Curiosity free porn video

Curiosity. By Tanya H. I'm not gay, I'm curious. At least that's what I was telling myself as I walked into the club, well known as a rainbow bar and a place I'd never been in before. I'd never been this curious before. My name's Dave by the way, I'm 27, average height, build and looks, single for the last three months - since Donna moved down south to further her career. Inside it was like any other night club I'd ever been in; the music was too loud, the d?cor tasteless and even midweek it was fairly busy, but not so busy I had to elbow my way to the bar for a drink, while trying not to stare at same-sex couples behaving much more intimately than I was used to. I definitely didn't stare at any of the women who were probably called Nigel or Ryan by day. Some of them were better at being women than others, but I wasn't there to judge - I was curious, remember? "You're new," said the bar tender who served me my lager. She was tall and lean with spiked, purple hair, a close fitting vest and high-cut denim shorts over thick black tights. I couldn't see her shoes - I suspected they were flat. "Does it show?" I asked. She laughed. It was a very pretty laugh. "Either I'll never see you again or you won't be able to stay away." I hopped onto a bar stool, tried to look casual and watched the people around me, trying to decide which ones I was most curious about. Some of the women with women were attractive, both the feminine and more masculine, some of the women who probably weren't biologically female were easy on the eyes too, but I was struggling with the men. They were either too pretty or too tough, or pretending too hard to be either, and somehow I couldn't really see myself in bed with any of them. Which was a little disappointing, because that kind of curiosity had led me there. I sat there sipping my drink and trying to rationalise the ever increasing itch I was curious about scratching. A couple of the men approached me, they offered to buy me drinks, which was sociable, but overcome by shyness and a sudden, ice-cold curiosity failure I gently fended them off with a fictitious friend I was meeting. After the third offer, from a very plump guy wearing too much eye-liner I decided the whole thing was a dreadful mistake and was about to gulp my lager and leave when a woman walked up and slid onto the neighbouring bar stool. I hadn't noticed her before and she was too gorgeous to have missed; slender, petite and blonde with blue eyes swept up with eyeliner at the corner, high cheek bones and a winning smile artfully enhanced with wine-red lipstick. She billowed in an ankle length, flared black skirt, which I noticed was split to mid- thigh when she crossed her legs. She didn't seem worried about closing the split and her smooth legs gleamed under sheer black nylon. Her shoes matched her lipstick and were so high I'd have been worried had I not witnessed her gliding like a ballerina in them. She offered me her hand, it was heavy with rings and bracelets, her nails were neat, oval and painted dark blue. Not knowing whether to shake her hand or kiss it I did both. That made her laugh. "Hi Zoe," said the bar tender. "Drink?" "Yes please, Ellie." she said, in a mellow voice. "And one for him." "Dave," I said. "I've been trying to guess your name," she said. "I'd decided you were a Gary." "My middle name." She raised an eyebrow and put her head on one side. Her hair was short and spiked. She wore long jewelled earrings. Our drinks arrived. She had something bright blue in a bottle, I had another dewed glass of lager and she clinked her bottle against it. "Thanks," I said. "Probably I should have bought you a drink." Zoe lifted that eyebrow again. "In a place like this you're worried about last century's conventions?" "I'm old-fashioned?" I tried. "Really? In here! Anyway, conventions like all that boy-girl rubbish don't hold here." She shrugged. "I'm not really a girl anyway." I sneaked another glance at her very ladylike legs. "You do it much much better than the others," I said. "If you don't mind me saying so, you're very elegant, feminine and lovely." "Why, sir! Thank you for noticing." "And, you don't appear to have used an East European prostitute as your role model when getting dressed this evening." "That's cruel," she chided, but rested her hand on my knee as she said it. "Some of those people to whom you refer are my friends and they have feelings." "The lady in the green dress needs a shave." "She's new, and very brave to have come this far." Her legs drew my attention again - I was sure the darker edge to the nylon just revealed by her skirt was too low to be the reinforced waistline on a pair of tights. Stockings! Her hand was still on my knee. "Leg man then?" she asked. Again, she didn't do that self-conscious hem tweak women with revealing hemlines can't seem to help. I nodded. "Busted!" "Good job," she said with a laugh. "I've no boobs at all. Dance with me." I'd never danced with a man before, but Zoe made it easy to suspend disbelief as she was all the things I'd complimented her on. We danced and laughed and drank and danced some more. As the night drew on I grew more relaxed and that curiosity grew stronger. Maybe Zoe would be the one to scratch it. She introduced me to some of her friends and I danced with some of them, men dressed as men, men dressed as women and a tall girl who was only just growing into the woman she'd always known herself to be. I even stopped worrying about whether anybody would recognise me as I danced. I always came back to Zoe, though she seemed delighted that I danced with her friends. Then, after a slower dance when my hands had rested on her slim hips while hers rested on my shoulders (she was taller than me in her heels) she leant forward and kissed me gently on the lips. I was happy enough to return the pressure. "Time to go, handsome," she said. "Already?" "Walk me home." An instruction not a request. Outside the cool air was reviving, the quiet balmy on the ears and her hand was in mine. We hardly spoke, but I felt her long skirt swirling against my legs, listened to the confident tap of her heels and savoured the lingering taste of her lipstick. The night was working out much better than I could have hoped for. We turned into a quiet, leafy street of terraced houses and I was just about to ask how far it was, for we had walked in the opposite direction to my flat, when she stopped outside a glossy front door, the colour of her shoes, and rummaged inside her purse for a key. "I really enjoyed meeting-" I started to say. She interrupted with a full kiss, long and smooth and heady. Then she pulled back and raised an eyebrow. "This is the part where I invite you in for coffee, Dave. Are you okay with that?" I took a deep breath. "This is a first for me." "I know. Coffee then. Afterwards, we'll see?" I followed her in. Her house was neat, tidy and not as girly as I expected. Kicking off her heels in the hall dropped her several inches, she asked me to remove my shoes and I followed her into a living room very much like mine with a couple of old, deep sofas, a huge telly and shelves of books, DVDs and music. "Sit!" she ordered and pushed me into a sofa. I sat. A few minutes later she returned with red wine and sat beside me. Her eyes locked onto mine and she licked her lips. She reached out and stroked my face, I caught her hand and kissed it. "I see," she murmured. Standing smoothly, she unzipped her skirt. I was barely aware of it tumbling to the floor. Zoe embraced me and I lost myself in her kisses. Next morning I woke early and alone in Zoe's big, soft bed. The other pillow was dimpled, her perfume teased on the sheets. It sounded like she was showering. I couldn't be sure what time sleep had been allowed to come for me, but it had been later than I was used to. Despite this I felt heavy and refreshed, and as I stared up at her starry ceiling