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It was after the miscarriage that things started to go amiss. It was a hugely emotional time for Gwen and I felt so sorry for her. After that, things changed, subtly but quite drastically. We'd had a good, if limited, social life. Like most couples, one person's friends tended to dominate. I had gradually lost touch with most of my friends and relatives and Gwen's friends had become mine, too. Being a theatre sister at the local private hospital, most of Gwen's friends were in the medical profession in one way or another. But after that miscarriage, although friends were deeply sympathetic, Gwen seemed to retreat into herself and our social life dwindled. Another, more personal, change that I noticed was that her interest in sex greatly diminished. I'd try to snuggle her, but too often she pushed me away, rolled over and went to sleep. I don't think that I was over- sexed or anything, but after a few months of this, I was getting pretty frustrated. Masturbation is alright, I suppose, but it's not the same as the intimacy and loving that you can have with another person. I also found that, as the weeks went by, that I thought more and more about sex. At the office, on the train, in the evenings watching television, in the gym too, with all those nubile girls around. They say that men think about sex every ten minutes or so - well, I think I was thinking about it a lot more than that. I admit I was tempted to have affairs. I'm now in my forties, but back in my thirties, I was considered a pretty good looking guy - tall, slim, athletic even, with a fine nose, but soft chin, a nice smile, a little thin on top, perhaps - just typical male pattern baldness. I have to admit, I was rather sensitive about that but there wasn't very much I could do. I still loved Gwen but things started to come to a head after a year or so of this. We had chatted about it and all she would say was "Please give me time, Tim, just time." Well, I think I did give her plenty of time, but finally I had to say something. "Gwen, we really must try and get out, see friends again. I know you see many of your friends at work, but we never seem to see anyone outside work. And the two of us here - well, I love you, but I have needs too. It is getting rather frustrating. I think about sex, and sex with you, my love. I don't want to leave or anything silly, but we need to do something." "I'm sorry, Tim. I know I must seem really selfish, but I feel safe here just with you. If it's just the frustration, have you, you know, pleasured yourself?" "Well, yes, but it's not the same, my love, and surely you know that." "I do, dear, I do." She looked at me with a strange expression on her face, sort of considering. "If I could help relieve your sexual tension, would that help, do you think?" "Well, yes!" I replied, "It would be a start," thinking perhaps that maybe we could have sex again the way it used to be. "Well, what would you think if I could lower your libido, perhaps, stop you thinking about it all the time?" I wasn't too sure about this but said, "Er, maybe. But how could we do that without sex?" "Let me think about it, honey, would you?" I agreed and there matters rested. A few days later, Gwen came back from her shift at the hospital. She sat down at the dinner table where I had been working from home on my laptop and said, "Tim, I have an idea." She stopped and looked at me slightly nervously, I thought. I stopped working on the spreadsheet I had been inputting next year's budget figures on and looked at her. "You said that if we could lower your libido, you wouldn't feel so frustrated and unhappy all the time." "Well, yes," I agreed reluctantly. " I'm not quite sure I put it in those terms, but yes, I suppose so." "I have here some Androcurr tablets. They're testosterone blockers. They will reduce the amount of testosterone in your body and help you relax. I mean, it's a bit of an experiment, but would you consider trying them, just for, say, six weeks?" "Er, I'm not sure. That does rather sound like chemical castration," I said slightly shocked. "Oh no," she laughed. "Men use them when they have prostrate problems. It's all quite reversible. Please, my love, just try them - for six weeks. If at the end of that, you feel you don't want to continue, then no harm done. But if it works, then maybe our marriage would have a new lease of life." She smiled so nervously, and so sweetly that I really couldn't say no. So, very reluctantly, I agreed to the six week trial. I think I started to feel the effects pretty quickly. Two tablets after each meal seemed a lot to me, but Gwen assured me that that was the recommended dose. I did feel rather tired at first and a bit listless, but I soon noticed that I thought about sex far less often and my erections started to become less frequent and less, well, protuberant. If it hadn't been for the tiredness, I would have been happier, as it did mean that I could concentrate on my work rather better. I only went into the office two or three times a week anyway, mostly working from home over the Internet, so that meant that I could take naps during the day and work a bit later. Life with Gwen went on pretty much as before, but slowly we began to relax. There wasn't that niggling tension between us. At least, I thought so, and Gwen certainly seemed more cheerful. We even thought about perhaps inviting some friends around for a meal, but not quite yet, Gwen decided. After about three months, the effects were clear. I rarely if ever had erections. I could still masturbate, but all that came out was a clear, slippery but sticky liquid. In fact, sometimes this came out even when I didn't masturbate but simply became aroused for whatever reason. It could be a little messy but I could cope with it. At least, being circumcised it was less messy than it might have been. But the mental effects were the most remarkable. I felt so much calmer, so much more in control of myself. I also felt rather more emotional too. One evening, Gwen and I were watching a film together on TV - I can't even remember what the film was now, but the ending was so sad that, slightly to my embarrassment, I burst into tears. Gwen was sitting next to me on the sofa and exclaimed "Why, whatever is the matter darling?" "I'm sorry Gwen," I sniffed. "I know it's just a silly film but it's just so sad." "Oh, you big silly" she said. Then she lent over and licked my cheeks wiping away the tears that ran down my face. I did feel a bit embarrassed but it was only me and Gwen and she was so sweet about it. I laughed and gave her a hug and she hugged me back. After the first three months, Gwen asked me to come to her hospital. She said that it was important to have regular blood tests when taking Androcurr as it can cause liver damage. I looked rather alarmed. "Oh don't worry, sweety. Really, it's just a precaution. I mean, if you were a heavy drinker or something, there would be more cause for concern, so really it's just to be on the safe side." I went for the blood test and Gwen brought home the results a few days later. She didn't look too cheerful. "Listen, my love," she said as she came in and sat down at the table where I was working," We need to have a serious chat." I looked up, worried. "Oh, don't get upset, dear. We just need to sort out where we're going." This was a good question. The last few months had just slipped by. After my initial tiredness, we had slipped into a comfortable routine, more like sisters or very best friends than lovers. I have to admit that the relief the Androcurr had brought me - and our relationship - had been wonderful. I didn't really want anything to change. And - and I know this is just vanity - I had noticed that my bald patch had started to get a little smaller. I was no longer loosing my hair - at least certainly not at the same speed. All in all, I was happy to continue as we were, at least for the foreseeable