "They were always sensitive, even when I was a guy, but now. Damn. They're wired directly to my pussy." "Wow. No kidding." I said, a bit turned on and flustered. He looked like a guy, but he was talking like a girl who was coming on to me. "Too much information?" he asked. "Well, I'm just not used to girls talking like that, " replied. "I may be a girl, Dan, but I'm not a *girl.* I'm your best friend. We can talk about this stuff." "OK. I don't mind, you say whatever you want." "Thanks. It's nice to have a cute guy to talk to about this kind of stuff." I just looked at him and raised my eyebrows as if to say, "Oh yeah?" and he responded with a similar expression. When we walked in the apartment he headed back to the bathroom. I went to the kitchen for some water, just in case I needed to head off a hangover. I sat at the kitchen table to take a moment, and he entered, stripped back down to panties and a t-shirt as usual. He sat down, and said, "I gotta get this tape off. Here, hold this," and proceeded to pull off his t-shirt. Two pieces of tape covered each nipple, and as I stared at his chest, I took the shirt from him as though I were an automaton. He began picking at the corner of one piece of tape, and finally ripped it off, yelling "OW!" very loudly. He rubbed the large protruding nipple and red flesh around it gently with a pained expression. "Jesus damn," he said, "that fucking hurt." I just looked on. Then he repeated the motion again on the other nipple, and I watched incredulously. "What do you think?" he asked. "They're tiny, but girly, yeah?" Indeed, each nipple was very developed and thick with wide areola, like a woman's nipple, but breast development was only just beginning. A lump under each nipple made them protrude from his chest, and he rubbed them gently. This experience was so weird, and oddly erotic, and I had to adjust in my seat to prevent my erection from becoming painful in my pants. This motion didn't escape Michael's notice. "Hot, huh," he asked. "I told you I would be hot." "Yeah, well... you may just be starting to develop into a girl, Mike, but you've definitely got my attention." "Well, you've got my attention, too, " he said, and reached forward to take a firm grasp of the rod in my pants. I couldn't move. I was shocked, horrified, and so turned on, I was powerless. He unzipped my pants and pulled my dick out, and then got on his knees. Stroking my throbbing dick, he looked up to me and said, "Ever since before my first fever, even at the beach, I've known I wanted you, Dan." And he began to kiss and lick the head of my cock. I was in ecstasy. Soon he was giving me a full, deep blowjob, sucking, licking, and playing with my cock with his tongue while it was deep in his mouth. He was good, and I was overcome. He tickled the underside of my balls and lightly rubbed my ass as he tongued the tip of my cock. Suddenly he stood. "Follow me, " he said, and dropped his underwear as he turned away from me. I caught the briefest whiff of musky pussy as he stood and walked away. I pulled my pants up to my waist and held them with one hand as I followed my hard cock toward his bedroom. The whole way, I marveled at how sexy his feminine ass and hips were despite the odd juxtaposition of broad, masculine shoulders. He paused at the doorway into his bedroom and looked at me. "Damn, Mike, you've got a nice ass," I said, and he kissed me. It was odd. Kissing Mike was different from kissing a girl. His beard had become more fine and soft since his fevers, but the remaining stubble from his mouth reminded me that he was once a man. But I was too turned on. He went to the bed, and lay down, face first, with his legs spread apart pushing his feminine ass in the air for me. His pussy was clearly visible, and the lips were spread apart and inviting. He ran a finger between his legs, playing with his pussy in a dramatic show straight out of a porn film. I dropped my pants, and moved for him, gently caressing the beautiful upside-down heart shape that his ass cheeks formed below his narrow waist. My cock was rock hard, and I considered pulling off my shirt or socks, but there was no time. I had to fuck his body now. I fingered his pussy from behind, finding it wet and soft, lips spread by his stance on the bed. I played with his pussy like that for a minute, playing with his clit and moving my moistened fingers to my shaft, stroking with one hand while I played him with the other. Finally, he groaned. "God damn, Dan... fuck me," he said. So I pressed my cock against Michael's pussy, pressing in slowly, finding my way inside. He gasped, and stroked my cock with his hand as it moved into him. Knowing Michael was a virgin I pressed inward firmly but gently, breaking his hymen and eliciting another gasp. I paused, then pushed until my pubes were pressed firmly against his beautiful ass. Then I leaned forward, and kissed his back. For a moment, I didn't move. Then when I couldn't wait any longer, I began to fuck him, moving in and out of his naked woman's body, hearing groans from him, strains of "Oh, god, yes." I picked up the pace, fucking him gently, but at a pace more to my liking, feeling him clenching around my tool. Minutes passed this