The Wager
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The Wager Part 3 free porn video
Chapter 7
Week two was underway, more hair treatment and no shaving. Sam suggested
that I should think about getting a gaff and get used to tucking.
We contacted Jackie and she agreed to start with us in three weeks time.
Because of the crash diet, I was now permanently hungry. I was just
about 5ft 8inches wringing wet and weighed a bit over twelve stone.
There were no love handles but there was a bit of surface flab. My
target was to get down below eleven stone, hopefully ten and a half, if
I could.
An hour a day was spent doing yoga and my reading matter was women's
magazines. Somehow, I had to try to catch up on twenty seven years of
women's knowledge. When we were out walking, or watching television, Sam
would get me to analyse women's make up, dress and hair styles. She had
me commenting on what worked and what didn't. The variety of make up
that women wore came as a surprise. The subtle differences in colour,
texture and shape of clothes and the effect they had on the look of a
woman, had been an area of total ignorance. The differences between what
worked for women of each age, was an eye opener. I had so much to learn.
Sam had me start thinking about what would be a good look for me. She
also made me think about hair styles. Although my hair was long for a
man, it was short for a woman. Sam made an appointment for me at the
stylist and between us and the stylist we came up with an urchin cut
that was kickass but feminine. The stylist was bursting to know why a
butch guy with a broken nose wanted a feminine hairdo.
We did our first shopping trip for clothes. God was that embarrassing.
It was bad enough walking around with a corset on. It was obvious to the
sales assistants in the shops. The first steps were not too bad. Sam
measured me for a bra and persuaded me to look for more knickers. We
went to Marks and Spencer and visited the lingerie department. Sam
wanted me to choose the style of panties that I wanted but my mind was
totally blank. In the end I chose a selection of plain white cotton
pants in various styles. Sam picked out a few A cup bras to match. She
also put some satin and silk undies in the basket, despite my protests.
The next call was to get some feminine jeans. They just did not fit me
right. With the corset they fitted my waist but were loose round my bum
and tight round my legs. Sam predicted that they would fit better as
time went on. We then looked at skirts, blouses, camisoles and jumpers.
I refused to try them on in the shop and did my best to avoid any
decisions and choices. The one thing that I could not avoid trying on
was a waterproof jacket. It was tight in the shoulders and arms and
loose around the chest. Despite my protest Sam said that it would fit me
in time. We even bought tights and stockings and then went on to a shoe
shop where I bought some girly trainers and a pair of ballet flats.
My most painful part of the week was not only with the electrolysis but
with the waxing of my arms and legs. It was painful at the time but the
feeling afterwards was so strange. My skin felt much more sensitive and
I became very aware of the rough touch of clothes on my skin.
Sam loved my smoothness and lack of a scratchy beard when we made love.
Boy did we make love.
The voice coach was good. She showed me that it was less about trying to
talk in falsetto. The four main things were talking from the head and
not the chest, getting more lilt and song into my speech, how I phrased,
and the words that I used. When I got home, Sam was surprised at how
female I could sound after only one session.
That evening we were going to attend our first support group meeting.
Sam said that I would need to look as if I was in transition. My hair
style was now feminine and I borrowed a pair of Sam's moonstone studs
for my ears. I agreed for Sam to put some light make up on me, weird. I
put on my one silky cream blouse a camisole and a pair of women's jeans
as my first time dressed in female clothes. Sam also made me wear satin
panties for the first time. I felt vulnerable and stupid in my outfit.
If I had not had the corset on, there is no way that I could have got
the waist band of my jeans to close. The seat was still a baggy and the
panties felt tight. The end result was an androgynous looking male. No
one looking at me in the light would mistake me as female, especially
with the broken nose.
I was consciously playing a part. I did not feel, in the slightest,
feminine. I was still me, mucking about.
The meeting took place in the local LGBT centre. What a motley crew.
There were some couples there, much older than us. The transwomen were
very varied in their look. Almost all were taller and bulkier than their
partners. One was over six feet tall but elegant. Others went from
looking like a docker in drag to a middle aged housewife who had put on
too much weight. Amongst the unfortunates, there were a few younger ones
who looked quite feminine and a couple who looked very attractive. It
was clear that there were more singles than couples. One of the group,
who had completed SRS some years before, gave a talk. She was smart
elegant and very female. After the talk we mingled and chatted. There
were so many sad tales of rejection and isolation. Some tales were of
those who had taken their own lives because of the misery and rejection
that they had met on their journey. There were also a very few joyous
tales from those that had found love and contentment along the way.
