The Deception Of Choice, Episode Seven free porn video

The Deception of Choice. Episode Seven, comprising Chapters 18, 19, & 20. Preamble The weekend is a time for relaxing but David's predicament selfishly blinds him to the sensitivities of others and his subsequent remorse does little to stay his slide into a slough of despond. Monday dawns with a new training programme including instruction on female sexuality and sessions with a hypno therapist. Surely these will help him adjust? Oh .... and there's a vacancy as one of the girls leaves for pastures new. Chapter 18. David awoke late. The morning sun was already high and casting an oblique rectangle of light across his bed. He stirred, at first puzzled by the shifting weight at his chest, the silken sensation of limbs against sheets. Warm in the fresh sunlight that reddened his closed eyelids, the vague unease at the back of his mind crystallised into the awareness, the remembrance, of his actuality. "Saturday tomorrow, and the day, the weekend, is yours to relax in, to enjoy. No work, no schedules, no training." Such had been Laura's parting words after she had seen David back to his room after the party. He moved in the bed and felt his breasts shift and settle, adapting to the change in his body posture. The product of Venumar's latest research, Laura had said, designed to replicate the real thing both in movement and feel. David, without prior experience, had no way of knowing how successful the designers had been, but they certainly moved as if of his own flesh as they adjusted to the slightest movement of his chest. They swayed heavily, tugging at his skin, as he threw back the bed clothes and swung his legs out and on to the floor. He needed to pee. Urgently. As he shuffled, still not quite awake, into the bathroom the realisation swept over him that a bra was no longer just a newly hated feminine symbol, but a necessity. At least until such time as the adhesive lessened its grip. At the loo he hiked his nightie up and fumbled for his penis. Looking down he saw only two silken lace-trimmed mounds. Simultaneously he realised that he could no longer, dare no longer, relieve himself standing. He lifted his nightdress up over his thighs and bottom and swivelled round to sit on the seat. He tried desperately not to think. And yet thought was necessary if he was to comply with the undertaking he had given. This first act of the day and he had so nearly transgressed. Saved only by the fact that his cock in his direct line of sight, albeit peeping coyly between his bosom's cleft. Thirty minutes later, shaved, bathed, and perfumed, he sat at his dressing table and carefully applied foundation to his face. His bra was a frothy confection in a dove grey fabric that sparkled in the light. Flimsier than those given to him when he wore breast forms, it did less to control the movement of his breast, ensuring that the designers' claim that they would accurately simulate the real thing were put on trial before a wider public. His knickers were to match, but although they too appeared flimsy, flippant even, they gripped him with deceptive control, ensuring a firm, smooth feminine profile to his lower groin. They were amongst the clothes Laura had left out for him. "Any old thing will do", she had said. "Just choose something girly to relax in. I have laid out a few suggestions for you." "Just remember your undertaking and concentrate on being feminine, and on enjoying it!" David shivered. "Remember your undertaking", and "Don't forget your promise", were phrases that he feared would become very familiar to him. If they bothered to warn him that is. There must be a limit. The 'any old thing' that Laura had chosen turned out to be a mini skirt in a faded red denim that was so close fitting that even it needed a 2" slit at the side and thus failed to conceal the stay up lacy stocking tops . It was also cut so low that it only clung precariously to his hips. Or rather to one hip. One had to choose which it seemed. And then a flounced top with a low V-neck front and back which clung to, provocatively accentuated, his breasts. The shoes where strappy 2" wedges that matched his skirt. When he ventured to late breakfast both he and the outfit were greeted with acclaim by Anne and Emma. There was much laying of cheek against cheek and soft kisses amid the cries of delight at a reunion too long delayed. So much to talk about! The previous evening was dissected, examined, re-dissected and re-examined. All agreed that it had been great fun. That David, that they all, had looked absolutely irresistible; but that Nigel had met his just desserts for finding David so. David ate lightly through the hubbub, silently, restricting himself to the odd comment. The inner sickness of his heart killed appetite but some fuel was needed. And coffee helped. Words washed over him. And then suddenly, out of the blue, his attention was triggered and he mentally surfaced to the chat of the other two.. "And so Mona thinks that Grace de Messembry will fix it for her." It was Anne speaking. "She is so thrilled. The so-called guardians are a dubious crowd and she was quite dreading leaving here and being at their tender mercy." "Fix it? Fix what?" It was the name Mona that had set the bells ringing. .David wanted desperately to see Mona before she left. She was his only possible source on information on the bare branches. Emma giggled. "Sophie darling you haven't heard a word we have been saying. Who have you been dreaming of? What haven't you been telling us about last night?" "I'm sorry Emma, Anne, I am a little tired. So much ...." "Darling Sophie, do listen!" Anne smiled at him. "I was saying, I saw Mona this morning, about half an hour ago. She was just finishing her breakfast. And she was all agog about it." David blinked. "Agog about breakfast? What are you talking about Anne?" "You goose Sophie! You really have not listened to a word we have been saying this last ten minutes have you?" Anne sighed. Emma cast her eyes to heaven in mock despair. "Listen darling. Mona said that Grace de Messembry had told her that the Foundation would take the responsibility for her sponsorship away from her current guardians, as she, Grace de Messembry that is, was so impressed by the way that Mona has taken advantage of the opportunities afforded to her during her stay here that, after her time at the Finishing Centre, there would be a place for her with the Venumar Foundation itself." "But will the guardians agree? They may have other plans? They paid for her treatm.... her stay here." "Sophie! You really aren't with it this morning are you?" Emma mocked, an amused eyebrow lifted. "No-one darling, but no-one, has plans that do not fit in with those of the Foundation. Particularly when those plans originate with Grace de Messembry herself. Or if they have, they are soon persuaded to the contrary. As you yourself should .... as we all here, know." Anne cut in. "Mona asked the same question apparently. Grace de Messembry was seemingly much amused. She said that the guardians couldn't afford but to comply. That there was too much at stake for them." There was a pause. David tried hard to concentrate and poured himself another cup of coffee. "I was hoping to see her, to see Mona, before she left." "I am sure you will Sophie dear, She won't just fold her tent and steal away. I am sure she will say good-bye to us all." "But I wanted a word. To know more about .... well perhaps she has remembered something ...." He faltered. Emma lent forward and put her hand on his. "Maybe not this time Sophie dear. It may be a little too formal a meeting. She will be away in a couple of hours." Anne shook her head in sad sympathy. "And I don't think she can tell you anything more darling. Not really. And would it be fair to ask her? To detract from her joy at her new future?" "And you may meet her again at the Finishing