The Happy Maid free porn video

THE HAPPY MAID "You don't need a husband, Carol dear, you need a maid," Tina West told her best friend. "I know you're well paid but the idea of you going home and being the little housewife makes me shudder. How do you put up with it?" "It's not quite as bad as you make it sound Tina, Norman usually does the cooking and other household chores. He knows that his job isn't as demanding as mine. The trouble is that I still feel that I should look after him better than I do." The two old friends had just met up in a wine bar after work, one of the rare occasions that Carol allowed. Normally she was just too busy or too tired to make the effort. She had started her own consultancy business after working at one in the capital straight from university, but after four years had decided that it was a service lacking in her native South West of England. Now only three years later she had a staff of eight and was looking to take on more. She got engaged to Norman when they were very young and married as soon as they were both earning. He had supported her in starting out on her own and moving to an area that, to him, seemed alien. He was brought up in the city and wasn't used to having to wait in the car while cows were being guided slowly in for milking. He was an engineer by training, but couldn't find a suitable placement, relying instead on a number of dead-end and very tedious jobs to bring in some much needed funds when Carol started out. Now his income was dwarfed by the profits Carol was making, so he tried to make it up to her by helping out at home. Just recently though, this never seemed enough for his wife. She seemed constantly tired and that carried with it a temper on a very short fuse. In spite of the way she defended him to her friend, Carol was actually getting a bit bored with Norman. She had started to see herself as a high flyer, but being held back by her non-descript husband with a nothing job. If she could only move in the higher echelons of society, she felt it would give her the boost to get to the very top of perhaps a national or even international company. She needed to circulate, perhaps even flirt a little, maybe a little more than flirting if that's what it would take. "Penny for your thoughts Carol," Tina interrupted her thoughts. "Oh, sorry Tina, I was just thinking of how my life just seems to be full of work, perhaps you're right, I could do with having the responsibility of the home taken away." "You could do with the help Irene got with her man," Tina suggested. "What was that?" Carol hadn't seen Irene since holidays many years ago. "Marty was a right pain in the backside. Oh, he was all romantic and thoughtful before they were married, afterwards he was just a lazy slob, leaching off her trust fund. Then one day she heard about this place that changed husbands so that they become really useful about the house. They don't even leave it at that, they make sure there's no going back by making them obedient maids. That way he couldn't divorce her and get a huge chunk of her money. You'd probably have to do the same or Norman could end up owning half of your business." "I couldn't do that to him," she said, but neither of them were convinced her statement was true by the way she returned to deep in thought. "I'll give you her number, just in case." Tina scribbled on a piece of paper and handed to her friend. Carol looked at it, in two minds, then put it in her purse on the notion that she didn't actually commit herself to calling Irene. For nearly a month, every time Carol opened her purse that scrap of paper kept beckoning her. Finally she decided that it wouldn't do any harm to get in touch with Irene again after all these years. She called and a feminine voice answered. "Ms Scott's residence, may I ask who is calling?" "This is an old friend of hers, Carol Taylor. Who is this?" "I am Linda, Ms Scott's maid madam, I'll just go to see if she's available." After a few moments Irene picked up the telephone. "High Carol, what a surprise, how are you?" They spent a while just catching up with each other's news, Carol explaining how Norman had supported her while she set up the business she always wanted. How they moved and she was doing so well, but Norman hadn't been able to find a job in his field but that he was still helping her. Then Carol asked about her maid. "Well, if I tell you, you've got to promise to keep it to yourself." After that assurance, she continued. "Well you remember that good for nothing husband of mine, Marty? Once we were married he turned out to be a dead loss but if I'd divorced him he would have got a sizable amount of money out of me. Anyway I heard of this place that can solve a problem like that, for a sizable charge, but a fraction of what he would have cost me in court. They provide a solution to that and I got a maid, made out of my now ex- husband by way of compensation. He can't ever remember being married to me and is only content serving my