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Slow Smoldering Revenge Helen was my boss. Around two years ago I had reason to question some tax advice she had provided to a client. At the time I was 59 and was a senior tax adviser for a major firm of accountants. To ensure accuracy it was necessary for advice to be checked by a second person, in my case by Helen, and in her case by the tax partner. Although I was Helen's junior I had considerable more experience than she did having worked for many year for a major bank and having advised many very well known individuals. I think Helen was jealous of my experience. To be absolutely certain Helen's advice was wrong I referred it to my colleague Alison. Alison was also a senior tax adviser although with much less experience than I had. Alison was, I guess, in her mid forties. Alison confirmed my view Helen's advice was wrong. Alison and I agreed we'd achieve nothing by confronting Helen with the facts so we went direct to the senior tax partner. In fact we suspected Helen might even interfere with computer records to expunge the advice she had given. We learned later Helen had been given a written warning. Alison and I felt elated even though we had to put up with Helen. She was like a bear with a sore head for several weeks. Then one Friday amongst my post was a Manila A4 envelope. I opened it to find 10 glossy photographs of me and Alison in highly pornographic sexual positions. They were very graphic. There was also a note enclosed in the envelope. "Be alongside my car after work tonight. Otherwise everyone , and I mean everyone will receive copies of the photographs. Just imagine what your sister, clients and colleagues will say if they see them." Of course Alison's and my head had been photoshopped onto the bodies of a man and women having intimate sex. But my sister etc wouldn't know that nor would other members of our families or friends. The photographs had been very well done. I didn't feel I had any choice. I was alongside Helen's car in the underground car park at the appointed hour. Helen gave me a lift home to my apartment even though it was an easy walk from the office. She drove straight into my apartment's underground car park and removed four suitcases from the boot of her car. I had to carry two cases in the lift to my apartment. They were heavy. Helen carried the other two cases. They appeared to be much lighter than my two. Helen placed her two cases on the bed in my bedroom and opened them. As I surmised they were empty. Then Helen surprised me by placing further lewd photographs of me and Alison on the bed. "Now if you don't do exactly as I say copies of these photographs will instantly be sent to all your colleagues at work, family and friends." Helen was holding up her mobile phone with her hand on the send button. I capitulated and told Helen I would do as she said. "Right I want you to put all your clothes including underwear into these empty cases." I emptied my wardrobes and drawers of all my clothes as instructed including belts, shoes and even razors and aftershave etc. "Go into the bathroom and takeoff all the clothes you are wearing and put to this on" Helen said handing me a nightdress. I went into the bathroom and divested myself of all my clothes. Then I pulled the nightdress over my head and allowed it to fall down my body to my ankles. The nightdress was made of peach colored soft nylon with long sleeves elasticated at the cuffs, a Peter Pan collar and three buttons down the front. It struck me as being very old fashioned. Helen locked the two cases containing my clothes etc. She said she would collect them on Saturday early and that I would open my front door to her wearing just the nightdress I was now wearing. In the meantime I had to unpack the other two suitcases and put the contents into my wardrobes and drawers. With that Helen left my apartment. I sat on the side of the bed for around half an hour pondering what I had got myself, and Alison, into. What were going to be the repercussions of humiliating Helen. Helen certainly seemed to be keen on some form of revenge on us. If only I knew how far she was prepared to go then maybe I would have risked her revealing the photographs to colleagues, family and friends. I started to unpack the suitcases. The cases contained dresses, skirts, blouses, jumpers, twin sets, shoes, wigs, lingerie and other items of female accouterments such as makeup. I couldn't help noticing that everything seem dated much like the nightdress I was wearing. It took me a while to put everything away in the wardrobes and drawers. When I was finished I felt rather tired so after cooking myself a light dinner I went to bed much earlier than usual at 9.00pm. I woke up around 3am to find the nightdress had rucked up around my waist. It had rucked up again by the time the alarm went off at 8am. I wondered if this was a reason for the modern popularity of women sleeping in pajamas. At 8.30am the doorbell rang. As instructed by Helen I opened the door wearing the peach nightdress. Flash! Alison was with Helen and she had taken a picture of me wearing my nightdress on her phone. Helen and Alison came into my apartment and after making them coffees I was instructed by Helen to go and put on a shortie nightie. "You mean a babydoll nightdress," said Alison. Both Helen and I looked at Alison in amazement. Blushing Alison said, "Martyn bought me one once." I went to the bedroom and exchanged my peach nightdress for a baby blue babydoll one and then returned to Alison and Helen. Helen had me sit in a chair and then explained she and Alison were going to laser off all my hair. I protested but Helen reminded me of the photographs. Helen