future. I know this might seem odd to another man, but I loved, and do love, Gwen so much; I wasn't into all that macho, going-down-the pub stuff and so her experiment had, to my mind, been a great success. So when she came in looking so worried, I immediately started to worry too. "The blood tests came back and there is a bit of a problem with your liver function." she stated this cooly and factually. Very professionally, in fact. I smiled, even as I started to worry more. "So what does that mean? No more booze?" I asked. "Well, we don't drink a huge amount anyway, dear, so I don't think that would make any difference. I think perhaps we ought to stop the Androcurr for a while and just check that your liver function returns to normal." "For how long?" I asked, a note of near panic in my voice. "Oh sweety, I don't want you to stop. These last few months have been wonderful. We've grown so close - I didn't think I could ever be that close to a man, but you have been so sweet and so loving, I don't want you to stop, but if it's hurting your liver, we really must consider all the options." I felt near to tears at this point but tried really hard to control them, as I didn't want to upset Gwen even more than she already was. I looked across at her. "I don't want to stop Gwen, any more than I want to stop loving you." That was the wrong thing to say. She burst into floods of tears and, I'm afraid that started me off too. She got up from the table and came around to my side, bent down and hugged me, "Oh my love." she whispered. Sniffing, she stood and went into the kitchen. I sat there, wondering what was to become of us. In a few minutes, she returned with two mugs of tea, placing one on a mat by my computer then returning to her seat to sip hers. After a moment or two, she looked up. "Listen, my love. We could try reducing the dose." "Would that work?" "After all these months, it might. But there is a way we could safely reduce the dose but keep up the effect." She wouldn't look at me. "How?" I asked. "Well, my love, it's a lot to ask." "What?" I asked more urgently. "What is it?" "The effects of Androcurr are reversible. If you stop taking them, you will return to the way you were before." "Yes," I answered gloomily. "There is a way to make the changes permanent." She paused. I looked at her. I felt I knew what she was going to suggest next, but I waited for her to say it. I wasn't trying to be hard on her, but I didn't want to blurt out anything I, or even we, might regret later. "Well, my love. To make the effect permanent, you could have an orchidectomy." It came out in a rush. She stopped, sipping her tea, her eyes deep in her cup. Finally, she looked up. "What do you think?" "An orchidectomy. Is that like a vasectomy?" I knew it wasn't, but I needed a moment to think, to try and collect my thoughts which were bouncing all over the place. "No, Tim. An orchidectomy means the removal of your testes." She said it flatly. She put her cup down carefully on the table and finally looked straight at me. "The operation is simple, quick and safe but it is not reversible. It would mean that we could reduce the Androcurr dose by two thirds and, after a few months, stop it all together. At least you would never be in danger of prostrate cancer." She laughed nervously. My palms were sweating and my mouth had gone dry. So it was down to me. Did I value my life with Gwen more than I valued my manhood? To be honest, the question was a no-brainer. The last few months had made me realise not only how much I loved her but also just how much the previous sexual frustration had been hurting both me and her. I looked steadily at her. "Gwen, if you think this is the right course for the two of us, then yes, I'm willing." She didn't say anything straight away, simply sighed and looked at me. Finally, she drew in a long breath, "Oh my love," she said and dissolved into tears again. "Oh my love" she said again and she came over and hugged me. --- A few days later, she came home from work as usual but this time, over our evening meal, she started to tell me her plan. "I spoke to Mr Harding today." I knew that this was the surgeon she usually worked with at the hospital. "And I've made an appointment for you to see him. I've told him that you have been on Androcurr for a while but that there are contra-indications due to the loss of liver function. I have to admit, I was a little vague about why you were actually on Androcurr in the first place, but I sort of hinted that you had prostrate problems. He is a urologist and he is also familiar with gender reassignment surgery," she laughed. "I think that probably makes him rather more broad-minded than many. Anyway, he's agreed to see you tomorrow at eleven. If you don't mind, love, I'll be there too." "Oh please, definitely. I don't think I could go through this without you being there." I laughed nervously. The next morning, I drove to the hospital. Gwen met me in reception, thankfully. I was so nervous, I'm not sure I could have even given the receptionist my name. Gwen walked down the corridor with me and we sat in the small waiting room, opposite a single door. After only a couple of minutes, a distinguished looking grey haired man in his fifties put his head round the door "Mr and Mrs Bransley?" He smiled as we got up together and went into his consulting room. We sat next to each-other opposite Mr Harding as he took a pen and made a few notes. "I understand from your wife, Mr Bransley, that you have been taking Androcurr three times a day for a number of months due to an enlarged prostate gland. The treatment has been successful but unfortunately the Androcurr has produced some side effects - namely your liver function has started to deteriorate. Yes?" He looked up. "That is correct Mr Harding, as I explained before," said Gwen. The surgeon smiled at her, then turned to me with an enquiring look. "Er, yes, yes," I replied, almost stuttering. "Hummm, it's a sad state to be in," he said kindly. "This is a life- changing operation that you are considering here you know. A bilateral orchidectomy cannot be reversed. You will also need the support of friends and family to overcome the inevitable consequences. I understand that the two of you do not have children. Have you discussed this?" "We have discussed this thoroughly and my husband and I feel that we can give each other the support we need. We do realise the full import of this Mr Harding," Gwen said. "Mr Bransley, do you fully understand the implications?" Mr Harding ignored Gwen, almost rudely, looking directly at me. I plucked up the courage to look straight back and replied, "Yes, I do doctor. My wife and I have discussed it at length as she said, and we have agreed that this is the best way forward for both of us." "Hummm. Please stand up, take off your lower garments and lie on the couch." He indicated a long leather couch covered in a roll of paper to the side of his consulting room. I obeyed and lay on the paper covering. "Now, just move your legs apart Mr Bransley." he said, almost under his breath. I felt him reach between my legs and touch my testicles. "Hummm, they are quite atrophied. How long have you been taking Androcurr?" Gwen replied from behind him "About six months." I nodded at the doctor in agreement. "Hummm," he said agin. "Alright," he said as he washed his hands and returned to his desk, "please get dressed and we will discuss admission. It's a fairly straight-forward operation. Normally, we'd keep you in for one night, but as your wife is medically trained and you live locally, we could do it as day surgery. That will at least keep down the costs. Have a word with my secretary on the way out - I think I can probably fit you in next Thursday morning, but just confirm that with her, would you?" He looked up from his notes and smiled kindly, if rather absent-mindedly. And with that we left. We checked with Mr Harding's secretary and confirmed the appointment for 7:30 