At the end of the evening we said our farewells and that we would meet
again next month I had been nervous that I would have to explain myself
to the group and make up lies to a group of people who deserved the
truth. There was no problem, acceptance was unquestioning.
We were both very sad after the meeting. The bravery shown by the
members of the group was humbling. The sadness was because of how much
many of them had had to leave behind them and how much hurt they had had
to inflict on others including wives and children.
At the end of the week I got a letter asking me to attend the clinic of
the endocrinologist for an initial check.
The gaffs arrived and Sam suggested that I start getting used to
tucking. She also suggested that I start wearing female underwear
fulltime. Everything seemed to be rushing at me. I wanted to leave it a
little longer before I went that far. Sam had her way and I underwent
the discomfort of the gaff. My balls were pushed back into me, very
uncomfortable, and my old man tucked back. The only good thing was that
my panties now fitted snugly. I was aware of the discomfort of the gaff
all day and it was such a relief to take it off at night. I thoroughly
enjoyed having a good rummage until things felt back to normal.
By the end of week two, I was becoming far more aware of things
feminine. I was starting to get more knowledgeable about clothing and
makeup. I got some strange looks when I unconsciously practiced my
female voice when I was out. A lovely smile and a wink were a gift from
an obviously gay male. He even looked me in the eye and tilted his head
as if to ask me if I was interested. That was the first time to my
knowledge that I had ever appeared on someone's Gaydar. My posture was
very upright and we had got the waist down another inch to 26 inches.
The corset was not at the front of my mind, until I had to bend or
twist.
Chapter 8
Week three saw another visit for electrolysis, more yoga, more dieting
and more voice practice. At the same time we had been tendering for a
couple of new contracts. We were both going flat out. I had lost four
pounds in two weeks and my face was looking much smoother. My dress and
makeup knowledge was growing. We went shopping again and I actually
picked out a few soft sweaters and camisoles that complemented each
other.
We purchased a basic makeup set for me and Sam and I practiced some
simple make up in the evenings. By the end of the week I was wearing
camisoles and soft sweaters rather than shirts. That weekend we had been
invited to a party. I reverted to masculine wear and Sam wore a very
sexy outfit. We had a wonderful night with our friends. The only problem
was Doug. He was cold and distant and I felt that had it not been for
patient confidentiality, he would have outed me there and then.
When I went to the clinic, I gave what seemed to be copious amounts of
blood. I was measured, weighed, scanned and x rayed. My body was
manipulated and probed endlessly. Hair and semen samples were taken and
by the end I felt exhausted both mentally and emotionally. It was going
to take a week for the samples to be checked and get the results. Going
private had speeded things up massively. Had I gone through the NHS it
would have taken so much longer.
The third week in many ways saw us settling into a routine. I was
working at home wearing androgynous outfits. I was selecting my own
outfits from my small stash of clothes and I actually tried on a pair of
the silk underwear that Sam had bought. They felt slinky and made me
think of sex every time I moved. I was hooked on them if nothing else. I
was practicing my female voice as much as possible and forgot when
talking to one of our clients. The client thought we had taken on a new
member of staff. I was asked if Tom was available, so I put the phone
down, picked it up and answered in my man's voice.
We had not been to see my mum and dad since before we started. Dad was
fine and the same as always, apart from making pointed comments about my
ear studs. Mum kept looking at me in a thoughtful way.
"Tom, have you been losing weight?"
"Tom, that is an unusual hairstyle for you."
"Tom, when did you start wearing ear studs?"
"Tom, your nails are looking a bit long, is there anything we ought to
be talking about?"
Three weeks in and she had twigged something was happening. I didn't
come clean then, but I knew it would not be long before she would need
to know.
Into week four and the routine continued. I was starting to become
proficient at simple make up, my speech was confidently female and my
knowledge of fashion was growing. More visits for electrolysis, more
dieting, more yoga and more hormones. Towards the end of the week I had
a quiet moment reflecting on what had happened so far. I looked in the
mirror and was very aware of the small amount of make up round my eyes.
I also thought about the surgery that I would be having the following
week. Suddenly it all became too much and I started sobbing. I could not
stop. I never cried and now I was a soggy wailing mess. Sam heard and
came to me. We clung together and she stroked my hair and gently rocked
me. I felt like a four year old who had been told that Christmas was
cancelled. I had never felt emotional in this way before. I had never
sobbed before.
"Welcome to the world of women Tom. Hormones 1, Tom 0."
It was the first time I had been aware of the effect that the hormones
were having on me. I just wanted to curl up and be comforted. Even then
it had still not hit home. I was playing a part. It was an exercise. It
was not real at a fundamental, life changing level.