I realised I had scratched that curiosity. Did that mean I was gay? She'd said, you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. By that time I had been mostly naked and she was down to her stockings, suspender belt and satin French panties - with a must unladylike shape showing at the front. I had just cum in her mouth. Was I gay at that point? Beyond a very flat chest, Zoe's very feminine hair, her mascara and eye shadow, the glistening red sheen on her lips had been all girl as she looked up with me with her blue eyes fixed on mine and her mouth stretched around my cock. And did she know how to use her lips, tongue and fingers? Amazing! After that, she'd moved up my body and tried to kiss my mouth again. Her stiff cock had brushed my thigh, then my hip. I'd tensed slightly, turned away a little, and that was when she'd said I didn't have to do anything I wasn't comfortable with. I was ashamed then, though she hadn't meant me to feel that, I'm sure. So I kissed her hard and told myself that what I tasted on her lips and tongue was nothing I hadn't tested before, when that curiosity had been growing inside me. Her legs felt so smooth and sexy through those expensive stockings, I'd always liked a woman's leg through nylon, and when I got to her stocking tops her skin was just as smooth. A little higher and through the satin panties I felt something I wasn't used to, beyond my own equipment, and I'd recoiled again. "It's okay," she'd said, but that wasn't good enough. I wasn't gay, but I was curious, curious enough to run my fingertips along something hard and warm. Zoe had closed her eyes and moaned, she'd made a wet patch in her panties and I told myself it was only fair to give her something, after what she'd just done for me. After that it got easier, in fact it was erotic to touch her cock like that, not just exciting for the way she felt through that satin lingerie, but exciting because she enjoyed it so much. When I pulled her panties down and encircled her erection, skin to skin as it were, she kissed me harder and harder. When I made her cum a short time later I felt really proud of myself. I had looked into that curiosity and given something back to a person I really liked. Though I couldn't bring myself to go down on her, even when I helped clean her cum from her skin. In morning's fresh light I lay there contentedly savouring the internal glow from last night. I listened to her brushing her teeth. Footsteps went into another room and I absently stroked my growing hardness as I remembered what her mouth had felt like last night. "Morning sleepyhead," I heard her say just before she walked into the room. A bucket of icy water extinguished my self satisfaction when a man put his head around the door. With hair laying flat and neat, all make up removed and earrings put away Zoe's twin brother was smiling at me. Her smile went down a notch at what must have been the naked surprise on my face. She, he, was wearing a red polo shirt, bearing the Royal Mail motif, and grey shorts. It was early. Zoe, or whatever his name was, was a postman. "I'm not Zoe all the time," he said, with a slight shrug. His eyes went down. "I thought you'd got that." "I... It's just..." "Forget it. Look, there's a spare key in the door. Pop it through the letterbox when you go. Make yourself comfortable until then. I'm off to work." He looked up again and raised an eyebrow in a way that was achingly Zoe. "I enjoyed it at least," he said, before turning on his heel and walking away. "Zoe!" I called, when I finally realised what an arse I'd been, but I left it too late and the front door clicked shut behind her. I fell back heavily into the bed that was light with her perfume and called myself several names. It didn't help. I was worse than an arse. Now I was going to have to do the walk of shame. She'd picked up my clothes and folded them on a chair. There was no sign of what she'd been wearing last night. I got dressed slowly, examining the bedroom. It was a woman's place, no mistaking that. There was a dresser with an untidy scatter of cosmetics and jewellery, including those long earrings she'd worn last night. Curiosity got the better of me, again, and I looked in her draws to find lingerie, stockings and tights. Opening her wardrobe I ran my fingers along skirts, blouses and dresses. She had a nurse's dress in there, what looked like an army uniform, of khaki skirt and tunic, and rows of women's shoes from towering stilettos to ballet flats and sexy boots. There wasn't a single item of male clothing anywhere in that bedroom. I found her boy stuff next door, a spare room with another double bed and all the toiletries, clothes and accessories you might find in any bloke's bedroom. I sat on her male bed and sighed a big sigh. What was I doing here? What had I done last night? Was I gay or just curious? I locked the door behind me, put the key through the letter box and decided I was never going to see Zoe again. Every step I took away from that house pulled at my conscience though. I might not be gay, but Zoe had helped me with my curiosity in such a sweet, sexy way. And I had enjoyed it. It was just that shock of seeing her as him - even though I'd know what Zoe was all along. Then I stopped, turned and jogged back to that door that reminded so much of her sexy shoes. I wrote down her address and then hurried away so I wouldn't be late for work. Despite everything I was bang on time. I run the admin and manage IT for a small Doctor's surgery about a mile from home. Giselle, the Receptionist, must have noticed something in my eye as I said hello on the way to my little office. "Good night?" she asked. "Not bad," said I. "New girlfriend." "Not quite." Which seemed to cover everything. I fended off further questions and got on with my work, until my mid- morning break when I phoned a florist and arranged for a bunch of roses to be delivered to Zoe's the following afternoon, at a time when I guessed she'd be back from her postal duties. I added a note which basically said I'd had a fantastic night, I was complete idiot and I'd love to see her again. I added my phone number, another apology and an x x x. Three days later I got a text. Three days in which I went from relief, that I'd never see her again and wouldn't have to deal with the way I was feeling about her, to disappointment that I'd never see her smile again, or hear her laugh or caress her legs or feel the way her mouth felt inside. When I closed my eyes I saw her looking up at me while she sucked me, I saw the way her skirt had swirled and fleetingly shown her legs through its long split. When I lay in my lonely bed I ran my fingers along my own cock and remembered what it had felt like to make her cum. Sometimes I could look at myself in the mirror and say, I'm gay. So what? Most of the time I felt bad for feeling like that and I wondered if people would notice some difference in me. Then I got a text. It said: The flowers are beautiful. Thanks. Z. Next Saturday afternoon we went to see a movie together. In simple terms I went on a date with a bloke I'd wanked off. Zoe's other name was Jason and Jason looked like a regular guy in jeans, boots and a faded t-shirt. Having been warned by text I didn't do another of those upsetting double-takes and passed that test. Before the film started we sat and had a coffee. She laughed and smiled a lot, she raised that eyebrow which took me right back to our first meeting so I relaxed a little. After I relaxed a little more I started to enjoy myself. Jason was really good company, but that should have been obvious, because as sexy as Zoe had been, what had really attracted me to her was how much fun she was to be with. After the film, when she asked if I wanted to come home with her again I said yes without hesitation. Inside the door, she kicked off her boots, turned to face me and put her hands on my hips. She cocked her head