Centre," Emma added. This was a new dimension. David in his few days at the Holding Wing, whilst questioning to obsession the future, had never considered the specific. Had never asked himself, 'where do I go from here?' If he went anywhere that is. "What is the Finishing Centre? What happens there?" His voice was flat. Desperately he realised he did not want to know. Anna seemed flustered. It was Emma who answered. "We don't know really. Just that it is the next stage. For some of us anyway. It is just part of the Academy. First here and then the Finishing Centre . That or onto the A&A programme." "A&A?" David asked in a dull voice. "'Assessment and Assignment' apparently, although I am not too sure what that means. Or what the Finishing Centre means come to that. None of us has been there. No-one we know has come back to tell us. All I, all we ...." Emma glanced at Anne and David detected embarrassment. "All we know is really the names and what we have ourselves dreamt up." David nodded. "And what have you dreamt up?" His voice was grim. "The next stage? For some of us? For whom precisely?" Anne was suddenly serious. "Sophie remember your bargain, your sworn desire to embrace femininity. Don't put that in jeopardy. Whatever the Finishing Centre is, or the A&A is, whatever the difference, it is what the Foundation considers best for us, us as individuals, to help us towards that gaol." David's voice was a hoarse whisper, heavy with sarcasm. "As does Rehabilitation Anne?" David saw her face change. It was as if he had struck her. The blood drained from her countenance. Her eyes grew large and sparkled as the tears sprang. She stood up and turned blindly, her coffee cup spilled and some dregs fell unnoticed on her dress. "How could you." Her voice choked and seem to come from a great distance. "How could you. You of all people! How could you say .... How could you say that. After .. I had confided in .... after .... all that we had talked about. How could you?" "After ... I have tried so hard to help ...." David was aghast, rocked back. The enormity of what he had said filtered down into his consciousness, belatedly into his understanding. Anne turned and stumbled blindly away. Her chair overturned behind her and fell clattering into the deep silence of her going. His own chair scraped back as he found his own feet. As he started to follow. "Anne .... Please .... I am so sorry .... Anne please .... I didn't mean ...." David felt Emma's hand vice-like on his wrist. "Stay." David stood there, lost. Uncertain. Aware only of the wrong he had done. "Stay. It is too late now. Stay. The damage is done. Now is not the time to repair it. If it can ever be repaired. Stay and I will talk to her later." "The hurt is too close. Let it fade a little. Then we can talk to her. Then you can tell her all that you need to tell her." "But not now. Not yet" Emma's voice was low, insistent, with an unmistakable, unsuspected, authority. "I do not know it all. Not all that she has told you. Not all that caused the pain. But much I can guess." David felt the tears on his own cheeks. His voice faltered, fought its way through an obstruction in his throat. He sank back onto his chair "She, has been, is, such a dear friend. I could not have survived thus far without .... without her .... and you Emma. She has been so kind, kinder beyond value. And I have repaid her with crassness. Unfeeling, stupid, crassness." "Yes," Emma said gravely. "And more. You have betrayed her. Not just betrayed her confidence, but betrayed her as a person and betrayed her belief in you. You really have explored new depths of selfishness Sophie." Her blue-grey eyes were dark with concern. Perhaps with disappointment. She shook her head. Her usual bubbly temperament now completely eclipsed. "Perhaps as your femininity has time to grow deeper roots it will help you to be more aware of other people, and of their sensitivities, Sophie. At the moment you seem to sadly lack the ability to see any problems, any anxieties, other than your own." "Emma I am so, so, sorry. Really. It just came out. I did not mean .... would not for the world .... hurt Anne. Nor you. It was unthinking. It just came out." "Unthinking yes Sophie. Much thought for yourself I notice. Little or none when it comes to others." Emma sighed. Shook her head. "Maybe I am being too hard on you. You are, I know, under great stress. A stress that I cannot begin to appreciate. Nerves as taut as a bowstring after last night." "But you have disappointed me. And I too am very fond of Anne. And she shares much of the same stresses that you do. Even if she does not perhaps show them to the same extent." Again a sad reflective shake of the head. "We will have to try to repair the fences. I will do my best Sophie. You have my word for it. And you will need to as well. You cannot afford to lose Anne's friendship. You have to rebuild that and the trust that existed between you. I will speak to Laura about it. I am sure she will be able to help." "Laura? I don't know .... I mean does she have to know?" "Don't be a fool Sophie. Of course she has to know. She will find out anyway. But she has to know because she is responsible for our welfare, and at least one of her girls is, to say the least, utterly distraught with a shattered morale. Another one has just made a complete fool of herself .... no not just a fool .... has demonstrated such an unbelievable degree of unfeeling stupidity and selfishness that it leaves one breathless. And the third, myself, is left trying desperately to hold the pieces together. Sticking my finger in the dyke. Whatever mixed metaphor you prefer. Don't compound your selfishness by believing you are the only one involved!" Emma shook her head in despair. "Five minutes ago we had the three of us united in a close and supportive bond of mutual trust and friendship. Whatever our other worries, we all had that certainty of sympathy and understanding. And now?" "And you have the temerity to ask if Laura needs to know? Apart from anything else, she has just put her judgement on the line by backing you in your request to Grace de Messembry." David sat silently. He felt lost and crushed. Emma released her grip on his wrist and stood. "I will go and find Anne now. Hopefully she will see me. I will try to explain. Apologise." "Please tell her .... please .... that I am so desperately sorry. That I did not mean .... That I would not hurt her. That she is dear to me .... That ...." He cast frantically around for words to match his emotions. "Yes," Emma said. "That is your only grace, that I believe you are as sorry as you say. That I believe your grief for the pain you have caused her. Let us hope that it is a saving grace. That I can get her to believe it too." "I will let you know." David was left sitting there, staring at his manicured hands spread out on the table, half in a small pool of coffee dregs from Anne's upturned cup. Red tipped hands seen over the swelling of his breasts. Red tipped hands and swelling breasts, that he had forgotten in the realisation of the effect of his unthinking blunder. Red tipped hands and swelling breasts that perhaps for the moment were less alien, less a matter for concern. He pushed his chair backed and stood up. He felt old, tired. The tears had dried on his cheeks. No more came. His spirit was beyond the help that tears give. He felt so very alone. He went back to his room. And went to the window and gazed out. The window and the company of friends, however new found, had been his only solace in this place. And now, with the thought that he had damaged that friendship, the window only served to accentuate his misery. He stayed there, time suspended, staring out across the unregarded fields and woods to the distant spire. The swallows wheeled and turned, but he did not see them. All, fields and woods and spire and swallows, all were eclipsed by the memory of Anne's