Week five was due to start and first I would be meeting with the
endocrinologist and then, at the end of the week I would be having
surgery on my face. Come the weekend, people would know something was
happening. We decided that I had to tell my parents. Sunday lunch was
the chosen time. My mother was like a crack detective, ready for the
killer interview.
"Now Thomas, you have obviously been hiding something and it is time to
spill the beans. Are you ill? Is Sam pregnant? Is your company in
difficulties? Have you been letting yourself and Sam down and got
involved with another woman?"
We sat down and went through the whole sorry tale.
"Why don't you go to the police? What Justin is doing can't be legal."
"I'm afraid it is mum, we have had it checked out every way."
"But you can not do it Thomas. What you are setting out to do is cheat
and lie to some poor unsuspecting man. You are aiming to trick some poor
soul enough to fall in love with you and propose marriage. Then you are
going to drop the poor man and break his heart. I have brought you up to
be more caring than that."
"Mum, I have no option. We need to buy time to find a way out. I hope it
won't come to getting some poor man to fall in love with me."
"If you and Sam want to go through with the feminization, then that is
entirely up to you, but I do not condone cheating others."
It surprised me that she had not baulked at the hormones and surgery. It
was only the moral issue that she stuck at. Dad was predictably mad at
the situation. Once we reassured him that we were still planning to
provide him with grandchildren he calmed down for a short while. He was
soon making plans as to how he was going to arrange Justin's death. Even
Mum thought that was a better solution than conning some poor soul.
It took a lot of persuading dad that killing Justin may be justifiable,
but was a non runner. We would be the obvious suspects, even if we could
make it look like an accident. We told mum and dad that we still had 47
weeks to find a way out.
After establishing that we were trapped for now, mum was full of
questions, wanting to know what I was going to do, how I was going to do
it and what the residual effects would be. It was late when we finished
talking and went home.
On the Monday, Jackie started with us. Her delight at becoming part of
the team, was infectious. For the first time in weeks I felt happy and
positive. Jackie had done some freelance work for Justin's company in
the past and had hated it. She thought that Justin's work was sloppy and
of poor quality. He cut corners everywhere, but he seemed to invest
large amounts in procuring contracts and entertaining the buyers. Jackie
had heard rumours that the software installation on the project behind
the wager was behind schedule and not going well.
Justin was a very capable software designer, but lazy and with little
pride in his work. He had always been wealthier than me. The reason
being, that his parents had been killed in an accident when he was at
university. The compensation cheque, the insurance money and his
inheritance had left him very comfortably off. Two years later his
grandmother's brother died in Australia and left him at least another
fifteen million pounds. Justin mixed with some pretty iffy people but he
had the bucks to pay his way. His net worth was well over twenty million
pounds to our knowledge. The income from his company was pocket money,
his investments elsewhere kept him in luxury. Jackie suspected that the
software company may be more of a front to launder money from his other
activities.
When we told Jackie about Justin's link with the Thai brothel and the
disappearing young tourists, she was not surprised.
Our discussions started an idea of how we could get out from under
Justin. Finding enough dirt on Justin could enable us to get him
arrested and put where he could do no harm. Jackie knew a fair bit about
his internet links, servers and local computer systems. With that
knowledge we could try to get into his system and find some
incriminating evidence. We could also dig into his contacts and his
other businesses.
I felt a lot more cheerful now that we had the seeds of an idea of how
we were going to fight back. The only problem was that none of us were
capable of more than very simple hacking.
Chapter 9
There were four big events in week five. The first was unsettling and
made me very nervous. My nipples had started to get puffy, sensitive and
painful. It was another wake up to what I was doing to myself. The pain
I could stand but the constant rubbing as I moved was driving me mad.
Sam suggested that I start wearing the training bras that we had bought.
It seemed ridiculous but I went ahead and did what I was told. They were
a little tight but with full adjustment we could make them comfortable.
I could no longer wear shirts without the straps showing. I started
wearing baggy sweaters all the time when I went out and a simple
camisole top when at home.
The bras did their work. It might have felt strange but the irritation
was gone. It was interesting when my nipples were exposed, they tended
to become rigid. The other thing was that my areolas had started to
expand a little and darken. Sam and I had another visit to Marks and
Spencer. This time I was a bit more adventurous in my choice of colour,
styles and materials. I thought that I may as well enjoy the sensation
of wearing women's underwear.