a.m. the following Thursday. The next few days seemed to crawl by. I was obviously very nervous, but Gwen was so supportive and encouraging. I did think about the irreversibility of the operation, but Gwen pointed out how much better our life together had been over the last few months that I felt really reassured. Thursday arrived at last and Gwen drove me to the hospital. She had called my office and explained that I was ill but should be o.k. in a few days and that she was looking after me. When we arrived, she parked the car and we walked through reception, straight to a private room. She helped me undress - I have to admit, I was so nervous that I fumbled at the buttons. Gwen left me alone under the bed covers for a few moments, returning with a syringe. "Just the pre-med, love," she said as she swabbed my arm before sticking in the needle and administering the drug. Things started getting a little woozy and I found myself giggling. Gwen smiled and squeezed my hand. The surgeon put his head around the door. "Hello, all well?" "Fine, thank-you Mr Harding," replied Gwen. I just grinned. "I think, given that your wife is a nurse and will be looking after you, Mr Bransley, that it would be easier and quicker to do the operation under local anaesthetic. Would you agree?" I mumbled that that was fine. Actually, I would have agreed to pretty much anything at that point. "And your wife will be assisting me, of course." Mr Harding left. Gwen squeezed my hand again and said, "I'll have to leave you now, dear. I need to scrub up." She kissed me on the nose, turned, stopped at the door and blew me another kiss. "See you in a bit', she smiled and closed the door behind her. Soon I was wheeled in to the operating room. The anaesthetist introduced herself and explained what she was about to do. I felt a cold needle entering me, down near my crotch. Soon, the whole area around my genitals felt cold and completely numb. It was slightly embarrassing as my calves and feet were placed in stirrups and my legs parted, but I was too out of it to really care by then. Mr Harding came in fully gowned, followed by Gwen. I hardly recognised her in her full surgical outfit, but she came over and squeezed my hand again. Mr Harding placed himself between my legs. He asked for a scalpel and he started work, slicing through my scrotum. I heard a slightly squishy plop and then another. He handed a stainless steel bowl to Gwen who briefly looked at me, tilted the bowl forward so that I could see the two testicles sliding around in the bottom. Then she quickly took them away to be incinerated. Stitched up and with a large white dressing pressed between my legs, I was wheeled out and back to my room. I felt strangely at peace. I think I dozed off for a while as I remember Gwen gently shaking me awake. "How are you feeling, my love? Everything went wonderfully, and you won't even notice a scar down there. Now, you sleep for a few hours, then we can go home." I drifted off again, into strange but calm dreams. I woke again as evening fell. Gwen was there, with a warm, welcoming smile. "Time to go, my love. Let me help you dress." I managed to sit up and Gwen pulled on my shirt, buttoning it up. "I've bought you a new pair of slacks dear. They're much baggier in the bum to make room for the dressing and all." She helped me on with them and I tottered out of my room, down to the car park. Gwen opened the door for me and helped me lower myself gingerly down into the car seat. She shut the door, climbed in to the driver's seat and we were soon back home. "I think you ought to go straight to bed, my love," I groggily agreed, carefully climbed the stairs. "I don't think pyjamas are such a good idea, so I got a nice clean white cotton nighty for you." She pulled it over my head and asked me to stand as she pulled it down. I swayed a bit but managed to stand long enough to help her. Then I sat, down on the bed, swung my legs into it as Gwen pulled the covers up and kissed me lightly on the nose again. "Goodnight my sweet. Sleep well." She smiled a beautiful, encouraging smile at me, turned the light out and left. As I lay there, I thought about my new life as a castrato. I thought that I should be upset about this, but what filled me was a deep sense of joy that I had been able to do this for Gwen, that we were together and that we were happy. A night of pleasant dreams. The next morning, the pain was quite unpleasant. It felt like I had been kicked between the legs. Gwen came in "How are you feeling now, dear. Is it painful?" "Yes," I replied, "It is." I tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. Gwen frowned, "O.k. I'll get you something." She quickly returned with a couple of tablets and a syringe. She injected me with a painkiller - I don't really know what it was - might have been morphine, but the pain quickly ebbed away. The pills, Gwen told me, were Prozac, just to keep me calm and happy as the healing began. A few days went by and I quickly recovered. But Gwen wouldn't let me out of bed - she kept fussing, changing my dressing, assuring me that everything was o.k. Finally, after about three days she said that I could get up for a bit. She brought fresh clothes in and helped me dress. A big, baggy white shirt, baggy trousers and a pair of full white knickers. When I saw them, I asked "Knickers? Why knickers Gwen?" "Well, your old Y-fronts aren't going to give you enough support, dear," I said nothing else and just accepted the sense of that, but I noticed that the big, baggy white shirt and trousers seemed to button up the wrong way. I was all fingers and thumbs, but Gwen soon had me up and dressed. I pottered around the house. I wanted to do some work, but as I opened the laptop, Gwen said "No, not yet, dear. It's far too early" and snapped it shut again. We settled into a routine for a few days. I went to bed early, she helped me to get dressed and undressed, I wandered around the house and everything was peaceful. A few days later, Gwen said "Well, time to take the dressing off I think dear'. We went up to the bedroom. I took my trousers and knickers off and lay on my back on the bed. Gwen pushed my legs apart and gingerly removed the dressing. "Oh, that looks fine! Still a bit swollen but it's healing wonderfully. Mr Harding did a really nice, tidy job. Do you want to see Tim?" She held a mirror up so that I could see between my legs. It was still swollen, as she said, but the empty scrotum was clearly visible below my limp and lifeless penis. I noticed that my penis seemed to have shrunk a lot, but perhaps that was in comparison with the swollen area below it. Gwen helped me into a fresh pair of white knickers and back into the baggy, high-waisted slacks. I pulled down my full white shirt but left it untucked. Returning down stairs, I sat at the dining table as Gwen fixed us both a cup of coffee. She came back with the steaming mugs, carefully handing one to me. "Well, Tim, it's done. Thank-you so much, my love." She had tears in her eyes as she smiled at me. I couldn't help it, I don't know why, but I just burst into tears. "What is it my love, my Timmy, my dear?" Gwen looked so upset, she quickly came round the table, sat down on her knees, looking up into my tear streaked face and holding my two hands in hers. "I don't know," I sobbed, "I think I'm so happy." I was, I really was happy, seeing my beautiful wife sitting there, looking up into my eyes, deep concern on her face. I smiled through my tears. Gwen pulled out a tissue and dabbed at my wet cheeks. "Oh, of course you feel emotional, my sweet. You have been through such a lot. But we are together, for now and forever." She gave me a beautiful smile, rose up and kissed my cheek. In a few more days I was pretty much back to my usual self. Still a bit sore, but nothing really noticeable. I did notice that all my Y-fronts had disappeared, replaced with a range of sensible looking knickers in various pastel shades. I have