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Chapter Seventeen Week fifteen. After I had motored home and caught up with my sleep, Sam and I got in touch with her dad's retired police friend. We explained what I had seen and how we got the information. We knew that we were breaking the law with the hacking and could not go to the police and tell them what we knew. What we could give him though, was the date of the next delivery and a description of the methodology. Our friend sat thoughtful for a while and suggested that he go to see some of his old colleagues with a tip off. He would explain that the information had not been obtained legally but it had been checked out and a delivery had been observed. He would let us know what happened as a result of our tip off. I had my visit to the doc again and more shots. My tests showed that my progress down the path to womanhood was going very much faster than anyone predicted. The doc said that there were early signs of shrinkage in my testicles and that my sperm count was already low. He thought that at the present rate, I would be effectively chemically castrated within another couple of months. Thank god for the sperm bank. I was already at the stage where my capacity to produce testosterone was severely reduced. The doc asked me whether I would like to speed things up with the removal of my testicles. I told him that it was a kind offer but that I was happy with progress so far. He said that my breast development was already very definitely Tanner stage 2 and moving on from there He had never seen such rapid development before. When Sam and I talked through the results again, we discussed the idea of coming off the hormones for a while at the end of this month. With the shots that I had been given, I would be nineteen weeks down the track before I eased off and tried to recover a bit of Tom. We were committed for now, but there was that possible holding point down the line. My breasts now were noticeable without any padding and I was wearing normal A cup bras. I was conscious of movement in my breasts and felt more comfortable wearing a bra. The weight of my bust was noticeable now. Small, but noticeable. The aching in my nipples had gone but the sensitivity remained. Sam caught me several times absent mindedly rubbing my nipples as I was working or reading. She had started calling me the nipple fondler. It was difficult, but I broke myself of the habit. I still enjoyed playing with my nipples in the shower and was able to orgasm just playing with them. I loved it when Sam and I fondled and played with each others breasts. I was almost jealous of her lovely shaped C cups. I was now starting to find a bra comfortable. I had even started selecting my own matching underwear. If I had to wear it, I might as well enjoy it. It was my twenty seventh birthday the following week so we invited all our close circle and their partners, where they had them. We even invited two of the women from the gay club. We were flat out with systems design. We had our core team of five and six more people who worked with us on a freelance basis. In just six months we had more than doubled the size of our business. We were in a position to pay off our bank loan at a much faster rate than we had expected. Each of our team was on a basic of ?50k and we were paying monthly bonuses. From the business point of view, things could not be going better. Our ex police friend contacted us at the end of the week and said that he had convinced the Devon and Cornwall police to act on his tip off for the following Sunday. It was a good week and enquiries kept rolling in. we were flat out. Week sixteen and we waited for the outcome of the police raid. During the week Sam and I went to the hair dressers and she got her honey blond hair styled and more highlights added. I had the same with my auburn hair. We both shopped for a party dress and ended up with matching spaghetti strapped dresses that showed ample cleavage in her case and what little I had in mine, also plenty of leg. For the first time I was consciously looking for something that would make me look good and sexy as a woman. It was a strange mix of feelings and it was my first little black dress. We also indulged in the purchase of some very sexy lingerie. Now that I had something of a bust, a flattering, whisp of a bra, seemed a good idea. Now that my meat and two veg slotted comfortably away in the gaff, the flimsy knickers made more sense to me. It was starting to hit home now. I had enjoyed shopping for clothes. I was proud that I was now looking at size twelve now most of the time. My first clothes had been fourteens or sixteens. I did not feel self conscious shopping for girl's clothes. I did not feel odd wearing them. I was automatically selecting things to wear that came together as an outfit. I felt comfortable in skirts but possibly less so in dresses. I was wearing jewelry. I took a perverse pride in the fact that I could fill an A cup without fillers. I was actually proud of my budding breasts. My