Unforeseen free porn video

Unforeseen. By Tanya H. With uncanny timing John called me just as I finished drying from my morning shower. With the usual happy smile his ringtone always lifted from me I dashed across the bedroom to grab the phone. He'd been on night shifts and the couple of days since I'd seen him last had dragged like endless algebra. "Hiya, Nat,'" he said and my silly smile spread further - the way he made my nickname sparkle! I closed my eyes, imagining that he was sitting beside me on my bed, that his breath was on my ear while he spoke. Goosebumps tingled my skin and my nipples stiffened. "I miss you." "You too, Handsome. Listen, I've just got in from work so I'm going to get my head down, but I'll pick you up from the station at seven-thirty. Okay?" "Seems like ages! I can't wait." "Still okay with this?" "Still looking forward to it. Go on, get some sleep." "Love you." He blew me a kiss. 'I love you too.' I had a sigh - now until six-thirty yawned like another lesson. "Are you okay?' 'Never better. Why?' 'Dunno, your voice sounds funny. You're not going all camp on me are you?' 'As if! Get some sleep, you're hallucinating. See you later.' He laughed and hung up, leaving staring contentedly at his picture on my phone's lock-screen; John Palmer - compact, muscular and gorgeous, but best of all, mine; my boyfriend. Not that I had time to be making sheep-eyes at his picture. The bus would go without me if I didn't hurry. Today needed to go stress free; it was going to be difficult enough as it was. John was taking me home to meet his Mum and Dad and sister tonight. They would be expecting a respectable girlfriend for the prodigal son! What to wear? Usually I was a trousers girl for work, I was the senior receptionist for a medical practice on the edge of town, but that morning I thought about all the things John had said, and intimated, about his parents. Considering they'd had John relatively late in their lives, they were now both in their late sixties and very conservatively minded, a skirt might help with the all important first impression - as long as it covered my knees. Rummaging through my wardrobe I found a mid-grey skirt suit that looked just the thing for work, though I couldn't remember ever having worn it out before. The jacket was single breasted and fitted to flatter my shape, while the satin-lined pencil skirt would just cover my knees. To go with the suit I thought my cream, high-necked and long sleeved blouse would probably be a good call. My outfit wouldn't setting pulses racing, but might score enough girlfriend points with his parents to win another invitation, which would surely keep John happy. My underwear looked too ordinary for a girl with an amazing boyfriend; I was going to have to work on my lingerie collection. Maybe he would buy me some - that would be fun. We'd been seeing each other for about seven months, but it felt like I'd been his friend for much longer and our relationship had grown especially close in the last couple of months. Unlike other boys I'd been with, John was refreshingly shy about sex. He'd stayed a few nights here at my flat, I'd done the same at his little house, and while we'd both made each other cum, with fingers and mouths, we had yet to actually have full sex. Part of me was hoping there might be a moment when we'd be properly alone this weekend. In case tonight might be the night I picked out my prettiest bra, cream with a feminine lace trim around the cup, and a very brief pair of matching lace panties. Once I'd wriggled into them I had a quick pose in the mirror and wasn't too modest to say they looked good on me, contrasting nicely with my dark skin. Maybe red would be worth thinking about in the future - hopefully John was going to think so too. His mum was likely to be old fashioned about bare legs so I rummaged through my sock drawer for some tights - black opaques would do - though there didn't seem to much in there apart from socks. Then I touched something a little softer and pulled out a gossamer pair of black, lace topped hold-ups. Should I? Could I get through a day without laddering them? It would be worth a try - for John. All men liked stockings. For a moment I imagined us driving down to their house with John's hand resting upon my thigh, caressing me gently. Maybe I'd take his hand and put it under my skirt, where I was warm and where his touch would feel gorgeous through the nylon. Then he'd find the lace of the stocking top, I'd never worn stockings for him before, and his cock would swell with excitement. I could stroke it, maybe I could even bend over and kiss it - give him a daring blow job while he was driving. I found I had a hand between my legs. The heat was drew my fingers. If only I had time to spare for a long slow, fingering session, but that bus was coming! Careful of my nails I drew the stockings over my legs and rubbed them together with a sensual hiss. That felt lovely! Why had I spent so long wasting my legs with trousers? Time really was running out now. I stepped quickly into the skirt, buttoned the blouse and shrugged on the jacket. No time for make-up, I could do that when I got to work. I pulled my hair back into a bouncy ponytail and was about to grab my usual pair of office flats when I saw some plain black court shoes, with slim, 4" heels, hiding at the back of the wardrobe. John had never seen me wearing heels - this pair were practically unused - but he'd love to see me in them and I wasn't planning on being on my feet that much. I paused for a brief check in my wardrobe mirror, to make sure I wasn't going to go out with some clothing disaster - like skirt tucked into knickers, but I was looking good this morning; more than good. I wasn't the kind of girl who was massively hung up on her looks and appearance, or I would have missed the bus to put on some make-up, but I lingered for a moment. My thick, black curls gleamed in their bouncy ponytail, my smooth caramel skin didn't really need any cosmetics and my eyes glittered enough at the thought of seeing John that I didn't need anything to enhance them. There was the bus, mired in the morning traffic, as I left the flat and locked up. I hurried along to the bus stop as best I could and found myself suddenly, stupidly self conscious in the clothes I was wearing. Like being out in a skirt was somehow wrong. Admittedly I didn't wear skirts or fine hosiery out very often, hardly ever, but why shouldn't I? And I was enjoying the skirt - not just the hiss as my thighs brushed together, but the swish of its satin lining. I couldn't step out as much as I usually did, but that was probably for the best in those heels. Most pleasant though was the sensation inside my panties. That idle daydream of sucking John into my mouth while he was driving, of distracting him with my thighs and stocking tops had clearly touched something in my imagination for I was acutely aware of the slick movement of my swollen labia as I hurried for the bus stop. Inside that feminine bra my breasts ached to be touched, though It was going to be a long time until I could possibly feel any fingertips circling my nipples, My colleagues were politely impressed by the change of direction in my clothes; Doctor Mangin, the senior partner and old enough to know better, could hardly keep his eyes off my ankles. Jessica, the pharmacist, and Ruth, the admin manager, exchanged knowing looks when they saw me. "There's a man. I knew it," said Ruth looking me up and down when I brought her a morning tea. "You look great, Nat. Show us a picture," Jessica urged. 'Let's see this fella who's turned your head.' I gave them what I hoped was an enigmatic smile and went to my desk ready for the first appointments of the day. I did have a picture of John on my phone, several actually, including a couple where he was bare and beautiful and a rare selfie of us cheek to cheek on my sofa. We made a contrasting couple - I was taller than him, even in flat shoes, while his milky-white skin made me look almost black. He was curly too, but he kept his startling ginger hair cropped short. Surely if he was taking me home to meet his family it was the right time to go public with our relationship? Apparently the lads he worked with were a bit earthy, he was a train driver, and I took that to mean that they might be a bit funny about John having a brown girlfriend - upsetting in this day and age, but I loved him enough to wait until he thought the time was right. Meeting his conservative parents was going to be a massive step - for all of us; maybe they were of a generation that would disapprove of an interracial relationship. That would be hard for John to manage, if I was honest I wasn't sure who would win between parents or girlfriend. Especially as some form of cancer kept his dad in a wheelchair and dependent on bottled oxygen. He didn't have much longer and that was on John's mind much of the time. He woke about two, when the day was really dragging. I couldn't take a call, but we exchanged a few, almost childishly sweet texts before he let me know he was leaving - phase one of the plan. He was going to drive down, say hello to mum and dad then pick me up from the local station in time for dinner. Edging the excitement of seeing him again - of sleeping with him - was the anxiety of meeting his parents; I wanted them to like me - I needed them to like me. My taxi to the station was booked for ten past five. At ten to I was sitting impatiently staring at the clock, packed and ready to go, when Dr Mangin called me into his office. I sat on the edge of a chair, trying to watch him and not his clock. Great news. He thought it was time I took on a little more responsibility and wanted me to to understudy Ruth - in view of her impending baby. Any other time I'd have been over the moon to have that encouragement from my boss; he was a good man to work for, but my taxi would be outside. I thanked him sincerely, said I was very excited by the proposals and all but ran from the building. I'm happy to report that the train journey went smoothly. None of the services I needed were late, the connections were timely and the trouble I'd taken over bookings meant I had a seat where I was supposed to. I had a good book to read, but couldn't concentrate, so I watched the world pass by my window, fantasised idly about John's naked body next to my own (I would be naked but for my stockings) and hoped his family would like me. I had a passable muffin and a decent coffee from the buffet car, though the steward seemed more interested in talking to my breasts than to me. Mostly I agonised for the train to finally snake into my destination. I was grinning like an idiot as I flew through the concourse to the car park. There it was! John's red hatchback! He was facing away from me, talking animatedly on his phone. I hurried over, as best I could in the narrow skirt and stilettos, threw my bag on the back seat, settled into the passenger seat and leaned across to give him a kiss. He finished his call, turned as I was about to deliver that kiss to his cheek and the look of warm anticipation vanished, replaced by narrow eyed surprise. That kiss went cold on my lips. "Nat?" "Who else!" I sat back, unsure of what I had done. "Jesus, Nat! What are you doing?" "What am I doing? What do you mean?" "Oh, bloody hell." His face was screwed up with pain and irritation, I'd never seen that expression rise because of anything I'd done. My mouth was open, fists clenched on my lap as I tried to work out what had happened. He waved his hands dismissively at my body. "Your timing of this revelation is massively rubbish, Nathan! This was going to be hard enough without having to tell Mum and Dad you're a transvestite!" "Transvestite! Thanks a lot! Seriously! I made an effort for you and your parents!" Tears pricked my eyes. This was a nightmare. No way could this actually be happening. Trembling with anger, I folded my arms and looked away from him, back towards the station and my lovely day of anticipation. All ruined. "You shouldn't have bothered," he muttered. "At least you could have warned me. Have you spent the whole day dressed like that? At work!" "Why are you doing this, you've never been horrible to me before." "You never showed up dressed as a woman before." I whirled round, furious now. "You what!" He stared for a moment, then reached out and lifted the ID card still hanging on its lanyard - I'd quite forgotten to take it off when I'd dashed from work. As he looked from it to me a look of sheer confusion filled his face. 