to admit that Gwen was right - they did fit better than those ugly old Y fronts, making me feel secure and comfortable. One morning as I was drinking coffee in the kitchen, Gwen came down. "I think it's time to reconsider your medication." I looked at her. "But I thought that that was it - no more Androcurr now." "No more Androcurr, you're right, Timmy. But we need to get you on some kind of hormones, or there is a danger of osteoporosis. Post-menopausal women are particularly susceptible you know and, hormonally speaking, that's pretty much what you are now." "I'm sorry? Post-menopausal? You're kidding me," I laughed in disbelief. "Fraid so, hon. It's not as bad as prostate cancer, but it is a worry." I shook my head, partly in disbelief, partly in amazement. "What do you suggest?" I asked. "HRT" was her immediate reply. "I'm sorry - H-R-T?" "Hormone Replacement Therapy. I mean, I know in your case, it's replacing hormones you didn't have much of anyway, but even men have oestrogen in their systems you know. Just not enough," she finished quietly. "But, but what will happen if I take HRT? Are there any side effects?" "There might be a few, I suppose, but generally they'll be for the good. Stop your male-pattern baldness, make your skin a bit smoother. You might put on a bit of weight too, which wouldn't be a bad thing." I started on a course of Progynova, two a day. I wasn't too keen on this, I must say, but after all the swelling had gone down and Gwen and I were sharing a bed again, she was so loving, caressing me, even playing with my little, limp penis, nibbling my ears, kissing me fondly, that I couldn't say no. We couldn't have "penetrative sex" but we hadn't had that in months, or even years now, so that made no difference, but I did notice that I could still orgasm, although no sperm came out and my tiny penis hardly got erect any more. Still, the tip was very sensitive even now, and Gwen liked to play with it - and I liked her playing with it too! I hadn't been to work for a number of weeks. It wasn't too much of a problem - I did most of my work from home and only ever went in for tedious meetings. But then Gwen suggested that I give up my job and just stay at home - be a house husband, she said, and laughed. "Or be my house eunuch!" I have to say, I didn't like that. I didn't think of myself as a eunuch but, when I thought about it that is precisely what I was. So, we agreed to try it for a while. I went in and handed in my notice. They weren't that sorry to see me leave - business was not booming and there were rumours of impending redundancies. Gwen earned a good wage as a senior theatre sister and we had no mortgage or other outstanding debts. So I stayed at home, cleaning, washing, ironing - all the things a good housekeeper should do. Even so, I have to say I did start to get rather bored. But I had now been taking the Progynova for quite some time. There certainly were side effects - and not all of them had been listed by Gwen. Yes, my skin was softer, my hair was fuller, but so were my hips and I appeared to be growing breasts. My breasts, in particular, were very sensitive. My baggy white shirts rubbed against my nipples and they got quite sore. One night in bed, I had my back to Gwen and she was spooning me. I felt an arm slowly slip over my shoulder and down to my swelling breasts. She tweaked one of my nipples! I was so surprised that I cried out. "Oh, don't be such a big baby!" she said, and then she pulled me over, flat on to my back. She sat up and then drew a leg over me, so that she sat astride me, looking curiously at my budding breasts. "My god, you're growing breasts!" she exclaimed, "Oh, they're so sweet!" And with that, she lent forward and started licking, caressing and sucking them. And it felt wonderful. I was so surprised, but at the same time, the warm feelings that seemed to come in waves over my body soon had my flaccid penis leaking it's colourless stickness. Gwen stopped and drew back. "Oh they are so sweet, Timmy!" I saw one of her hands dart to the dark cleavage between her legs. She started stroking herself, while her other hand continued to pinch and caress my left nipple. I gently placed a hand on her buttock and stroked it. She grasped my hand and thrust it between her legs. I felt the warm, wet, slippery lips of her labia majora. Her fingers guided mine to her clitoris and she yelped in pleasure as I found her swollen bud. I started rubbing and stroking, as she heaved with pleasure, placing her now free hand on my other swollen nipple. Suddenly, she fell forward. For a moment I lost my touch on her clitoris, but the next moment found it again as one of her erect nipples thrust itself into my mouth. Reflexively, I started to suck, while at the same time rubbing and pinching her clitoris. After a few more moments I felt a deep shudder run through her whole body, followed in just a few seconds by another almost seismic orgasm. And a third. She shuddered as though electrified and then sat, heavily, on my middle, her head falling forward, her hair caressing my face as she moaned. I felt her wetness on my limp penis, her juices mixing with the colourless dribble from it. "Oh my god" she managed to gasp after a few moments. "Oh my god." She fell back on to her side of the bed, one arm thrown across her forehead. "Oh my god', she said a third time. I turned to her and whispered "My love, my sweet Gwen." "Oh Timmy," she whispered, "What have I done?" She didn't sound like she regretted whatever it was she had done, more wondered at herself. "Oh, you were fabulous, my love, my wonderful eunuch lesbian lover." I lay there, stunned - "Lesbian?" I thought, "Lesbian?" "Lesbian?" I whispered. "Oh my sweet, you are no longer a man, and no man could pleasure me like that. My love, it's time you had a new name to go with the new you. She turned her head to face me, stroked my cheek, "And you need electrolysis," she said in a suddenly matter-of-fact voice, then laughed quietly to herself. "Never mind. Now, what name for you? Timmy doesn't seem quite right..." She drifted off, into sleep. I lay a while, thinking all this over. On the one hand, I had pleasured her as I had never seen her pleasured before, but on the other, was I to be her lesbian lover now? And if I was, did it really, I mean really, matter? Soon I too drifted off to sleep, strange dreams... The next morning dawned. Bright sunshine, cloudless day. I rose before Gwen, showered, dressed and then went downstairs to cook breakfast. After a while, the smell of frying bacon must have wafted up the stairs as a rather bedraggled looking Gwen stuck her head round the kitchen door and grinned sheepishly at me. "Hello lover." She smiled, came over to me and started pinching my nipples through my baggy white shirt. They quickly came erect and showed up through the soft cotton. "Ow," I said, "That's going to make them sore." "Hum? Oh, yes." She lifted my shirt up to my shoulders and peered at my breasts and nipples. "You, my love, need a bra." She announced. "No!" I said, as much in shock as in denial. "No, really Gwen, I don't." "Well, you're going to need some support round there. How do you find walking up and down stairs and doing the housework?" I had to admit that my breasts tended to jiggle quite painfully, walking up and downstairs in particular. "I know - I'll get you one of those secret support camisole vests I've seen advertised. That'll look great on you and give you a bit of support and stop all the rubbing!" She seemed very pleased with her idea. Later that morning, after we had cleared up the breakfast things, she came and asked me to take my shirt off. I stood there, bare to the waist. It was clear, in the bright daylight of our front room, that I was indeed developing breasts. She drew out a tape measure and measured my chest below my breasts. She then repeated the measurement but over my breasts. "Hummm," she said as she mentally calculated the cup size. "Well, 