muscle definition had reduced massively and my shape had altered. Nobody was clocking me as male. I had crossed a line somewhere without realizing it. I didn't feel blokey anymore. I didn't know what I felt. I was my own worst enemy. All my life I had thrown myself into every project, determined to get the best result possible. I realized that I had done the same with the feminization. I was just unable to do things half heartedly, even when I realized how dangerous and destructive what we were doing could be. Come the weekend, everything was ready for the party. We had thirty two people attending. One third were men, not including me and the remainder were women. We had one and a half female couples if you included me. The party was great fun with good food, lovely wines and stronger drinks, good music, dancing and much chat and laughter. I found no problem being the hostess. I was finding the female role easier as time went on. The fact that I had no choice, was leading me to accept the inevitable. Sam spent quite a time talking to Rose. When we were alone in the early hours, after everyone had gone, we cleared up the worst of the mess. We then cuddled in bed and talked through the fun we had had. With the excitement of the night, I was still wide awake. "You spent a long time talking to Rose." "Yes, there were a lot of questions that I wanted to ask her." "Such as?" "I wanted to know more about her transition. I wanted to know if she had been either gay or bi sexual before she was married. She told me that she had never been gay or bi sexual. She had originally been attracted to women and loved their company. As a young man, she had been very uncomfortable in being macho. She had tried cross dressing as a child, and had found being dressed as a girl very calming. It had felt right. After she was married she knew that she loved her wife and enjoyed sex with her. She also knew at some fundamental level that she had to be a woman. I asked how long after she started transitioning did she continue to have sex with her wife. She told me that her wife became gradually less keen and she gradually became less able. By the time she was dressing and living full time as a woman her wife had already talked about divorce. They stopped having penetrative sex five months after she had started on hormones. Her wife had been more and more reluctant as time had passed and she had found it hard to get an erection. I asked her when she had first been attracted to men. She said that after her wife left she had felt confused and lost. After she had been on hormones for seven months and living as a woman for about five months, she realized that she had been idly assessing men. She was more inclined to look at men than women. After another month she had her first date with a man. She could pass quite successfully and was quite presentable. They had ended up going dancing and at the end of the date he had kissed her. She had been shocked at first but found it to be an exciting awakening experience. From that time on she thought more about men and less about women. It was if someone had switched a light on in her brain. She had decided quite soon afterwards that she wanted full gender reassignment so that she could have proper sex. Just over a year later she had her first vaginal intercourse with a man. It was wonderful and an experience to be repeated regularly. What is going to happen to you Tom? Are you going to be awoken?" That night we quietly cuddled and held each other tight, scared that we might lose each other. In the morning we felt much better and made love with a passion. Chapter Eighteen Week sixteen and we heard from our retired police friend. He was pleased as punch. The local police had caught the two hoods on the beach and a police launch had picked up the two in the dinghy. The bigger boat that the rib had come from got away. The police were kicking themselves that they had not set up a bigger operation. They had not involved the navy who could have tracked the boat. They were, however, very happy with what they had picked up. The two from the car were well known to the Met Police and had a string of convictions. The two from the boat were Russians and all four were very tight lipped. The police had captured drugs with a street value of well over half a million pounds. They had asked our ex police friend to see if his contact had any more information about the gang's actions. Megan got straight onto to the French site and, to our dismay, the whole thing had been wiped. There was no trace of any information left. The house had been cleaned. The police were pleased to make a bust, but disappointed that they would not be able to get to those behind the drugs. Strike one and we had hurt Justin but we had come no where near putting him out of business. On Monday evening I decided to take an inventory of myself. I stood naked in front of a long mirror and studied what I saw. From the neck up I looked like an acceptably good looking young woman. I had a high forehead for a woman but not