said hair lasering can be painful and she gave me a glass of water and two slightly different white pills to take. I swallowed both pills. Whilst Helen started lasering from my feet upwards Alison was told to remove all my pubic hair. We all had a light lunch at 1.00 pm and then I was instructed to replace the nightdress with a pair of white nylon full cut knickers so the lasering could continue on my upper body including the hair on the top of my head, face and eyebrows. Again I protested but to no avail. Helen had had me take further pills at lunchtime and when all my hair had been removed around 5.00 pm. I certainly needed the painkillers. I hurt all over. Leaving me wearing just the knickers both Alison and Helen left with the latter saying she would be back on Sunday. However before I was left alone Alison took further pictures of me wearing the knickers and totally bald. I was told to wear the peach nightdress again the next day. I opened the door next morning to let Helen in and she had me sit in the same chair. What a sight I must have looked. A hairless and bald middle aged man wearing a woman's old fashioned fashioned nightdress. "You must be wondering what's happening to you. I'm going to tell you. BUT remember I have very compromising photographs of both you and Alison. I've no doubt you would risk being exposed as a pervert to you colleagues, family and friends but I don't think you want that to happen to Alison do you. So you will do exactly as I say. You're taking next week off to prepare for your new life.....as a woman. You will notify HR and the partners that you are transitioning to become a woman and that as part of that process you need to live and work as a woman for twelve months. You will be returning to work Monday week dressed as a woman and that you expect everyone to respect your decision and allow you to get on with your new life without any discrimination." Well as you can expect I was pole axed. I wasn't exactly thinking clearly when Helen led me into the bedroom and told me to strip off the nightdress and put on a pair of black nylon knickers similar to the white ones I wore the day before. Then Helen had me lie on my back on the bed. She produced from her briefcase a linen bag from which she took out two silicone mounds. In answer to my look of surprise Helen said, "These are realistic and very expensive breast forms. How else do you think you will look like a real woman if you don't have breasts." Helen took one of the forms and applied some form of adhesive on the back and then carefully positioned it on my chest ensuring the indentation fitted tightly over my nipple. She repeated the process with the other breast form. Helen instructed to remain prone and still for fifteen minutes whilst the adhesive set. She also said once set the breast forms could not be removed without the correct solvent. Fifteen minutes later Helen applied something around the breasts forms so the join between them and my chest could barely be seen. Then Helen had me stand up. I immediately almost fell over. Only holding onto the wardrobe prevented me from doing so. "Heavy aren't? Each one weighs around the same as a bag of sugar. Breasts grow on girls gradually so they get used to them. The weight is also why women wear bras as you will now do otherwise you will get bad backache. Oh and by the way you are a DD cup." Helen handed me a lace trimmed bra from my drawer that matched the black knickers I was wearing. Not knowing how to put a bra on I nestled the breasts into the large cups and then struggled to join the clips around my back. I could see Helen sniggering. Then she took pity on me and showed me how to do properly by putting the bra on back to front and then turning it round to then put the breasts into the cups. "Get used to wearing a bra John. Not only will you will need one one you'll be wearing a bra and knickers for the rest of your life." I was scared now. "Another thing you will always wear and that is a nylon slip. Full slip under a dress and jumper, twin set or dress and a half slip under a skirt and blouse. Nothing like the present in a having you dressed properly. Here put this on." Helen handed me a well worn and soft full slip. With no resistance I pulled it over my head and allowed it to fall just below my knees. It was pale pink and trimmed around both hem and bodice with matching lace. It also clearly showed I was wearing black knickers and a black bra. "Cover yourself up," Helen said handing me a brown cardigan. "Only the top button." Helen had a bizarre way of me covering up. You could still see most of the slip I was wearing. I now went back to the chair where Helen applied makeup to my face. Nothing outrageous she said just what at any woman of your age wears. She told me I would have to remove it lunchtime and reapply it and then repeat the cycle for the rest of the afternoon until I became proficient at making up my face. I was to further practice during the coming week until I became expert. On each occasion I was to take a selfie and message it to Helen so she could comment on my progress. Hair was next completing my transformation. A black bob style wig was secured to the top of my bald head with a little adhesive. It was at this stage Helen had me stand in front of a full length mirror for the first time. I was memorized. I saw a aging woman flaunting her dated underwear. Metaphorically I pinched myself in disbelief the woman I saw in the mirror was actually me. To my surprise Helen gave me what appeared to be three expensive rings and had me put them on the third finger of my left hand. A plain gold wedding ring, a gold and diamond engagement ring and a gold and sapphire eternity