on one side and did her eyebrow thing. "Well?" she said. I took a deep breath, leant forward and kissed her. That made her smile so I kissed her again, longer this time. She pulled me close, close enough that our bodies were pressed together; close enough for me to feel her arousal growing and pressing against mine. She was slightly breathless when she pulled back, grinned, then leant forward to whisper in my ear about going to slip into something a little more comfortable. A couple of weeks later we were on the sofa together in her living room. Her legs were draped across my lap, her arm around my neck, her head on my shoulder. We were watching something funny on the TV and I was running my fingers up and down her legs. Each time they went up they went a little higher along her thighs until the point where my fingertips were just slipping under her skirt's hem. I was confident that another few long, slow up and down caresses would find me exploring her stocking tops. They were natural coloured hold-ups that made her legs look and feel great and she was showing them off with a short denim skirt. She'd matched that with a short sleeved top, make up and earrings, but no heels. Her pink painted toe nails looked very pretty through the nylon. "How long?" I asked softly. "Zoe?" she said. I nodded. "As long as I can remember. I have two older brothers, no dad. I used to dress up in my mum's clothes whenever I got the chance, they were too big of course. She caught me one day, in a dress, shuffling in her heels. She was really special, she bought me a couple of dresses, some underwear and shoes, I got little presents of girl's stuff as I grew up. She gives me Dorothy Perkins gift cards for birthdays and Christmas now." It was warm and sensual under her skirt. "That's pretty cool," I said. She was watching me carefully as I said it. I didn't look away. "What about you?" I almost twitched with surprise at the question. "You like my legs, you love stroking them through nylon. You've tried stockings, tights before. Haven't you?" I started to deny it, but she put a finger on my lips. "Forget it," she said and smiled. She kissed me, but I felt strangely transparent to her at that moment. "I have a big sister," I murmured after a few moments. My hand became still on her thigh, all my effort was going into this. I'd never told anybody about me and Hayley before. Nobody but me and her knew about the quiet evenings when mum and dad went out and we played Victoria and Hayley. I couldn't really remember a time when Hayley and I hadn't played dressing up like that, right up until the time when she left home at 18. I was still 15. "Thank you, Victoria," she murmured when I finished my halting confession. She kissed me deeply and switched off the TV. My had found her lace stocking top and went higher, pushing her skirt up and up until I could see the bulge in her red, satin knickers. She moaned when I ran my fingers along it. "There's more," I said when we paused for breath. "I still do it, dressing up I mean. Dressing in women's clothes." She smiled and caressed my cheek. "Go on, Vicky." I'd never told another person in the world about the three skirts hanging in my wardrobe - a knee length black pencil skirt, a fuller and longer summer skirt, and one much like the one Zoe was wearing at that moment. I had some tights and stockings, knickers and a suspender belt. I had two pairs of plain, high heeled court shoes; one black and one nude, along with some strappy, dark tan sandals I wore with the summer skirt. "You've never gone out dressed in them?" she wondered. I shook my head vehemently. "You should," she said. "I'll help." "No way. You're gorgeous, feminine and you totally pass, but... Well, look at me - I have hairy legs and big feet, constant five o clock shadow. I'd feel awful." Zoe nodded. "I understand." She kissed me. "You have to do what makes you happy. And I'm about to do something to make us both happy." For a few moments were busy undressing each other, until I was naked and she wore only her stockings and we were tight in each other's arms, tongues entwined, my throbbing, swollen cock laid alongside hers. We kissed some more, I tasted her ears and her neck, my hands found her erection and hers found mine and we lay on the sofa a minute gently playing with each other's cocks and it felt as natural as anything in the world. "Don't move," she whispered. I kept stroking her while she deftly stripped one of her stockings. "What are you doing?" I murmured as I watched her rolling the stocking, gathering it in her hands until the reinforced toe was stretched between them. "Give me your leg, point your toe," she said. When I hesitated, she grabbed the nearest of my feet anyway and though I could have pulled away, I didn't. I sat there, my fingers not moving, but keeping her cock inside them, and watched her edge her stocking over my toes. Quickly and efficiently she worked the nylon over my ankle and up my leg before settling the lace top around my thigh. It was hold-up stocking, with the latex bands inside the top so it didn't need a suspender belt. She wrapped both hands around my nylon covered ankle and then slowly worked them up my leg, higher and higher, caressing me all the way until she was holding my cock again and I was stroking hers. "How does that feel?" she said into my ear. "You know how it feels," I said, too self-conscious to admit that it felt good, that it sent tingles through my body to concentrate inside my straining cock. She twisted herself so her stockinged leg was against mine and then drew it slowly up and down and the air filled with the elegant hiss of nylon against nylon. A few minutes later I made her cum again, this time I felt it splash hot onto my thigh and belly, a little of went onto my cock. She was still playing with me and running her leg against mine and I was so aroused, so excited I didn't even think about what she was doing when she offered her fingers to be kissed and I tasted salt on them, It was the first time I'd had another man's cum on my lips. Zoe went down on me again, treated me to her soft lips and wet tongue, but she wasn't down there for long. I was too far lost in the moment and came very quickly. She swallowed me, licked me clean then came back into my arms for a kiss and a cuddle. Next day was her day off so when I woke she was still beside me in bed, fast asleep with the covers thrown back. She was naked but for one stocking, I was still wearing the other one. It felt special to be wearing something so intimate of hers. It was shaping up to be a nice day outside, it was bright even through her curtains and I lay for a moment watching her sleep. Even without her make up, she still looked feminine, was still Zoe and I let my eyes wander down her smooth chest and flat tummy, she had a pretty gem pierced into her belly-button, and finally saw the shape of her flaccid cock. Was I gay? Did it matter if I was? I'd had a few girlfriends, I loved the feel of a woman's body, the shape of a woman, the way her sex tasted, the way it felt to slowly ease myself into the wet pussy between her spread legs. Zoe was sexy too. I liked her body, I loved the feel of her cock in my hand. Surely it was okay to be attracted to men and women. I brushed the tip of one finger along her cock. Zoe slept on. She looked so gorgeous, my boyfriend? My girlfriend? It didn't matter, she was Zoe - unique. "Zoe," I said softly. "I love you." She didn't stir. I shifted away from her, edged down the bed until my head was level with her hips. I found I was already erect, my cock was stiff and jutting away from me and that told me that I was right. I bent my head to her, she smelt warm and masculine but that didn't matter either and I kissed, ever so gently, the tip of her sleeping penis. She signed, but didn't move. I looked, but her eyes were still closed. I kissed her again. I lifted her limp cock and pulled