unusually so. It made me look intelligent. My eyes, lips, nose and cheekbones all looked good. There was no sign of a beard or sideburns, my face was smooth and a little chubby. My hair was auburn, healthy and now came down to my shoulders. My neck and shoulders were much slimmer than they had been, but they still looked chunky. My boobs were small but visible, they looked as though they were going to be a nice shape, but looked small on my frame. My waist was noticeable but still looked too wide. My hips and bum had spread a little and the muscle tone in my bum and hips had largely gone. I had a bit of a wobble. My todger and balls looked out of place on the rest of me but they seemed to have reduced in size. My todger was only marginally smaller but the shrinkage was much more noticeable with my balls. My hands were slim, slightly on the large size for a woman, but they looked elegant. The muscle tone in my legs had softened and my legs now looked long and sexy. My feet were a little larger than you would expect for a woman, but if I had not been looking for it, I would not have noticed. Was I looking at a man or a woman? If you ignored the cock and balls you could see a chunky looking woman with a pretty face, good legs and a flat chest. I looked a lot like a much younger version of my mother except that she was very well endowed in the bust region. Mum had good legs and a pretty face. As soon as she let her weight rise, she started to look a bit chunky. Her bust though was a large DD size on her five foot five frame. If I was going to look like an attractive woman, I was going to have to lose more weight and maybe go back to the corsets for a while. I even wondered about the rib operation. We could certainly afford it now. I had got my weight down well below eleven stone now but it needed to come down further. I was going to have to do more yoga and aerobics to keep myself looking trim. After talking it through with Sam we agreed that the rib trim idea was too dangerous and decided on more corset wear. More discomfort in the cause of beauty. If my bust grew, I lost weight and put a little more rounding on my hips, I would look much better balanced. In under four months I had changed from being a solid, tough hunk of a scrum half to being a slightly chunky, but feminine looking "female". Was this an achievement or was it just the beginning of the end of my happy old life? Somehow, it was difficult to feel pleased with the changes. The more I thought about it, the more depressed I became. It had been a disappointment when the drug raid had been a dead end. We set Megan to look at anything that she could dig up in any of Justin's other companies. With the volume of work that we had it was difficult to release time for her to hack. We had heard rumours that Justin's wager winning system was having a lot of installation problems. Justin's team had been spending most of their time trying to sort out bugs and refine the system. We wished him all the ill luck in the world and hoped his problems would mount. At work Sam still called me Tom, but when we were relaxing and chatting, she called me Jen. Sam loved to go on retail therapy trips with me. We were doing so well that we could afford to splurge a bit. When we were out Sam just chatted away to me as if I was her best female friend. It was very easy for me to slip into that role without thinking. In some ways Sam and I were closer than ever. My opinion was sought on styles, colours, make up and outfits. Advice was also freely given. The one thing that disturbed me though was that Sam had called me Jen more frequently when we were making love. I found that despite being male underneath, I was starting to match her mood cycles. I had become much more prone to tears. We even had a good weep when we went to see a romantic film at the cinema. Unusually, I enjoyed it. I was wearing mascara and a bit of lippy more often than not and some female behaviours were becoming natural. I did not have to concentrate to pass. On Friday we dressed up and had a meal out with friends and on Saturday we went dancing at the Gay club. The dancing became competitive and then raunchy. We were egged on by our gay friends and had a thoroughly naughty night. When we got home Sam suggested that we had purely lesbian sex. When I said that I was not sure how, she produced a lesbian porn film that one of the girls at the club had lent her. The film was extremely educational and both during and after the film, we tried most of what we had watched. It was a new and very rewarding experience for both of us. I never realized one could have that much pleasure without actual penetrative intercourse. Week seventeen and Megan decided to have a crack at getting into Justin's main system. Most of the site was impenetrable but Megan found a record of Justin's contracts for systems work. There were several with his subsidiary companies in America and France. There were also contracts with a number of other organizations in the Lebanon, Russia, Germany, Bolivia, Panama and Belgium. Tim