every need. There are one or two disadvantages, but I would thoroughly recommend it and I even get my sexual satisfaction from him." "That's amazing Irene, but I don't really like the idea of hurting mine, even though the scheme seems interesting." Carol didn't want to commit herself. "That's the amazing thing Carol, they did it all without hitting him or using those shock machines that I understand a lot of places use. In fact they assured me that although they wouldn't tell me what they actually did, they guaranteed that he spent a great deal of his time there laughing his head off." Carol proceeded to get the contact details from her, not that she was committed to calling them, but it didn't do any harm to know. It wasn't until three months later that Carol gave the whole thing a lot more thought. She was at an office equipment exhibition, taking advantage of it to do a bit of networking with suppliers who tipped her off to potential clients, when she was introduced to a hunk of a man called Victor Stern. He not only had the accent of someone who had enjoyed a private education, his suit was obviously very expensive. They lunched and during the course of that he made it clear he was very interested in her, both professionally and personally. He asked her if she was married. "Officially, but I'm in the course of getting rid of him," was her answer. "Well when you have, give me a call, I'm sure we can do a lot together." After they parted she wondered what had got into her to say such a thing about Norman. Then it occurred to her that this was exactly the sort of thing she could do all the time if she just made that phone call. The next morning she closed the door on her private office, something she didn't normally do, as there was a danger she would lose touch with what was going on. Now though she needed privacy to make a call to 'The Happy Maid Training Academy'. In spite of the shock when she discovered how much it was going to cost, and the time involved (ten weeks) she agreed their terms and that afternoon a man called with the contract. Signed and paid for, she was told they would 'enrol' Norman that same day. What she didn't do was to find out exactly what they would do to him and wasn't interested in hearing the disadvantages that Irene had mentioned. As he got home from his work, he arranged his hours so that he could cook their evening meal and do some cleaning before Carol got home, a marked ambulance was stopped outside the house. The back door opened and a young female nurse called over to him. "Excuse me sir, could you give me a hand?" As he entered the door he saw a man laid out on the fixed stretcher. The nurse stepped back to let him pass, then he felt a prick in the side of his neck and the world went dark. When he woke up he was in a room, strapped to a bed, his feet through a stock-like board at the bottom of the bed, his toes tied back so they were kept at right angles to his shins. His arms were raised high above his head and similarly locked into the headboard. He was naked and had never felt so vulnerable. He also felt very strange. His skin seemed to be tingling and he could feel every crease and fold in the sheet under him. A quiet background music was playing, tunes he didn't recognise with a sort of murmuring going on in sync with the notes. He was not alone very long as shortly a tall and very beautiful nurse came in and said a quite business like hello to him. She opened a drawer in the cupboard off to his right and brought a number of items, primarily he could see a length of tubing, and started to do something to his penis. His skin seemed to be super sensitive and every touch he felt as if she was pressing his body almost painfully. In spite of his position he felt that he was quickly responding by getting hard. "Oh, you're a big boy, aren't you?" she commented. "We don't get many your size in here. It didn't last long though, as almost immediately he felt a sharp prick next to his tool and within seconds he lost all feeling in it. By the time she'd finished he saw that a catheter had been fitted to him, the tube of which disappeared over the side of the bed. "Now you can pee whenever you like dear," she told him in a voice made sexy by its huskiness. "What are you doing to me? Where am I?" he asked in vain as she moved to the foot of the bed. Instead of answering, she stretched out her hand to one of his feet and drew a nail up his sole from heel to toe. He practically screamed with the sensitive response he felt. He wanted to curl his foot down to stop the contact she had but the tethers round his toes prevented that happening. It was a tickling sensation he felt and he couldn't help joining her in a form of laughter, but it had nothing to do with humour. She giggled again and drew her other hand up his other foot, then both together. He struggled as violently as his bondage allowed him, desperately wanting to escape. "Please stop, please!" he begged. She continued in her unhurried way of touching