'Natalie Trent,' he said, reading the name on the card. He turned it so I could read it too, but it looked perfectly ordinary to me. On the little picture beside the name my hair was wild and loose around my head and shoulders, and I was smiling. At that moment I didn't think I'd ever smile again. "So what?" 'Your name's Nathan. "Ha, bloody, ha. This is a really bad joke." I kept my voice low. "You need to think about all the different ways you'll have to use to apologise." He put the car into gear and moved into the traffic. A hard, rocky silence pressed down on me but I pressed my lips together and resolved that I would not break it. I stared fixedly ahead and ignored the town passing me by. I'd never been here before, it was much further south than I'd ever needed to go. I only looked when he indicated to join the westbound carriageway of the motorway. His parents lived about twenty miles away. I should have made him let me out at the station, but I wanted this to go away. I wanted us to be best friends again. John was still going to have to speak first and nothing short of an apology was going to cut it. We'd only been on the motorway for about five minutes when he gave out the biggest sigh and said. "Look, Nat, I'm really sorry, properly sorry. But we've been going out for what? Six months?" "Seven," said I - frostily. "You could have told me before now, I mean, I thought we were closer than that." "Told you what?" "You know, the women's clothes. I mean, I wouldn't have minded, you look great, really feminine-" "For a transvestite!" "Well sorry, what term is acceptable? Crossdresser? Tranny? I honestly don't know." "How about woman!" "Okay, okay. If it helps, you're a woman. Can you carry it off in front of my mum and dad? All weekend?' "That's it. Stop the car!" He flinched at my raised voice. I didn't like to swear, but a word just boiled out of me between 'the' and 'car'. My cheeks were hot, I was practically thrumming with anger. How dare he treat me like this? Nobody had ever hurt me this way, and I'd been with a couple of shits. "I can't stop on the motorway." "Then pull off, take me home. I'm not going to sit here while you take the piss out of me like this." "Nat..." "Shut up. My name's Natalie." "We need to sort this out, Natalie." I stared out of the window and ground my teeth together. Maybe it was some horrible practical joke, something he was doing with his 'earthy' mates from work. "Natalie?" His voice was softer, I recognised concern there. The tone he'd used after those racist bastards had pushed me around on the bus on the way home from work one night. "What?" My voice was hard. "I'm sorry, really. Let me buy you a coffee. Let's sit down and sort this out. Please?" He had apologised. . "Nat, I love you, I really do. But-" "No buts! That was really horrible, not like you." I softened my voice. "A coffee then." We covered a couple of miles in silence. The motorway was busy, weekend traffic, but I was too wound up to be bored and the pressure of not looking at John was starting to hurt my neck when, out of the blue, he broke the silence with a conversational tone. 'How was work today?' For a few seconds I was knocked sideways by such an innocent questions after the turmoil he'd fired me into. I had a sideways peep, to see if some awful, piss-taking smirk was spoiling his looks, but he was gripping the steering wheel with both hands and had his eyes commendably fixed on the traffic. 'Work?' 'You've been to work today. How was it?' I was about to tell him what a day of build up and anticipation I'd been enjoying before he'd destroyed it, but I knew from the brittle edge to his question he was tense; he was trying hard to lay down some normality. We might have only been together seven months, but I was reading him better and better all the time. 'Good.' 'Just good?' 'Actually, Dr Mangin wants me to take on some more responsibility, understudy Ruth. They want me to cover for her when she has her baby.' It felt weird to speak to him like that, after the things he'd thrown at me, but it was right. We had to get through this, whatever it was. 'That's brilliant.' It sounded like he meant it. 'He liked your legs?' I almost bit at that. As though I would only get the chance of improving myself when I wore a skirt and heels, but at the last second I held the barbed retort back, drove tension from my shoulders and made myself sound conversational. 'He did seem fascinated by my ankles.' 'Your legs look great.' 'Really?' 'Really. Look, Nat, - Natalie. I'm really cool about this, it was a surprise, but I'm cool. It's cool. The more I look at you, the more I like it. I mean, it's like the best of both worlds.' That tension snapped right back. I twisted my handbag strap into a near knot. Another half mile of deadly silence. 'I got it wrong again, didn't I?' he said softly. 'At least you get that,' I muttered. 'Nat, just work with me on this, it's a bit sudden and all new to me.' 'I am not a transfuckingvestite!' And that was all I said until we pulled into the motorway services for the promised coffee. Ignoring him I went at a clipped, stroppy walk, like a real diva, to a discreet table at the edge of the eating area. He followed like a naughty boy. 'Coffee!" 'How do you want it?' 'You know exactly how I like it.' He was gone for a few minutes. I crossed my legs as he came back, tweaked the hem into place and wished I hadn't bothered with it or the stilettos or the stockings. I felt ridiculous and the effort was wasted. 'To put this ridiculous idea to bed I am prepared to lift my skirt right here and right now and show you and everybody else I'm female!" I grasped the skirt's hem firmly to demonstrate my commitment to blowing my dignity. 'You mean it don't you.' 'This really hurts, John and I don't understand why you're being so horrible to me.' Releasing the skirt, I let my jacket fall open and started unbuttoning my blouse, facing away from the other tables, opening just enough buttons to allow a peep of cleavage and a little lace trim. Baring myself was almost worth it from the way his eyes widened when his idiocy was confronted by my boobs. I had a glance myself, just to be sure - there was my smooth, brown skin rising up over my smallish, but definitely there breasts. 'You have tits!' he said in a hoarse whisper. 'Halleluja!' 'But that's not right. You're a man, Nat is a man. You're, he's my boyfriend.' 'You're gay!' That made him look away from my chest and I had the presence of mind to button myself up again. 'What? Oh my God. This is getting too weird. It's got to be some kind of joke, right. You're an actress who looks amazingly like Nathan, you've been coached, ha ha. Where is he? I'm going to kill him.' 'Actress?' At least he was acknowledging I was female. 'John, you're a train driver, not James Bond. Why would anybody do that. He fumbled for his phone, tapped away at the screen and then held it up so I could see. It was a familiar picture, mostly. As well as being a train driver John loved trains and railways. As a dutiful girlfriend I had visited a number of preserved railways to reflect his enthusiasm and let him explain it all to me - we women are good like that. During one visit he'd set his camera's timer function to capture both of us leaning casually against the buffer beam of some locomotive or other. On John's phone the recorded image was of two men - he was one and the other could have been the twin brother I'd never had. That impossible twin was even wearing the same sort of clothes I'd had on that day - skinny jeans, high top baseball boots and a plain sweat top. I suppose if you bound my breasts and camouflaged my hips somehow, then cut my hair really short you could have mixed me and that stranger up. But it wasn't me and I had the real picture on my phone which I showed to John as soon as I could find it in my handbag. 'That's been photoshopped,' he said dismissively. 'Long hair, curves - easy.' 'Yours is photoshopped!' 'It bloody isn't! I took it.' 'That doesn't mean you haven't photoshopped it!' He folded his arms and pouted. 'This is pointless. You can't be Nathan and be a girl.' 'I'm Natalie and I'm a woman.' 'How can you be a woman?' 'Biology, dickhead.' He stared at me then. I put my head on one side and raised my eyebrows. He stared a little more, then blinked. 'Nat, what's happened to you?' 'What? You're mental.' 'I know it's you, everything about you, the way you talk, everything, it's pure Nat. But not the...' He made cupping motions with his hands by his chest. I pulled my jacket tight cross mine. He moved around the table to sit next to me. Our thighs almost touched. I didn't resist when he took one of my hands in his. We'd never held hands in public so overtly before. Any other time I'd have been really pleased. 'You were the one. The one I'd been waiting for, ever since I was old enough to know,' he said softly, looking at my knees. 'Know what?' 'That I preferred boys to girls.' 'You never said!' I blurted. 'I did, way back, not long after we first met.' I found myself frowning. We'd been in a bar, having a beer after seeing a movie - hadn't we? And he'd said, something like - Look, Nat. I don't want to scare you off, because I really really like you, but I prefer boys to girls. And I'd smiled and said, 'that's okay because I do too'. But that didn't prove anything, did it? I was supposed to prefer men. My head felt increasingly spongy, memories slipped past too quickly for me to catch hold of - was that a naked women in my arms, her breasts under my hands? Was I bisexual like John? 'Well, you must like girls too,' I said quietly. 'The evenings we spent together...' 'When? When did we last spend an evening together and, you know...' 'Tuesday. You came around to mine. We watched a film, shared some wine.' 'And what did we do, Natalie?' He squeezed my thigh softly when I didn't answer. I closed my eyes. It had been a really special evening. Fully naked, I'd knelt before him and he'd caressed my hair while I kissed his fully hard cock, wrapped my fingers around his balls, closed my lips around it, sucked it deep into my mouth and made him cum there. Even now, the thought of it made a little tingle between my thighs. He looked around furtively, but there was nobody close by, then leant close to whisper, 'I gave you a blow job, Nat. Right after you gave me one.' I shook my head. He was wrong; I could still feel his tongue across my labia, probing between them, circling my swollen clitoris, making it hard, making it grow, taking it into his mouth - making me cum. Another cloudy memory wisped through me - my clitoris grown as big as a man's cock, and John's lips encircling it. That couldn't be right though, he was messing with my head. 'Somebody's done this to you, Nathan,' he murmured. 'Don't be stupid,' I moaned. 'You're a man, Nathan. You're my boyfriend and I love you so much.' 