ring. "Now you're going to write a letter to HR about your future," said Helen giving me a sheet of quality notepaper. After writing my address and adding the date Helen dictated the following to me to write on the notepaper: "Dear Barbara I imagine what follows will come as a surprise to you, and indeed, to the partners, but I want to assure your I am completely serious in my intentions. It is my intention to transition to become a woman. Legally, I have to live and work as a woman for twelve months before I'm eligible for appropriate surgery. I intend to take the next week as annual leave returning to work Monday week when I will be dressed as a woman . I expect everyone in the firm to be advised of my transitioning and to be reminded of the relevant employment legislation and the consequences if the law is broken. With immediate effect I wish to be known as Mrs Fiona Ursula Cooper-King. Date of birth, address etc will remain the same. Kindly acknowledge receipt. Yours sincerely Mrs F.U.Cooper-King" Helen had me sign the letter, put it into an envelope, and a stamp for her to post on her way home. I failed to see why I had to have a hyphenated surname but then I found it difficult to fathom Helen's thinking. Then Helen left saying either she, Alison or both of then would return each evening. Once Helen had gone I reflected on what I had just done and how I got to look like a woman. I spent the rest of Sunday trying work out how I, and indeed Alison could get out of the nightmare we found ourselves in. I failed miserably. What I did do was to put on a brown pleated skirt and do up the buttons on the cardigan. I the looked in the mirror again this time to see a properly dressed woman. Eventually and after cooking myself a small roast I went to bed. Not liking sleeping nude I wore the same babydoll I wore when my hair was removed. The babydoll because I was still sore and it irritated less of my skin. I was still taking two pills every three hours or so that Helen gave me. I spent most of Monday practicing doing my makeup. I didn't want to incur Helen's wrath, of which I'm sure she was capable. It was Alison who came round that evening to check on my makeup and take pictures. Nervously Alison gave more pointers on how I could improve my makeup. But more importantly Alison wanted to know if I could find a way out of Helen's clutches. Of course I didn't. At the same time she became weepy and angry saying it was all my fault she was in the photographs. She left saying she could see I wasn't making any effort otherwise I wouldn't be wearing a skirt, blouse, wig and makeup. Wow what a cow! The rest of the week was much the same. Either Helen or Alison or both called to check my makeup etc. No one came on Saturday and I was left to my own devices. I spent most of the time cleaning and tidying up. On Sunday I lounged around watching sport on the tv. That is until her Helen called to give me instructions about work the next day. She also told me exactly what I was to wear. Monday morning found me dressing as Helen instructed, a lace trimmed white bra and matching full cut nylon knickers, satin suspender belt, brown stockings and a white nylon lace trimmed nylon slip. My outer clothes consisted of a pink slightly see through pink nylon blouse that buttoned up the back and which emphasized my breasts and a brown skirt with a three inch split at the back causing the slip to show. As I didn't feel confident wearing high heels I wore a black pair with 1" heels. Makeup and the black bob wig completed my appearance. As it was raining I also wore to work a transparent pink plastic mac complete with hood. Despite living close to the office Helen insisted Alison drive me to work and park in the underground car park. I was dreading going into the office. In fact Alison almost had to push me in. As I entered the office the was small applause, a "welcome back" and indifference. I went to my enclosed workspace and opened my post and got on with my work. It was as if nothing had changed although I did hear someone say "pervert" as they passed my workspace. Alison brought me tea around 11.00 am and not longer afterwards I felt the need to relieve myself. Alison noticed me leaving and attracted my attention discretely. "You should take your handbag with you" she said. I took my bag and went to the toilet. As the tax department only took up half the floor space on the first floor the toilet was unisex and only large enough for one person's use. For reasons I wasn't sure I pulled up my skirt and slip and eased my knickers down then sat down to pee. I was mimicking a woman peeing. After I had finished and redressed myself I realized I didn't know what was in my bag. I was shocked by what I found in it. There was a box of large size tampons, two packets of condoms, a pair of soft rubber knickers, a compact, various items of makeup, comb and tissues. But what really appalled me was the dildo. It was about 7" in length, 1 ?" thick and made of hard black rubber. At that stage I hadn't seen a dildo before but as it resembled my erect penis, including the exposed glans, I could imagine what it was used for. I'm sure it was Helen who put the various items in my bag to further humiliate me. Shocked I put everything back into the bag, checked my appearance and went back to my desk. There was a note on my desk, from Alison suggesting we have lunch together. Although I was uncertain if I should I silently voiced yes to her. We went to a small caf? and ordered salads although both of us picked at them rather than eat properly. I knew Alison wanted to know if I had found a way out of our dilemma. I had to tell her I hadn't. She burst into tears and I went round the table