36A" She stopped and grinned. "I think I can remember that." She quickly kissed me on the cheek and rolled up the tape measure. Later that morning, she went out with the car. I was sitting in the living room when I heard the car pull up the drive a few hours later. Getting up and looking through the nets, I saw Gwen pulling shopping bags out of the passenger side and making her way to the front door. I rushed over to open it and help her with the bags. "Ooof! I'm exhausted," she exclaimed as I took the bags," Make me a coffee dear, would you?" I went through to the kitchen, placed the bags on the table and turned to put the kettle on. Gwen came through, sat in a chair and took her shoes off, massaging her feet. "Ooh, my feet are killing me. Still, I think I've got you all sorted out." She smiled and reached for the bags. I put the two coffee mugs on the table and looked as she pulled out camisoles, bras and even knickers from her bags. "They're not all for me?" I blurted out. I was feeling nervous at this pile of clothes that were clearly all feminine. "Yup, all yours!" she said proudly. "Come on, take your shirt off." I fumbled with the buttons - I still hadn't got the hang of them buttoning up the wrong way - but finally pulled off my shirt. "Now, let's try this first." She held up a white stretch camisole top with spaghetti straps and lace around the top of the bodice. "Let me help you on with it." She rolled it up and slipped it up my arms and then over my head. It was a pretty tight fit and I realised that it had a mesh panel in it that would sit over my breasts. It was quite uncomfortable but Gwen pulled up the cotton and then started pulling down the mesh part over my breasts. There was a strong stretch band at the bottom of it that went under my breasts. After it was in place, she pulled the cotton top back over it and stepped back. "Go on, try jumping up and down." I felt a bit silly, but did as I was told. I have to admit that she was right - straightaway I could feel the support the mesh panel was giving me and it felt much more comfortable than having my breasts bouncing up and down all the time. "There - how does that feel?" "Really comfortable," I said in surprise, "Thank-you Gwen - that's brilliant!" She smiled and started to pick through the remainder of the items she'd bought. "Look, I've got you a couple of padded bras," she giggled as she showed off two simple but pretty bras. One was a cool pink, the other a pale green. "Why do I need padded bras?" I asked in surprise. "Well, to start with, they give you better support but also I just thought they might look rather sweet." She giggled again. "And look, some really pretty knickers too." She showed off several pairs of quite full but lacy knickers. "Those ones you've got at the moment are all very practical, but not very pretty, my love." I did rather wonder about all this, but I have to admit that I was also quite attracted to the idea. After all, with the hormones and orchidectomy and all, my body shape was hardly typically male any more and the idea of clothes that actually fitted and, on top of that, were pretty and pleasing to Gwen, made me quite eager to try them on. "Come on," she said, "Drop your trousers and try some of these knickers on." I did as she asked. I was rather embarrassed to see that my tiny penis was as erect as it ever got these days, and a small drop of clear liquid beaded the head. "Oh," Gwen said, "Hum, well we don't want you to get your brand new knicks in a state, now do we." I had to agree, and I was embarrassed by my penis's unwelcome intrusion into this happy occasion. Gwen pulled a tissue from her bag and wiped the top of my penis. She then selected a lacy white pair of knicks from the pile on the table. "Come on, try these." I pulled them up but, before I pulled them over my penis, she again wiped the top before thrusting my tiny penis between my legs, so that it would lie in the cotton gusset of the knicks. "There now, pull them up." I did so and my penis stayed put. In fact, the slight bulge it made between my legs looked rather like well developed labia. Gwen stood back to admire the effect. Along with the camisole top and my slightly protuberant breasts, I was starting to look really quite feminine, despite my six foot height. The redistribution of fat around my body gave it the first suggestion of feminine curves. I could see that Gwen was going quite pink. "Come on, help me take all this stuff up to the bedroom," she ordered. I gathered up all the clothes and followed Gwen into our bedroom. "Just leave them on the dresser for a moment, Tim." She turned to me, put her hands around my waist and then down, under my knickers, clasping the cheeks of my bottom. She started licking my nipples as I put my arms around her. She slid her hands down further and lowered my knickers. She was getting very excited and, to be honest, so was I. I moved my hands up and started massaging her nipples. My tiny penis came free from it's restraints as Gwen pushed my knickers further down. She looked down and laughed as it tried to hold itself erect. She slid her hands down my body until she was kneeling on the floor. Taking my penis in her hands, she gently stroked it and then licked the end, sucking off the clear sticky liquid. Then she took my whole penis in her mouth. I started groaning - I couldn't help it - and almost fell. Suddenly, I had an orgasm and cried out in ecstasy, my knees buckling, with Gwen's sure hands holding my swelling buttocks. She stood slowly, looking at me. I was quite red and even panting a bit, but the release had been so good. "How do you feel now, sweety?" she smiled, licked her lips and kissed my chin. "Oh, Gwen, I thought that with all the chemicals and operation and all - but that was wonderful." I gasped. "No regrets, love?" "No, Gwen. No regrets." "Good" she whispered. My hands were exploring her by now and I felt how wet she was, gently rubbing her clitoris through her silky panties. I moved her backwards over the bed and then gently pushed her down. Sliding off her panties, I spread her legs and then fingered her labia, her vagina and her clitoris. She moaned as I stroked her hot, wet clitoris. I moved my mouth over and darted my tongue onto her bud. She moaned again. I set to with a will, pushing and licking her clitoris until I felt her shudder, and shudder and shudder again. She half sat up, put one hand behind my head and thrust my face into her, "Oh, don't stop Abbie, don't stop!" I hesitated for a moment at the sound of this stranger's name, but I continued, my tongue almost aching from the exertions. She was so wet and warm and slippery down there that I feared I might drown, but finally she was exhausted, lay back and sighed. "Oh Timmy" was all she said. I lay down next to her. "Who is Abbie?" I asked. There was a pause. "I'm sorry Timmy. I don't know how that slipped out but, well, I've sort of started thinking of you as a woman. A woman called Abigail. Do you like that name? Would you mind if I called you my Abigail, my love?" In all honesty, I did not mind. It would be her secret name for me, drawing us closer, I hoped, into friendship and even sisterhood. "That's settled then - my lovely lesbian lover Abbie', she laughed. "Mind you, we're going to have to do something with that bristly face of yours." I rubbed my chin. It did feel prickly. Perhaps not the most comfortable thing to be rubbing up and down your lover's clitoris. "Well, Gwen, what do you propose?" "I think it'll have to be electrolysis. I'll have a word with mine." The idea that Gwen had an electrolysist was news to me but certainly helpful. We tidied up. I pulled on a fresh pair of knickers, tucking my limp penis between my legs. Gwen suggested using a panty pad so that I could keep my knickers fresher and I agreed. She helped me secure one of hers in the gusset of the knickers and the penis nestled there, dry and comfortable. I pulled up my baggy slacks and Gwen helped