her foreskin back so I could run my tongue around the purple head of her. She started to stiffen, I felt the heat building in her and knowing that I was approaching a tipping point in my relationship with her, I parted my lips and took her cock into my mouth. Zoe moaned again, but I wasn't looking, my eyes were closed and I had a cock in my mouth, admittedly it was soft, but not for long. It was growing inside me, becoming longer and thicker and harder. I helped it with my tongue and my lips, I sucked it gently and I played with her balls and when she was fully erect and wouldn't all fit inside I wrapped my fingers around her and played with her too. My eyes were tight shut. I was giving another man a blow job. My first. It was okay, because I was bisexual and I loved Zoe. I felt her fingers caress my hair. "Dave?" she said sleepily. I didn't stop. I licked and sucked and kissed and caressed. Her hips rocked, my jaw started to ache, her breathing came quicker and quicker until she gasped, "If you don't stop now I won't be able to." For a moment I almost did. I could have finished her with my hand, but I loved her and that wouldn't have been fair. I took her as deep as I could, felt her tense beneath me and then something thick and salt hit the back of my mouth. For a moment I was revolted. In the next I was okay, it was Zoe and I loved her. Afterwards she stroked my hair and kissed me, but best of all she said, "I love you too." Being in love with Zoe was amazing and confusing at the same time. It was amazing because when I thought of her I smiled. It was confusing because every time I thought of her I thought of Zoe - the woman with no breasts and a cock. In my mixed up head, Jason was a mate, a good mate (probably a bit more than that because Jason and I still kissed and held hands in private), but Zoe was my lover - my girlfriend. I had pictures of Zoe on my phone, none of Jason. I knew that Zoe and Jason was the same person, as she never adopted some kind of over-girly personality when she dressed as a woman. I suppose, as I remained in some kind of denial over my sexuality, it was easier to convince myself I was normal when I thought of the person I loved as female. We went out together, often to the club where we had first met and all her friends there gushed about how lucky she was, and a couple about my good fortune too. I spent more and more time with her and at her house. I had my own toothbrush there, but we shared everything else. There were many soft, intimate moments there and a couple of times she put me in some of her panties and hold-ups for the sheer sensual excitement, and once I spent the evening in a gender-neutral t-shirt and flared denim skirt - which I enjoyed, especially when Zoe's hands wandered underneath it. "Have you ever wished you were a woman?" I asked her one evening; we were in Chinese restaurant, me and Jason. "Quite often," she said. "But not so much that I'd put myself through surgery and hormones. Besides, I like being me, like this. I'm unique, however I'm dressed I'm not what I seem and I like that. How about you?" The question startled me. Her eyebrow was up again. Sometimes I thought that eyebrow put some kind of hypnosis on me so I couldn't refuse her. "Sometimes. Not so often these days." "And what, in this age of unprecedented gender equality, when anybody could be anything they ever wanted to be, would make you, Dave, wish you were a woman?" I thought about that for a moment. "Women, some women, and some men," I nudged her under the table with my foot. "Are so beautiful, they look so graceful and elegant and gorgeous that I wonder what it would be like to be all those things." "I could make you feel like that," she said. I shook my head. "When you go out, you're a woman. Me? I'm not even a little bit feminine. "True," she said and we both laughed. I was a little angular and very hairy. "I can't believe I've never asked this," I said a little while later, when I'd watched Jason follow the very lovely and very cute bum of one of our waitresses as she walked back to the kitchen. "But, do you like girls too, or are you just admiring her trousers?" She laughed. "I like bright, attractive, fun people, no matter what they keep in their trousers. You know Ellie, behind the bar at the club? Purple hair? She and I go way back; more than fuck-buddies, less than partners." It didn't surprise me, in fact I'd probably have been a little disappointed if she'd given me a different reply. "Jealous?" she said. "Not at all. I'm so happy I'll take whatever crumbs fall from your table." She touched my hand, quickly but enough to make me tingle. "I'm so happy I haven't kissed Ellie for weeks and weeks." "Have you told any of your family about us?" she said the next morning. I was watching her apply her make up in my shaving mirror. She looked very feminine, sexy in fact, in black bra, panties and suspender belt. I'd just helped her fasten her stockings. They were nude and very sheer. "Does it matter if I haven't? She paused with lipstick poised. "That depends on the reason." "Have you told anyone? Apart from Ellie and the girls at the club." "My mum. I don't keep much back from her. Her husband? No, he's a bit old fashioned - ask no secrets tell no lies is how we get along." I looked at the floor and twiddled my thumbs while I tried to think of the reason why nobody knew about me and Zoe - not my parents, not Hayley, not any of the people I worked with. "Coming out's really hard," she said when I didn't say anything. "It's not that I'm ashamed of you, just about looking somebody in the eye and saying - guess what, I'm in love with a man. Sometimes I wish you were a girl," I said. "Do you mind?" "God no! But I'm not, I'm what I am. And what if I was a girl, what about your curiosity? What would do the next time you fancied a bit of..." She ran a fingertip along the unladylike shape in her panties. "I think of you as a woman anyway," I said with a shrug. "I just don't know how to tell anyone." She put her lipstick down, walked over to where I was sitting on the edge of the bed and knelt between my legs. "How about if we were both girls?" "Wow! That would be cool, but I'd still have to come out." "True." I snorted, lifted her chin and kissed her. "Sorry. Don't think it's because of you, that I haven't told anyone. It's me. All me." As winter went into spring she had to go home for a week, somewhere in Devon where Zoe was not allowed by her Mum's new partner, for a christening or something and I had to face a week without her. And I was fairly busy myself. I had a weekend up North at my sister's, who I hadn't seen for ages. Though the days of playing Hayley and Victoria were far in our past, the fact that I was in a relationship with a gorgeous cross-dresser made me feel unusually tense while I was up there - as though Hayley was going to produce one of her dresses and insist I wore it. As much as I loved seeing Hayley I was more unsettled and confused about who I was when I got home. Maybe it would have been a release if she had dressed me up again. While Zoe was away I had to go around and water her plants and I found myself spending a night there, on my own, finding some comfort in the proximity of her things and the memories they brought. I also found myself, half reluctantly, like I'd been hypnotised or something, standing at her woman's wardrobe and eventually pulling on that flared, split skirt she'd been wearing when I'd first met her. I left my legs bare under the skirt, but I felt close to her as it swished around me as I walked back to the living room and curled up to watch some TV. Then I was overcome by the sudden, stupid notion that I was ridiculous. Wearing a skirt! What was I thinking? I went to bed and played with myself, but the more I tried to fantasise about being with a woman the more I imagined I was the pretty crossdresser and Jason was making love with me. On the