and lightly scratching his soles with her long nails. Within a few minutes he would have wet himself if it hadn't been for the catheter and he started to cry with the exquisite agony of the tickling. As she continued the nurse explained that he had been treated with a substance that had made his skin more sensitive, just in case he wasn't ticklish before. It wasn't long before Norman was screaming his head off and begging her to kill him rather than carry on. She just watched him getting red in the face and beads of sweat joining his tears rolling down his cheeks but admired him that it took as long as forty minutes before he fainted. Most of her 'customers' didn't last nearly as long, so she made a note on his file before she left him to two orderlies who placed him on a trolley. The next time he woke he ached all over and the only continuity was the background music in the small bedroom his was in. He couldn't work out why he was bandaged round his face, chest and groin, but his hands were secured to the bars each side of the hospital bed that he was in. A different nurse again came in. "Don't try to speak, your throat is sore so sip this." She held up a bottle with a tube sticking out of the top that she placed between his lips. He sucked on it greedily, suddenly feeling so thirsty it was unquenchable until he had emptied a second bottle. "What's happened?" He was startled by his squeaky voice and the pain it caused him when he spoke. "I told you not to speak, you could do permanent damage to your voice," She told him. "You'll be told what all this is about in due course but for the moment keep quiet." Back at home at the end of the first week, Carol was missing him badly. As she looked round the house after work, seeing the dirty plates in the kitchen and the debris of glasses, newspapers and other detritus that had accumulated she realised that even more than tidying up, she missed his moral support. She'd had a bad day at the office, nothing really serious, but she would have loved to be able to talk over a couple of the problems. It suddenly occurred to her that he quite frequently gave her common sense advice which, when she followed it, invariably turned out to be the right thing. She had already eaten on her way home, her defence against piling the used utensils any higher in the kitchen sink, so she just poured a glass of wine and sat down with a couple of files from work. The fact of the matter was that while Norman may not have known much about the intricacies of investments and works' costing, when it came to office administration and staff personal and other problems, he was a genius. Why hadn't it occurred to her to take him on as an office manager? He would have been perfect for the job, it would not only have helped her, it would have made use of his common sense approach to life. He'd only been gone a week, it wasn't too late, she picked up the phone and called the number she had used before for the Academy. "Hello, it's Carol Taylor here, you have my husband for, err, treatment?" "What can we help you with Ms Taylor?" "I've realised that I've made a mistake, I can make more use of my husband a different way. You can keep the fee, but can you bring him back?" "It's not as simple as that Ms Taylor," she heard the woman at the other end take a tired sounding intake of breath. "I'm afraid that she's already had her operation and is about to go into the second stage." "She? What do you mean 'she'?" Carol had interrupted the woman's explanation. "Well of course she isn't a real woman, but you told us that you already knew what the procedures involved, that's all we've done. By the way, she's no longer your husband, we've also already completed the paperwork for her name change and your divorce. That's all finished." "Name change? Divorce?" Carol was feeling sick. "Why yes Ms Taylor, her name has followed our suggestion and is now 'Fleur', in keeping with a French maid. You did read all our literature, didn't you?" Carol remembered thinking it would be fun to have Norman appearing as a French maid and remembered ticking that box. She hadn't bothered with anything else, after all, she had a long conversation with Irene about it, so she thought she knew all she needed to. "Not all of it, but a friend of mine recommended you and didn't say anything about losing out on her sex life." "I'm sure that if you speak to her again you will find that although it is a bit different, she still gets satisfaction from her maid. They are all trained in cunnilingus to a very high standard and you'll find it a treat, but if you need anything more masculine you are now a single woman and there is nothing to stop you." "I didn't realise." Carol was close to clinical shock. "I'm afraid that if we were to send her back now she would know what was done to her and still have his full intelligence. It could result in quite a big law suit against you as well as us, could you put up with that sort of publicity?" Of course she couldn't, she'd