me fasten all the buttons on my shirt. In turn, I helped her too, and we returned downstairs. A few days later, Gwen drove me to her electrolysist. A nice woman in her fifties, she showed the two of us straight into her treatment room and asked me to lie down on her couch. She pulled over a stand mounted magnifying glass and switched on the small tube light that surrounded the lens. "Hum, well, fairly typical male. You want the whole face doing?" "Oh yes," replied Gwen. "The upper lip will be really painful, you know." "Yes, I'd thought of that," said Gwen, "I can get hold of some lidocaine, if that would help?" The electrolysist glanced up. "Yes, that would be a huge help. So what sort of time frame are we looking at?" Gwen replied, "I was hoping to make a big start - say, 6 hours, three days a week?" "That is a lot," she replied, even with lidocaine." "Yes, but it wouldn't be for very long, would it. Maybe four weeks and the down to a couple of hours a week. Would that work out o.k.?" "Yes, by all means. The lidocaine usually lasts between one and one and a half hours, so if you could supply, say, three doses per day, nine per week, we could do that." All this time, I had just been lying there. There seemed little to say, but the next fews weeks certainly didn't sound like they were going to be much fun. "You'll need to work up a good skin care routine. And', she said, turning to me, "Ideally, you should only shave about once a week. I need something to work on, you know." She smiled. Gwen looked a bit downcast at this news. "But you should start seeing the results after four weeks, I think." Gwen brightened again. And so it was settled. Gwen dropped me off at the electrolysist's on Monday, Wednesday and Friday with a supply of lidocaine. The electroysist was adept at administering the shots into my upper lip and we broke up the sessions into two hour chunks, taking coffee and lunch breaks between them. We got chatting after the first session or so. The electrolysist told me that she had quite a few male clients. Hairy backs were a big turn off for a lot of people and some men even liked to have their facial hair removed too, as I was doing. At the end of each session, I had to get a taxi back home, as Gwen's shift didn't finish until later, but at least that meant that I was home for her. I still managed to get all the house work done, all the washing and ironing and even a nice meal for her. After a month, the beard was definitely reduced considerably. As planned, I still went for weekly sessions and I did still have to shave occasionally, but most of the hairs that were left were grey or white and so certainly didn't show, even if they could be felt. Gwen was very pleased with the results. In fact, she was so pleased that she asked the electrolysist to trim and shape my eyebrows as well. That didn't take so long, I'm happy to say. The drugs and orchidectomy seemed to have thinned them out considerably, so a few hours left me with nicely arched and feminine eyebrows. Gwen had devised a regular skin care regime for me. In fact, we started sharing all the potions and cremes. Sometimes we giggled together like school girls, dabbing creams onto each other and laughing. It really was so lovely to be so close to Gwen. And we still had sex. It just seemed to get better and better, although I have to admit that I was starting to find the penis increasingly intrusive. It was strange but I didn't really think of it any more as "my" penis, just this odd little tube that leaked sticky liquid when I was sexually aroused. Gwen shared her sanitary towels with me, placing one in the gusset of my knicks and sometimes helping me to push the silly thing into place. We even helped each-other epilate "down there" as we both preferred to be nice and clean and sweet smelling for each-other, and it made it easier for me to give her sexual satisfaction. After a few months, my beard was pretty much gone. My breasts had developed into a 36B, which meant that I needed some new bras as I was clearly bulging out of the two that Gwen had originally bought. And Gwen suggested that, this time, we both go shopping. I thought this was a wonderful idea, although, at the same time, I was a little nervous. "Oh, don't worry, love. Nobody will even look at us." We trailed round the lingerie departments of several shops. Gwen was, thankfully, quite discreet. She would pick up bras and ask me what I thought. And I could agree or not as I saw fit. In the end, we bought three lightly padded and underwired bars - a pale blue one, a pink polkadot one and a plain white one. And, and this rather startled me, Gwen bought the matching panties to go with them. I laughed nervously, but she simply squeezed my arm and kissed me on my cheek. "You will look so sweet, Abbie" she whispered. She then wandered off. I had to quickly follow her, not to be left alone in the middle of the lingerie department. I found her sorting through more panties. "Do you like lacy ones?" she looked at me. "Well, not too lacy," I answered nervously. "How about these?" She held up a pair of really pretty sky blue Brazilian briefs, quite full behind, but with a simple lace pattern around the legs. "They look lovely" I said, slightly bemused. She picked them and about five other similar pairs. Finally, we made it out of the shops and made our way home. I was quite exhausted. It wasn't just all the traipsing around the shops that had worn me out but all the nervous energy I had used up too. When we got home, we inevitably ended up in the bedroom. She told me to undress and I did so. Standing there, naked and almost hairless, I felt very exposed, the little penis hanging limply between my legs. It was really looking quite woebegone and out of place. My hips had swelled, my breasts were , well, quite "perky" I suppose you might say, and that little tube of flesh was clearly not welcome at this party. Gwen brought over the pale blue Brazilian briefs. "Come on love, step into these." I did so, and she slowly pulled them nearly up to my waist. A little bead of sticky fluid topped the penis. "I wish it wouldn't do that," said Gwen, sighing in slight annoyance. "So do I" I agreed. I pushed it between my legs. "You know, we could get rid of that as well Abbie baby." I stopped and looked at her. What was she suggesting? My mouth hung open. "Well, it's not a lot of use, really, is it? It just gets in the way. Yes, I know you might be able to have an orgasm with it, but apart from that and peeing through, it's just nasty." Gwen said in a sudden rush. "I mean, why can't you just have a nice, tidy clit like me?" "You mean. H-h-have a sex change?" I stammered. "Well, yes, I suppose you could call it that but, quite frankly, Abbie, you've pretty much done that. Anyway, I don't think you've got the wherewithal for a full sex change. I mean, you'd need a bigger penis than that if you want a vagina. But you could have a clit." She ended brightly. "All your panties and knickers would fit better, there'd be no more mess. It would be so much better." I just stood there stunned. I mean, I knew it made sense, especially if I could have a clitoris, but even so, it all came as quite a shock. "Oh, come on, Abbie. Stop looking so gobsmacked," she laughed. "Come on, let's try the pink polkadot bra and panties." I tried on the matching bra and panties, sticking the penis back between my legs. I thought I looked pretty good. I had some nice curves, emphasised by the slightly padded bra. I was tall, slim, and now quite sexy, at least I thought so and, from the looks Gwen was giving me, she clearly thought so too. She opened another bag and pulled out a pair of blue jeans. "Try these." "I didn't see you buying those," I said. "Oh, they're just a little surprise." I stepped into the jeans and pulled them up. I was surprise how snuggly they fitted over my hips and bum and realised that they were a feminine fit. "How are they for size?" Gwen asked. I button the waist and pulled up the zip. There was no hint of maleness visible and my bottom looked rather sexy, I thought. I ran my hands over my bottom and between my legs in the smooth, tight denim and grinned at Gwen. "They're lovely!" I exclaimed. Gwen ran her hands between my legs. "No bulges there," she laughed, "Here, I got you a top, too." Gwen handed over a dark blue low cut sleeveless top with lace inserts on the body. I slipped it over my head. It was cut quite loose but somehow it still managed to emphasise my curves. I looked down the front. "Oh my!" I exclaimed, "I've got a cleavage!'