Friday I had agreed to go out with some lads I played cricket with. It was a birthday - we got very very drunk. There had been much laddish good humour, drunken banter and light-hearted rowdiness, through most of the night - which I was fine with. Where I did get uncomfortable, thankfully nobody noticed, was when the banter went into homophobia. As the man wrestling with his sexuality and immersed in his love for another man, this was not a place I wanted to be, but the subject moved on quickly, more drink was consumed and then, somehow, in some club or other we hooked up with the right number of drunken women. None of my mates knew about Zoe, that's how mixed up I was, and as far as they were concerned I was single and in their collective opinion what I really needed was a good fuck from a dirty woman. A blonde in the group singled me out and before I really had the chance to stop and think about it I had her tongue in my mouth, her hands in my trousers and her large breasts pressed against my chest. I'm sorry to say this, but in my drunken, confused state I was not too put out by this. She was a little plump, but she looked good in her tight dress and very high heels. I was stroking her behind while she groped me and looking forward to how one of her tits would feel, it had been a while since I'd touched one after all. I was even imagining the sensation of actually fucking her. We ended up in the park nearby, separated from our mates, and in the cool darkness I sucked her nipples and slipped my fingers past her panties to feel how hot and wet she was while she enthusiastically played with my hard cock. Part of my brain, the drunken part, was revelling in her gorgeous womanhood, the curves, folds and glory of her body. When she slipped her panties down, pulled her dress up and knelt on a bench, baring her gleaming pussy to me, that part of my brain was drowned by a spiritual slap around the face. Holly, I think that was her name, might have been physically the woman Zoe was not, but I loved Zoe and what I was about to do, what I had already done, was a betrayal of everything emotional that had passed between us. Buttoning my jeans over my suddenly flaccid cock, I mumbled some apology and stumbled away. What really did me though was what she screamed as she was pulling her dress over her hips. "What are you, some sort of fucking homo? Fuck off then, you fucking faggot." I fucked off; after all, I was some sort of fucking homo. I was undoubtedly a fucking faggot. That was probably the low point of the year, hurrying through the park, hands jammed in pockets, dirty moisture leaking from the tip of my cock and her accusations ringing through my memories. I was going to have to do something about this - either confront the world with my sexuality or conform to its narrow expectations and leave Zoe for ever. To get back to my flat I had to go under the relief road via an underpass. It was the usual grim, concrete space, but on that night I had got well inside before I realised there was already somebody there. At first I thought my awful night would be made complete by getting a knife pulled on me by some feral kid. It was a woman though, or a girl - the closer I got the less I could decide. She was black though, pretty, with short hair and slim build, leaning a shoulder on the underpass graffiti and watching me walk towards her. I jammed my hands deep in my pockets and got ready to ignore her. "Give us a quid and I'll give you a wish," she said. Her voice was light, but with a flat, northern accent. "You need one," she pressed when I didn't look up. I was almost alongside her. "Why would you say that?" I said, dismissively and still looking at the pavement. "You may as well have turmoil written across your forehead, mate." I stopped. She was right beside me when I peeped, though I hadn't sensed her moving. My fingers closed tight around my wallet and phone, in case that was a her game. Her eyes were bright and almond shaped. When she smiled she had uneven teeth. She wore billowing black trousers and a leather jacket with stiletto heeled boots. "It's a good one, your wish." "How do you know? I haven't wished it yet." "Don't work like that," she said and grinned some more. "It would be all world peace or unlimited riches or living forever if wishes were like that. I can see your wish and if you give me a quid I'll let you have it." "It's too late for this bollocks, I need to get home before I spew," I muttered and started walking again. "It'll be too late when you get under them stars again, mate. It'll be gone then and you'll never know." "It's a good angle, but no." "A quid, that's all. One pound coin, there are eight in your pocket right now. Only one of them and you get a good wish, real good." When I turned she was standing in the centre of the underpass, hands in her jacket pockets, feet shoulder width apart smiling warmly. She really was very pretty, but her hair seemed grey streaked now like she was much older than me. In the pale lighting I looked at the coins I'd had in my pocket and there were indeed eight pound coins. "See," she said. I almost threw one towards her, but that would have been rude. So I stepped up and when she held out her right hand I placed one pound in her palm. "Good choice, Dave," she said and winked. "How do you know that?" "Don't matter." She shook her head. "Now, your wish, here it comes. You don't have to write it down or anything, because now you've paid your money it's going to happen. You, my mate, will be very happy with and very proud of your girlfriend. More than that, you'll be comfortable with your own identity and never want to cross dress again. Good luck with that. Bye." "What?" was all I could manage. "Good one that. Now, off you go, home to your girl and be happy." She gave me a little wave, turned and walked away, towards the town centre, the clip clip clip of her heels echoing from the concrete. "Wait!" I took a step after her, then another, but she had gone. I shook my head - I must be drunker than I thought. "I haven't got a girl!" I muttered to myself - and that was the problem. I stumbled through my darkened flat, dropping my clothes and cleaning my teeth until I practically fell into bed and realised there was somebody there already. "Dirty stop out," said Zoe. "Kieren's birthday," I mumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed, like I didn't belong there. "Drunk?" "As a newt." "Come to bed." I didn't move. "How was Devon?" "Masculine," she said. "What's wrong." "Nothing." I pulled the covers back. She smelt feminine. A satin nightdress was dark and gleaming against her skin in the faint light filtering through the curtains. It was warm in bed, she put her arm under my shoulder and I squirmed and said it was uncomfortable and she moved it. She tried to kiss me and I only let her lips find my cheek. "There is," she said. I had my eyes closed, but she was looking at me, I could feel her eyes and I hated myself some more. "Tired," I mumbled and turned my back. Zoe was really amazing and in that moment I knew what a special person she was, because against all my rejections all she did was to kiss my shoulder and wish me good night. Have you ever woken in some daft, very early hour of the morning in a murky fog of disorientation and with such a raging, diamond-cutter of a hardon that the only thing you could be sure about was getting your hand around it or getting in inside of somebody as quickly as possible? The room was in darkness, the covers were pulled away and I should have been glowing with heat. My skin was, my cock was stiff and throbbing and felt bigger than normal; I didn't know where I was or who I was with but a hand that was not my own was urgently wanking me, kisses were wet on my cheek, my neck and shoulders. "Zoe?" I mumbled. "Shush," she said, from inside of a kiss to my neck. Everything was dark and fuzzy. A shape moved above me, weight