'If you loved me you'd stop doing this!' I turned away from him, sipped my coffee and watched all the people slowing in and out of the services, wondering if any of those women were going through anything like I was. Impossible, surely. I felt like a woman, more so in the clothes I was wearing, but when I thought back everything was indistinct and androgynous. When had I last worn a skirt? I wore skirts whenever I could, I remembered that - but I was usually self-conscious in one. Why was that? My last period? It could have been a few days or a few years, but I knew that I always got a tight headache behind my eyes just before it started while my breasts would swell and become extra sensitive. Boots own brand tampons were my favourite, but in the first day I?d need a pantyliner too. I had pierced ears, but couldn?t remember where I?d had them done. Why hadn?t John and I had penetrative sex yet? I remembered a conversation in which we?d both agreed on our opinion of anal sex. I knew I didn?t like that, because I?d tried - with one of those shits I mentioned earlier. Surely I?d had vaginal sex? I was twenty five, I couldn?t still be a virgin. Suzie Reed! I slipped my hand into John?s and pulled him close. ?What were we watching when I told you about losing my virginity?? I asked him. My voice quavered. ?The ITV Breakfast News,? he said without thinking. ?And why did we laugh about it?? ?Because Suzannah Reid was presenting the news and you told me, quite boldly, that she had taken your virginity.? I closed my eyes to stop myself falling from the chair. Suzie Reed, the lovely newsreader?s namesake, had seduced me one hot evening after school. She?d been slight and blonde with a dazzling smile and breasts of a size and shape that were far beyond her peers. Suzie Reed could have screwed, and probably had, any boy she wanted at school, but on that evening she?d picked me, even though I was a year younger. I remembered the feel of her hands across my body, the way hers had felt under mine and the way she had felt inside when she lowered herself down onto me. ?You told me why she picked you,? John said, holding my hand very tightly. ?My skin,? I whispered. I remembered how my brown skin had contrasted with her white, like when I was naked with John. Of the few black boys at school, she?d said I was the best looking. I could remember her saying it. ?Nat Trent, you are easy the best looking black boy around here and I?ve never fucked a boy like you. What do you say?? I?d said yes of course and she did it beautifully, but here and now when I looked down and saw my blouse tented by my breasts, saw my legs in their black nylon bared by a very smart skirt I couldn?t imagine how I could have been that boy. I was a woman. ?I don?t know why this is happening to me,? I said softly. He squeezed my hand, then slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. ?We?ll find out, I promise.? ?It?s impossible!? ?No it?s not. It?s happened, here you are - living proof.? Then he kissed my cheek and I leant into his body, relishing the contact that felt so real and warm. ?You never kissed me in public before,? I said. He signed. ?Nobody but you and my sister know I was going out with a man. Now you?re-? ?A woman?? He laughed, nervously - still reluctant to accept my gender. ?I thought it was my skin,? I said. ?Or at least I did, this morning.? ?Your skin, your colour; they?re gorgeous. I?ve always thought that. I?ve always been uncomfortable with being overtly gay, being Out, never about having a black boyfriend.? ?Girlfriend.? ?Or that.? ?But you prefer boys to girls. You won?t want me like this, will you?? His phone rang. I flinched, like there had been an explosion. It made distance between us again and I could have cried. He frowned at the phone?s screen. ?Angie,? he said and turned away from me to take the call. I self-consciously tugged my skirt?s hem, looking inside my handbag and checked my own phone?s screen only half listening to his promises that we?d be there soon - the train being delayed - really sorry. Before I really had chance to think about it I found myself refreshing my lipstick. Some balding, middle-aged bloke a couple of tables across watched me painting my lips with a soft, dreamy expression and my cheeks went hot - like I was actually a man wearing make up. I looked hard at my reflection in my little mirror - all woman, not a bit of man there. The dark red lipstick suited me, I liked wearing it. Didn?t I? I almost smeared it all away onto the back of my hand, but made myself finish the job. Now John was watching me - quizzically. ?What?? He shrugged and turned his eyes to the table. ?We?re late. We?d better be off.? ?I need to pee first.? Inside the cubicle, skirt up and panties down, I contemplated my perfectly female vulva. It was at odds with the foggy memories of Nathan, of having a penis, of being John?s boyfriend, but I couldn?t imagine having a man?s body. Being a man! Who would want that? What if I woke up male tomorrow morning! He watched me walking away from the toilets with his head on one side in such a characteristic John Palmer stance I couldn?t help myself but smile. ?What are we going to do?? I said as we walked back into the car park. John looked at his watch. ?I?ve told Mum your train was late. She?ll put dinner back.? ?We?re going to go through with this?? He shrugged. ?It?s a bit late for anything else. And what else can we do?? ?They?re expecting a boyfriend.? He stopped and turned me to face him. ?I haven?t told them. Only Angela and she swore she wouldn?t say anything until I came home with you.? ?You hadn?t told your parents! Jesus, John! That would have been a low baller for them.? He shrugged. ?I know, I know.? He let out a long sigh. ?Dad?s such a... So horribly old-fashioned, I don?t think there?s any malice in it, but he?s properly homophobic. And he thinks the sun shines out of my arse. Angie thinks that me coming out to him would finish the poor bastard. But, I didn?t want to lose him without him knowing the proper me, who I really was. I thought... I dunno, I hoped that if you were there, if they could see you it would go better.? ?At least you got out of that!? ?Just a bit,? he nodded. ?Mum?ll be so relieved she?ll march you do to the village church to meet the vicar and pick out flowers for the wedding.? We?d been back on the motorway only a few minutes, our exit was only a few miles away when he broke the silence with my name, the diminutive, softly spoken. ?What?? His hands were tight on the steering wheel, I needed to hold one. "How do you feel?" "Bruised." He sighed. ?I was a proper knob, wasn?t I?? Reaching over I squeezed his thigh, then left my hand resting gently there. His muscles worked pleasantly under my fingers as he changed gear on the exit slip road. How did I feel? I was a woman who knew she?d been a man and didn?t care. I watched him a moment and distance yawned between us. The car juddered over some fault in the tarmac and my breasts shook sympathetically. "It must have been a proper shock." He glanced at me when I didn?t reply. "To find yourself, you know..." "A woman?" I suppose I ought to be shocked, furious - weeping in denial. Only the weight of John?s sexuality kept me from laughing out loud with joy. I?d once asked him if he?d ever slept with a woman and he?d almost sneered with contempt before making retching noises - why would I want to kiss a girl when I?ve got beauties like you snog, he?d said. "Who would do that to you?" "To us." And why? Dusk was falling as we pulled up in front of the large bungalow John had once called home. It spoke of money. Even up North where we lived, such a house was well beyond our reach. There was the kind of gravel driveway I knew would cause problems for my heels, without having experienced it, well tended lawns, tidy gardens, and a shallow concrete ramp leading to the front door. ?Ready?? he asked, switching off the engine. I shrugged again. There was a face peering around a curtain. From the pictures I?d seen it thad to be Angela, his big sister. It was her Range Rover parked a little further along the drive. I?d never been to a family home where they could get more than two cars on drive. That Range Rover represented more money than I?d ever seen, or was likely to see. ?She?s a lawyer,? he said following my gaze.? ?Bet she?s not as happy as you are driving your trains. The evening air was cool through my stockings as I swung my legs out of the car, knees together in classic Lady Diana style. Being a gentleman to me, the lady, John carried my bags and was about to ring the doorbell when the door was hauled open and a tall woman rushed out in a swirl of red hair. ?Brother!? she shouted delightedly and picked him up. I?d never seen anyone else pick him up before, I had a few times, when I?d been male. He dropped the bags and started tickling her armpits until she dropped him. ?Nat, this is Angela, my big sister,? he said while she held him at arms length. ?He?s still the baby,? she said through a big smile. She had his hair colour, his features even, but she was taller and even a little broader than him. She wore flowing trousers and a tight green top. Her feet were bare and under her small breasts her tummy was round and full - she was about seven months pregnant and John was excited about becoming an uncle. The family were hoping Dad would live long enough to see the grandchild. Then, as she looked into my eyes her smile faltered. A frown creased her brow as though she had almost remembered something very very important. ?Nat?? she murmured. She turned to John. ?That?s weird, but for a moment there I?d been certain you were a Nathan.? Her expression cleared and a smile came back. ?How silly of me, you?re not a Nathan. He?s been keeping quiet about you, Natasha or Natalie? I?m sorry I?ve forgotten.? ?Natalie,? I said, glancing towards John, but he just shrugged. Angela took my hands and pulled me close for a sisterly hug, lips almost brushing my cheek in a welcoming kiss. I hoped I didn?t feel too stiff as that insidious uncertainty about exactly what had happened to me came back. It was like a show home inside, neutral colours and immaculately clean. Beyond the thick mat behind the door was close fitted parquet flooring gleaming with polish. A petite, older woman with a silvery bob smiled at me. That smile was recognisable enough to tell me she was Amelia, John?s mum. ?Natalie,? she said in a silver spoon voice. She held out both hands. ?How wonderful to meet you at last.? Her hands were bony and cool in mine. She gave them a little squeeze. ?Would you mind slipping your courts off, darling, only the heels mark the floor.? I did as I was told, there was no question of doing otherwise. She had that air of armoured confidence that many parts of the middle classes enjoy. It was nice to get my feet flat again and I wriggled my toes gratefully, stretching the nylon around them. ?You never said she was so pretty, John,? she said. Then, with a slight squeal of rubber on the hard floor, John?s father wheeled himself into the room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw John straighten and clench his fists, just for a moment before I saw his fingers relax. His father might have been gaunt, emaciated even, confined to a wheelchair and depending on a clear oxygen line running from a concealed bottle to his left nostril, but I saw the resemblance immediately. For all the wreck of his body, his eyes were bright and his thin mouth quirked into something like a smile as he looked me up and down. ?Nat,? he said. His voice was choked and stony, only a little more than a whisper. ?So pleased to discover you are actually a real woman.? His shoulder shook for a moment while he made some grim, wheezing noises that made me wonder if he were coughing his last, until I saw the smiles on Angela?s and Amelia?s faces and realised he was laughing. ?We all thought he?d made you up.? He wheezed some more. ?Had a horrible feeling he was going to walk through the door one day holding hands with some bloody poof.? ?Dad!? said Angela. He waved a dismissive hand towards her. ?Leave me alone, Angela. Here she is, look; as real and almost as lovely as you.? He held out his hand and I shook it, scared of exerting too much pressure in case I crushed his, but he gripped me firmly. Having no close family of my own, being immersed in somebody else?s where they all