stricken face. He was still there, lost in time, Anne's face still before him when the 'phone rang. It was Janet Saggren. Mona wanted to say goodbye to everyone. Would Sophie like to join them on the roof garden in an hour's time? David assured her 'Yes', of course he would be there. But when she rang off, he stood undecided, hesitant. Yes of course he must go. His presence was demanded, not requested. Anyway common courtesy dictated it. His absence would be noticed. Wondered about. And he liked Mona. He wanted to go to say goodbye, God speed, to her. He wanted to wish her well. And yet. And yet. He did not want to face it. Did not know how to handle coming face to face with Anne, with Laura. Felt ashamed. The 'phone rang. Again. It was Laura. "We need to talk. Now, on the roof garden. I am waiting." She was sitting alone at the small bar pensively nursing a tall dew-covered thin glass. Another was alongside her, waiting for him. He sat silently by her and sipped it. Plymouth gin with minimal tonic and a slice of lime. There was no eye contact. Both gazed into the middle distance. "I don't know what to say." Laura toyed with her glass, turning it reflectively in her fingers. "Nor I. Apart from that I am sorry, that I never meant for a moment to ...." Another long pause. Finally Laura shrugged. "Perhaps you should transfer to Janet's group. With Mona leaving there is a vacancy and I can take the new girl. Perhaps it would be for the best. I don't like to admit failure but I have the others to think of. Perhaps that would be best. I will speak to Janet. I know she likes you so it should be O.K." "No. Please. I said I am sorry. You know I did not mean to hurt Anne. And I do not know how I could have managed without you." For the first time since his arrival in the garden, Laura looked at him. Her eyes sombre. "It is not just you, you know. I have to think of the others. Particularly of Anne." Laura took a small sip of her drink. "Emma is right. You are self centred. Perhaps not surprisingly." She shrugged. "It has probably escaped your notice until today. But Anne too is fragile. Rehabilitation has that effect, even in the smallest doses." Her hazel eyes searched his. "God you are stupid Sophie. She had spoken to you of her experience at Rehabilitation. And God knows to recall that must have been unbearingly painful for her." "Worse, you knew about the death of Olive who was her close friend. She delved into her soul to share these things with you in order to satisfy your curiosity. And then you threw it back in her face in what must have seemed to her a cheap sneer." "I needed to know." David could have bit his tongue off. "Sorry that was ?." "No Sophie. You did not need to know. You don't need to know. Knowledge of that nature, does not, will not, cannot, change anything. You were indulging yourself in a futile exercise of self-pity. What will such knowledge change? Who will it benefit? Not you! Not Anne!" David's head was full of arguments, of answers but they seemed neither relevant nor likely to gain a sympathetic hearing. His head was a quagmire of frustrated thoughts. He cast around, without success, for something. Finally, weakly. "Please let me stay," he said. "In your group. With Anne and Emma. I will try to be less selfish. I am grateful for what you, what you have all, done to help me. Please let me stay." Laura considered. "I am tempted to say that Anne should have the last word. But that puts yet another burden on her shoulders. She already blames herself for this morning. The poor dear is tortured by the thought that she grossly over-reacted, was way too sensitive." "I don't see it that way. I think you behaved badly and have to shoulder the bulk of the blame." "Still .... Sophie, I am also aware of how far you have come in so short a time. And I know that your experience in Reception is only a few days behind you. Not to mention the inspection and your ordeal there. And I am willing, I would like indeed, to believe that this would not have happened if your own mental state had been less in turmoil." Again a pause. "Perhaps I judge you too harshly. Expect too much." Laura drained her glass and busied herself with a refill. She reached over and refreshed David's hardly touched glass. "Emma thinks that it can be sorted out. That you can make your peace with Anne. That we can try again. I trust her judgement and concur. As I said I am reluctant to entertain failure." Laura raised her hand to cut short David's thanks. "But we must ensure that nothing like this happens again Sophie. I will arrange for some therapy to sort out any mental jagged edges. Anne had some when she returned from her weekend in Rehabilitation and I blame myself for not thinking of it earlier for you, Sophie dear." David's relief at hearing the 'dear' again tacked on to his name, signalling a renewed acceptance back into the fold, was more than tempered by the carillon of alarm bells that sounded in his head. "Therapy?" "Just to tide you over Sophie dear. To help you get back onto an even keel. The Foundation has a terribly bright therapist that has proved invaluable in resolving such problems in the past. Already an eminent psychiatrist, as well as being a very successful hypno-therapist. But above all a really understanding girl, with such a warm kindly nature. I am sure you will get on with her like a house on fire." Chapter 19. There was a clatter of heels on the stairs. A murmur of voices interspersed with subdued girlish laughter. The others were arriving. First Jane, her left arm linked with Mona's right. Then Christine and Alice clattering in close attendance. David felt Laura's hand firm on the back of his hand. "Later Sophie dear. They do not know. Just make your peace quietly with Anne. Emma will help." Laura was already half way along the walkway, greeting the newcomers. Kissing Mona on both cheeks. The trill of her voice, of Mona's excited response, washing over David as he took a great gulp of his gin; trying to anaesthetise the questions jostling at the back of his mind. And then he too, automatically on his feet, walking towards them, smiling and exchanging kisses with Janet and her girls, and then taking his turn to embrace Mona, when she was freed from Laura's welcome. To congratulate her, to wish her well, to tell her how pleased he was for her. Then he was swirled away in their wake as they surged, halted, surged again, towards the bar. Starling chatter accompanied by the clink of glasses and ice, the glug gurgle of bottles being poured. David isolated, feeling so apart, conscious of his glass ice cold in his hand, seeing the red smear of lipstick at its brim. The errant thought that gin tasted quite differently when drunk wearing lipstick lodged in his mind. And then a quieter, slower, rattle of heels on the stairs. Laura heard it too and she turned to David with a warning look. Not all of Emma's skilled attention could quite hide the redness rimming Anne's eyes. Not all of Anne's own efforts could give her smile any natural depth. There was a sort of hectic shallow energy about her. Their glances crossed. Both looked away quickly, but not before David had seen the unnatural sparkle in her eyes increase. David found himself on the fringe of the group as again all embraced. As again compliments and good wishes for the future were exchanged. He turned away and looked out towards the edge of the garden, to the corner where he had found Anne crying that evening, where she had told him about Olive. The corner where Olive had found her own salvation. He did not hear the footfalls but there was a soft touch on his elbow and they were there beside him. Emma and Anne. He turned slightly. Searched for words and found he had too many. "I know you did not mean it Sophie dear." And then Anne too was silent. David shook his head, trying to loosen the log jam of words there. "No. I didn't. I was unspeakably stupid. I