The second event was my visit to the endocrinologist. For the visit I
wore my ladies jeans, panties, bra, camisole and cashmere sweater. I
also wore discrete make up, my best ear studs and a bangle round my
wrist. I was definitely on the female side of androgyny. My beard was
not showing, my skin had started to soften and I had lost half a stone.
My muscle definition was just starting to soften. All that said, with my
broken nose, masculine face and muscular build, I looked like a very
butch woman. My mannerisms and behaviour were still normal male.
"Well Thomas, may I call you Thomas?"
"Tom will be fine."
"Well Tom it would seem that you have been somewhat foolhardy. Your
samples showed very low levels of testosterone for a male and levels of
female hormones that would have been high, even for a pregnant woman.
You have been self medicating."
"Guilty as charged."
"Before we go any further I must emphasise how dangerous and foolhardy
it is to self medicate. I do not know how long you have been doing it,
but you are very lucky. All the other tests show that, so far, you have
not damaged your liver or your heart or in fact any other organ.
Whatever decisions we make today, you must promise to follow medical
advice and guidance."
"I was desperate. I felt that I had no other option than to self
medicate."
The doctor then quized me as to what I had taken, in what quantities and
for how long. A thorough examination followed. He took it in his stride
that I was wearing female clothes, it seemed that it was what was
expected.
"At the moment your sperm is still active and numerous. The longer you
take hormones the more your fertility will decline. You could be
effectively infertile in four to six months. Have you saved some sperm
for future use?"
"Yes, we did that a couple of weeks ago."
"Your breasts are the very early stages of budding. I see you have
started wearing a bra. How do you feel about this growth?"
"Happy as a sand girl, I can't wait for them to develop."
"Breast development in MtoF transitions often disappoints. You may end
up with cone shaped breasts, uneven development and you may not get
beyond Tanner stage two. Are you intending to have breast augmentation?"
"Yes, in about five months time."
"Hm, that may be a bit too soon. It would be better to see how your
breasts develop before augmentation. At the very least, make sure that
your implants can be changed or altered. Breast growth can continue for
years in some cases. What does your wife think of what you are doing?"
"She is very supportive. She knows exactly why I am doing this and has
promised to support me all the way. Whatever the outcome for me, we
intend to have at least two children."
"What about your sexual orientation?"
"I love my wife and have no intention of being with anyone else, however
much I change."
"Have you ever had any sexual relations with a male?
"No"
"How far do you want to go? Do you want an orchiectomy, full SRS?"
"I don't know yet, but I do know that I must be able to live as a
woman."
"Do you still have heterosexual intercourse with your wife?"
"Yes"
"Have you had any problems with erectile function?"
"No."
"You do realise that if you continue down this track, you will
eventually become impotent, you will become chemically castrated, your
testicles and your penis will reduce in size?"
"Yes"
"And you are content for this to happen?"
"Yes"
In giving the answers I expected my nose to grow. There was no way that
I wanted to travel too far down the transition route. I wanted to keep
my cock and balls in all their glory. I wanted to stay as a virile manly
man. I wanted to go no further than I absolutely had to. The sooner we
could find a way out of the mess we were in, the better. I knew that I
was consciously running towards something that I dreaded.
We talked on for another half hour. Before we parted, he gave me
injections in both hips, some pills to take and made me an appointment
to see a psychiatrist in one weeks time. He made me promise to bin all
the illicit drugs that I had. He finished by saying that he wanted to
see me in two weeks time and further hormone treatment would be
dependent on the psychiatrist's report.'
Sam wanted a blow by blow account of my first session with the quack and
was not at all sympathetic about the ache in my but from the injections.
That night when we made love, it was the first time that Sam had made a
thing of playing with my sensitive nipples. It was such a wild feeling
that I came far too quickly and my orgasm was intense. I could get to
like having women's nipples.
The following day was cosmetic surgery time. I arrived early at the
clinic and after a further examination, I was prepped for surgery. The
surgeon had decided to use a general anaesthetic and I did not come
round until much later that evening. My whole head ached. It was so bad,
that it was difficult to locate the seat of the pain. I was sick in a
pan and only vaguely acknowledged Sam before a sedative sent me back to
sleep. When I woke in the morning, I felt rough. I had bandages
everywhere round my head. The surgeon told me that he was extremely
pleased with the outcome and sent me home with some industrial strength
painkillers. I was to return in a week to have all the dressings
removed.
When I looked in a mirror I was reminded of the invisible man film. All
I could see looking out at me were two black eyes. I looked as though I
had gone ten rounds with the heavy weight champion. I just hoped that
the changes would be reversible if and when we got Justin off our backs.
Mila
- 12.02.2020
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