got on well together was a new experience for me. Over dinner they laughed, teased and treated each other like close friends. More than that, each of them, even his mother, took the trouble to include me so I wasn?t sitting in silence. By the end of it I found myself smiling and joining in, as though everything were perfectly natural. I don?t think a group of strangers had ever made me so welcome. If only John hadn?t been so cool it would have been a perfect evening. Maybe it was the anxiety about having me meeting his parents, his father?s impending death or just fatigue from his night shifts, but I was certain much of it was me - Natalie. We had separate rooms upstairs, John and I. They weren?t even adjacent. The house seemed to have many bedrooms, though the master bedroom was downstairs, but mine had an air of disuse about it. However, the double bed?s bedding smelt delightfully fresh and there were flowers brightening the dressing table. A bookcase held a few bodice-rippers and family sagas that didn?t interest me at all. Beyond them was a pine wardrobe and a full length mirror that I stood before in silent contemplation of my new gender. Despite everything a grin crept up my face as I stood there in silent contemplation - I was a woman! I shrugged off my jacket, unzipped the skirt and let it whisper to the floor around my feet. I threw the blouse on the bed and there I was, in my underwear and nylons, a creature of smooth curves, of softness - female, maybe even pretty. Reaching behind my back I unfastened my bra and let my breasts free, studying their dark nipples, their rise from my chest and the way the undercurve felt to my fingers, before pushing down my panties. Nothing I saw, nothing I touched seemed alien. With a hand cupping the warmth between my legs I tried to imagine there was a cock there, the weight of hanging balls, even the sensation of John going down on me, of his tongue swirling around the tip of my cock. It wasn?t real though. Real was the soft pressure of lips against my hand, the swell of my breasts and tickle of hair around my shoulders. Whatever I had been, I was a woman now. My grin widened. To music only I could hear I danced before the mirror, I swayed gracefully, sinuously, arms over my head. I threw my head back and stifled a giggle. "I?m a woman," I mouthed to the mirror and blew my gloriously female reflection a kiss. "A woman!" But how? I rolled down the stockings, cleared away the remains of my make up and showered. The hot water soothed me somewhat and I held in my mind the goal of getting away from this lovely house, to get back to my place, or John?s place, to find some space where we could get a handle on this. With a towel wrapped around my breasts and hips I laid out my clothes for the morning - a flared, floral dress I could not remember buying, clean panties, black opaque tights and some flat ankle boots that wouldn?t mark the precious flooring. Then I found something sheer and weightless in my fingers. I lifted it from my bag and held it up from its fine, spaghetti straps - a gorgeous midnight blue nightdress, catching the room?s subdued light in a satin sheen. I couldn?t ever remember having worn anything so beautiful. It covered me to mid-thigh, its hem swirling away from my hips while my breasts were delicately cupped with lace so sheer my nipples were practically bare. It felt like kisses across my skin. I felt good in it, I felt sexy - no, I was sexy. What man could resist me like this? How could John turn me away? Wrapping myself in a much more modest dressing gown I peeped around my door. The house seemed quiet and dark, tucked up for the night. With bare feet I hurried along the passage to John?s door, beautifully conscious of my pussy, bare beneath dressing gown and nightie, of how my lips were warming and swelling as though they knew how close they were to John?s gorgeous cock. Holding my breath I tapped on his door. Nothing. I tapped softly again, whispered his name. ?Nat!? He sounded surprised. The door stayed shut, as though he were hiding somebody from me. ?We need to talk.? ?Not here.? ?Let me in.? John stepped back from the door, he was naked but for shorts and the way his chest caught the light made me want to kiss it. I closed us in, twisted the lock. With both hands I pushed him back to the bed and he didn?t resist. He sat heavily, looking up at me, but didn?t try to touch me. ?I wanted you to see me,? I whispered. ?I want you to look at me.? I closed my eyes. Tugged open the dressing gown?s belt. It brushed my calves on the way to the floor. The air was cool across my shoulders, tingles ran over my skin and my nipples were pushing delightfully at the sheer lace covering them. My breathing was heavier, deeper and I hooked one thumb, then the other under the nightie?s fine straps and let the negligee whisper to the floor. My hands hung beside me. I tried to keep my eyes closed and face composed, but I felt a slight, sharp intake of breath when I heard the bed move. Was he getting up, or swinging his legs away from me. The floor creaked. Just behind me. For a moment I trembled, but not from the cold. I felt I must be glowing with heat. A brush on my left shoulder. A sigh left me. Fingertips trailed delicately down my arm, I knew this touch, his hand overlaid mine and held it tight. ?Natalie,? he murmured. His breath on my other shoulder. I shushed him gently, lifted his hand under mine and softly, insistently, held it to my right breast. It was warm, so warm and I almost melted into it. A kiss touched my shoulder, he scooped my hair aside and kissed the back of my neck, so tenderly I felt a pulse between my legs. His hand squeezed my breast gently, the other wrapped me, caressed my belly, the top of my legs, the swell of my hips while he kissed my skin and I loved his breath against me and his palm so hot on my rock hard nipple. I didn?t touch him, I didn?t need too. His arousal was pressed against me, laid along my bum and his pulse quickened. He touched every part of my body he could reach, from my thighs to the tips of my fingers, around my waist and chest. He caressed my breasts and caught my nipples between his fingertips, he nipped my shoulders between his teeth until I shivered with pleasure and every time his fingers moved closer to my pussy, when they circled through the curls on my mound my breathing grew faster and more urgent. I needed him inside me, I ached for him to be my first His breathing was quicker now, his hands fell to my waist when I wanted them on my breasts, but he pushed me forward until my legs touched the bed and he bent me forward. It wasn?t the way I?d wanted it to be, I hadn?t dared to imagine we?d get this far, but I?d wanted to be on my back, shyly opening me legs while I looked up to see him mesmerised by my pussy, but this was all about him ? not me. My breasts pressed into the bed. Liquid slipped down my inner thighs. Fingers explored the outer lips of my slit, the crease of my ass; they circled my clitoris and I moaned into the bedding. Then, something new touched me - thicker and hotter than a finger. I groaned as it parted my lips, then sighed with utmost contentment as he eased his cock inside me. Better than any penetration I?d known as a man - smoother, deeper, almost frictionless. When he was all the way in, when he was filling me, he held himself there a moment, hands on my hips. I squeezed him gently, with muscles I?d never exercised before, as though I could hold him there and never let him go. He loved me so gently, so slowly I could have cried. I put my hand between my legs and felt his cock, wet with my juice, moving in and out of me, I teased my clitoris, felt his hands firm on my hips. But I wanted more than this so I angled my hips, breaking his rhythm and though I moaned at the emptiness it wouldn?t be for long. ?What?s the matter?? he whispered. I shushed him, rolled on my back and moved further onto the bed welcoming him with open arms and when I was sure he was focussed on me, I slowly spread my legs. The air was cool on my glistening pussy. There was light enough to see his eyes go down from my face, across my breasts and then linger on my bared sex. He bit his lip. Warmth rose in my cheeks, my fingers moved enticingly around my belly, along my inner thighs. For a moment I almost gave myself one, to tantalise him a little more. I wondered about dropping to my knees to take his lovely erection into my mouth, but kept myself on my back with my legs open. He watched for an age, or so it felt, before kneeling between my thighs and running his warm hands up and down them. I closed my eyes and sank down into the bed. My skin felt so smooth and soft under his touch I moaned delicately and he shushed me gently, like we were in a room full of people. I willed his fingers higher and higher, but he stayed just out of reach of my curls and the place where I was the hottest and wettest. Then I felt him shift, his weight was gone from the bed. His hands rested on my knees and then firmly pushed my legs together. I looked again as he sat beside me. He stared at the floor, not at me so I sat and covered my breasts with my arms. ?What?s the matter?? I already knew the answer. All my heat bled away into the room?s dark. I reached for the dressing gown and shrugged in on with short, angry motions. ?I?m sorry,? he said, his voice flat and low. While a whole mess of thoughts, screams and sobs whirled around in my head I kept myself perfectly still and waited for him to touch me, or to say something. He did neither. As the silence between us threatened to thicken into something neither of us could cross I stood and went for the door. ?Nat,? he whispered as I started to turn the handle. The word froze me. ?I can?t get my head around it,? he said. I waited and he sighed before speaking again. ?My boyfriend, who I loved very much, has turned into a woman.? ?Who you don?t love.? It sounded sharper and more bitter than I?d intended and I regretted the words as soon as I?d said them, but there they were left hanging between us. I wanted to slam the door, but out of respect for his sister and parents I closed it with barely a click and rushed as silently as I could to my own, lonely room. It took a while to cry myself to sleep. ?Are you a man or a woman?? I asked my reflection the next morning. It was early, earlier than I?d prefer to have been awake and looking at myself in the mirror. I could hear movement downstairs - the clatter of breakfast pots, a kettle boiling, a cat meowed. Of course my reflection didn?t answer, but the bad night I?d had with that question going over and over through my mind with only broken sleep in between showed in my reddened eyes and heavy face. Was I a woman or a man? I looked like a woman, that was clear. I turned to study my profile, no doubt in the sex I presented as. I felt like a woman. My curves, my breasts, my vulva all felt natural, I felt no disconnect with their shapes, saw nothing strange with child-bearing hips and masses of glossy, curly hair. I felt like Natalie Trent; I wanted to be her. But I had been a man, I knew that, was certain of it even though the memories felt cloudy like particularly vivid dreams. I couldn?t saw for certain when I had stopped being a man and become a woman. It had to have been sometime after Tuesday, since John and I had spent a happy, oblivious evening together with a takeaway, a movie and oral sex, but I could not be any more specific than that. Amongst the distress from John?s rejection was an absent regret that I hadn?t been able to witness my body changing. I?d read countless stories where some man either willingly or through trickery had become a woman. I?d always been entranced by the thought of watching my man?s body slowly transform; I?d have been excited beyond anything else to have seen breasts swelling from my chest, to have felt the slow dwindling of my penis and its reworking into the vulva and vagina I