am so very, very sorry." And the silence swept back from that corner to cover them again. But David found he could now look at her again. And she at him. And David found that he was gently smiling. A smile of sympathy and tenderness and sorrow and hope. And he saw that his smile was reflected on her lips. And that the former brittleness had gone from them. "I am so very, very, sorry," he repeated. Anne put her forefinger to her lips in a gesture of silence. "I know." Emma smiled. "We ought to join the others." And so they did. The little group was animated. Mona and her move at the centre of interest of course, but the talk also ranged over the party the night before. The attractiveness, or otherwise, of the young male guests was the central point. Even the fate of David's erstwhile suitor Nigel was discussed with relish. Janet Saggren confirmed that his fourth metatarsal was indeed fractured and this, after general congratulations to David, led into an in-depth examination of the suitability of various forms of the stiletto heel as a defensive, or alternatively, offensive, weapon. David knew he needed to join in, to engage. His main concern however remained the possibility of extracting from Mona any more information about the broken branches. And that seemed increasingly remote. The only interest came when the talk shifted to Mona's future at the Finishing Centre. Not that anyone knew anything. Mona floated on a wave of happiness but that owed much to the fact that Grace de Messembry had freed her from her 'sponsors'. All the girls seemed to accept that the Finishing Centre was a desired, and indeed natural, progression for Mona. The seemed to be an unspoken accord between them though not to enquire as to what that future involved. And a tacit acceptance whilst such might be a natural step for Mona it was not so for all of them. Not for Emma, Alice or Christine. David dared not put these thoughts into words. Not after his recent gaffe with Anne. Not whilst acutely conscious of Laura watching, listening, closely. But they added another layer to his fears. A light buffet lunch was served; and then it was time for the final leave taking. Mona embraced him, her lithe body fragrant against his. "Such a joy to have met you Sophie dear. My only sadness is at leaving my friends, and I am sure you and I would have been even closer if only we had just a little longer to get to know each other." Spoken like the perfect lady David thought ruefully. Hearing his own voice, in light feminine tones, return the endearments and wishes for Mona's happiness in the future. He pecked her lightly on the cheek as she cooed into his ear "But I am sure we will meet again soon at the Centre. Pretty girls like you and Anne won't linger far behind." Her lips brushed his cheek in return. And then she was away with Janet in attendance, down the stairs and out down the long corridor to the door, the exit to the Holding Wing. "Just another five minutes of your time Sophie dear." Laura's voice behind him. "About the week starting Monday" She guided him to one of the tables."You know most of the routine darling. We have a little breathing space before the next inspection but a full programme to get through. Your days will be crammed full with lessons continuing your training on cosmetics, deportment, voice training, hair styling etc." Laura smiled. "No fears or mysteries there to spook you, you have met everyone and already made a start. Now you have to try for that improvement that will be expected of you. Particularly in view of your promise Sophie dear. We will be looking for wholehearted endeavour. Not just passive acceptance but enthusiasm and eagerness to suggest, to innovate, to initiate steps to push the programme forward." "Not that it is all work. We do have little evening sessions with visiting experts for all the girls to discuss, and indeed in some cases to try, the latest fashions. I hope you will find them really good fun. And an invaluable help in developing your own special style. All the girls adore them and I am sure you will to" David nodded. He could not think of what else to do. "I don't expect you have had much opportunity to avail yourself of the TV or DVD player in your room. The Foundation does monitor the programmes that are available on it and indeed there are some of Venumar's own productions which I am sure you will find interesting. The same with the DVD's." Laura paused thoughtfully. "Sophie dear. I should tell you." Again a pause "It's only fair, now that you have decided to fully embrace your feminisation, that you should know that there is subliminal messages on both TV and DVD that are designed to help you to concentrate on this aim. A sort of learning whilst you relax. I am sure you will find it most helpful, although it will, of course, not be apparent .... if you know what I mean. Anyway I just didn't want you to feel that we were doing anything sneaky, behind your back, as it were." Laura smiled at him. And understanding, open, frank, now you are old enough, feminine enough, all-girls-together, kind of smile. "So much to look forward to Sophie dear! Especially for you for whom there is so much to learn, so many boundaries to explore. Now that the first inspection is passed, and a little of the pressure off, I do so hope that you will be able to settle down and enjoy the new experiences that are open to you." "I do appreciate that you have lots of baggage, regrets even, stemming from the past. But that is now really irrevocably past, and I am sure that shortly you will be able to look back and feel nothing but gratitude for what we have been able to achieve together." Again the smile, frank and open, encouraging a return of confidences. David was lost. Still emotionally drained from earlier in the day,.He knew he had to conform, daren't do otherwise, and he struggled through the numb cocoon that enveloped him. "Thanks." It sounded, was, inadequate. "For letting me know." "Poor dear You have had a difficult morning. So glad it is resolved though. Just relax and enjoy yourself for the rest of the weekend. There really is such a lot of things to do apart from brushing up on your studies. Laura patted his hand on the table in a confiding way. "Any questions though before I leave you?" "Therapy, hypno-therapy, you mentioned, I don't think it is really necessary Laura. I am sure I will be all right. Just a little tired after yesterday, after this morning." David found himself stammering slightly. "I know darling. Such an exhausting time." Laura lightly held his hand. "That is why I believe it will be of such help! A couple of sessions with Dr. Tabatha and you will feel so much better!" "But Laura. I don't want hypno-therapy, hypnotism, I don't want my mind messed about with." David searched desperately for an way out. He swallowed hard. "I don't want to be hypnotised into being female. I have said I would co-operate, that I would try to be more feminine. But I don't want my mind to be manipulated." Laura's hazel eyes smiled into his. "Darling Sophie. Not try to be more feminine, but be feminine! Success is required. And what silly ideas you have!" She seemed genuinely amused. "You have been reading too much popular literature. Hypnotism can't make you feminine against your will. Can't make you anything come to that. That is not the idea at all! All that it can perhaps do is to give you a more positive frame of mind. Assuage your worries, help you to reconcile any inward turmoil that might inhibit your progress in the direction that we all desire." "It is just a tool that Dr. Tabatha uses. In a trance you are just more amenable to suggestions, particularly ones that seem sensible or desirable to you. That is all. Anyway you will be able to discuss this with her yourself. She will explain." David shook his head. Again he had the problem of wishing to scream 'no', whilst being aware that he was supposed