to console. I'm not sure if that was the right thing to do as we got some funny looks. We went back to work for an uneventful afternoon. Alison offered me a lift home but I told her I preferred to walk and gather my thoughts together. It was getting dark and I was beginning to have second thoughts about walking home alone looking to everyone as a female on her own. I didn't see any women on their own and men I saw I viewed as potential attackers. I was getting paranoid and was glad to get into my apartment. The next 10 days or so were much the same. Then Helen put two envelopes on my desk. One small white and the other a large brown one. I left the brown envelope knowing what it was likely to contain and opened the white one which was addressed to Mrs F Cooper-King. "Dear Mrs Cooper-King I am pleased to confirm your appointment with Dr Dorothy Mason next Thursday 31st October at 10.00 am to first discuss your proposed transitioning to become a woman and then subsequently whether you are physically, medically and mentally fit to undertake sex reassignment surgery. Your sincerely Ms Paula Wrightson Medical Secretary" The letter was from The Transworld Medical Centre I could see this was more of Helen's work especially as I saw the smirk on her face after I had finished reading the letter. I opened the other envelope and as I suspected there were further glossy photographs of me and Alison in lewd poses. I asked Alison for a lift home that night and told her of the latest developments. I expected her to say we had to call Helen's bluff but she didn't. She said" you are going to see the doctor aren't you?" I was flabbergasted but I told her I was. There didn't seem to be any other option at this stage. The next week seemed to pass very slowly and as the date of my appointment grew nearer I got more apprehensive. Alison agreed to take me to see the doctor although I think this was to ensure I kept the appointment. On the appointed day Alison and I drove to the adjacent city where the consulting rooms of the doctor were to be found. I had decided I would dress simply so I was wearing a plain white bra, white full cut nylon knickers, a white nylon half slip with minimal lace edging to the hem, white nylon blouse, brown cardigan and brown knee length pleated skirt flat brown shoes and a brunette shoulder length wig with fringe completed my look. Initially Alison did not recognize me. It was my intention to look different and less recognizable for my appointment. We were ushered into a plush waiting room and offered coffee whilst we waited. Eventually the phone on the receptionist's desk rang. As I was led into the doctors room Alison asked how long I would be and on being told about two hours she said she would do a bit of shopping. "Hello Mrs Cooper-king. I'm Dr Mason but call me Dorothy. Can I call you Fiona?" I answered in the affirmative. I was getting used to being called Fiona now. Dorothy was, I guessed around 50, overweight but petite which emphasized the weight problem and with sagging breasts. She was wearing a black jumper and beige slacks. "This consultation is in two parts. The first part consists of a number of questions concerning why you want to become a woman and your sex life and the second part is a physical examination. "Now tell me in your own words why you want a sex change." I told her I was unhappy about conforming to social expectations of living according to my anatomical sex rather than the gender I felt myself to be. I had a long held strong desire to get rid of physical signs of my biological sex such as my facial hair and male genitalia. It was the social expectations that led me to marriage but because of my gender dysphoria sex with my wife, or any woman for that matter, was never very satisfactory. All lies of course. "When did you last have sex with a woman?" "Around a year ago with my wife before she died. I felt it my duty but I didn't get any pleasure from it." "When did you last ejaculate?" "Around 6 months ago." "Masturbation I assume." "Yes I felt the need." "When did you last have an erection?" "Three months ago." My answers were all fabricated lies of course except it was three months since I last had an erection. I couldn't understand why. "Ever been penetrated, either by a penis or other device?" "No," I truthfully replied. The very idea was abhorrent to me. "Do you want to be penetrated when your surgery has been completed and you have a vagina?" "Yes." In reality I hadn't given the idea any thought but I gave Dorothy the answer I thought she wanted to hear. I answered various other questions on my sex life for Dorothy. Most of my answers were lies but Dorothy seemed satisfied. Then came the medical. I had to remove all my clothes and lie on the bed. Dorothy commented on my breast forms first saying they must have been expensive to buy but you get what you pay they being very realistic and the join between my chest and the forms was barely noticeable. In answer to her question I told Dorothy the breasts were DD. She said she thought I would just about be able to have implants of the same size but did I experience back pains with the forms. Only if I didn't wear a bra I replied. Dorothy moved on to my penis pulling the foreskin right back and taking samples from the glans and inside using a glass rod. Embarrassingly I had to provide a urine sample. My testicles were individually examined and this I found painful. "Tights or stockings?" Dorothy said. "What? Do you wear tights or stockings?" "Err stockings and suspenders," I stammered in reply. "Good. You need plenty of fresh air around your pubic area. Tights create too much heat." "Subject to the results of the sample tests I see no reason