settled around my hips, knees were tight to my ribs. She was straddling me, hand still on my cock, lifting it upwards until it touched wet. "Oh my god," she moaned. "Zoe?" "Stop talking." My cock was swiftly and delightfully surrounded by something as tight as it was slick and hot - a sensation it had not experienced for some time. I groaned with the feeling of sublime satisfaction. Zoe cried out, quick and sharp. I felt her clench around me, as though she were trying to hold me inside - though I had no intention of moving. She must have lubed herself specially, dilated herself somehow. We'd only tried full, penetrative sex once together and it had felt nothing like this, neither of us had really enjoyed it, but this was intense. A shudder ran through me when her hips started rocking, making me move inside her. She held my hands tight, lifted them to her mouth and kissed them, sucked my fingers while she slowly, determinedly fucked me. "That... feels... so... good," I gasped in time to her movements. I picked up her rhythm and lifted my hips to meet her, as though I could go deeper into her body. The sheer, beautiful intimacy of being inside her like that spread a smile across my face. As my eyes grew more used to the darkness, when they were able to add a little definition to the pale shape straddling me, I thought that there might be a gasping, surprised smile across her face too. Everything beyond her weight across my pelvis and the soaking heat holding my cock was drunk and confused. "You feel gorgeous," I mumbled, trying to pull her down for a kiss - it felt most important that I kissed her hard at that moment. She held back though. "Don't stop now, don't you dare stop now," she cried. Her body moved faster, lifting from mine before dropping onto me and my cock made wet, slurping noises as it moved inside her. If had been light enough I could have seen it glistening, but my eyes were shut as I savoured what she was doing to me. The bed rocked, her cries came louder and louder with every thrust so I wondered, absently, about the neighbours, but I could hardly have stopped then if I'd wanted to. That pressure built and built until my breath caught, I arched my back as deep as I could into her and started cumming. She was immediately wetter, dripping; I pumped and pumped until I though my balls would crumple flat. Zoe threw her head back and a noise, like a groan and a cry came from the back of her throat. She squeezed me tighter and tighter, she spasmed and shook before collapsing like a rag doll down on my chest, her head lay on my shoulder, face buried in the pillow. Her panting filled my ear. I embraced her, stroked her moist back, felt her ribs moving as she breathed hard and fast, touched her vertebrae through her wet skin and blinked, as though I could blink the darkness and fog in my brain away. "Zoe?" I whispered. I was still inside her. My cock was still throbbing to the rapid beat of my own heart, she was tight and glowing around it. The physiology was all wrong, wasn't it? I couldn't be inside her while she was laid this flat against me, as though we were... "Zoe?" "Shush." "What's happening?" She kissed my ear. "I have spent my whole adult life imaging what that would feel like." The she pulled from my embrace and sat up again, legs spread over me, holding my cock snug inside. "What do you think?" "About what? Zoe, it's dark, what...?" She reached down and switched on the bedside lamp and my vision flared out for a moment. When I could see there she was and there I was with my cock inside her, but not in the way I had imagined and for the first time since i had met her my use of the female pronoun was correct. The dark pink lips of a very aroused female vulva were outlining the base of my cock and my hair was soaked with her juices. For a moment I stared, thinking some trick had been played, that Holly from the park had come home with me and I had fucked her thinking it was some miraculous girl-Zoe. But when I looked higher and saw my lovely Zoe looking down on me I knew this was more than some trick. "Zoe?" "Can you feel it?" she murmured and squeezed my cock again. A delighted smile spread across her as she did it. "Can you feel it? My pussy, Dave? I have a pussy and you're inside it. You just came in me, didn't you, I felt it and it was lovely. Dave, what's the matter?" "How?" My voice was thick, staring at the point where my body vanished inside hers. "Havn't a clue." The rest of her body was unchanged, or was it? Her nipples were hard, the aureoles looked pinker and wider. Did she look softer and swollen around them. I think her waist looked a little more defined as through her hips were wider. "Impossible," I grumbled. "Amazing," she said and laughed. Her voice had a tinkling, high pitched edge to it. Abruptly she lifted herself and swung her leg across me. My softening cock plopped out and dropped wetly onto my belly. She kept her legs wide and looked down on her reddened lips, her clitoris was hard and prominent, but nowhere near and proud as her cock should have been. We both stared at his transformed sex for a moment. I found him, or her, strangely beautiful at that moment and a tingle of further arousal tingled my cock a moment as I recalled the swish of the first penetration between those gleaming lips. Under my gaze a fat, creamy droplet welled up from within and seeped slowly down her inner thigh. "I'm so pleased you were my first," she said, running an index finger into my cum and then sucking her finger clean with such obvious satisfaction my cock twitched again. "I felt you tear me. I'm not a virgin now." "Zoe, this doesn't make any sense." "I think I'm growing tits as well, I think I turning into a woman." "You can't just turn into a woman," I whispered, but it was plain she was. At the rate she was growing she'd have no need for her breast forms. And the look on her face, her eyes were shining as she looked down on her changing body. Excitement didn't come close to what I imagined she was feeling. She threw herself down next to me and kissed me firmly, pushing her tongue into my mouth. Her body felt warm, she squirmed as close to me as possible, ran her thigh across me as though to pin me down and I felt the hot, wet smear of her pussy rubbing my skin. "What does it feel like?" I murmured when she pulled away. "I feel like I'm melting," she smiled. "But not burning, like my skin was liquid, it's wonderful." She lifted herself and looked down. Two small, pointed breasts were pert on her chest. "How big do you think I'll get?" I had to shake my head. "How would I know, I can't believe I'm seeing this." "You should feel it," she said slowly, lifting a hand to circle her new breasts. "Like being gloriously drunk, high, anything you can think of." She laughed out loud and despite myself I smiled. She rolled away from me, threw the quilt to the floor and stretched out on her back, so her feet were by my hip, ankles demurely crossed. She had a definite female shape now, her skin was so smooth it shone in the bedside lamp's soft light. I watched one of her hands move slowly across her hip, down the curls at the top of her thighs where the first sign of her miracle slit showed. The tip of her longest finger rested there a moment, just inside the groove. Her other hand was still exploring her breasts, her eyes were half closed, her lips parted. I don't think I had ever seen a woman looking so beautiful, or excited. "Would you?" she murmured softly uncrossing her ankles. "Once more? So I can feel it again, feel you inside me? On my back, like a woman?" Her legs parted slowly, I heard her breathing deepen, felt my own catch as she bared her glistening pussy to me. The gentle rocking of her hips was hypnotic. I licked my lips, mouth suddenly wet and felt the thrill of the moment concentrating in my cock and making my nipples stiff and proud like they were copying hers. "Zoe..." "Stop talking. Make