contacted a friend who had done a considerable amount of freelance work for Justin's company and asked if he had done any work for those clients. Tim's friend said that he was not aware of any systems being designed or supported for any of the client groups mentioned. He said that only a few of Justin's staff were involved in systems work. The remainder, were scary dudes and he did not know what they did. Justin's total design team consisted of three people plus his freelance workers. We decided to see if we could follow up some of the supposed contacts. We had the names of the organizations and a contact person in each case. If we could get evidence that Justin had been selling bogus systems to organizations in return for illegally raised money, we would be able to, not only prove money laundering, but also that he was earning money from illegal activities. We thought that we would start with the Belgian contacts. I think we were under the impression that Belgium was less scary than Russia or Lebanon. Our efforts resulted in us identifying a billing address for the Belgian organization. The address was real and it was another club. There seemed to be a pattern forming in Justin's money making interests. We trawled the Belgian press looking for any reference to the person named as the customer contact, but could find no person of that name. Sam suggested that she should go and look at the club and see what sort of organization it was. I vetoed the suggestion. There was no way that I would let Sam put herself in harms way. Any risk taking was my job. Sam was unkind enough to point out that since I had started on the hormones, I had lost a large amount of muscle mass and tone. I may be much more supple and possibly quicker over a short distance but now, I was not a lot stronger than she was. She also raised the problem of my passport. I no longer looked like my picture. If I dressed up as a man then I looked quite feminine. If I dressed as a woman, then I had a man's passport. Whichever way could lead me into problems at passport control. What we decided, was that I would travel as a man, but get a letter from my therapist to state that I was a male transitioning to female. When I got to Belgium, I could book into a hotel, change into female dress and go and see what I could find out about the club. I would then return the following morning. The rest of the week sped by with a visit to the therapist, a meal out with friends and a heavy load of work. When Saturday came I donned male clothing for the first time in weeks. I bound my small breasts and was able to go without a gaff. It was wonderful to be swinging free again. My clothes felt loose on me, everywhere except the hips and bum. It felt very strange wearing shoes and socks, they were lumpy and heavy. In the end I gave up with my old chinos and wore a pair of my lady cut jeans. I looked a bit strange with a mans shirt, jacket, coat and shoes with a pair of women's jeans. I wore my hair in a low pony tail and, of course no make up or nail polish. I had not realized how natural I had become, wearing women's clothes, make up and nail polish. I did not think of myself as a woman in any way, but I was totally comfortable in women's clothes and make up. My day to day conversations, my mannerisms and my interests had become quite female. I was comfortable in the knowledge that I was male. I was also totally at ease living as a female. It was a bizarre split personality. It was not until I tried to be convincingly male on the journey that it came home to me how far I had travelled in becoming a woman. On the one hand it was deeply scary, but on the other it was what we were planning to succeeding at. I was surprised on my way out that when I presented my passport it was handed back to me without comment. There was no problem. The journey was uneventful and I found the hotel with ease. Once in my room the transformation took place. I put on a waist cinch and was able to unbind my small breasts. I used a push up bra and fillets to enhance my bust and dressed as a young raver in short skirt, tights, a top that showed all the cleavage I could muster. I wore a pair of knee high soft leather boots with one and a half inch heels. I wanted to be able to stay on my feet for a long time. The year was now moving into spring and it was not too cold so I just wore a wrap and no coat. I found the club right in the heart of the red light district. Sitting in a coffee shop opposite for an hour, I could watch the comings and goings. The crowd were young and looked anything from latish teens to latish twenties. They were a bunch of bright young things doing the Saturday night thing. There was also an older crowd, mostly male, who did not look as though they were there to dance. Whilst I sat there I was approached by several men varying from a few years younger than me, right up to my father's age. I had taken care not to dress in a way that could make me be mistaken for a working girl. As a result the pick up lines, in a variety of languages, were