why you shouldn't proceed to have SRS in due course. In fact we can start the process today. Turn over." I turned. Dorothy took out of the fridge two ampules of a clear liquid filling two syringes and the emptying the contents into each of my buttocks. "There are misconceptions about female hormones and their effect on a man's body. The main one is they very rarely encourage breast growth so implants will be necessary for a good bust. They don't change facial features either. They do however redistribute fat to both hips and posterior. So in time your hips will widen. You will gain what are popularly called child bearing hips not that you will be called upon to bear a child." Having said that Dorothy laughed at her own joke. "With a fatter bottom you will look more feminine there and as a bonus your knickers will fit more snuggly." Dorothy told me then to get dressed which I did. She had me sign some papers that I did not read to my later regret. I had to wait in the reception area for about 10 minutes for Alison to return with all her shopping. She then drove me home. She noticed I was quiet. In truth I was reeling somewhat on how I was drifting irreversible down the path into having a sex change operation. I still couldn't see a way out of the mess both Alison and I found ourselves in and I told Alison so. Again Alison was near to tears at what I had said. Once home I stripped and had a hot bath. I felt dirty after the medical examination. To cheer myself up I wore a long pink nylon nightdress and a transparent black see through nylon negligee. Although the tv was on I couldn't concentrate on what was on my mind being all over the place. After making myself an omelette I went to bed early and a very restless night's sleep. I went to work the next day as normal. It was now the middle of November and the days were getting much colder. I felt the cold particularly between the tops of my stockings and the legs of my knickers. Then I realized I had an item of underwear that solved this problem. Directoire knickers. I had four pairs in my drawers. Three pairs, black, pink and peach and made of nylon, all came down to below my knees. The fourth pair also made of nylon but white in this case came down to just above my knees. Initially I chose to wear the white pair as I was conscious the other pairs might show below the hem of my skirt. The directoire knickers certainly closed the gap. I did wear the other three pairs to keep warm but I was frequently pulling my skirt down to ensure no one knew what I was wearing. It was early December when Alison dropped a bombshell. "Don't forget the department's Christmas party next Friday and the office dance Saturday week. The theme for the party is vicars and tarts again this year." Last year I was a vicar. Could I get away with being a female vicar. They did exist. Alison read my mind. She said the organizing committee had decided all vicars had to be men! No way was I going as a French maid with ultra short skirt showing masses of petticoats and knickers. I was too old for that. That was for the young girls. Then I remembered there was a schoolgirl uniform in the back of my wardrobe. I had never given it any thought when I put it there all those months ago. I suspected Helen had packed it in the case with this event in mind. We were allowed to leave work early on the day of the party to get ready for the evening which was held in the tax department the desks and chairs etc moved to walls. Outside caterers provided the food and drink. Music was a disco. I showered and then nestled my breasts into a plain white bra. I followed this by stepping into a pair of brown regulation schoolgirl gym knickers. Next a white cotton school blouse. It had long sleeves buttoned at the cuffs and three buttons the front. The blouse was also elasticated at the waist and being slightly transparent my bra could be seen. I fondly remember girls at school doing athletics in similar blouses and knickers. No female modesty in those days. My gymslip was brown with box pleats. The skirt was a little shorter than I would have like being above my knees. On my feet I wore a pair of brown lace up shoes over white cotton ankle socks. A brown and yellow striped tie and brown beret completed my clothing. I made my face up in a slutty look and whilst I was not sure I wanted to look like a slut it was in keeping with the tarts and vicars theme. I was one of the last to arrive back at the office. I had worn a red woolen coat over my schoolgirl clothes so as not to draw attention to myself as I walked from home. But I could not prevent my face being seen when I passed under streetlights and several people called me a whore and slut. During the evening I limited my intake of alcohol and stuck to gins and tonics. As the night progressed people were getting merry and several vicars and tarts were hitting it off. I remember last year when I had a good time with Amanda, a widow about my own age. She was seductively dressed as a French maid showing her lacy knickers. I didn't get into her knickers but I did have a fumble in her bra. Amanda was there this evening but totally ignored me now I was transitioning. Around 10 pm I was in the corridor after needing the toilet when I was waylaid by Brenda. She was fairly new to the firm, overweight like Dr Mason, and an obvious dyke or perhaps I should say lesbian. I don't think she knew about my transitioning as she put her arms around me and gave me a sloppy kiss. As she did she slid her hands up the back of my gymslip and stroked my bum and pushed the material of my knickers with her forefinger into my arsehole. I was disgusted and pushed Brenda away saying in no uncertain terms I was not gay. That