way, with him tighten and relaxing, squeezing my cock inside his tight virgin pussy and moaning in waves. I kept one hand on his hip, while another rubbed his ass and back as I pistoned in and out. He played with his clit from time to time, and started to get noisier after a while, which turned me on even more. I was getting close. He started clenching and moaning loudly, and his head thrashed, and I lost control and started to come, dumping a load of semen inside Michael's body in an orgasm that felt like it lasted an entire minute. I collapsed onto him, and he melted onto the bed below. After about two minutes, Michael turned over, and fingered her pussy. "I'm a big mess, and god, this is sexy," she said. Feeling a bit guilty for taking her like I just had, I felt it was time to do something nice. So I moved down between her legs, and spreading them, began to kiss her belly. Soft stubble from her earlier shaving exercise surprised me, but I ignored it and kissed down to her pussy, where I licked and kissed her clit, alternating between it and slow, penetrative licks of her vagina and labia. The taste of my semen mixed with her own juices and Michael moaned sensuously as I continued. Finally, she seemed to come again, the contractions of her body so strong that the mix of our fluids gushed out of her onto my face as I lapped at her pussy. "God damn, Dan, " she said. "You really know how to please a girl." The room smelled of sex, but I had no interest in bathing, so I moved up next to her, and lay down. I must have fallen asleep quickly. When I woke up, I found myself holding Michael, with an urgent hard-on pressing against her butt. She must have been awake, and aware that I was, too, as she thrust her ass against me. Taking the hint, I used one hand to play with a nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she moaned satisfactorily. Soon, I was lying on my back with her on top of me, my cock deep inside her womanly vulva thrusting upward to meet her motions as I teased her nipples in my hands. Later, in the shower, I examined her body. She could still pass for a man, obviously, because her face and chest, back, and shoulders we still quite masculine. But from the waist down she seemed to be all woman, and clearly she had very womanly needs. "That came as a big surprise, Mike," I said, finally. "Well, like I said, you're a hot guy. I've wanted to blow you or fuck you since almost right after my shot - I would've even fucked you when I had a dick if you'd have let me - but yesterday I decided I couldn't wait any longer." "Really, " I said, momentarily considering what I would have done if he'd made a move on men when he was still male. Shaking it off, I continued, "Well, you're pretty good at the blowing and getting fucked. You're a lot of fun, Mike." "Thanks." She grabbed my soft, plump cock in her hand, and gently tugged it a couple of times. "I hope you don't mind if I climb up on that again," she said, and I could only shake my head no. It was odd, though, because Michael still looked like a man from the waist up, for the most part, and still had a manly thickness to her torso. She'd been shaving anything with body hair for weeks, but her face was still strikingly masculine, and with the exception of her larger and apparently sensitive nipples, so were her shoulders, chest, and back. Now sober, I was conflicted, but decided not to say anything in order to avoid hurting her. She leaned forward to kiss me, and I returned the kiss. --- "May I sleep with you again, tonight," she asked for the 8th night in a row. "It's just so nice to sleep next to a big furry man," she pleaded, and I allowed it. I'd gotten a blowjob or fucked her every night for the past seven nights, and it was comfortable. She was actually a good kisser, and her pussy felt, smelled, and tasted wonderful, so I went ahead with it. She climbed off my dick again that night, collapsing next to me and going to sleep in my arms. By sometime that night, though, I couldn't touch her she was so hot. Her third fever had started, and she wouldn't wake. She sweated terribly, and I finally went to sleep in her room till morning, hoping to get some sleep. I was surprised how her bed smelled like a woman. Musky, but feminine. Again, I nursed her for a week, observing her facial features becoming more gentle, noticing the way her shoulders narrowed slightly and her hips expanded yet again. When she recovered after three days, she had changed in dramatic ways. Michael's breasts were developing, looking more plump and now fully undeniable. She had lost more weight, and a couple inches in height. I rewarded her valiant tolerance of repeated illness by suckling her sensitive breasts and playing with her clit till she came twice. Then, with her permission and even insistence, fucked her while we kissed, pumping a load of my semen into her. Feeling fresher, lighter, and more female, Michael started letting her femininity be visible outside the apartment. Her well-practiced hairstyles started to leave the house with her, and the small bra we bought her hid under a pink t-shirt and short shorts one day on a walk through the mall. I told her about the guy who I saw checking out her butt, and reminded