be ruined, she hung up the phone. With her mind alternatively racing and going in slow motion, she picked the phone again and called Irene. "Ms Scott's residence, may I ask who is calling?" "Carol Taylor, em..." She was going to call the person 'Linda', but the name stuck in her throat. "Hi, Carol, how are things going?" Irene eventually answered brightly. "I think I've made an awful mistake Irene." Carol was close to tears. "I sent Norman away to that Happy Maid place and now I think I've done the wrong thing." "Don't worry Carol, I had second and third thoughts, but it was all to the good that I saw it through to the end." "But Irene, I didn't realise they would actually make him into a woman." "But they don't dear, they only castrate them and make it so their little penis can't get hard. They do give him boobs, but my Linda is quite proud of his, I think." "But I've always enjoyed sex with him, what am I going to do now?" "I didn't know about your Norman of course, but my Marty was so under endowed that I never got satisfaction once from him, he's much better now he can spend ages with his tongue working on me, I sometimes cum two or three times." "Only three times?" Carol was amazed, she'd never experienced anyone other that Norman. "He usually has me climax at least that before he lets himself finish. Surely that's more normal?" "Oh dear darling, perhaps you have made a mistake, I've never known a man be that considerate and believe me I've tried to find one." "What am I to do? I've tried to get him back but they say they've already operated on him and if he comes back now he might sue me." "Carol, if I've got this clear, you've had a man that did your cooking and cleaning, put up with shit jobs so you could live a dream, listened to you with a sympathetic ear, and excelled in bed. Now you've made him into a emasculated bimbo maid and you expect me to be consoling to you?" "Bimbo?" "Of course, you don't expect an intelligent maid, do you? They wipe their brains and just write them again with all they need to cook and clean the house and serve you both in and out of bed. Don't expect Norman to be able to cope with anything else, will you?" "Oh dear." Carol hung up, she couldn't stand hearing anything else. She did the only thing she felt could do; nothing. Back at the establishment, Norman was kept in a semi-conscious state, all the while listening to the wretched music that he had to strain to hear properly. It was only after several days that he noticed that he was being called Fleur. At first he ignored it. It was something too complicated for him to understand. Then he just accepted it as being just one more thing going on here that was beyond his comprehension. He didn't mind. Not having to work things out was nice. He was still in a haze when, three weeks after his arrival, he was got up and dressed in some clothes that, while strange, were nice and comforting. The fit might be a bit tight round his waist and the shoes might have a very high heel, but overall he liked them. He was pleased when he was told that this was to be his uniform at his new job, although he couldn't remember applying for one. He was taught all sorts of new things. He learned to walk properly, curtsey, even sit and stand. He soon found that if he didn't do something right straight away, he was locked back in the bed where he was originally and tickled until he passed out. Whenever he wasn't sleeping he could hear that music. He found that he had small bud speakers in his ears that he couldn't get out, enabling the sound to follow him round everywhere. It sometimes made it difficult to hear his orders, but at least the people giving them made allowance and spoke loudly to him. He lost track of all the instructors he had. There were different ones showing him different things, but they just blurred into one. The strangest thing he had to do was to learn to cook. Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew everything that they told him already and often he knew there was a better way of doing something. At the same time he couldn't remember what it was. The fact was that he was already a better cook than the people instructing him, but he was being retaught to do it, though not as well as he used to. His instructors didn't know this of course. Back at home, Carol had reconciled herself to what was going to happen and made contact with the hunk, Victor Stern. He promptly invited her out to dinner at a very good hotel/restaurant in order to establish how his family business needed help. He was every inch the gentleman she had supposed and thought to herself that perhaps she could live with a maid instead of a husband. They decided to celebrate their arrangement by having brandies in the hotel room that he had booked. He slowly undressed her in a most sensual way, then, as she slipped under the duvet, he took his own clothes off. He was proud of his eight inches but she was disappointed. If anything her husband's was longer and most definitely