was true but I didn't even fancy her as a man. To put it crudely she was fat and ugly. Back with others I poured myself a very large whisky and downed it in one. Not a good idea as I got tipsy very quickly. Fortunately Alison came to my rescue before I embarrassed myself. Alison used the time whilst I partially sobered up to press me what I was doing about our predicament. I fobbed her off by saying I had an idea but the less she knew about it the better. This seemed to satisfy Alison. Alison's husband Martyn took me home. I had a monumental hangover the next morning. I was still wearing my school white bra and brown knickers. I stayed in bed until well past midday, then I showered and threw on black jumper and skirt over white underwear. I spent Sunday planning what to wear at the office dance which was a very formal affair. Eventually I settled on a lbd - little black dress. The skirt length was again a little shorter than I would have liked. As the months passed and the longer I was dressed as a woman the more I was thinking like a woman. I decided I would wear sexy underwear for the first time. Thinking as a man I stayed clear of anything erotic but my changing thoughts made me more amenable to wear something more risqu?. I knew I had to wear a bra and I choose a strapless black lacy one that didn't do much to hide my breasts. Then a teddy. It was a scarlet red with black lace around the leg openings, frilly black lace straps and a black bow at the front of the elasticated waist. Rather impractically, as I was to find out later, it had no openings between the legs. Stockings were black stayups. I decided I would wear a pair of 4" black heels and I spent every evening the following week getting used to walking in them. By the time of the dance I was proficient walking wearing them. Dancing itself might be a different matter. In my wardrobe I found a little black clutch bag in which I put basic items a woman needed. And no not the dildo, tampons or condoms. Until now I had nearly always worn the black bob wig. I decided to go blonde for the dance. Nothing tacky. A blonde wig that was long enough to reach my shoulders and flicked up at the ends and a fringe. During the week I attended Dr Mason's clinic for my hormone injections. As Dr Mason had predicted there had been a small movement of fat to my hips and bum. This concerned me as I was slowly getting to the stage where changes might be irreversible. Before the dancing started there was a formal dinner and I was sat on the same table as the senior partner and his rather staid wife. Alison and Martyn were also at the same table. I, of course, did not have a significant other. I found the senior partner constantly looking at my breasts through my dress. His wife seemed to be in a world of own failing to notice her husband's lecherous looks. After the dinner the dancing commenced. The senior partner had an obligation to dance with every female during the evening and eventually it became my turn. Just my luck it was a slow dance and the senior partner held me close as we danced. I could feel his hard penis through his trousers. "We could go on somewhere later," he said. "My wife will only want to go home." I was disgusted and whilst I stayed with him to the end of the dance I avoided him thereafter after telling him I was not that kind of woman. I took a taxi home that night. Then It was Christmas. I spent both Christmas and Boxing Day alone. I cooked a small turkey with all the trimmings and lounged around watching tv. Tv over the holiday period was appalling with so called Christmas editions of the usual soaps. I watched the Queen's Speech and then I opened my presents. I only had two. The first I opened was from Alison. A pair of gold earrings. Now I had to get my ears pierced. The second was from Helen. True to form she got me underwear but not any old underwear. A matching bra, knickers and full slip set. All soft royal blue nylon with contrasting white nylon lace about 4" wide down the front of both the slip and knickers. I had seen an actress in a film on tv wearing something similar. It was very retro. I was back at work for the short period after Christmas and New Year's Day. All very routine. New Year's Eve was quiet and I went to bed without seeing the New Year in. New Year's Day was a holiday and I wore just a sloppy jumper and wrap round skirt over my bra and knickers. Helen had obviously got into my mind because I automatically wore a half slip as well. I wasn't expecting anyone so I was a little surprised when my doorbell rang. Looking though the spy hole I saw Helen. I let her in. She was wearing a white blouse and a wrap over skirt. She pushed passed me and helped herself to a large whisky. Then she said boldly, "Are you wearing my Christmas present?" I said I wasn't. "Go and put my present and then come back in here just wearing the present" I did as I was instructed. I removed all my clothes, put my breasts into the bra cups, pulled the knickers up my ever fattening bum and slipped the slip over my head. Then I rejoined Helen who was on her second glass of whisky. "The color suits you and that lace is divine. Now kneel down. Head up. Now listen. I'm sure you would like to find out how you and Alison can get out of the mess you both find yourselves in. I doubt if you are aware I fancied you since you joined the firm. We could have made sweet music together until you went and ruined everything by humiliating me over that tax advice. I wanted revenge. I still want revenge but I think I can see a way that will give me the revenge I want that in turn release you and Alison from the torment I imagine you are both suffering. In particular maybe you can even avoid your