to be reconciled to his feminisation. "Listen Sophie," Laura shook her head in mimicry. "Don't be a goose. If you don't believe me, that feminisation through hypnotism just wouldn't work, ask yourself why I would want you to do it. There would be no point. If it did work, all this effort to help you understand that for you femininity is an attractive, not to say inevitable, option would just be a waste of time. We would just have you hypnotised. And with a little surgery we could transform you in a week-end. But we don't because it wouldn't work. And even if it did work we would end up with a robot." "Really Sophie dear that is the last thing the Foundation wants. We really do want you to embrace the feminine side of your nature, to enjoy it, to revel in it even. To become a happy and fulfilled member of this society, of society as a whole. We are spending an inordinate amount of money to help you achieve this. Believe you me hypnosis would not do this. Not and produce the girl we want." It was too difficult. David could not concentrate, could not analyse. Her words made some sort of sense but there was something not quite right and he felt deep distrust. Moreover her last sentence raised even more disturbing questions. He nodded an acquiescence born of fatigue. A physical, rather than not mental acceptance. "Good, " Laura released his hand. "Think about it over the weekend and I will answer any further concerns you have on Monday. Give you your programme then too. In the meantime have a good, restful time. Explore everything and everywhere" She was already up and moving away. "So very, very, glad that things are straightened out between you and the other two. Give them my love." David sat there in the deserted roof garden for a long time. Conscious of his outward femininity. His breasts firmly held, the silken movement of his clothes when he moved, when he breathed even, Could smell the perfume that came to him at every breath. Could feel the earrings that brushed his neck, feel the whole panoply of girlhood that surrounded him. Frighteningly none of it quite so new, nor as alien, as it had been a few days ago. Knew that there were even minutes on end when he was no longer conscious of it. Conscious, above all, of the mental pressures building up. The irreconcilable conflict between what he had promised and what he intended. The future that lurked menacingly but which he dared not examine too closely lest the nightmare became reality. The implication that beyond this place there was another future at the Finishing Centre. David looked around. Apart from himself he garden was deserted. There was drink still on the bar though. The Plymouth gin bottle beckoned to him. Still ice in the ice bucket. And tonic, and lime. At least he could forget for a while. Maximum gin, minimum tonic. Too alcoholic a mixture to be refreshing. But good. The aromatic gin strong on his tongue, at the back of his throat. Several glasses did not solve the problem, nor persuade his thoughts to turn down other pleasanter avenues. But he had not expected that they would. What they would do he knew, would help him sleep the afternoon away. And they did. He returned to his room and, kicking off his shoes, lay down on the bed and sank into a troubled slumber, oblivious to the increasing mugginess of the afternoon that presaged a thunderstorm. It was the lightening that woke him. Although the early evening sun still filled the room with a warm glow, there were electric blue shimmers of light that seemed to pass through the walls themselves. That filled the rooms for a moment, killing all shadows, all hiding places. And then, rolling deep and ominous, the growl of distant thunder. David lay there, feeling stale physically. Mentally in paralysed despair with no will to move. Indeed reluctant to do anything apart from lie there and try not to think. He heard the spatter of raindrops on the half open window. The curtains framing it stirred and billowed in a cool gust of rain laden air. He was hungry. He needed to eat, to belatedly counter his alcohol intake. But he was bereft of energy. Devoid of the will to even stir from his bed. Even the thought of having to stand up, walking down to the dining room, having to face the others was debilitating. And before that having to freshen up. To renew his make up, re-apply lipstick, blush, eyeshadow, all the myriad of things that he now must do. He could not bring himself to do it. Could not face seeing his own face, no longer his own face but an artificial variant, looking back at him from the mirror's depth. The thunder rolled again, nearer. The rain heavy now, coming through the window, drenching the curtains. David lay there and watched it. The 'phone rang. David let it. Could not even turn his head it its direction. After a while it stopped. David closed his eyes and watched the lightening through his lids. There was a tap on the door. Again. Repeated again, heavier. More urgently. A voice called "Sophie?" David lay still, waiting for the lightening. He heard the latch of the door click. Sensed the draught of air as the door opened slightly. Again "Sophie? Sophie, are you awake?" It was Emma's voice. But two sets of footsteps drew softly closer, two perfumes on the storm cleansed air. He knew Anne was with her. "Yes." Reluctantly. Felt them at his side. Felt a hand gentle on his shoulder. "Anne and I tried to 'phone you. Wanted you to join us for dinner. And then, well with no reply .... you must have been asleep .... dead to the world, we were just a teeny weeny bit worried. So well we thought we would drop in to see how you were. Hope we didn't disturb you?" David turned his face towards them, half opened his eyes. "No," he said, "just tired. Kind of you. But, but I am not really hungry. Not sure if I can face food." 'Nor people' was left unsaid. 'Nor life' too. "But you must darling Sophie." Anne pleaded. "Just for me. Just to show we are friends again. You must eat dear. Really you must." David's stomach rumbled a muted agreement. Emma giggled. "You see Sophie that makes it unanimous. Go on. Anne and I will wait for you. Please?" She took his right hand and, as if by prior agreement, Anne seized his left and together they levered him off the bed. David's inertia spread to his powers of resistance. It was easier to comply. To go with them. And indeed he was hungry. Ravenously so he realised. He had hardly touched the buffet lunch. He went to the bathroom whilst the two girls examined the rack of DVDs. He heard them chattering whilst he splashed cold water on his face, and then urinated. In a sitting position as required. As agreed.. Back to his sitting room where he endured the others' assistance in redoing his make up. And so to the dining room where the three sat down, and ate. And chatted. And drank . This latter particularly so in David's case. Wine flowed freely. But more in David's direction than in the others'. It helped in that it numbed. And he craved numbness. Numbness helped him to talk. Helped him to converse with the others. Helped him to seem natural when his reality was so unnatural. If the others noticed nothing was said. Nor was David at his most aware. If there were any glances of concern they passed unnoticed. And the wine served its purpose in getting him through the evening. And through the night too. The lightening and thunder had abated but he was fast asleep before it finally died down completely. Fast asleep, oblivious to the allure of the baby doll nightdress whose lace and gossamer fabric rucked around, yet barely covered, his body, unaware of the breasts that shifted in response to his restlessness throughout the night. But even the best of wine cannot prevent time passing, and all too soon Sunday morning dawned fresh and clear, washed by the previous day's storm, a delight of a new morn to gladden the heart and uplift the spirit. The heart and spirit of most people