thicker. He wasted little time on foreplay and lasted only a few minutes before he was satisfied. She was not. Carol ended up going home frustrated but at least with another customer. It was just a case of finding how to keep him without having to go to bed with him again. She felt used and dirty. By the seventh week he was used to being called Fleur and now he found that he was saying everything with a French accent. He was punished if he forgot himself and didn't use it. He found that some words in English he now couldn't understand and they insisted that he told them in French. These he now had to remember. Amongst other things, he always had to answer 'oui Madame' or 'oui Monsieur', a single lapse into English earned him hours of being tickled. Right on schedule, by the tenth week he was word perfect and fully trained and was told that he was going to live with his new Mistress. Beyond that her name was Madame Taylor, he knew nothing but was warned that if he did anything wrong he would be returned to a punishment worse than anything he had suffered so far. Of that he was terrified. He was delivered back on a Saturday morning together with his fairly comprehensive collection of uniforms. "Bonjour Madame." He curtseyed deeply to Carol when she opened the door. "Je m'appelle Fleur." Carol looked at this strange girl in front of her who called herself Fleur. She had a cute button nose, very full, sensuous lips and big eyes. A very large pair of breasts loomed out of the low cut top and the very short skirt went from a tiny waist to the tops of long shapely legs. She couldn't work out either who the girl was or how she could walk in heels that were all of six inches high. The woman with him realised Carol's problem and introduced her to her new maid. She stayed while he was shown his room, the smallest bedroom at the back of the house, then set him to work cleaning the bombsite that was the kitchen. Carol had cleared up a couple of times, but cleaning wasn't her thing and it was some time before it was hygienic enough to make them lunch. After soup and a sandwich, the woman left Fleur in the hands of his Mistress, giving her a small bell to ring when she wanted his presence. She called Fleur in as soon as they were alone. "Let me have a good look at you err.. Fleur." Fleur stood to attention in front of her. "Tell me, how do you manage with those heels?" she asked him. "Excusez-moi Madame je ne comprend pas 'manage' ou 'heels'?" He was puzzled. Carol was even more so, she tried to recall her schoolgirl French. "Comment tu marche?... trop difficille?... trop haut?" She pointed at his shoes. "Non Madame." He curtseyed and tried to work out why she would find a perfectly ordinary pair of shoes to walk in, too difficult or too high, they were just what he always used. It didn't occur to him that he could think of all these things, but not understand when someone else spoke the same words. She realised that far from being able to ask Norman his opinion about a problem, she was going to have trouble even talking to him. "Je... I now make dinner for evening Madame?" Fleur asked. "Yes, do that, I'm looking forward to one of your meals again." Fleur looked at her strangely. "Comment Madame?" "It doesn't matter.. rien." Nothing to her, but already Carol was finding life not as she expected and she hadn't tackled anything difficult yet. It didn't help when the meal arrived that evening. The steak, chips and peas were cooked adequately, but in short it just wasn't a patch on Norman's cooking. When she asked Fleur to bring her a bottle of suitable wine, he hadn't a clue what he was doing. In the end he bought the nearest bottle of white wine and the nearest red and asked Madame to choose. She chose the unfamiliar red, but it turned out to be very light and didn't go at all well with the meat. 'Never mind' she thought 'they promised me a treat in bed.' Up in the bedroom, Fleur helped her get undressed and into a short nightdress. Out of curiosity Carol asked Fleur to undress as well. The sight was a shock to her. First of all she was amazed at the corset he wore. It took quite a bit of loosening of the laces before he could undo the front fastenings, but when he did his waist which was probably in the region of eighteen inches, only expanded to about twenty. His chest sported a pair of breasts that were at least double 'D's' and were as perky as any teenager's. What really shocked her though, was the flat front of his panties. When he slipped them off Carol burst into tears. The smoothness of his tummy dipped down between his legs, only broken by a penis that a new born baby would be ashamed of. There was nothing there that would have ever indicated that he once had testicles, just a continuation of the smooth unblemished skin. "What est le probleme Madame?" Fleur became agitated in case he was going to be punished for something wrong. "Nothing Fleur... rein. It's not your fault, it's mine, I'm wicked and don't deserve to live." "I kiss better?" As