me feel like a woman again." Her legs felt satin smooth under my hands, her inner thighs soft and gorgeous, pushing them gently further apart so I could knee between them, brush my finger tips through her damp curls. The warm, sexual smell rising from her made me dizzy, as though the bed was tilting. Maybe I was drunk still. I closed my eyes for a moment, stilling my hands. "Don't you like it?" she whispered. "Oh my god, you don't do you?" Her eyes were wide now, smile gone and mouth turned down at the corners. "You want to be with a man, don't you?" I shook my head and the room twisted again. "I want you, Zoe. I want to, I really do, you're beautiful, but..." I gestured between my legs where my cock wasn't feeling the moment. For all the sparkles running through my system, even with the heat over my skin and the tingles running through me my cock hung disinterested and drooled a little cum sadly onto the sheet. I shrugged. "Maybe it's too soon?" "Are you sure?" A faint smile came back. She knelt before me. "Really sure? Will you still love me as a girl?" She giggled suddenly. "Oh I can't believe it, I'm going to be a girl." Catching her hands I kissed them in turn, "I've always thought of you as a girl, as Zoe." "Won't you miss my cock?" "Will you?" "Not yet, maybe later." She laughed happily. "When I'm desperate for a piss and there are no toilets around." Now she kissed my hands, then she held them to her breasts. She was grown enough now for me to be able to cup them, feel their heat and warmth, the nipples pressing hard into me. "I can feel them growing," she sighed and ran her hands up my thighs, caressed my sleepy cock. "Now I'm going to make you grow." Her fingers did feel good, but though the tingling down there surged at the contact there was no response. It was a little embarrassing, I'd never had that kind of trouble before. Even when she bent right over and sucked me into her very wet mouth did I start to get hard. Closing my eyes I tried to help it along, bringing to my mind's eye an image of Zoe rising above me, riding my cock and holding it tight inside her pussy. I should have been glowing with arousal, they way my skin, my whole body felt, but it wasn't working on my cock. "Dave," she said. Her hands became still, I felt her rising and saw her kneeling up again, staring at me with a grave look on her face. "Sorry," I said, looking down with colour making my cheeks hot. "Don't know what's the matter with it." "It's happening to you too," she said calmly. "Look." I looked. "Oh!" That was all I could manage. My nipples had gone beyond hard, they were swollen. My pecs were vanishing beneath softness. Further down my thighs had lost their stringy, runners look, but more telling than that all the dark hair that had made Zoe's stockings look so wrong on me had gone. My legs looked much more suited to her nylons already. "That's impossible." "You're changing too." I shook my head. "Can't be." I swallowed, coughed a little as though I had something caught in my throat. My chest shook slightly as I coughed, my stiff nipples bigger and darker and pinker with prettily crinkling aureoles around them. "Oh the night gets better and better," Zoe said, laughing again. She clapped her hands. "Look at you. Dave - Victoria! Look at you change. She threw her arms around me and drew me into a fierce hug. I was conscious not only of her breasts pressed against me, but the new parts of me they were pushing against. My belly squirmed, my pelvis creaked and my balls felt like they were writhing inside my sack. A tickle at the back of my neck made goosebumps run across my body, I thought it was her, her nails, but it didn't go away even when she pulled back. Leaning forward she brushed something dark from the edge of my vision. "Why is your hair growing and mine isn't?" "Short hair suits you," I mumbled and coughed again. "I want long hair down my back so I can braid it and pin it up and let it loose in the wind. Dave! What are we going to do?" By this point we were both kneeling up on the bed, facing each other, our knees touching, holding hands. The bedside lamp dressed her in a warm, yellow glow and left my front in shadow - though not so much I couldn't see what was happening to me. Even if it had been pitch black I would have been able to track the changes by the wonderful, horrible bloating and weights on my chest. Hair was stroking my shoulders now while the steady pressure in my bum was lifting me from my ankles as it swelling in proportion with my hips. "We're going to become women," I said, and my voice was as smooth as my new skin. To my own ears I felt surprisingly calm and I squeezed Zoe's hands in mine. "We'll live as women. Don't you see; you'll be a post lady and I'll be another woman working at the surgery." "But who'll believe us!" I laughed then. My chest shook - I was already bigger than her. My thighs were plump and sleek with just the tip of a cock visible between them. It was ridiculous and amazing and terrifying that I should even think of such things, yet along talk of them, but here I was. There was Zoe, more feminine and beautiful than she had ever been. "It doesn't matter what they believe, baby." I squeezed her hands again. "People change sex all the time, it's old hat now. They can't do anything, we're protected by law." We embraced, held each other tight. She buried her face in my hair and her small breasts in my fuller ones. While I stroked her back and murmured comforting things to her I felt the distinct and utterly bizarre sensation of my balls wriggling their way back inside my pelvis where presumably they would track a little higher into my abdomen and be converted into ovaries. Would all the sperms in there be aware of being transformed into eggs? Was a womb already growing inside me? I could have a baby! Or imagine if the last sperm I had ejaculated into Zoe could fertilise one of her brand new eggs! It was enough to make your head spin, or to make you bang your head off the wall, but all I felt as my penis shrivelled away was a soft sense of contentment. As though that curiosity that had first led me into Zoe's world had always been about expressing the woman in me. Zoe started trembling as I held her. The clock said it was way too early in the morning to be nude and I was feeling the cool myself. Gently I pulled her down, pulled the bedding over us and switched off the light. A funeral march woke me - Mum's ring tone, don't tell her! Stumbling between sleep and awake I flailed for the phone and yelped with a bloom of pain across my scalp. Zoe sat up suddenly with a little squeal and the pain went away, but she accidentally jabbed an elbow into my chest and I shouted again. I knocked the phone off the stand and hair tumbled around my face as I scrabbled for it. Finally snatching it up I grunted a sleepy hello. "Did I wake you, Vix?" "Mum?" I mumbled. "Did I wake you, darling?" "Gosh, yes I suppose you did. What time is it?" I followed that with a jaw-cracking yawn and my belly rumbled. Zoe, wide eyed and clutching the bedding to her chest made frantic, throat-cutting Stop signals. "Gone 11," said Mum, without a hint of reproach. "Were you out again last night, dirty stop out. I suppose you have a raging headache and some unsuitable bloke in bed next to you." "Mum!" I pushed hair behind my ears and shrugged at Zoe who rolled her eyes, dropped the bedding and pushed her breasts out towards me. "Are you listening to me?" said Mum. "I bet you feel sick don't you, are you going to throw up? I can hold while you do." "Can I ring you back," I murmured, trying to make my voice sound deeper as I looked down my cleavage. There was quite a lot of it. Images from last night flashed across my mind's eye. "I'm not feeling myself." "Who are you feeling, don't answer that. It's not important, I have grandchildren. I'll let you get on and spew if that's what you want-" "I don't need a spew-" "I'm