pleasant and no problem. A smile, a confession of speaking only English and that I was meeting my boyfriend prevented any difficulties. I plucked up courage and crossed the road to the club. There was no problem getting in and once inside a wall of sound hit me. Having parked my wrap, I got myself a bottle of Italian beer. I was not going to drink anything that I had not seen being opened and it would never leave my sight. In no time I had been invited to dance and was jigging wildly to the pounding beat. You could feel the music as much as hear it. I could smell the pot and, in no time I was offered a selection of pills. When I turned those down I was asked if I wanted anything stronger. I had covered most of the club within the first forty minutes or so. Other than the drugs, the place seemed to be a normal club. There was one door though, that was guarded by two large scary doormen. They were only letting people through who had a pass card. The only people without passes that were allowed in were the women on the arms of the members. I asked one of my dance partners what went on behind the door and he said that it was a high roller gambling den. So far, so good, I had observed what the main body of the place was like. I had been groped and had erections rubbed against me. My bum had been distinctly man handled but nothing that I could not cope with. I wanted to get into the gambling den to spy out the land. The only plan that I could think of was to stay close to where the members were coming and going and get picked up. Not much of a plan, I know. Almost as soon as I headed towards the door, a distinguished looking man, in his late thirties, or early forties came through the door back into the club. He was in deep thought and walked straight into me. In a flurry of French he apologized most graciously. He suggested that the least he could do, was to share some champagne with me. I realized, after the first couple of exchanges, that we had been talking French. My French is adequate but hardly fluent. My companion quickly realized my difficulty and smoothly moved to an impeccable, but slightly accented English. He introduced himself as Julian and ushered me to an area of the club that was relatively quiet. The background noise still made it difficult for conversation, so my companion suggested that we transfer to the comfort of the gambling club. Julian flashed his pass and we went into the refined quiet of the gambling club. The difference was huge. The average age of the men, was much more than double that in the club and the elegance of the women made my outfit feel cheap and drab. We found a place to sit, away from the tables where serious gentlemen were playing cards with a deep intensity. "Now my dear Jen, we can talk without the need to shout. What is a pretty young woman doing on her own in this den of iniquity, in danger of being knocked to the floor by a thoughtless ruffian like myself." "A good question Julian. This is my first trip to Belgium. I came with a good female friend for a short weekend break. I wanted to see the sights and visit the galleries. It would seem that she came to party. It was her idea to come to the club, if I had been expecting to be clubbing, I would have brought more appropriate clothing." "You look charming my dear. Where is your friend?" "She found herself a hunky male companion and decided the rest of the evening was going to be in his arms. Her last comment was that I shouldn't wait up for her and that she would see me at a late breakfast. I was just about to get my wrap and leave. This place is a bit more wild than I am used to." "It is a good job that I brutally tried to knock you down. I can show you a little of the quieter night life here. Have you eaten?" "Only a snack." "Then I shall take you where we can have a quiet meal and enjoy some good music. The restaurant is only a couple of hundred yards away. If you are happy we could walk. To buy you a meal would be the least I could do to make up for my brutality." "I appreciate your offer but I am a single girl on my own in a strange city and maybe I should head back to the hotel." "I give you my word as a Lawyer and an upright French gentleman, that we can dine, talk and maybe a little dancing and then I will deliver you safely to the door of your hotel. My dear Jen, I too am adrift in a foreign town and would welcome the company." I agreed to go with him to eat. I was hoping to find out more about the gambling club. It was strangely easy to be the feminine to his masculine. I knew I was a man in a masquerade but, I suppose, so many weeks of living as a women and it was becoming second nature to me. He was probably twenty years older than me and stood at a little over six foot tall. His suit was cut to perfection and what he was clothed in would have paid for a complete new system of top spec computers in our studio. He was clean cut, clean shaven, with a twinkle it his blue eyes and a warm smile. Since when did I start noticing the colour of a man's eyes? He was definitely not the