. Gwen stepped forward, giggling and leered down at me, peering at my breasts. She started fondling them "Let's "ave a grope, girly" she laughed in a growly voice and squeezed them. I hugged her and she pushed me down onto the bed, the two of us collapsing in a giggling heap amongst all the clothes and bags and bed clothes. We lay facing each other and kissed, our arms entwined, hers on my bottom, mine around her slim waist. I felt myself getting wet between my legs and the penis leaked its sticky juice. "I'm getting wet" I whispered. "So am I" Gwen replied and we both burst into another fit of giggles. She propped her head up with one hand and looked down at me. She kissed me gently on the lips and said "You know, I really think it would be for the best. The last year or so has been wonderful. You've been wonderful. But you've enjoyed it all too, haven't you Abbie?" "Yes," I whispered. I had to agree. I mean, it may seem strange to admit to not missing my disappearing "manhood" but it really didn't bother me, because by giving up what now seemed so little, I had gained so much. "So what do you think of the idea of removing that silly thing between your legs and having a nice clit instead?" "Would I still have orgasms?" "Oh yes, you silly, of course you would. The surgery is safe and quite sophisticated these days. You'd have labia too, you know." "Do you really want me to have it? The surgery, I mean." "I think we've been heading that way all this time, my love. So it's just another little thing. But really, Abbie, it's up to you." "What do you mean, heading that way?" I asked, slightly shocked. "We've managed to stay together. And we've done that mainly because you have made some great sacrifices for me. But I think you have enjoyed the journey at least as much as me. So it all somehow seems inevitable." I thought about this. I had made the decisions. Yes, they had all been Gwen's ideas, but I had willingly, well, mostly willingly, gone along with them. And now there was just this final little snip to go. "Yes', I thought, "Just one final snip." "Yes," I said aloud, "Just one final snip." "Abbie, I love you." said Gwen, lay back on the bed and grasped my hand. She brought my fingers up to her mouth and kissed each tip in turn. "You know, we really ought to do something about your nails, my girl." Being referred to as "my girl" sent a little shiver down my spine. But I laughed and we hugged. The next few days were a strange sort of in-between time. Gwen had spoken to Mr Harding again and arranged another appointment for the following week. Meanwhile, I stayed at home, as usual, but wearing my increasingly female wardrobe. My hair had grown longer, and thicker. We'd not had it styled properly really, so I usually just wore it in a pony tail. But, along with my growing breasts and hips, tight jeans and low cut tops, I was looking increasingly androgynous, if not actually female. Gwen had also got me a soft deep green jacket and I could just about still "pass" as male, helped by being six foot tall, of course. So I still did the shopping and all the daily house keeping chores. The day of the appointment arrived. Again, Gwen accompanied me to the interview. She fussed about my clothing, making me wear not only tight jeans and low-cut top with a padded bra but a pair of strappy sandals. Also, the day before the appointment, she took me back to her electrolysist who put a nice pair of gold studs in my ears. With a black velvet scrunchie holding back my hair in a pony tail, I was looking rather more female than androgynous by the time we got there. In his consulting room, Gwen and I sat facing Mr Harding. He looked at both of us, finally turning to me. "Now, Mr Bransley, I understand that you would like cosmetic gender reassignment surgery. Is that correct?" "Oh, er, I'm not sure. What I was hoping for is the removal of the penis and the creation of labia and clitoris, er, I think." I tailed off. "Yes, that is pretty much what cosmetic gender reassignment consists of. If you could remove your lower garments and lie on the couch..." I did as he asked. He looked at the site of the previous operation that he had performed. "Hummm, well, that's all healed fine. But I see that your penis is somewhat atrophied. Hence, I assume, the request for the cosmetic operation." "Er, yes," I answered, slightly confused. "You see, Ms Bransley, if we were to create a vagina for you, it would mean inverting the penile skin. But as there isn't much, you wouldn't have very much depth to your vagina. Being circumcised doesn't really help, either. We could, of course, use a length of sigmoid colon tissue but that does rather complicate matters. No, to be frank, I think you are right in preferring the cosmetic operation, unless, of course, you have any burning desire for vaginal sex? Humm? Have you?" He smiled slightly, looking at me over the top of his glasses. "No, I don't think so." I saw Gwen behind him, smiling and gently shaking her head." "I don't mean to be nosey, Ms Bransley, but I assume you have talked this through with your partner. Indeed, her presence here today would suggest you have. Do you plan to continue to, ah, live together?" Gwen laughed, "Oh yes, Mr Harding. We have been together through all this and we plan to stay that way." I have to admit, I gave a little start when I heard Mr Harding refer to me as "Ms" but it did seem right. It was just another little sign to me that, as far as the world was concerned, I was no longer a man called Tim but someone else entirely. "Yes, doctor. We are together. We love each other." I stated clearly. "Ooops, sorry, I mean Mr Harding, not doctor!" He smiled at me. "Don't worry, I am not offended. He chuckled. "Alright. Please dress again. You'll have to check with my secretary, but I think we could fit you in next month. You realise that this time you will need to stay in hospital for five or six days. Normally, it would be more, but I assume your wife will be tending you?" "Yes, Mr Harding," Gwen replied. The following three weeks went by very slowly. I have to admit, I was quite excited at the prospect. The penis just seemed to get in the way. I usually kept it tucked away, but when Gwen and I showered together, it still hung there, semi-limp and just rather ugly. Still, finally the day arrived. I drove to the hospital with Gwen, settled down in the room and tried to read a book while Gwen went off to her shift. The operation was scheduled for the next day so I still had some time to kill. I dozed, read, watched TV until Gwen came back at the end of her shift. "Hi, honey. How're you doing?" She squeezed my hand. "I'm fine." I smiled weakly. "Just eager to get it all over and done with really." "Oh, it soon will be, sweet, and then it'll just be the two of us." she giggled. The next day, I was woken at 7:30. The nurse told me that I was first on the list, so no hanging around. At 8:00 I was wheeled into the operating theatre. Gwen was there, although I hardly recognized her in all her surgical clothes. The anaesthetist fitted a cannula into the back of my left hand and then attached a syringe full of a white liquid. As the liquid slowly went into my hand, I barely had time to count to three before I was out like a light. When I came to, I was in post-op, staring up at the strip lights. They hurt my gaze, so I turned away. I couldn't help but move a hand down