Carol didn't understand, Fleur took charge and helped her to lie down, gently separating her legs and slipping between them. Carol had never been a great lover of oral sex, Norman had occasionally started off their love making with a little, but she was always keen to get on to the main event, so to speak. He had always made sure she was wet and ready for him. Now that this was all that was on offer, Carol became severely depressed and there was never a chance of her climaxing with only this type of stimulation. She was suddenly concerned about her husband's wellbeing. "What about you Fleur, what can I do to you?" "Rein Madame," was the reply. "I am who does it for you." Ignoring this response, Carol pulled him up the bed and reached down to his tiny penis. He tried to stop her, becoming quite agitated, but she persevered and tried to masturbate the little thing. Fleur started to cry. "What's the matter Fleur?" "Excusez-moi Madame, it is a bad, how you say? Lump. A very bad lump." "Don't you like me doing this?" she asked. "I am to serve, anyting vous vant." In spite of the Franglais, she understood that what she was doing did nothing for him. She stopped and he started to get out of the bed. "Stay here Fleur, stay in bed with me." She cuddled her feminised husband and in time dropped off to sleep. Breakfast was another disappointment. She didn't feel hungry so suggested he make some oats. What she was expecting was a bowl of steaming creamy mixture with a swirl of honey and some fruit on the top. What she got was a hot bowl of oats and milk. She phoned the Academy. "What have you done to my husband?" she fumed. "You've not only butchered him, you've taken away his cooking ability." "Ms Taylor, I can assure you that we have a very good cooking instructor, would you like to send her back, under guarantee, and we will ensure that she'll try harder?" "What would you do?" "It's quite simple, we will punish her until she sees that she must do the cooking as she was taught." "How was he taught to cook a steak?" "As far as I know, she was taught exactly how to cook steaks, well done, medium or rare." "What about sauces? What about caramelised onions or creamed mushrooms? What about breakfast oats, was he taught to use fifty percent cream, sweeten with honey and garnish with fruit?" "Well, no, none of those things." "Well that was how my husband used to cook before you monsters got your hands on him and destroyed the beautiful man he was." "I'm sorry you're dissatisfied Madam, but you wanted him changed." Carol slammed the phone down. She thought of suicide, but what would become of poor Fleur if she did? He wasn't even married to her now, so if she died he would get nothing. He would probably end up in a kinky brothel of some sort, servicing men with perverted needs. then when he was too old, what would become of him? It was all her fault. She rang the academy again. "I'm bringing him back," she told the woman. "I don't care what it costs I want him back just the way he was." Even though they expressed their doubts as to what they could reverse they gave her their address and she called Fleur. "We're going for a ride Fleur," she explained. "Now remember, whatever happens none of it is your fault and there is no way you are going to be punished. Do you understand?" "Oui Madame, we go in ride." Carol knew that her poor husband was in there somewhere and she was determined to get him back. She'd read somewhere that even if a person is brainwashed the memories are there, they just have to be found. Knowing the devious nature of the Academy, she had second thoughts. "Wait a moment Fleur." She went into their living room and retrieved pen and paper from the antique bureau they had and wrote a note to her company's lawyer. It roughly outlined what she'd done and what she planned to do that Sunday. It took longer than she thought, but eventually she was able to place it in an envelope and, once they set off, she posted it in the post-box at the end of their road. It was a two hour drive to the Academy, the middle section on the motorway where she was able to make good time on the fast road. It was there that disaster struck. The police report afterwards described exactly what happened. A thirty ton truck was travelling at its maximum governed speed of fifty six miles per hour when a car swerved in front of it from an on ramp. The truck containing steel rods, swerved in turn but so violently that it jack-knifed and turned over across both carriageways. A car, just overtaking the truck, hit the cab and then was sent the other way and overturned. Two more cars and a one ton van then piled into the chaos. At some point the drivers of both the first car and the van were killed and six other people were taken to hospital. Carol had been driving the first car. Fleur tried desperately to save his wife's life, he had crawled out of the upside down car but realised his wife was trapped. He managed somehow to get to the other side of the car and tried