her that she was looking very cute. Although you could still tell by her broad shoulders and small breasts that she was not fully changed, it was similarly obvious she was all girl. She was titillated by her first excursion into public as a full blown woman, and at the food court, she leaned across the table and whispered, "Thank you for turning this into such a rewarding experience. Becoming a girl is so easy with you. And your cock." And then she rubbed her foot into my crotch and winked. I couldn't get up from the table for another two or three minutes after that. Two more weeks passed and we had fallen into a routine. We slept together every night, and it was assumed, rather than something that was asked. Sex happened almost once a day, and twice on a weekend day. She loved my dick, on occasion sucking me off when there wasn't time for me to reciprocate. So one day I asked, "You remember that friend of mine I told you about that also changed?" "Yeah." "She still liked girls for a while after her change. But you seem to be totally focused on me. Have you just been really into guys from the start?" I asked. She stopped for a second and looked around the apartment as though a production assistant might be off camera holding a placard with her answer on it. Finally, she turned back to me and said, "Well, I guess so. I mean, girls are still interesting to me, but cock is just so wonderful, and you feel so good." She stopped and smiled broadly at me. "You really do." "However, " she continued, "I still find myself checking out a woman's shape. So I guess with enough alcohol or the right situation, I could go for a woman. I always liked pussy, and I don't think that's changed. But I would just miss your penis. Being penetrated." She rubbed my knee as we sat there together on the couch. Then the idea hit her, and she looked suspiciously at me. "Why? You wanna do a girl-girl-boy thing or something?" I laughed. "Oh, god, no... Well, OK, maybe, in fantasy, but no. Not in reality." She punched my shoulder, a much softer punch than I would have expected several months before. --- Three more weeks passed with our routine developing, our roles developing. She was very adventurous in bed, and I discovered that I liked it when she would rim my hole. None of my other girlfriends had ever done it before, and it sounded gross, but one day after we'd both showered and were 69ing on the bed, I gasped in shock and ecstasy when her tongue flicked across my hole. I asked her about it later. Why? And she responded that she thought maybe she still had some of the old boy in her that liked a hole to play with. From that point on, she occasionally surprised me with a rim-job or a well-lubed fingering while we fucked, and it was fantastic. Her breasts continued to grow, and developed into a small womanly shape that seemed disproportionately small only because her shoulders and back were still unusually wide for a woman her height. And then her fourth fever hit. Thankfully, her final fever was not as severe as the previous three, and she was not completely bedridden. She complained of aching hips and back, headaches and tenderness in her breasts, but after four days, the fever passed. That morning I woke to see her standing nude across the room in front of our bedroom mirror, admiring her form. I crawled out of the bed, myself nude, and stood next to her. She was truly lovely. Her breasts were ample but proportionate and her shoulders were narrow and graceful, leading to her slender and pretty neck. Her hips were wide and gave her a very curvaceous figure that could not be denied, only appreciated. I was now several inches taller than she was, and I looked extremely masculine standing next to such a feminine person. My hand rested on her shoulder as she turned, looking at herself. I began to trace Michael's form with my open hand as she continued to move, and her skin felt warm and healthy under my touch. I said nothing, and we continued to do this sort of dance for a minute or two. Finally, she turned to me and looked up to my eyes and said, "my god, Dan. It's happened. I'm a girl." I smiled, and quoted her back to herself, "You should go into medicine." She smirked. But she returned to a sort of wonderment, and continued. "And my god, Dan, look at you. This has been about me for so long, but it's over now, and I have this gorgeous man in my life. You've stayed with me. Jesus Christ, how could I have been so lucky." She ran her hand across my pecs and appreciably around my back, cupping my ass with small warm hands. She leaned forward and rested her head against my chest, rubbing her soft features in my chest hair. I watched in the mirror as the pretty naked girl caressed the man in the mirror, and observed as her hand snaked around to grab his dick. "I don't even remember what it feels like to have one of these," she said without lifting her head from my chest. Her finger brushed the head very lightly a few times, and I felt my cock start to harden. "But I sure like how it feels." She tilted her head up a bit and smiled. "Wanna fuck the new girl?" she asked. I responded by lifting Michael and carrying her to the bed, where we made love three times that morning before lunch.