sort of heavy weight hood that I had started to associate with Justin. He directed us to a very elegant restaurant where a four piece group were playing gentle jazz. The menu was mouth wateringly tempting and there were no prices to be seen. We shared a bottle of excellent Chablis as we ate our fish, then sat back with a smooth fruity Armagnac with our coffee. Julian admitted that he was a married man with a wife that he loved and three children, the eldest of which was at university. He had been in Belgium for a meeting with a group of EU lawyers, discussing the future application of a range of regulations. The meeting had dragged on and on and he had decided to stop over rather than try to drive the 300 miles home. When I asked him about how he had decided to go to the gambling club, he told me that one of the German lawyers had suggested it. The German was a member and after a couple of calls, a membership pass had been arranged. Gambling dens were not his normal haunt, but he was a good card player, good with numbers and his fee for the weekend meeting had been obscene. He was intrigued to go and see what it was like. The thing that intrigued him most was that the German lawyer had a bit of a reputation and he was interested to see what sort of places he frequented. When he went into the club he had watched for a while. He summed up the clientele as being largely made up of the type of people that his colleagues defended in court. Some of the people made him feel uncomfortable. He played poker at one of the tables and, at first he was making gains. He had not joined a very high stakes table, but the money was enough to make him cautious. There were suggestions that the stakes be raised and slowly he had started to lose. He had reached the stage where he was down by a small amount when he decided to take a break and review his position. That was when he literally walked into me. I had probably saved him from stupidly losing more than was sensible. I had therefore earned my meal many times over. It was a shame that after getting to talk to someone who was a member albeit a temporary one, I should learn so little. Julian's conversation was witty and fun. He had me laughing at stories about legal cases. He quizzed me about my background and I was able to talk freely about everything with the exception of saying that Sam was my oldest and closest friend rather than my wife. Julian said that he would have his firm contact us to see about systems design. It was easy talking to Julian, relaxed and fun. When Julian suggested that we took advantage of the good music and dance, I was half on my feet before I had thought about it. Once up, it would have been wrong to back out. I had to think hard about where my hands went. Julian was an excellent dancer. I was clumsy and stumbling at first. I excused myself as being an inexperienced dancer. I explained my tendency to try and lead to having been one of the taller girls at an all girls school and having to play the male part. In the end I just relaxed and followed Julian's lead. Once I relaxed it was such fun. The alchohol had loosened my stiffness and I was in danger of becoming graceful. We smiled, laughed and talked as we whirled round the floor. At the end of one dance we were smiling and looking in each others eyes when he leaned in and kissed me. I could feel the slight stubble on his skin and smell his musky au de cologne. His lips were dry and warm on mine and I liked it. My first reaction was to close my eyes, with my head tilted back, my arms around his shoulders and to respond to the kiss. When my brain resurfaced I knew that this was so wrong. To be held in a strong man's arms a gently but firmly kissed was intriguingly good, but oh so wrong. I was so tempted to explore with my tongue. But as we broke I blushed and looked away. Shit, I am not gay. "I should apologise, my dear Jen for taking advantage of a young lady, but I am afraid that I enjoyed that too much to do so. I promise to be on my best behaviour from now on." The evening drew to a close and Julian escorted me back to the hotel. All the way back in the cab, I was thinking about what I would do if he wanted to kiss me again. I was actually hoping that he would. I am not gay. I like women. I am not gay. I wondered what I could do to encourage him. We had held hands all the way back from the restaurant and as the taxi pulled up I gave his hand a squeeze. He got out and opened the door for me. As I got out, he gathered me in his arms and I did not resist. We kissed and I was happy and relieved that he had done so. My tongue could not help itself and we explored each other, the kiss lasted no time but for ages. As we said our goodbyes I felt exhilarated and excited. That was a kind of feeling that I had not had since I was a teenager. It was naughty exploration of territory that I should not be setting foot in. All the time I was feeling guilty and wretched about cheating on Sam. It was wrong at so many levels and I am not gay. That night I cried tears of frustration at my