forthcoming operation. Stand up and take your wig, slip and bra off." OMG I didn't realize how good your tits look." With the prospect of returning to normality I did as I was told. Helen then removed her wrap over skirt to reveal she was wearing black nylon bikini knickers. I then guessed what she was going to get me to do. I was disgusted but then I realized if I gave Helen what she wanted I could get me and Alison back to normality. Somehow the fact I was on hormones and now had wider hips and a fatter bum were forgotten. Helen had me back on my knees and then she had me crawl forward until my head was tight up against her knickers. "Make me cum. Lick me through my knickers." I did as I was told even though the thought of doing so absolutely disgusted me. I had never done anything like this with any woman not even my late wife. The more I licked the wetter Helen got. Then she orgasmed crushing my head with her ample thighs. I also felt I was drowning so copious in Helen's love juices. "You've not finished yet," Helen said as she removed her knickers and pulled my head back to her vagina. Helen came three more times before my head was released from between her legs. I must have looked liked a drowned rat given all the vaginal fluid that was covering my head. Despite my disgust I hoped my perverted experience would be worthwhile and both Alison and I would be off the hook. Helen told me to have a shower and put my clothes and wig back on. By the time I'd one all that Helen had gone. I could only hope she would keep her side of our bargain particularly bearing in mind the degradation I had just undergone. However my euphoria about my nightmare coming to an end was short lived. Three days later when I got home from work I found a familiar manila envelope on my doormat. I froze. After a minute or so I picked the envelope up and sat at the table but without opening it. Then I bit the bullet. It contained what I feared. She had had me hook line and sinker! There were high glossy photographs of me without my wig, breasts swinging and my head progressing towards her vagina and then with my tongue inside her. Even without hair I'm was easily recognizable. But Helen was clever. Her face didn't appear in any of the photographs. Nor did it appear on the video which I watched on my computer from a video stick. There was a typed note. "A little insurance to ensure you go through with your operation. And in case you want to know I placed and took back the cameras whilst you were changing into and out of my Christmas present." Now Helen had real pictures of me that I certainly wouldn't want circulated to anybody I now knew I had no choice. How was I going to tell Alison how foolish I'd been? For the next 5 months, until my birthday in fact, life settled down to a routine, a routine of me living and working as a woman as was required if I was to have the sex change operation. I continued with my visits to Dr Mason for my hormone shots and intimate medical examination. The increases in the size of my hips and bum were very noticeable. The increase in the pitch of my voice was not so noticeable and was probably undetectable unless you were with me all the time. As at Christmas I received just two presents. A gold necklace from Alison that went with the earrings. I had my ears pierced just after New Year. Helen gave me a baby blue full length nylon nightdress with elbow length sleeves and broderie anglaise around the front neckline. Her card said "Thought this would be nice to wear when you are in hospital." Then the dreaded day came. Alison and I had spent a lot more time together at lunchtimes in desperate attempts to extract ourselves out of the nightmare we found ourselves in but it was all to no avail. Helen had us completely stitched up. At the hospital I was shown to a private room and told to change into my nightclothes. I had decided to wear Helen's birthday present but I really didn't know why other than an attempt to despite her. I settled down on the bed wearing the long baby blue nightdress. A doctor came to see me to explain what was to happen. Not long after he'd left there seemed to be a procession of nurses popping into my room for no particular reason. Eventually I found out they were fascinated by my nightdress. I spent the night restlessly. Early next morning I was helped by a nurse to exchange my nightdress for a surgical gown, the type that was open at back and kept together with two ties. I was transferred to a trolley and wheeled to an operating theater. There I was given a small plastic cup containing green liquid. As I swallowed the liquid I was told to count back from ten. "10, 9, 8, 7 ........." I came to slightly propped up on the bed in the private room. The first thing I noticed was the nightdress I was wearing. It was very retro. Double layer nylon full length with frilly neck. The underlying layer was bright pink. The other layer was black and see through with matching pink bows. I was sure Helen was behind the nightdress in some way and to further humiliate me. A middle aged nurse came into the room. "Oh how romantic! We don't often see ladies wearing nighties these days and certainly not as pretty as yours." I noticed the nurse called me a lady. As before there was a whole procession of females popping into my room just to see me in my nightdress. Maybe Helen had miscalculated. The nightdress boosted my esteem rather than humiliate me as I suspect was her intention. I was wearing surgical dressings on various parts of my body. I felt as if I had been hit by a bus. The surgeon who had operated on me told me it would be three days before any dressings could be removed but every thing had gone well. Very well. The