anyway. Not of all people though. Not of David. Sunday loomed before him. A day of rest. No new boundaries to breach. No new ordeals to face. And that in its way was worse than the activity of further feminisation because it brought with it time to think. Time to reflect on the femininity already achieved, already forced upon him. Time to anticipate. Time worry, to dread. Time to seek for means to avoid, to evade, destiny. To turn the clock back. To kill the future. He needed to pee. And then to wearily begin the ritual of bathing, shaving, beautifying, selecting clothes, of pulling on panties and adjusting a bra around those mounds that seemed to be part of him. He sat in front of the mirror for a long time before he accepted reality and began applying his make up with the faltering care that he knew was his inescapable lot. Breakfast was beyond him. After a couple of hours of staring blankly out of the window he sorted aimlessly through the DVDs. They were a mixture of classical romances and soft porn involving female desires and perspectives. He remembered Laura's warning about the subliminal messages and wondered why she had mentioned it. Perhaps to turn the screw tighter. Perhaps because she knew that he had no choice but to accept them. Had almost an obligation to listen now that he knew. Now that he had agreed to embrace feminisation. Despite himself he felt curious. Would he notice. He selected the title 'Pride and Prejudice' and inserted it into the slot. Watched it. If there were messages he could not detect them; felt no immediate effects. And at least it passed the time. Perhaps it was a double bluff on Laura's part. Although there seemed no reason for it. But then there seemed no reason for much that was happening to him. No reason for all that was happening in the broad sense. He tried another DVD. 'Four Weddings and a Funeral'. He had seen it before but it stood the repetition. The 'phone rang. It was Emma. She and Anne were about to go and have lunch and would he join them? He realised he was hungry and knew that he could not eat without meeting them, so in spite of his preference for solitude he accepted with as much grace as he could muster. "In ten minutes then," she said. "Just enough time to tart yourself up!" *********** Lunch was a cold buffet that they loaded on to trays and carried to the roof garden. David felt that his life was beginning to be centred there. Again the bar was open and wine was available with no apparent limit. The food was good. Smoked salmon, new potatoes, a salad with small young raw broad beans in walnut oil. The wine Anne chose, an excellent New Zealand Chardonnay. And then summer pudding. The Venumar Foundation did not penny pinch. In other circumstances it would have been a very pleasant meal indeed. For Emma, and quite possibly Anne, it was. Again David drank deep. The conversation turned to speculation on who would replace Mona. That someone would was not in question. Nor was it really in doubt that she would be a new girl. Someone perhaps sponsored as had been Mona herself. Perhaps a recruit like David, or perhaps 'rescued' as Anne had been. Whatever the new comer's provenance, both Anne and Emma referred to her as lucky. As lucky as they had been. As lucky as they all, David included, were, to have been given this chance. When they perhaps sensed David's hesitation the other two were quick to compliment him on the progress he had made. How he was unrecognisable from the poor dear that had arrived in their midst only five days before. How he was such a credit both to the Foundation, and especially dear Laura, as well as himself. Only the word used was herself, not himself. Contentment, happiness, compliance, were all taken for granted. David fetched another bottle from the bar. The others allowed their glasses to be topped up, but under protest, and David felt that they did so in a conscious effort to avoid a situation in which he would be left drinking it alone. The bottle finished David left them there, pleading that he needed a little rest and made his way back to his room which, in spite of the terrors that lurked there, was the only refuge he had. He put another DVD in the slot and stared aimlessly at it, half dozing through the rest of the afternoon. He wished the day gone yet dreaded its passing. The hours dragged but still moved at frightening, inexorable, speed towards their close. For tomorrow was Monday and the new week would bring fresh pressure, would erode yet further what masculinity remained to him. He knew that he was drinking too much. Drink served a purpose but was a palliative not a cure. No, not even a palliative. Just a short term evasion. Worse, it dulled the need to face up to what was happening to him. Dulled also his resistance. Inaction was acceptance. The time that passed dragged him deeper into the quagmire. Drink dulled the despair, but dulled equally his chances of countering it. But it was too late today. Tomorrow he would, tomorrow he must, work something out. Sunday was a day of rest. And he needed to relax, to recharge his batteries. Tomorrow would be better. Today he was tired. Tomorrow he must do something. When hunger overcome the inertia, driving him to dinner, David found that Christine and Alice were sitting with Emma and Anne in the dining room. All four were well into their main course when he arrived. All were animated, and sparkled as they chatted, A rerun of the lunchtime conversation relived the events of the weekend, speculated on the expected new arrival. David sat and listened. Courtesy called for some participation but his minimum responses were easy to come by after the practice at lunchtime. The others seemed unaware of his quietness, perhaps attributing it to his need to make up leeway after his late start to the meal, although he felt Emma's eyes, pensive, on him from time to time. There was more wine of course. The others drank little, too busy talking, too busy sharing their thoughts, too busy enjoying the gossip. David found that it slipped down easily. In spite of his half formed resolution that afternoon, the recognition that drink didn't help, it was a comfort. By the time he had finished eating and was sitting with coffee, he too was becoming more animated, more talkative. At around eight the other four announced their intention to continuing their evening in the sitting room, to talk further or perhaps play games, cards or Trivial Pursuit. Apparently there was a new feminine version of the latter that had just arrived. David excused himself on the grounds that he was still tired and would like to read quietly in his room. He had much studying to catch up on. Besides, he pointed out, five was not a good number to play. The others nodded understandingly. Back in his room he thumbed through a couple of magazines. Cosmopolitan, Marie-Claire. It was a different world. He turned on the TV set. The hand control had all the normal controls but no programme buttons. There was no choice. Much to his surprise a BBC News broadcast was showing. It was David's first contact with the outside world for months and he watched enthralled. Little seemed to have changed in the outside world though. The same global problems, and seemingly the same political faces still there although in slightly different roles than he remembered. There must have been a Cabinet re-shuffle. When that finished a list of the evening's programmes appeared, all courtesy of the Venumar Foundation the caption stated. Firstly a film, 'Pretty Woman', then a talk on 'Skin Care in Summer', the evening ending with a feature film 'The Girlhood of Emily Pankhurst.' Evidently his viewing was limited to what the Venumar Foundation approved. Still 'Pretty Woman' was good, if not exactly new, and he settled down to watch it. Anything to divert this mind from his own plight. To fill in the hours until he could find oblivion in sleep. How many