possessed now. My favourite fantasies though had been the ones where John was with me when I changed; when he was as excited and happy as I was. Reality, amazing as it was, had fallen way short of those happy imaginings though. What power in the world could do that to me? I didn?t believe in magic. After Mum and Dad died I?d stopped believing in any kind of god. Not only had I changed physically, my whole mind had been reworked, memories and skills had been implanted. And then there were the people around me - only John had remembered that I should have been a boy. Everybody else I had met thought I was all Natalie. I thought I was Natalie, but the only person in the world who I really wanted to see me wanted Nathan. Aside from the suit I?d worn yesterday all I had to wear today was a dress - black with a red, floral pattern. It had short sleeves, a modest neckline and a flared skirt with a hem that would finish a couple of inches above my knee. Wearing just black panties and the same bra as yesterday, which I had put on and fastened without any kind of an inexperienced fumble, I laid the dress on the bed and ran my fingers through my hair while I regarded it. This time last week I?d have loved to have the chance to wear a dress like this. Last week all I?d had were dreams and fantasies. A knock on the door made me flinch, like I?d been caught about to try on a girlfriend?s clothes. I snatched up the dress and held it over my chest. ?Nat? Nat, it?s me.? John! Opening the door a crack I peeped through. He looked like he hadn?t slept much either. ?Can I come in?? I stepped back, lay the dress over a chair and confronted him in my underwear with my hands on my hips. He didn?t look, kept his eyes down. Sat on the edge of the bed, his feet were bare and his toes curled into the rug. ?Last night...? This should be good, I thought, but I kept it to myself. ?I am really sorry, for yesterday. I don?t know, last night, I just... I didn?t want you to feel, like I was taking advantage or anything.? ?Why would you even think that? I practically threw myself at your feet.? I might have sounded harsh, but at that moment I was too bruised to be into what he might be feeling. ?I pushed you away.? ?You don?t like women, you made that clear.? ?Jeez, Nat. I?m gay - hello!? ?So was I.? ?I do love you,? he said softly. ?But?? He shrugged. ?It?s just weird. I can get my head around it.? He waved a hand helplessly at my body. His gaze flickered to mine for a second then dropped. It didn?t have it in me to glare at him any more. I dropped to the bed beside him, let my arm fall across his shoulders. For a second he held himself stiff, then, to my immense relief, I felt his weight settle against me. ?I came to see if you were ready for breakfast,? he said, his arm slipped around my waist and it felt good there. ?Didn?t want you have to go down on your own.? ?Thanks,? I said. I meant it. ?I was just getting dressed - I only have a dress, will that be okay?? He looked up, gave me a little smile. ?You looked great last night.? I?d felt great too, right up until the moment where he?d pulled away. That made me ugly, but I didn?t tell him that. I pulled on the tights, stepped into the dress and turned my back so he could zip it for me. ?Will we be friends?? I said, the words bursting from me as he had his hand on the door, ready to lead me downstairs. I was biting my lip as he turned, wringing my hands together as though I was never going to see him again. ?It?s not over yet. I want you back.? What I should have said was that I hadn?t gone anywhere, but I chose to keep that comment to myself. Breakfast didn?t start well. Angela and Edward interpreted John?s and my sleepless looks as evidence of a night of passionate sex and there were enough euphemisms to make a sit-com scriptwriter blush. Amelia pretended to be shocked, but when the awkwardness between me and John penetrated their banter she came to her own filling the silences with bright, inconsequential chatter and polite enquiries about my work and life Up North. ?I?m guessing the trip down here hasn?t been a success,? Angela said to me later on. We were out walking, me, Amelia, Angela and John. The sun was shining, the wind had dropped and the lanes around their lovely, big house were edged by flowers and fields where cows grazed or horses watched us suspiciously. It was very far away from the city I was used to. They had lent me a pair of walking boots and thick socks to go over my tights; I felt overdressed in my flowery frock, but Amelia had said I looked like a country lady and I appreciated the compliment. ?It?s been great to meet you all,? I said. We were ahead of John and Amelia who had stopped to examine some toadstools or something. ?But there?s something wrong between you two,? Angela said. She was full of that direct confidence that seems normal to those who?ve had the background and education good money can provide. She must have been a fearsome lawyer. ?We?ll get over it,? I said lightly. The breeze toyed with my hem and I wasn?t so sure. ?He?s never been good at committing to relationships,? she said. ?Like he?s always looking for something else, something extra in all the girls he?s been out with.? A cock! But I didn?t say that. She signed and then went on.?We even thought he might be, you know - gay. You heard Dad last night.? ?You thought John was bringing a man home yesterday, didn?t you? You said so.? She laughed, nervously. ?Where I got that idea from I don?t know. I was dreading it too, John coming home all loved up with some guy, who would have been lovely I?m sure.? ?Dreading it?? Another sigh. She looked back at her mum and brother, but they were a good thirty metres back now, holding hands and watching some big bird circling high above. ?Dad?s really poorly. Dying. It?s amazing he?s lasted this long.? She placed her hands under her pregnancy and rubbed it soothingly. ?He says he?s hanging on for this, wants to see his Grandson. I really want to put my baby in his arms, but he?s so fragile the slightest shock could finish him. Mum won?t let him watch the news any more.? ?And you thought that John being confirmed as gay might have done that?? ?You mustn?t judge Dad, he?s a different generation, different world.? ?It?s a good job I?m a girl then,? I said, with a very weak smile. A surprised look crossed her face and she clasped her hands to her belly again. ?He?s woken up! Having a kick. Weirdest thing to feel.? I watched her a moment, her eyes were closed, a warm smile filled her face and she looked so happy I couldn?t help myself but to smile back. Then a question popped up and I hardly realised I?d voiced it until Angela said ?of course?. She pulled up her shirt to bare her bulged tummy, took my hand and placed against her bump. She was very warm, the curve was taught under me and my hand looked very dark against her pale skin. Nothing happened for a few heartbeats, then I felt a determined kick against my hand. Then another. I?d never touched a pregnant woman like this before and shivers ran over my skin. ?Amazing!? I breathed. Angela was grinning at me. ?Isn?t it!? ?There?s a little person in there!. You?re growing a little person.? ?Told you, it?s the weirdest thing I?ve ever done.? ?Thanks,? I said, finally pulling my hand away. ?Are you making Natalie all broody there?? Amelia said as they walked up to join us. Heat rose in my cheeks, but that was nothing to the look of horror on John?s face. We walked along a canal towpath where I saw my first Kingfisher and was taught to tell the difference between Dragonflies and Damselflies. That took us a very genteel pub where a lane crossed the canal and there we had lunch. The fish and chips came highly recommended, but I didn?t have the appetite to do justice to the huge portion the waitress put before me. Angela ate most of mine as well her own pie and mash. After lunch we turned onto an old railway line that had found a new life as a cycle and bridleway. Angela held her mum back so John and I could be alone and I was grateful of the consideration. As much as I mildly resented their money, they were very nice people. ?I shouldn?t feel so comfortable as a woman,? I said, but he didn?t look up. I?d acquired a stick and swished at some nettles as we ambled along. ?I shouldn?t be comfortable wearing a dress. In fact, I like it. John, I think I?d rather wear a dress than trousers.? ?That?s great,? he said, without looking at me. ?You look good in it; better than good. It suits you.? ?I like my hair. It?s so thick and curly and heavy and I love it.? I gave him chance to comment, but he didn?t so I went on - I?d been rehearsing this in my head over lunch. ?Did you notice I?m wearing lipstick?? Not only had I put some on before I left the house, but I?d refreshed it at the pub. He nodded unhappily. ?Do you know why?? "I suppose you?re going to tell me.? ?I am going to tell you. I put it on because I like wearing lipstick.? ?I get the point, Nat.? ?No you do not, because I haven?t go to it yet. I like my boobs: they are so amazingly sensitive I almost want to keep touching them. And there?s more: I loved, absolutely loved, the way it felt last night when you effortlessly slid your erection into my very wet vagina.? ?Nat! Mum?s just back there!? ?Excuse me, but I think she probably knows how good that feels too! What I?m saying is this; I like being a woman.? He started to say something, but I pressed a finger to his lips. I was swelling with revelation, bursting with a truth. "I never told you, I was waiting fro the right moment, but it hadn?t come. I needed to be sure, to be positive in you." We walked on slowly, I took a deep breath and swished more nettles. "I always wanted to be a woman." Seven paces. I counted them, hardly able to breath. Guess how many people I?d told about that - none. Until now. "How long?" I thought there might be some wounded comment about how i should have told him, I was ready for that, but not such a simple question. "As long as I knew there was a difference between boys and girls." "You never said." "I cross dressed." It seemed stupid to be saying that when I was wandering along in a dress without anybody we passed stopping to stare or comment unkindly. When I?d been rehearsing this conversation I?d thought I might have to explain about the locked wardrobe in my spare room, the one with my small collection of skirts, blouses, dresses and shoes that had all be made so suddenly redundant. "This has all worked out well for you then, hasn?t it." My turmoil filled his words with bitterness. "Does it seem like it?s working out well to you! But yes, I feel good like this, I like being a woman." ?How can you even know that?? he almost shouted, controlling himself after the first syllable. ?You only changed yesterday, the day before. You can?t just like being female when you?re supposed to be a bloke!? He shook his head. ?Every time I see you; your mannerisms, smile - everything - I see my amazing Nat. Only in a dress.? I told you I was reading John better and better all the time didn?t I? There was real pain in his voice and I knew that the point I was going to make was the right one. ?I have always wished I was female, I?ve often wished for the bottle to take hold of my life and transition, but now I?ll get to the point. I?ll give all this up for you.? ?What do you mean?? ?I?ll be a man again, for you. To get your love back, so you?ll look at me and smile they way you used to.? He laughed, but it was a sad laugh. ?How are we going to do that?? ?Thank you, Nat might have been nice.? ?Am I being a knob again?? I nodded. ?Thank you, Nat.? His arms were folded protectively across his chest, we?d ground to a halt and I noticed in my peripheral vision that Amelia and Angela had stopped too; they must have recognised the tension between us. Reaching out I took one of his hands and pulled it from that defensive posture. He allowed me to and I held his hand tight and pulled him