own inability to control what was happening to me. I am not gay. What had I achieved by my visit? Absolutely nothing and I had got myself into a situation that had left me confused and disappointed in myself. I knew that I was going to have to woo a man in order to win the wager, but I didn't want to enjoy it. On the one hand I had made a convincing job as a young woman. On the other hand I had been far too comfortable. I had forgotten who I was, but I am not gay. In the morning I was stupid enough to wear my female clothes without thinking. I suppose I had found them comfortable now that I had a small but distinct bust. When I got to the border agency check, the officer looked at me, looked at my passport and immediately got on the phone. I was immediately directed out of the queue and to a shed at the side. After I was escorted from the car, I was interrogated. Who was I? Why was I, a female travelling on a man's passport? My luggage had been brought from the car and the mixture of male and female clothes discovered. I tried to explain that I was a pre-op transsexual and that my passport had yet to be altered. I showed the officers the letter from the psychiatrist. The letter was met with as much suspicion as I was. I was then told to strip for a search. I was asked whether I wanted to be strip searched by a man or a woman. In my confusion I could not say, so I had a mixed audience of four officers while I stripped naked, the crude jokes that the officers cracked and the derision with which they looked at my naked body was mentally and emotionally crippling. With a look of absolute glee they informed me that I had to have a cavity inspection in case of drugs. It was the most humiliating experience of my short life. They were not gentle. When they had had their fun and checked with my psychiatrist, I was allowed to go. All my self confidence had been drained out of me. When I got home I told Sam the unvarnished truth about what had happened and my concerns. Sam cuddled me and soothed me while I cried and tried to make sense of where we were. For the first time since I was a small child, I just wanted to be held and for someone to make the difficult stuff go away. I was depressed and had totally lost my belief in myself. For the whole of the following week I was in a dark fug. I felt that Justin had won. I was no longer Tom and I was only a freak who would be rejected by everyone. I found it difficult to get out of bed and kept bursting into tears. Sam kept things going and nursed me through the week. By the end of the week I was able to go for long periods without crying. By Sunday I was starting to get angry and my determination started to return. Sam's relief was palpable. She really thought she might have lost me. Chapter Nineteen Week nineteen and I was starting to recover my old self. All the time that I had been down Sam had called me Tom. Not once had she called me Jen. As week nineteen progressed she started to call me Jen again in the evenings. By the weekend of that week I had felt up to going out again and Sam and I went dancing at the gay club. The dancing brought back difficult feelings but it was nice and fun and when we got home we spent a lovely night of lesbian and heterosexual love making. I was starting to find that erections were not as fast to come and quicker to go but it was close and loving and Sam and I felt at peace afterwards. Week twenty and I was raring to get back into the fray. While I had been feeling depressed I had lost more weight and was now down below ten and a half stone. Sam's birthday was coming up and I asked her what she would like. She asked whether she could have anything she liked, when I responded in the affirmative, then she said she would let me know. We had one bit of good news and another bit of news that I wasn't so sure of. The good news was that the NHS Trust where Justin had beaten us in getting the contract, contacted us. They were distinctly unhappy with the system that Justin's company had installed. They wanted us to look at the system to see if we could make it work. We were up to our ears in work, so we arranged to have a preliminary look later that week. With the pressure of work, we decided to invite another of our freelancers to work full time. Danny was a hunk of a man. Good looking and a muscular six foot plus tall, he was the most laid back person we knew. He was a brilliant analyst/programmer but just loved the good things in life. Every now and then he would disappear and go walkabout. He was great fun to be around, witty, thoughtful and a total gentle man. Women loved him and he loved women. He was a lovely clever man. We knew that he was unlikely to be a long term prospect but his skill was of the highest. The less good news was when I visited for another check up. The doctor was amazed at the speed with which I was developing secondary female characteristics. He had never known anyone develop a full A cup in under six months. I was definitely at Tanner stage 3. He was also surprised at how my weight had