times had he seen it before? Three or four at the very least. But this time it seemed slightly different. He did not notice it at first, but after the first twenty minutes the thought stirred at the back of his mind and then in another ten minutes had grown into a slight unease. But he could not pin it down. His eyelids grew heavy as the familiar story unfolded. Too much to drink. The unease faded but did not quite disappear. It was only later, in bed, just before sleep engulfed him, that it suddenly crystallised. His perspective had changed. Before he had been entranced by Julie Roberts. Delightful, sexy, feminine Julie Roberts. He could not even remember, maybe had never known, the name of the man playing opposite her. She still entranced him, but perhaps his admiration was now more technical. Perhaps he now appreciated more, understood more, why she was so alluring. On the edge of sleep it seemed to him also that he understood why she had found the man so attractive. Richard, someone or other. He had never known his name. Could not remember. But he was charming. Any girl would fancy him .... For a moment he was fully awake. Something disturbing fought through his consciousness. Had the film been edited? Was that the difference ? Or was it subliminal? Was it something in that film that had been changed by the Foundation? Or was it a cumulative effect from the infection in all he had watched? And then sleep finally, mercifully, claimed him. Laura brought morning and awareness with her. The light tap on the door that presaged but did not delay her entry. "Sophie dear! Wake up darling!" David opened his eyes to see her rummaging in his wardrobe, looking back over her shoulder at him. "Wake up Sophie dear! I can see you have had a rather too relaxing a weekend! Now we must get back to work." She held a dress up for his inspection. This will do just fine darling. In pure silk cr?pe. Soft grey, bias cut with square neckline. You will look so dishy! Just can't wait to see you in it!" She beamed at him encouragingly. "I will let you choose suitable undies and shoes darling. Such good practice for you. And such fun too! You must hate having these things decided for you. I know I would." Laura rattled on, not waiting for a reply. "I must rush anyway. Need to have a chat with Emma. Be back in forty minutes though to run through the week ahead. I will leave you this." She brandished an envelope. "Your programme for the week. I think you will find it quite straightforward. As we discussed. Have a quick glance at it before I get back and I will be pleased to go through any queries with you then." And with that she was gone. David had not had time to say a word. His week was beginning. It was becoming routine. The toilet on which he obediently sat. The relaxing perfumed bath with soft clinging bubbles. The careful shave and the even more careful application of moisturiser and skin lotions. His new breasts seemed as firmly fixed as ever. How long was the adhesive supposed to last? David could not remember but for the present they remained part of him, their edges blending almost imperceptibly into his own skin. Back in his dressing room he searched in his wardrobe for panties and bra. Someone had changed the contents. In one of his periods of absence someone had removed most or all of the clothing and completely restocked it. It now contained a 'phase two' collection he realised grimly. Now everything was fully fledged, unashamedly, seductively feminine He remembered Laura, on his arrival at the Holding Wing, cajoling him into a shirt dress on the grounds that it so closely resembled masculine attire in spirit at least. That pretence had gone. The crepe dress was without doubt meant to emphasise the female form. To glory in it. And his lingerie were designed to emphasise that. To play a supporting role. He smiled bitterly at the unlooked-for mental pun. And, as Laura had so pointedly commented, he could himself choose what to wear. His make-up techniques were still woeful. But at least he now knew roughly what to do. What to aim for and with a glimmer of an idea as to how it could be achieved. He hated himself whilst he peered into the mirror, did, undid, and redid his face. Hated the smell of himself as La Perla's 'Blue' hazed over him. Saw no alternative. It took him all of the forty minutes Laura had allowed. Still awaiting her return he sat on the bed and opened the letter containing the timetable for the week. Much of it was as he had expected. There were daily sessions with Mrs. Townsend for 'Cosmetics', with Sally for 'Deportment' and with Veronica for 'Voice Training'. There was something called 'Fashion & Dress Sense' on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. On Tuesdays and Fridays he was scheduled for two hour sessions in the Hair Dressing Salon. There was even two 'Dance' slots. Interspersed were periods marked 'Private Study'. There too, on Tuesday and Thursday, there were hour long sessions with a Dr. Tabatha O'Neill, psychiatrist. There was something else too. "Female Sexuality". Twice in the week. God knows what that entailed. David felt chill foreboding. As he grappled with what that could mean, what it could encompass, Laura returned. The usual tap on the door and she was inside the room. "Sophie dear, that dress is so you darling. So elegant!" She smiled encouragement at him. "Not to worry to much about make up at this stage dear. I have arranged that your first sessions each morning are with Mrs. Townsend so that she help you start your day looking absolutely immaculate. So important for a girl's self esteem and confidence!" She noticed the paper in David's hand. "What do you think of the programme dear? I do so hope you like it. I have tried to make it as varied and as interesting as possible. Do you like it? So many fascinating things to explore! Any questions?" "Laura, please, what are the 'Female Sexuality' sessions about?" David was embarrassed. "I know I am committed to behave as feminine as possible, but I haven't, well, I haven't got female bits .... I don't have feminine sexuality." He found himself blushing for reasons that he could not determine. Laura giggled. "Oh Sophie! You are so sweet! Having female bits, as you so charmingly put it, is not a sine qua non when it comes to learning how the female body works and how to exploit it to the full, how to use it, how to draw maximum benefit, maximum pleasure, from all sexual aspects of the human condition." "Yes but ...." "Sophie dear don't cross your bridges before you come to them. The first session is just after lunch today and I am sure you will find it quite fascinating. And it is one to one so you won't be embarrassed by blushing in front of the other girls." Again a silvery giggle. "I look forward to hearing all about it this evening. But in the meantime don't worry. You must get out of this habit of seeing dangers lurking round every corner Sophie dear. Just try and enjoy all the opportunities and facilities on offer here." She leant forward and kissed his cheek. "The programme is honestly and truly designed with your best interests at heart darling. To help you to maximise your potential. The more you put into it, the more you will get out of it. And that includes enjoyment" "But ...." "No buts Sophie. Look You are going to be late for Mrs. Townsend. Run darling. And give her my love. See you later. And remember. Enjoy!" And she pushed him out of the door. When David joined the other girls for the now familiar lunch, his make-up was perfect after Mrs. Townsend's ministrations, his hair newly styled after the subsequent session in the hairdressers. Emma greeted him with a kiss and cries of delight. "Sophie darling, you look absolutely stunning." Anne smiled at him in welcome. "Of course she does Emma. How could she not?" It all seemed so familiar. All girls together. His grey dress clung to him, emphasising each movement, each curve of his body, moulding over his breasts, sliding over his silken lingerie and hose. He had to keep reminding himself that a week ago he was still entombed in the cell at Reception with no inkling of what lay in store. In a sort of hopeless, isolated limbo with no future. Now we was surrounded by companions, friends even, well fed and watered. With everything done to assure his future. But a future that seemed anathema to him. Then his masculinity was secure. Not so now. The 'Female Sexuality' session was almost an anti-climax. Mrs. Cranwell was an attractive woman in her mid thirties. She exuded an air of sympathy and understanding. The ambience was calculated to put him at his ease. Two armchairs, and a screen on which Mrs. Cranwell could project illustrations. "You must be Sophie," she said in a warm contralto voice, "Delighted to meet you. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. I'm Felicity." Felicity certainly had the gift of making people feel relaxed. Even David, full of trepidation and obsessed by the need to remain on his guard, felt his resistance drain away. She just talked at first. On themes now familiar to him. Explaining that all she was trying to do was to help people realise their potential. Help them to explore the richness of the sensual world that was theirs by right but to which so many people never found the key. The remainder of the time was spent in a wide ranging talk on sexual organs, male and female, erogenous zones. The need for casting aside any ingrained prejudices and of opening one's mind to the pleasure potential that sex offered. Nothing specific was touched upon. Such was Felicity Cranwell's calming, low key, approach that David felt completely unthreatened, albeit perhaps slightly embarrassed at times, and his previous fears had been quite laid to rest by the time she looked at her watch and smiled. "Our time is up Sophie dear. I hope you have enjoyed our chat. I know I have and I look forward to our next talk together." "Yes, so have I, so do I Felicity. Thank you." David found to his surprise that his unforced appreciation was quite genuine. His fears had been unfounded. There had been no pressure towards feminisation. No indoctrination. "Good." Felicity smiled at him. "Just one thing. I have a DVD here that I would like you to play the first part whenever you have a moment in your private study times. It just runs over the things we discussed. Gives a little more detail perhaps. Just to consolidate things before our next chat." She smiled at him. "Don't worry, I am not going to question you on it. But if you could listen to it, just the first part, a couple of times, whenever you can, it would help us to progress." And that was it. 'Deportment' came next. And the day finished with 'Voice Training'. Both a repetition and an extension of what he had experienced the previous week. Veronica and Sally greeting him as an old friend. Eager for gossip about the happenings on Friday. It was becoming a routine. Pre-dinner drinks on the roof garden. When David arrived both Emma and Anne were already installed and eager to talk about the day. David was on his second gin before Laura found them there. "Darlings," she exclaimed, "What have I been missing? Do tell! I hope Sophie hasn't been scandalising you two poor innocents with salacious details of a sexual nature?" To the slightly startled, puzzled, looks of Anne and Emma, Laura cooed "Don't tell me Sophie hasn't told you both all about the inside knowledge she has on sexual behaviour? Felicity Cranwell tells me she is becoming quite the star pupil!" And then to David, patting his knee playfully. "Sophie dear if you could only see your face! I am only teasing. I haven't even seen Felicity. And if I had she wouldn't tell me anything. What passes between you is quite confidential you know." Laura winked at the other two. "Poor Sophie was so worried this morning about going to a session on 'Sexual Techniques', I couldn't help teasing her." Emma giggled. "What a waste of the poor darling's time Laura. All she has to do is to spend more time gossiping with the rest of us girls. She will learn more than enough!" Laura's eyebrows lifted in an expression of mock disapproval. "Emma! We don't want the poor darling completely corrupted. The object is to turn out young ladies not sluts!" David was somewhat abashed. Forced on the defensive. True the session hadn't been as threatening as he had feared, but then he shouldn't have been subjected to it in the first place. Worse he felt the blood rising to his cheeks. Blushing again. Again conscious that outwardly at least he was female. That the company, his friends treated him as such. That the weight on his chest, his clothes, perfume, told him such .... but in the faces of the others all that could be seen was genuine, caring amusement. Not laughing at him, but with him, supporting him. Including him. Accepting him as a girl amongst girls. Laura poured herself a drink, and he refreshed his own glass. His third gin. The talk turned to more general subjects and David sat back. Frightened by his acceptance, terrified by how he in turn felt comforted by it. During dinner the girlish banter continue unabated. David was drawn in; could not escape the web of kindness. Fortified by the plentiful flow of wine, he managed to contribute to the conversation. Managed to achieve some level of social ease. Laura must have sensed how much effort, it was costing him. How fragile his balancing act with normality was, because she was supportive, no longer teasing him but taking his side when the others unwittingly exposed raw nerves. At last the party broke up. All claimed they had work to do to prepare for the morrow. Laura took David by the elbow as they were leaving. "Felicity asked me to remind you about the DVD she gave you. Do run it through a couple of times each night. Just the first part which covers your initial chat." She smiled. "Perhaps now you won't be so ready to make mountains out of mole hills." Her grip tightened very slightly. "That goes for tomorrow's session with Dr. Tabatha as well Sophie dear. You will like her. And she can help you a lot. Just give her a chance. And don't worry, she isn't an ogre you know. None of us are." They were at the door to his room. "Goodnight." Her lips brushed his cheek as she turned and swayed down the corridor to the door that led to her own apartment. Back in his room David sank down in front of the TV set. He felt weary. Several large gins and more than his share of the wine at dinner had left him drained. He inserted the Sexual techniques DVD in the slot and set it to play the first track. It was only about fifteen minutes long and seemed just a rather clinical discourse on the female reproductive system. An initial stirring of sexual arousal died away, although whether that was because of the clinical nature of the DVD or because of his own alcohol fuelled tiredness was hard to say. In fact he had dozed off towards the end and sat there in a blissful, warm semi-sleeping state for a further half hour whilst the track kept re-running in front of his inattentive eyes. Finally he shook himself out of his lethargy. Ejected the DVD and tried another at random from the rack. It was a light romantic comedy. David had not seen it; did not properly see it this time either, as he lapsed again into a torpor, half dozing, half in a black despair. When it finished David stared for a while at the blank screen. Although early, bed seemed his best option. At least it would bring a sleep and a respite from thought. Conscious of the surveillance he carefully removed his make up, and applied the night moisturising cream to which Mrs. Townsend had attached such importance at the morning session. Performed his ablutions in the statutory fashion. Donned with distaste his baby-doll nightgown, smiling sweetly for the hidden cameras, and slid between th