back into a walk, like he was a reluctant child. ?I?ve been thinking about this,? I said. ?Somebody did this to me.? ?I know. But how!? ?Shhh. The how? God knows, but why? Why would somebody make me into a woman? What would be the point?? ?Just some random bloody mindedness?" He looked at me and scowled, but not because of me, because of his words. "Sorry, Nat. An act of random kindness." I shook my head, hair brushed his face. ?I don?t think it was random, though it was done with kindness.? ?How did you come to that?? ?Because I?m a woman. If you hadn?t reacted so badly yesterday...? ?Sorry about that.? ?...I might never have realised what had happened, I don?t even know when it was done. Whoever changed me made it so I was happy being a woman, I?m comfortable like this. Imagine if I?d woken up yesterday expecting to have a shit, shower and a shave before I went to work and found these!? I indicated my breasts. ?Awkward?? he suggested. ?Maybe, at first. But even though this is something wonderful, as far as I?m concerned, imagine me walking into work like this and them expecting to see me the man!" I glanced his way and almost tripped over a rock. My feet were feeling a little sore by now, they weren?t used to this sustained hiking, but other than that I was enjoying the experience. ?I really got excited about getting dressed up for you yesterday. I thought you?d go mad for stockings and heels.? He squeezed my hand and we walked in a more companionable quiet for a few minutes. ?How will we do it?? he asked. ?How can we get you back to being Nathan if we don?t know how you got to be Natalie?? ?Do we accept that I have had my sex changed? And if we do, we accept that it must have been done through some unconventional, unknown means?? ?Magic?? He snorted, but that was what I had decided. ?We have to find who did it.? ?A bloody wizard, some weird Hogwarts graduate with a bit of "growus mammarious" and a wand! How will we do that?? ?I think I know,? I said, with a glance in Angela?s direction. ?But the same part of the spell that makes everybody but you see Natalie has affected her. I don?t think she remembers.? Then I told him about the conversation I?d had earlier with his sister. We had to leave after an early breakfast on Sunday morning - John had an aggregate train to take out of Peak Forest later in the day. He hadn?t had chance to speak to Angela before we left and I think he was relieved; that conversation was going to need some planning. Nor did he want to talk about it in the car with me, or about much else for that matter. After enduring the silence until Birmingham I dozed for the rest of the journey. He dropped me outside my flat, but declined to come inside for a coffee. I almost took that badly and bit, but his fingers were white around the steering wheel again and I could feel the tension crackling from him. Instead I leant towards him and brushed a kiss over his cheek. ?I love you,? I whispered as we separated. ?I know. It means a lot.? Funny how John should be coping worst with the whole Nathan/Natalie thing. But, and this was how I consoled myself over the next couple of weeks, surely that showed how much he did care for me. I didn?t see much of him, and he didn?t phone for a few days, but we messaged each other fairly frequently. As much as I missed him, and it was painful that I had to go through that time without anybody to talk to, I gave him the space he clearly needed and focussed on becoming male again - assuming Angela was able to recall who or what she had spoken with to have caused this. Assuming it was her. There were a lot of grey areas in this plan. Waking for the Monday morning return to work and introduction to Ruth?s job, I took a long hard a look at the naked Natalie in the mirror. This womanhood was everything I had wished for, but I had to balance it against my love for John and my wish to grow happier with him. It was an awful choice. This woman was me - how could I go back to Nathan after experiencing this? How could John expect me to give this up, for him? In short, he didn?t. I had made the offer. Turning sideways, to admire the firm curves of my breasts, the sightly convex line of my tummy and long legs I told myself there were other fish in the sea. Out there somewhere would be a heterosexual John who could love me, the woman. But that wouldn?t be the Actual John. The John I loved. Who loved me. (Though he was very cold at the moment.) Why can?t he accept you like this? Why can?t he change to love you? Because he?s gay, stupid. It seemed so unfair, but completely right. (And besides, there might be no way back to Nathan.) If I was only going to be a woman for a few weeks, at least I could enjoy it - make the most of it. That Monday I wore an elegant calf length skirt, which flowed around my nylon dressed legs very sensually, along with my black heels and a scoop necked top. Adding some discreet lipstick and the smallest ear studs in my collection I felt smart and wonderfully feminine. On Thursday, after lunch, I was very surprised and a little embarrassed when a tidy bunch of red roses was delivered to the surgery for me. The girls were delighted, I blushed, but smiled when I read the simple note that accompanied the flowers - I have been a complete bellend. Taken on it?s own, the note might have been ambiguous, but with the beautiful roses I felt like singing for the rest of the day. He phoned me after tea. That silly smile spread over my face to hear his voice again. ?I missed you,? I sighed. ?I should have phoned earlier.? Now it was his turn to sigh. ?I?m too stupid sometimes.? ?The flowers are lovely, thank you so much.? There was a pause, you could almost hear him thinking. ?Has anyone ever bought you flowers before?? Nobody ever had. ?I loved them, thank you.? ?I?d never have thought of sending you flowers... before.? ?I still love them, they were on my desk all day and the people at work were making fun, very gently, not really meaning it, and they?re desperate to see a picture of you.? ?You okay, Nat?? ?Never better. How are you?? ?I mean really okay.? ?Really really okay. John, it?s me. This is me, until... you know, with Angela.? ?I can?t talk now,? he said suddenly. ?Work, you know. Come around on Saturday. Actually I?ll pick you up. 6ish. Okay? I?ll cook.? ?I love you,? I said. ?I love you too.? I was in skinny jeans and a loose top, with an Alice band holding my hair from my face, dangly earrings and subtle lipstick. Having had a quick look in the shops during my lunchbreak the day before I was wearing my brand-new, dark tan and high-heeled, knee length boots for the first time. When I became Nathan again they could go to the charity shop and make somebody else happy. John looked tired, he?d been on some night shifts, but he smiled to see me, let me kiss him and took my hand to show me what he?d made. Sausages and mash! Hardly romantic food, but he?d clearly taken some trouble and it was a good dinner. After clearing up we settled on the sofa and watched a movie together. When I rested my hand on his thigh he stiffened slightly, but didn?t move it away. It was almost like the old times, laughing at the comedy, being impressed with the CGI, enjoying his company. ?My flat?s still the same,? I nodding towards the door, after he?d gave me a quick, sisterly hug beside his car. ?I?m really tired.? ?You haven?t mentioned Angela.? I?d been thinking about mentioned her all through the evening, but had been waiting for him to bring her up. ?I?m really sorry, but she?s out of the country at the moment. Some legal conference, Europe!? It wasn?t the right time to point out that he didn?t need to apologise, but I was hoping he?d have noticed how comfortable I was. So I just gave him a bright smile, another kiss and went to my lonely bed and to imagine seducing him all over again. This time without a cock. Ruth had her baby on the following Tuesday. It was all a bit sudden. She?d been at home on Sunday morning, washing the pots, when her waters broke. Her boyfriend drove her to hospital, both of them terrified it was all a bit early, and after a longish labour Holly Jemima was born in the small hours. Despite being tiny, Ruth brought her into show everyone on Friday and despite my protestations I found myself cradling the mite with all the women cooing around me. I wasn?t sure if I?d ever held a baby before, certainly not such a newborn. Holly was half asleep, but she seemed to settle in my arms while I stared with amazement at her little fingers, dimpled arms and the perfection of her upturned nose and bright eyes. Somebody took a picture of us, Holly smacked her lips together a couple of times, then she turned towards me and started nuzzling at my breast. ?She must be hungry,? Ruth said, reaching out for her daughter, but I held her a little longer as the awesome potential of my new body hit me. I could make one of these and then I could feed it, protect it, rear it. I could be a mother. ?Oh my god!? Toni gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. ?Look at her, look at her! Twenty quid says she?s got one of her own before this one goes to school!? I was blushing again, handing Holly back and muttering about commitments. Ruth settled herself into the chair in the corner of the office, bared a breast and started feeding contentedly while keeping up her end of the conversation. I tried to concentrate on some admin, but I couldn?t stop myself turning to watch - drawn to the clean simplicity of an overjoyed new mother feeding her baby. John seemed to be working as much overtime as he could. We spoke on the phone most days and messaged each other in between. We met a few times over the next couple of weeks - cinema, football and other bland stuff came up in conversation, but never Angela. I supposed it might be a difficult business - arranging some occult individual to reverse whatever it was you?d had done in the first place. Maybe it was going to cost a lot of money, which might account for all the overtime John was doing. To fill the gap left by John I found myself spending lots of time with some of the women from work. Though I?d been there two years my previous gender and self-consciousness had tended to keep me a little distant from them. Now when they invited me for a drink after work, or to join them at the gym I accepted and enjoyed their company. We even met up with Ruth and Holly a few times and every time I found Holly in my arms that warm feeling of wonder spread through me - even if they did tease me for being broody. Then, about three weeks after I?d become Natalie, John took me out for a meal, in a nice Italian restaurant I?d walked past a few times without ever having being inside. I said I?d meet him there and took a taxi. His eyes widened dramatically when I stepped into the restaurant and let a waitress take my coat. A couple of diners, mostly men, noticed me too. Keeping my chin up I practically glided through the tables to where he was waiting, he rose to meet me and I stooped to kiss him; thanks to my very daring heels which made me much taller than him. Our greeting was warm, a slightly prolonged kiss, his hands resting on my hip?s swell. Smoothing my dress under me I sat gracefully and he took both my hands, held them warmly and leant forward towards me. ?You look amazing,? he said. ?Just a few things I threw on,? I said lightly. ?Just grabbed the first dress I saw,? I fibbed. Agonised for ages was closer to the truth. The sleeveless, purple dress was brand new, along with the matching shoes, though I?d almost run from the flat in a sloppy jumper and jeans. ?But thank you. How are you?? He pulled a face. ?I have missed you so much.? To hear him say it with such heartfelt conviction was enough to lift a smile to my lips. I squeezed his hands. ?And I missed you.? ?Even after how I?ve been?? ?I needed to give you space.? ?I?m not sure I deserved it.? He sighed, never taking his eyes from mine. Hopefully he?d