thinking of organising a girls" night out for Hayley's birthday, just the three of us in some nice pub restaurant place somewhere near hers, we can stop overnight and Rob can look after their kids. Have a think about and let me know what you think. Byeeee. Sober up soon." The phone went dead. I stared at it a moment. "It wasn't a dream then?" Zoe shook her head. Her face was softer, smoother - no stubble of course - and her lashes were longer. I dropped my gaze to her boobs, not thinking she'd mind, and then went back to my own. When I pulled the quilt aside I saw, under dark and curly pubic hair, the neat lines of a perfectly female place looking as alien and out of place as if I'd grown a tail. Oddly enough I didn't miss what was actually missing there. "Didn't she realise you'd changed? You didn't did you? Until you tried to make your voice deeper." I felt myself frown. "She invited me for a girls" night for Hayley's birthday." My frown went deeper until my brow hurt. "She called me Vix." "Short for Victoria," Zoe pointed out, a little too smugly "This is mad," I sighed. I waved a hand at my new physiology. "Changing me is one thing, but making Mum think I'm a girl!" My belly growled again and Zoe laughed. "I'm starving too. I suppose changing sex uses up the calories." "But how?" "Let's have breakfast, brunch even." She grabbed my dressing gown, swung it around her shoulders and belted it. "Coming?" "Now you've nicked that I haven't anything to wear," I muttered. I poked in a drawer while my expanded chest swung in front of me. It didn't ever seem to stop moving, the shifting weight was quite distracting. All the male clothes in the drawers and even my wardrobe were still just that, so I pulled out a long, soft shirt and managed to button it most of the way over my boobs - the buttons were a little strained! "You look gorgeous in that," Zoe laughed. "Like borrowing your boyfriends's shirt after a night of passion." My cheeks went warm. "I haven't got a boyfriend anymore." That stopped her smile. Her shoulders went down. So I hurried over and took her into my new, soft hug. After a moment I felt her arms encircle me. "A brand new girlfriend's even better. I love you, Zoe." After brunch we made a plan, of sorts. Zoe had clothes - she'd brought some women's stuff with her the night before - a denim skirt, opaque tights, bra, panties and a top with ballet pumps that were a little big. She could go to the Tesco's around the corner and find something for me. Happily the bra she'd only ever worn with breast forms cupped her small boobs perfectly while the tape measure I dug out from somewhere placed me as a much bigger 36C and dress size 12. While she got dressed I had a shower and tried not to linger too much on my new curves, but the water sluiced from my practically hairless body felt amazing. I soaped my curves gently, like I could somehow damage them, stunned at how soft and smooth I'd become, about how comfortable I was in this shape. Wrapping a towel around my chest and waist, I tried to do something with my sopping hair, gave up and left a trail of drips back into the bedroom - it was even heavier wet. "This is going to take some getting used to," I muttered. Zoe looked up from arranging her lipstick. "I can't tell you how jealous I am of your hair." "It will take weeks to dry, I haven't got a hair dryer!" "I'll get you one," she laughed. As you know, I've always thought of Zoe as female, a woman even when she blatantly wasn't, but looking at her now she was effervescent in her true gender. Dressed as she was she didn't really look much different to how she would have done in that outfit yesterday; her thighs looked a little sleeker and she had a feminine definition to her waist and hips now. She simply shone with happiness though and that washed away my wet hair frustration completely. Having a beautiful long kiss with a sexy girl in a short skirt who ran her fingers lovingly along my bum's cleavage helped too. Then she practically ran from the house, waved to me as she went down the garden path and started skipping towards Tescos. She had to stop when one of her too big ballet pumps came off, but she was still grinning over her shoulder at me as she carried on. I was towelling my hair. When I had it as dry as I could be bothered with I exchanged the towel for the same shirt I'd been wearing for brunch, brushed my teeth and started thinking about the practicalities of a magically driven gender reassignment. There were surely forms and paperwork and testimonials from health care professionals we'd need; I couldn't just walk into work on Monday and say, "Hi, don't call me Dave any more, I'm Victoria and I'm living as a woman now." Though I had to say, admiring myself in the mirror once again, I was a very convincing Victoria. And my Mum had been happy with another daughter, though I didn't much like being called Vix, even by her. I sat on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror, and crossed my legs. The shirt didn't leave much to the imagination. The bed was still disarrayed, it might have been a fondness, but I thought I could still smell Zoe there. Despite everything I could almost taste her. Smiling at the mirror I said, "I'm a lesbian." The day before I had been in turmoil over my sexuality, but now I felt as comfortable with my girlfriend as I did with my breasts. I had probably got my money's worth from that wish! I phoned Mum. My fingers trembled a little as I worked the screen, calling up her profile and tapping call. Anxiety made me feel a little dizzy, but the memory of Zoe's delighted smile this morning gave me strength. "Vix!" said Mum happily. "How is the head? Is your unsuitable lover in the shower cleaning off your lippie and perfume before he goes home to his wife and kids?" "Mum!" "Was he gorgeous?" I closed my eyes. He had been gorgeous, but he was beautiful now. "Mum, are you sitting down?" "Oh my God! Pregnant or engaged? Or both!" "Mother! Will you stop trying to live out your life through mine!" She laughed. "Okay, I'm sitting. All ears, darling." "I did wake up with somebody this morning." "I knew it!" "Her name's Zoe." Silence. It went on for a few more moments and amongst the anxious butterflies in my belly there was a little satisfaction that for once I had made her lost for words. "Mum? Still there?" "Darling, are you coming out?" "I suppose I am." "Nobody saw that coming. Oh, well done." "Well done! Is that it?" "It must be such a relief, to have opened up. Oh thank you, darling. I'm so pleased you could tell me. When can I meet her? Have you told Hayley? She will be surprised. Gosh, my Victoria's a lesbian. Are you lesbian, honey or is this just a phase?" I nearly laughed out loud at that, but kept it down to a short giggle. "A phase! Mum. I've never really had a proper boyfriend." "No, I suppose you haven't. What about, what was her name..." Her voice tailed off as she answered her own question. I wondered what it must feel like for her, my body had been rewritten, but it seemed like her memories were being reprogrammed. What about all the photographs at home? "You could have told me sooner, really you could, I don't mind. As long as you're happy. Are you happy though? With Zoe?" "She's amazing, Mum. I'm sure you'll love her." As if mention of her name had conjured her up Zoe almost fell through the front door, weighed down with weighty shopping bags and beautiful with flushed cheeks and glorious smile. I made hurried excuses to Mum, told her I loved her (which I hadn't said for some time) and hurried over to Zoe, my gorgeous girlfriend, to try and give her a hug. Rather surprisingly she pushed me away. "No time for that," she said happily. She grabbed me by the upper arms, turned me and steered me towards the kitchen drawer where I kept my wallet, change, notebooks and other bits and pieces of my life. "This is big, amazingly big. More amazing than you woul