between my legs. All I felt there was a mass of bandages and a catheter. There was certainly no give-away bulge. I drifted off again. When I awoke again, I was back in my hospital bed. Gwen was looking out of the window, humming quietly to herself. I moved a little and Gwen turned, "Oh, hi baby. Back in the land of the living, I see. Well, you'll be pleased to know that Mr Harding says everything went wonderfully. I must say, from what I saw, he's done a lovely neat job. The catheter will be in for a few days and you must drink as much liquid as you can now, to make sure there's no obstructions or anything like that." she smiled at me, "I can hardly wait for the bandages to come off, my love. To see your lovely sweet little clit." It was strange to hear her talk like that. I could see that she had a slight pink blush to her cheeks and looked quite excited. I was still pretty woozy, but I thought about what I had given up for Gwen. First the testicles and now this. I had completely given up my manhood for this woman. I found the thought as exciting as Gwen seemed to. No regrets, only hope and excitement about the future we would have together. A few days later, Mr Harding came in to remove the bandages. I looked to see the results, but it still looked like a road crash down there - all swollen and blue-black bruises. The catheter was still in and he advised me that it would stay for another day. He placed a light dressing on the area, assured me that it was all looking fine and left. The next day Gwen came in to remove the catheter. She removed the tube from the plastic bag that it drained into and fixed a bulb full of water to the end. As she squeezed the bulb, she also pulled the catheter out. "Oh!" I let out a startled yell as the tube was freed from my urethra. "There now, that didn't hurt, did it?" "No - it just felt a bit weird - quite nice in a way." I smiled at Gwen. "Well, you'll be out tomorrow dear. A few days bed rest at home, and it'll all be over." She smiled at me. Fixing on a new, light dressing she said "Make sure you can go to the loo o.k. Abbie, then we'll be able to remove the dressing and just use sanitary towels instead." I know I looked surprised at that as she said "Well, you'll need to use them for a little while. It's easier than using surgical dressings and it'll all be fine." She smiled again. "See you later, baby." I drifted in and out of sleep that day. It was all feeling much more comfortable down there now. When I awoke, I was dying for a pee so I carefully made my way to the en-suite bathroom and sat down on the loo. A steady stream of urine came out with no pain and no sign of blood. I grabbed a couple of sheets of loo paper, patted myself dry and returned to bed. The next morning Gwen came in with some large sanitary towels. "Time to go, baby. I've brought you some nice new sensible knickers - you'll need to wear these to keep the pad in place." I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stepped into the knickers as Gwen held them out for me. She put in a towel and then pulled them all the way up and over my bottom. She put her hand between my legs and made sure that the towel fitted snugly. I felt a shiver run through me as the tight fitting knickers and the towel settled into place. Next, she brought out a new padded bra. It was a really pretty one, the palest pink, underwired, with lace around the cups. She lifted one of my breasts and kissed the nipple. It was hard and erect. She sucked it a little. I felt myself going a deeper shade of pink than the bra as a little thrill of excitement made it's way all the way from my hard nipple down my back. I shivered a little, I think, as Gwen said "Oh, are you getting cold? Now, let me help you, baby." With that, she helped me on with the bra, her cool hand adjusting my breasts until they filled the cups comfortably. Then she helped me on with a simple white, long- sleeved shirt. I noticed it had darts in the front to allow for my breasts and charming broderie anglais around the collar. In fact, it really wasn't a shirt at all but a rather formal, smart blouse. I thought it looked lovely. Next, she helped me on with my trousers. They had darts in the front which rather emphasised my waist, I noticed. Gwen threaded through a wide, dark brown leather belt with an antique brass buckle and did it up. That emphasised my waist even more. A plain pair of black leather pumps on my feet and I was ready to go. "No, not yet, Abbie. Let my brush out your hair." I sat at the bedside table as Gwen thoroughly brushed out my hair and then tied it back with the black scrunchie. She then carefully fitted a pair of small green amber ear studs through my pierced ears. "There now, I think you're just about presentable. Stand up and let me look at you." I stood as Gwen had told me. "Do a twirl, love." I carefully turned through a hundred and eight degrees for her. I was still feeling a little shaky but, at the same time, excited and happy. "You look so sweet, baby. Yes, well, I think it's time to go." Gwen loaded up my case and we set off. She opened the passenger car door for me. I very carefully settled myself in, feeling the sanitary towel press into my still slightly swollen new vulva. Gwen walked around to the driver's seat and we set off home. When we got home, Gwen helped me out of the car and we went through to the kitchen. I sat at the table and she put the kettle on. She made us both coffee and she sat opposite me at the table. "Now, baby, for the next few days, you will need to take it easy but you should be alright. I need to get back to work tomorrow, but you can get me on my bleeper. After that, I think we need to set a few ground rules. I am and have been for quite some time the bread winner around here. I don't mind that, but you must pull your weight too. You have been pretty much my house husband for some time, and I think that will continue. While you've been in hospital I've disposed of all your remaining male type clothes. They were very grateful down the charity shop. We can go shopping for some nice new clothes for you, but from now on, you will dress in what I choose as I am paying for them. I think, my love, that you are now my house wife." I looked across at Gwen, rather startled at this outburst. "Well, yes, if that's what you want Gwen." "It is. You were never much good as a man and now you don't even look like one. You might just pass as a rather feminine man, given that you are six foot tall, but there are plenty of tall women out, so you're nothing special. And when we get your hair styled nicely, there'll hardly be any "male" left to see at all." "Is that what you want Gwen? Are you happy?" I asked nervously. She smiled at me, reached over and grasped my hand. "You know this is for the best my Abbie. And you know I love you. And you love me. But I'm the boss now. Well, I suppose I always have been. That's one of the things I always loved about you. But we need to get things straight. From now on we, well, we swap roles. Yes. That's it. If you like, I'm the man around here." She laughed quietly. "Yes, I'm the man." For the next few days, I changed my sanitary pad regularly after Gwen had checked to see that everything was alright "down there." She looked pleased with the results. Within a few weeks, the swelling had gone down almost completely and I was up and around, looking after the house, cleaning and ironing but not doing anything too strenuous. One morning, before leaving for work, Gwen said "I've invited Joe and Sammy and Jane round this evening. I'm leaving the catering to you Abbie, but I'll bring a couple of bottles of wine back with me. I think it's time to do a little celebrating dear." "Really? Er, I mean, well, yes, if you think that's alright." I have to admit I was very nervous at the idea - not about me cooking a meal, but meeting some of her old friends after all this time. I knew Gwen worked with Jane at the hospital, but Joe and Sammy were ol