appreciate the understated effects of eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner Jessica had helped me with before I?d left work. ?You are beautiful, Natalie.? That made me look away, with my cheeks warming. I suppose that was the effect I?d been working towards, but to hear it said by John pricked my modesty. He?d never called me that before - gorgeous, handsome, sexy, well-fit: never beautiful. ?I bought you something,? he said, but I only let go of his hand reluctantly so he could reach into his jacket pocket and produce a small gift box. Inside was a pair of dangly earrings - a stylised sun with wavy rays spread around it and a crescent moon, both in black with gold edging. I loved that they matched, but were different. ?They?re lovely, thank you.? I?d been expecting a neck chain or something androgynous. ?Saw them in town earlier, on a market stall and just... Well, it was a bit of impulse really. If you don?t, you know, Angela will like them.? ?No chance!? I was already unthreading the hoops I was wearing so they could be deftly replaced with John?s sun and moon. When I moved my head I felt them brush my skin, like he was touching me. ?Do they look okay?? He nodded, you could see he was pleased I liked them, that I?d worn them straight away. The waitress came to take our order and through the drinks and the food, which was heavenly, we talked of work and nothing and nonsense so easily it felt like the interruption to our relationship hadn?t happened at all. I knew exactly why I?d fallen in love with him and by the time we walked from the restaurant I knew that I?d do whatever he wanted, that I?d be Nathan again to cement our happiness. And it seemed that I would certainly be Nathan in another week or so. Keeping his voice low, in case the other diners heard, he told me the plan he and his sister had come up with. Angela knew what to do - she hadn?t gone into the details, but it was possible to reverse what had been done to me. Next weekend we would go to London, to her expensive house and it would probably be done there. I had a week of woman left. Again we paused outside my flat, with the night wind teasing my hem and cool through my tights. We shared a long, slow kiss that finished with him inside my arms and pressed tight to my body. My breathing was rushing when we separated and I bit my lip nervously before inviting him inside. The first time we were quick, frantic even. Our clothes were left tangled across the hallway and living room floor; we didn?t even bother to close the curtains and made love in the street lamp?s glow. With his cum leaking deliciously down my inner thighs I took his hand and led him to the bedroom where things were slower, cuddlier and much more intense. We tasted each other?s bodies, I enjoyed him in my mouth again while he considerately held my hair away from my face. He licked clean my swollen pussy without reservation and kissed my mouth deeply afterwards - l loved the mingled tastes from both of us. When we were done, when he was almost asleep with a hand cupping one of my breasts and his sleepy breath warm on my shoulder I stared into the dark. The echoes and embers of my orgasms kept drowsiness back and left too much space to think. Some of that darkness crept inside me and I trembled a little to imagine what was going to happen to me. Was is better to have been a woman for this short time than to never have been a woman at all? ?John?? I whispered. He murmured a response. ?When it happens, don?t tell me. Don?t warn me, let it happen in my sleep again, so I don?t know.? Another murmur. It was enough. I kissed him again and closed my eyes. The day came when we were to travel to London to see Angela, only I didn?t want to talk about it. I hadn?t known what to pack or what to wear. The change might not even happen, it might come in a few more days, but that was for John and Angela to work out - along with whatever force was going to bring my old male shape back. Staring out of the train?s window while John slept on my shoulder I was pretending we were just like any other couple heading to the capitol for the weekend. Anybody who paid us any more than casual interest might imagine us going for a show, some sport or maybe an exhibition at one of the museums. John?s hand rested on my thigh, he was snoring gently, and the tips of his fingers were just under my flared, floral skirt. It was quite short and didn?t cover much leg, but I had silky opaque tights for that. Beyond that I wore a red cotton top under a short, denim jacket and had finished my outfit with my new, brown boots. We must have looked utterly normal - boyfriend and girlfriend - and normal had been the word John used to describe what we were going back to as we walked down the platform hand in hand. Waiting to board our train I?d sat on his knee with my legs crossed and an arm draped around his shoulders while I tickled him with my hair. I?d never be able to do that again, when we were back to his normal. But this wasn?t about me, it was about him. At least John had seemed happier than I?d seen him since it had happened. Though he had frowned a little when he?d looked at me properly outside the railway station. ?When did you get the stud in your nose?? ?I had it done on Wednesday, at lunch time. Always liked them.? ?It suits you.? He?d bent forward to kiss it and I let him, but you could almost hear him thinking about what that stud meant to me. I was wearing his earrings too, but you could hardly see them as my hair was down and proud and loose around me. Sometimes having it constantly blown into my eyes and face was irritating, but I didn?t want to tie it tamely out of the way just now. If it all went to plan I wasn?t going to miss it and I might not even have a memory of those glorious curls, but at that moment the thought of having short hair again wasn?t an exciting one. Maybe I could grow it out afterwards. We got the tube from Euston station, came out in Richmond and walked the half a mile to Angela?s rather smart house. Being a lawyer in London clearly came with its perks, but I didn?t like to imagine how much a house like this would cost. Her husband was a Major in a fashionable regiment and spent a fair amount of time overseas on unmentionable missions which probably helped contribute to covering the costs. I hoped it didn?t leave her too lonely though, I found it bad enough with John?s shifts, but at least he was in the country. Angela, round and ripe and ready to pop, let us in through the gleaming front door with a warm hug for John then a wary look for me as I waited on the door mat with the bags. I tried a little smile for her and was surprised when she burst into tears and seized my hands in hers. ?Nat, oh I am so sorry, really really sorry. I had no idea.? To be honest, I hadn?t really considered Angela?s feelings in all this mix up. After taking a moment to get over my surprise, I showed some sisterly solidarity and pulled her into a hug. The warm, firm curve of her pregnancy and her swelling breasts pressed intimately into me making me think of Ruth and Holly; of how the baby had felt in my arms. ?It?s okay,? I murmured, stroked her hair and whispered reassurances while she sobbed and made a damp patch on my shoulder. "I can make it right, I promise," she said, wiping her tears away, though she wouldn?t meet my eyes. "The people who can do it are all set." ?It?s okay, really. It?s been... I?ve enjoyed it, I?ve been happy.? That seemed to reassure her a little and she led us into the kitchen at the back of the house. It was all very clean and well arranged, everything seemed to go with everything else in a casual, understated way - not flashy, not pretentious. It was a good house, it felt welcoming and there was a glorious smell of home cooking that contrasted with the buffet car sandwiches we?d shared for lunch. There was lasagna and salad, hot garlic bread and chilled white wine thrown haphazardly onto a chunky, oak table. A cat wowed around her legs while she served up and it all seemed very remote from magical gender transformations. The meal was delicious, though I was almost too anxious to chew and the conversation was stilted making the clattering cutlery seem too loud. After a good ten minutes I decided to confront the elephant in the room with a one word question. ?Why?? My question caught her with her wine glass poised at her lips. It froze there. John watched his food and I watched his sister. She looked smaller than she had at her parents?. ?John said you?d worked it out.? ?To protect your Dad?? ?Yes.? ?From John?s homosexuality?? She nodded. ?I suppose it sounds very selfish to you, but if John had come home with Nathan-? "I?m here in the room." ?Sorry, I don?t know how to... differentiate.? I could have said something cruel about tits and balls, I had the right, but she was so upset I wouldn?t give myself to the sadistic notion. Instead I reached over and laid my hand over hers. "I know about prejudice." ?I?m sure it?s very easy for somebody like me to... to dismiss it.? She sipped her wine. ?I want my Dad to see his grandchild. That?s what I was thinking, obsessing about. It?s made me overprotective of him. I tried to persuade John not to bring you to see them.? ?We had a real bust up over it,? he said. ?But he was determined -? "I wanted Dad to see me, who I was." ?It was a wish,? Angela said slowly. ?That was all." Her expression said that wasn?t all. What would a wish like that cost somebody? What would it cost to reverse it. "I wished that John could fall in love with a woman.? ?Wishes don?t come true,? I almost blurted, but stopped the words. That I was sitting in her kitchen with breasts, heels, earrings and needing to change my tampon was evidence enough. My gender had been collateral damage in allowing a dying homophobe the chance to hold his first grandchild. ?I have,? John said into the quiet that followed. Before this idea could be explored further the front door opened and a black Labrador sped into the kitchen, skidded hopelessly on the tiles, collided with the bin, scrabbled into motion again and shot back the way it had come.? ?Hi honey, I?m home,? boomed a man from the hallway.? ?What the...? What are you doing back early?? ?Caught you with another man have I? Oh, hello John.? I guessed it was her husband, he had the look of an officer about him - pink shirt, tan slacks and worn, but expensive brogues. He was tall and tanned, except around the eyes, and possessed of a mouth always upturned at the corners. Angela got a hug, he patted her bump affectionately, shook John?s hand and kissed my cheek. The Labrador was so excited to see Angela again it pissed on the floor while the cat hid. ?War finished ahead of schedule this week, tea and medals were sorted efficiently so we came home for an early bath. Thought I?d try and catch the filly bonking the pizza delivery man and here she is in a family reunion. Haven?t seen you, old boy, since the wedding. How?s the railfreight industry?? He helped himself to a vast plate of lasagne, finished the garlic bread and salad, but wouldn?t touch the wine preferring a tall glass of water. Suddenly the kitchen seemed very small and though Simon was a perfect host and didn?t dominate, as I?d expected, the whole evening with tales of heroism and sacrifice, or just soldiers passing the time, there was no room for any talk of wishes or what was going to happen to me. Not that it was an unpleasant way to end the day, but there was unfinished business when we went up to bed. Maybe I?d get another woman day. On the way we were shown the nursery, freshly decorated and awaiting a baby. To see Angela and Simon leaning against the cot, in each other?s arms, each with a hand resting on her bump and so obviously happy was enough to bring a smile to anybody?s face. Angela looked gorgeous, pregnancy suited her and that broody envy lifted sadly around me as I watched her. Our bed looked wide and soft and I have