dressings covering my breasts were removed first. My new breasts didn't look much different to the fake breasts I had previously worn. They also felt the same at least until I touched the nipples. It was like a small electric current passing through my body. It was so erotic. I was in a self induced heaven. Later in the week the other dressings were removed. Because size of my breasts I couldn't see my new vagina but I could feel the absence of my male sex organs. A nurse explained and showed me how I would have to dilate my vagina for at least three months to prevent it closing up. In effect I would have to fuck myself with a dildo. When I did insert the dildo I experienced a very erotic sensation although I didn't have an orgasm. Then it hit me. I was, to all intense, now a woman although I still thought like a man. The thought of sex with a man horrified me. Alison and Helen visited me the following day. Alison had a small case that contained a fresh nightdress, underwear and blouse and skirt. Both complimented me on how I looked although I could see Alison was close to tears. Bold as brass Helen said her revenge was complete or was it. I was now a woman with all that meant. Fear of advances from lecherous dirty old men and rape. Always looking over my shoulder. Helen had got me. In retrospect I should have ignored Alison's pleas and let Helen expose us with the pictures. Too late now. Ten days later I was ready to leave hospital. A mature nurse helped to dress. The dressings had been removed a few days before. Just before I put my white knickers on the nurse said, "I've seen a number SRS patients over the years and it never ceases to amaze me how many opt for a tattoo in the pubic region. I suppose it's a discrete reminder of they once were. But you need balls, oops sorry, I mean guts to have one like you have." I had no idea what the nurse was talking about so after had fully dressed and the nurse had gone I positioned myself in front of the full length mirror and lifted up my skirt and slip. OMG. I had a tattoo around the size of my thumb only it wasn't my thumb. It was an erect penis dripping cum in a realist color with some writing along the shaft. The writing read, "I love to suck cocks." Seeing my surprise a second mature female nurse assured me the hospital didn't do anything that the patient hadn't agreed to. She offered to go and show me the contract I had signed but I knew I had been tricked again and that there was no point. I resigned myself to having been pornographically marked for life even if tattoo was relatively discrete and would normally be hidden so long as I wore full cut knickers. Alison had agreed to take me home. I had resolved not to tell Alison about the tattoo. Life went back to normal if you could call it normal. To all intents and purposes I was now a female, and to all my work colleagues I was now the woman I always wanted to be. For the next four months life was completely uneventful. Mondays to Fridays I went to work, prepared tax returns, provided tax advice and saw clients. Helen largely ignored me. Certainly, there were no further surprises. I saw Alison occasionally out of office hours and she helped me choose clothes and underwear from eBay auctions. On a couple of occasions I suggested I buy more modern clothes and underwear but Alison would have none of it. She said I created an image and at my age I would be ridiculed if I changed my appearance. I continued to buy old fashioned early sixties style clothing. Then came two bombshells. Alison and Martyn were emigrating to New Zealand and I was being made redundant albeit with a generous financial package. I went first. A leaving party was organized. I had already sold my city apartment and bought a similar one at the coast some 100 miles away. I kept it's location secret as I didn't want Helen to know where I would be living although I did tell Alison. Big mistake. Not long after I'd moved in a very large box was delivered. I was full of women's retro underwear. An enclosed note said, "Hope your boyfriend enjoys seeing you wearing the sexy frillies when he fucks you. You are still virgin aren't you. Maybe he'll deflower you if you wear one of the pretty nightdresses. I can just imagine you on your back with nightdress up around your waist and your legs around his back his cock way up inside you making love to you as any woman wants." Also in the box were hundreds of glossy A4 photographs of me and Allison in highly pornographic poses. Some showed me and Alison, Alison having sex with a donkey and dogs and me with dogs and men. In all the photographs it was clear who we were. Was this the end of my torment? It seemed it was. I've never saw or heard from Helen again and it's been three years now. I do have another problem though. A middle age man in another apartment is constantly trying to hit on me although I've made it clear I'm not interested. Apart from the fact he's ugly I find the idea of sex with a man abhorrent despite what Helen said. I'm quite happy with my dildos. I do have to be on my guard. Once in the lift the man cornered me and had my skirt and slip up before I was able to knee him in the balls. I've often wondered whether I made the right decision acquiescing to Helen's blackmail. I think that once I first submitted to Helen's first demand I was left no choice. Helen had decided my destiny. How do I feel now? Whilst I accept my fate being a transgendered woman foremost in my mind is how I can get my revenge on Helen. Any fitting and fitting ideas please leave in comments. And was I right in having the sex change? Should I not have been chivalrous and allowed Alison to be totally humiliated and degraded to save my own skin?