redistributed. My hips and bum now had a distinctly feminine look. He gave me the bad news that I was now effectively sterile. He went on to say that my testicles had significantly atrophied in a very short space of time. They rarely dropped back from inside my body cavity when I took my gaff off. He again suggested that I have the testicles removed. They may be useless, but removing them was too big a step emotionally. Sam reminded me that in our original plan, we had assumed that I would be needing to get implants about now. With my surprisingly quick bust development, it looked as though I would be able to make do with what I had. Not only had my bust developed faster than we had expected but my nipples had grown to be as large as Sam's and just as sensitive. My chest had nothing of the male left. Stripped to the waist my bust was completely female. My shoulders were still a bit muscular for a woman and broader than you would expect and my neck was still a bit thick. My face looked female, albeit, more handsome than pretty. My waist was still a bit too large. My bum had lost some of its firmness and I had expanded a bit across the hips, so I looked as though I had a waist, but I was definitely going to have to lose more weight. Ten stone was going to have to be my target. More starving required. Spring was starting to develop into the first sunny warm days of the year and Sam declared that it was shopping time. We needed to get summer clothes. We were going for a monster shopping bash. I was told that I needed summer dresses, skirts, tops, lingerie, make up, bikini, jewelry and shoes. She told me that she had decided what she wanted for her birthday. She wanted the two of us to get a tattoo of a butterfly on the cheeks of our right bum. They did not have to be the same butterfly but they had to be the same size. The second part of the present was that she wanted a proper girl's night out. She wanted five of us, including her friend Donna, Megan Jackie and myself to have a full blooded girls night out, with all that that entailed. I had no idea what she was talking about, but I agreed. Shopping was fun. I enjoyed the two of us chatting about clothes and trying stuff on. Sam was a ten and I was now able to fit comfortably in a twelve. When we had started, I was hardly able to get into a fourteen and mainly fitted a sixteen. I thought that we had exhausted our shopping needs when Sam declared that it was time for our girl's night outfits. I was taken to a different type of shop. After a considerable amount of searching, Sam spotted a soft, stretchy, very fine woolen dress. It came to mid thigh and was up to the neck at the front with a scoop back that went all the way to my bum cleavage. It was in a soft sedgey green that went with my auburn hair colour and drew attention to my green eyes. When I tried it on Sam told me to leave my bra off. Now Sam is much better endowed than me, with her gorgeous C cup breasts, but my nipples had outgrown hers. I may have had very modest breasts but I had large sensitive nipples. When I tried the dress on, it clung to me like a second skin. It hugged my hips and thighs and the touch of the fabric on my very sensitive nipples made them stand out. I may have been relatively flat chested, but with the nipple display, I was going to get a lot of male attention. I was reluctant at first, but it felt so good. Sam said that such a dress should be worn without bra or knickers. Because of my small additional factor, I would have to wear my gaff. The good thing was that the outline would look like a thong. Sam tried to get me to buy some four inch heeled, sandals to go with the dress but I drew the line at two and a half inches. The outfit was completed with a broad belt that would accentuate my waist. Sam selected a very sheer ivory silk blouse with long loose sleeves with tight cuffs. She then selected a shiny deep red miniskirt with a silver belt, that came no further down the thigh than the one she had bought for me. Next was a pair of what Sam called fuck me heeled shoes, at least four inches possibly five. They made her bum and legs look superb. Sam then headed to Victoria Secrets and picked a bra that was flimsy in the extreme. "Sam, you can't wear that. You would look as though you were naked from the waist up." "Don't you think I would look sexy?" "Yes, too sexy." "You are missing the point. You can't look too sexy on a girl's night out." With that she bought the wisp of a thong that went with the bra. Next we bought very sheer, shiny hold up stockings. There was no way we could have suspenders under what we would be wearing. Next we were off to the tattooist. My choice was a small tortoise shell butterfly, my favourite, just over an inch across. Sam chose a Mazarine blue to go with her eyes. Sam decided that we should have them positioned so that they would just peek out if we were wearing very brief bikini bottoms. I was surprised how painful it was, but Sam just called me a wimp. When we got back to work Sam insisted that we show everyone our tattoos.