desperately to open her door to get her out. Against all odds he opened the crushed door but at that point flames from the vehicle exploded and two other persons pulled him away. "Let me go my wife's in there," he shouted at the top of his very feminine voice and passed out. Admitted to the hospital as a Jane Doe, they shortly had to amend that to John Doe once they cut his maid's uniform from his shattered body. Apart from three broken ribs his main injury was a fractured skull. He was placed in an induced coma for a week, while the swelling on his brain was reduced. During that time the letter that Carol had sent arrived and was duly recorded, but once her death was established it was examined more closely and a time-line worked out. Jim Davis, the lawyer who normally dealt with Carol went to the hospital to find out for himself if the procedures carried out on her husband really were true. Even before he woke Davis announced that he was acting, at least for the moment on Norman Taylor's behalf. He got a description from the hospital on the condition of his client and reported this to the police together with the admission of his erstwhile client, Carol. He also got the divorce and change of name put aside, a legal term for having it held in abeyance and the police launched an investigation of the Academy. When Norman woke he was extremely confused. He knew he was Fleur, his Mistress's maid, but at the same time he knew his wife was driving and in the accident. Jim Davis organised a psychologist to talk him through everything and very slowly they both started to understand what had happened, but full knowledge for Norman came only slowly over the following weeks. In one respect Carol had been correct. All Norman's memories were there, they just needed bringing back to the surface. It soon became obvious that in spite of his conditioning, the shock and physical damage in the accident overrode anything done to him and his love for his wife came to the surface. His mind was in a whirl and that was before the question of his physical changes were examined. Later he had reason to thank the lawyer. He stepped in and appointed an administrator who reorganised Carol's employees to run the business without her being there, and by and large little business was lost. Norman faced months of rehabilitation. The repairs to his body were nothing to those his mind required and he soon realised that he would never be the man he was. The only question was whether he would be content being a man who couldn't have children and would rely on hormones to raise his rather inadequate manhood, or should he continue with the process started and live life as a female. While the first two problems would still exist to a greater or lesser extent, at least by having the major surgery he stood a good chance of the equipment for a satisfying sex life. He was able to consider the last option largely because he enjoyed the clothes and the general feeling of power his body gave him. That may seem rather an odd thing, but he liked watching the effect his stunning body had on men, and some women, when they met him. Strangers went out of their way to please him. He knew that in all probability he would remain only attracted to women, but he was aware that these days that wouldn't present a problem. He decided to keep the name Fleur, at least for the time being and Jim Davis arranged a now legal change. His court case proceeded against the Academy only slowly. First came the criminal action which involved heavy jail sentences for all involved including the lawyers and a judge that would have given him the name change and divorce. Money wasn't a problem for him, Carol had the foresight to get well insured and the sum was doubled for her violent death, and on top of that her business was booming. Additionally Jim Davis won him a huge payout from the people who altered him and his marital status. After the civil case was over he held a meeting with the more or less self appointed management team from the office. They offered to buy him out, a lump sum a little below the market value, but with a lifetime 'consultancy' fee of ten percent of the annual profits. He accepted. He intended to travel for a year before deciding what to do about his body, but only seven months later he attended a world renowned clinic for sex realignment surgery. This additional expense was also covered by the Academy owners. To recuperate she went on a long cruise during which she met a man who made a habit of eating with and accompanying her on shore excursions. Much to her surprise she found herself attracted to him. Martin was a widower who had himself taken the trip to occupy his mind after the period of trauma when his wife was ill and died. The attraction between them was mutual, even after Fleur told him her tragic story. The following year they were married and another year later they adopted a very young brother and sister who had themselves been made orphans. Fleur had never been happier.