to say I was ready for it. A long day of unresolved tension left me yawning; my breasts ached, I had intermittent abdominal cramps and caught some of my pubic hair when I was trying to settle a sanitary towel in my knickers. ?I can?t even begin to guess how you?ve got your head around all that,? John said, trying not to stare while he sat on the edge of the bed in his boxers. ?I?ve never had a breeding cycle before,? I said, forcing brevity and pulling a nightie on. "Give me a couple of weeks I?ll be on heat. To be fair, the trade off with periods against the better quality of public toilets is almost worth it." ?You?re amazing. Come to bed, beautiful,? he said, pulling the covers back and making a space for me. I made him take off his boxers before I cuddled up and I stroked his body absently as I felt him drifting off to sleep. My fingers find his cock and caressed it gently, making it stir but not go fully hard - he was practically snoring by then. I?d wanted to feel his weight on top of me one last time, to gasp to feel him stretching and filling me, making me feel complete - making me feel like a woman. Menstruating had put paid to that idea. When I woke some time later moonlight was making shadows in the room and a fox was barking somewhere outside. A desperate urge to pee hurried me to the toilet, but I?d only taken a couple of steps away from the bed before I realised that my body felt wrong. A cold flush made a statue of me, but for the trembling. The wish had done its thing and I was Nathan again! Then I looked down and saw my breasts, full and proud through the nightie?s satin. It was just below them I was different - my belly had got rounder and bigger, the nightie was tight across it and I could see the pert shape of my tummy button peaking the material. Feeling my jaw drop, I let my hands fall to my tummy. It was taut and firm, not flabby, warm to the touch. I was pregnant! Only about half way gone, some cool part of my brain estimated while the rest of it did flip flops. Having a baby! How? (Not how exactly - I know that bit) but when I?d gone to sleep I?d been on my period, my belly as flat as a young woman?s should be. There was a baby growing inside me! Amazing, incredible - wonderful! A little giggle escaped me, I clapped a hand to my mouth to stifle any more laughter in case I woke John. No wonder I needed to pee so desperately. I hurried into the bathroom, lifted the nightie away from my gloriously round pregnancy, sat and let go. It felt wrong. I cried out again, a more anguished sound, when I looked past my baby and saw what had happened. My clitoris was longer, too long, much longer than when aroused. Worse than that, it was thicker and much worse than that - I was urinating out of it. By the time the last drips had fallen I was crying because I could see my clitoris growing. I watched my labia start to close, from top to bottom and when I tried to put in a finger it was pushed out determinedly by a round tenderness of testicles. How was my baby going to be born now! ?No, no, no,? I moaned, each word becoming huskier than the last. My breasts tingled and squirmed as they withered away so I would never be able to feed my own milk to a baby. With a farewell caress around my shoulders my hair wriggled away inside my scalp. After a few seconds I was left a man in a nightdress, sitting sobbing on a toilet with my larger, hairier hands clasped protectively around my round belly. Even that started to dwindle, until there was no baby, no sign of one ever having been there. No chance of there ever being one. I couldn?t stop the crying now, I sobbed and sobbed; face clasped to my knees, shaking with the raw misery of the emptiness inside that could never be filled. There was a light touch on my shoulder. ?Nat?? I shook my head. I had no voice to describe what had just happened to me. ?Nat? Natalie! What?s wrong? Look at me? Does it hurt, are you still getting the cramps?? That made me laugh - a cruel, harsh sound. Cramps! Why should I get them. ?Nat! Look at me.? I didn?t fight when he gently lifted my head. He pushed hair from my eyes, brushed at the tears and I saw him properly in the moonlight - face etched with pain and worry. I noticed properly the curls crowding my vision, looked down and saw my nightdress was still properly filled by my firm breasts. There was no baby, but neither was there a penis or balls disfiguring me between my thighs. ?I?m so sorry,? I mumbled with a little voice. ?I had a nightmare.? He led me back to the bed and wrapped me in the bedding and his own heat until my shivering subsided. ?What were you dreaming about?? ?A baby. I want to have a baby,? I mumbled into his shoulder. I felt so bad saying it - betraying him, me - our love - but the feeling was too big, too powerful to keep to myself. ?It?s okay, Nat. You don?t have to worry about that. Angela?s going to take care of it. I promise.? ?No!? I pulled away from him, so he could hear me properly. ?John, I?m really sorry, but I can?t go through with it. I want to have a baby. Not now, but I do.? He went quiet. I think he?d even stopped breathing. His body stiffened and I braced myself ready to be pushed away. The dream?s misery rolled back and I started crying again, knowing how badly I was letting him down. There was a knock at the door. While trying to stifle my weeping in the pillow I heard Angela, ?What?s the matter, I heard crying. Is it Nat? What?s happened?? ?Nothing,? John said, firmly. He sat up, but replaced the covers over me, like a barrier between us. I thought his voice was cold. ?Nothing?s happened?? Angela pressed. ?We weren?t expecting it tonight, were we?? ?Expecting what?? That was Simon. I could imagine them both filling the door, morbid curiosity pressing them to look at my unhappiness. ?Go back to bed,? Angela ordered. ?I only-? ?Women?s trouble, Go!? The door was closed, weight that wasn?t me or John settled on the bed. ?Nat?? I knew it was Angela from the length of her fingernails. ?I don?t want to be a man,? I sniffed, talking into the pillow so I didn?t have to look at either of them. ?But, I thought...? Now Angela sounded confused. ?John?? ?I don?t want her to be either.? It was my turn to forget to breathe. ?Angie, you wished that I?d fall in love with a woman.? ?I know, but you?re-? ?In love with Natalie.? I sniffled again, wiped my eyes and sat up, turning to face them both. John was staring at me and I?d seen that look before, when I was a man, and the warmth in it quite dried my tears. My lips parted, like I was about to say something, but my tongue was too dry to even croak. ?I?ve always been in love with her. For the last few weeks I?d just forgotten how much. I?ve been struggling to think of anything else when we?re apart.? He looked to the ceiling for a moment, seeking inspiration perhaps. ?I can barely remember what she looked like before.? I felt him take my hands, lift them in turn for a kiss and I wondered if I was dreaming again. If I was, I liked it much better than the last one. ?I never stopped loving you, Natalie.? I loved the way he said my name and I was crying again, feeling silly and happy and relieved all at the same time. When John and I finally moved in together, six months after that, there was, in a prominent place in the hallway, a photo of John and his family; John himself, Amelia forcing a smile, Angela looking dark-eyed weary and at the centre, cocooned in a hospital bed and machines, Edward holding baby Rebecca. So they?d all go their wish. My place in the group was at the side, slightly to the rear - I hadn?t wanted to be included, but Angela had insisted. "You deserve it," she?d said, like being in the portrait was some kind of reward I?d be massively excited about. I?d been wearing wide-legged trousers, stiletto heeled boots and a low cut top with my hair a brilliant mass of curls so you might say I?d got my wish too. My hand, my manicured hand, rested on John?s shoulder, like a girlfriend?s should, but our relationship was more complicated than that. John had wanted that picture in the living room, but I had got my way so that dead man wasn?t staring down at me in the one room in the house where I should be able to slouch and tuck my feet under me and not care who was looking. Considering the old man?s views on homosexuality I was still surprised John wanted any reminders of his dad about the house, but families are strange and wonderful things, and we?d never have managed to buy this lovely house together without the bequest his dad left John. I suppose eighteen months had passed before the day when I hurried into our house, full of excitement, after stopping at a chemist on the walk back from the station I used now I commuted by train. Closing the front door behind me I slipped off my heels and padded quietly past the closed living room door to the stairs, heading for my bedroom. "Hiya, Nat. Good day?" "Not bad," I called back. "Got something for you, but I need to pee first." In a more conventional family my room would have been the master bedroom. It had the best views, out across the meadow and copse behind the garden, the best en-suite and more importantly the biggest fitted wardrobes; in making up for lost time I?d been happily trying and buying new, beautiful clothes. John had the next biggest room, while Al - who had a minimalist outlook on property - preferred the cosy bedroom. Without bothering to close the door, I unpackaged my purchase, hitched up my skirt, shimmied down tights and panties and, determined not to get any pee on my hands, used all my pelvic floor control to flood over the tip of the little plastic wand I?d bought. After a minute of staring, when I thought my eyeballs might dry out through not blinking, they filled with tears and big smile spread over my face. Hurriedly rearranging my clothes, and swelling with excitement, I rushed downstairs and burst into the living room. John and Al were comfortably sprawled on one of the sofas, the TV was on, but muted in the background and I didn?t think they?d been watching it for a warm, sexy scent suggested they?d been enjoying each other. John?s face was flushed, Al?s shirt and jeans were unfastened. Though they had turned at my entrance, their proximity meant they?d ben kissing. "Wow, Nat! Did you win the lottery?" said Al. "Better than that." I could hardly talk through my grin. "We?re having a baby, I?m pregnant" In seconds I was surrounded, warmly pressed between the two of them, wrapped in close embraces. I had to kiss each in turn, though they kissed each other too; John?s hand pressed my tummy, Al?s was on my bum squeezing me through my skirt. "Whose is it?" said John, with a smile. "Mine. Ours, yours, silly." Al laughed, he kissed me again. "Congratulations. You?ll be wonderful parents." While there had been a few mornings when I?d woken up between them, and while I?d found Al to be a very gentle, considerate lover, John?s body drew him like mine never could. His lean, athletic frame attracted both me and John, and I loved him as he loved me, but not in the same way he loved John. And that was cool, more than cool - it was fun; it was wild and exciting and it had to be: this three way embrace I was enjoying so much was the compromise between me being Natalie, John being John and me being his girlfriend. With John?s shifts, Al working away much of the time and the extra hours I spent at the practice as we extended our appointment times there it all seemed to work pretty well. I was never lonely! "We will be, all of us," I said. "How long have you known?" said John. "I missed my period last week. I just confirmed it. I?m pregnant! I?m going to have a baby!" Al disengaged himself, said something about a toast and went off to the kitchen. I dimly heard a cork pop a few moments later, but I was focussed more on John at that moment. His arms pulled my close, his tongue was playing with mine and his hands were under my skirt. I couldn?t have been happier.