Fiction

Things had not been right between Emily and myself for some time. While we were still good friends, our relationship of three years had been subtly changing - we hadn't had sex for what seemed like forever, and she wasn't as close to be, physically or emotionally. This clashed with what had otherwise looked like Emily's becoming less shy, even a little risque, wearing tighter tops and shorter skirts. Once, towards the end of things, I had stumbled upon her getting ready to go out with friends - she had shaved herself down below, and was in the process of putting fillets into a padded bra. She went out that night looking like she was trying to pull; she didn't come back until the following morning. It wasn't until the day when she finally left that I learnt the truth. She hadn't been looking for someone new - no, she'd known them for a long time. I'd been heading out to see a show that got cancelled, and when I got home I found Emily in bed with two of her best friends. She yelped when she saw me, and her two girlfriends stopped what they had been doing to her. After a moment's pause, Emily had extricated her sweaty, naked body from them, grabbed my arm and led me downstairs, speechless. She explained rapidly that it was her, that she wasn't into men any more, and that the relationship she was having now with her friends was more passionate than anything she'd ever experienced - she felt freed by the revelation of her true sexuality. She still loved me, just not in a sexual way, and she told me that it was too painful for her to stay now that I knew. So she left me that night, leaving all but a small suitcase of her things behind. She said I could keep them, that she didn't want to come back... that she was starting a new life for herself. I remembered the last thing she said to me before she left: that it wasn't my fault, and if only I had been a girl... well, things would have been different. Then she walked out of my life. To say what I did next was Emily's fault is to understate things. I'd always been a little feminine, shaving my more unsightly areas, 'accidentally' choosing sweet-smelling products over 'male' ones, and occasionally trying on Emily's prettier clothes while she was out. Now she'd told me that I would be better as a girl, that she might have stayed with me. And she'd left me with the means to become one. Emily had left half her wardrobe behind, including every kind of sexy outfit and extensive lingerie. I remembered her going out in a corset once - that would do wonders for my figure. Beneath all her clothes I found something I hadn't seen before: Emily's sex box. She'd obviously taken anything remoting stimulating or penile with her, but she'd left her more exotic items behind. Amongst them was an expensive looking pump with bowls to fit over and draw upon her breasts, causing them to swell in the vacuum. This I also scavenged from her leftovers. Amongst her things I also found an epilator and, to my surprise, a bust muscle stimulator. But the most useful thing of all was her pills. Emily had supposedly been taking a progesterone pill up until a year or so ago, though we had always used condoms back when our relationship was good. It turned out she had been collecting the prescriptions but never taking them - several years' worth of pills were sitting there in a sandwich box, untouched. Better still, she'd then been having trouble with acne and had been given an oestrogen pill containing an anti-androgen to help with her skin. I'd never thought of her as lazy, but now it made sense that the acne hadn't quite improved - she must have taken about five of the things, then just stashed the rest of them in another plastic tub. I'd counted the packs - a few years' worth of those as well. The first thing I did was to get drunk and shave off all my body hair, save my eyebrows and that on my head. It felt so liberating, and a couple of days later I made the decision to start epilating my body regularly so it didn't come back. I started to grow my hair long and dyed it a slightly lighter shade. After a week of shaving my face twice a day, I did some reading and found out I could have the hair removed by electrolysis, though it turned out to be a weekly thing that went on for some time. My research also taught me how many pills to take each day, though I took the lowest dose I could for fear that the pills might run out before I had progressed far enough. I started to lose weight at a sensible pace, flattening out my tummy without the risk of stifling whatever growth I might be having. My nipples really did feel tender at first; after a while I got used to it. Every night I would put on my corset and deploy the vacuum pump on my fledgling breasts. I soon learnt the hazards of overdoing the pumping, though I never really learnt not to tie the corset too tightly. Once I was comfortable enough with the pump and corset, I added in the bust muscle stimulator as well. Six months down the line, I began to notice the slightest of curve to my busom and thighs, and my waist was shrinking nicely. Keen to encourage things, I bought in oestrogen cream for my breasts, along with feminising tablets that turned out to have some sort of oestrogen in them. With all this, I was able to maintain my regimen for two long years before I ran out of pills. Two years after Emily had left, I had gone a long way to acheiving my goal. My breasts would fill a B cup, my figure was hourglass, my body sleek and feminine. My hair was starting down my back, and my face was hairless. More importantly, my voice training was complete. I changed jobs and started to wear Emily's hand-downs. After a week of (I think) passing as a girl, albeit one in deliberately feminine clothing, I threw out my old, male clothes. One thing was left, though. Despite all my changes, my penis was still there. I still had the occasional erection when something really special entered my mind, but otherwise the thing was inactive. I was still attracted to women, but I realised I could never really be one while I had a penis. I thought long and hard about what I should do next, but in the end I was too distracted by the exhaustion of my pill supply. In order to get more pills, I had to go through counselling. I caused them quite some confusion at first - they obviously weren't used to males become so female before seeing them, and one counsellor actually thought I was a girl who wanted to be a man. On the plus side, they did all the safety tests, wrote me up for continuing treatment and, a year later, referred me for surgery to remove my testicles and augment my breasts to a 'C'. That meant one less drug to take, and I was now almost fully female. Thus, at three and a half years, the time had come. Having been without a proper partner for so long, I threw myself headlong into the final part of my plan. I looked up Emily's details, found her email and invited her over for old time's sake. I had no idea she would actually come; in fact, at first she didn't. Emily walked back into my life two weeks after my email on a Saturday morning. I had been sleeping, and scrambled to the door wearing only underpants and an old t-shirt of mine that had somehow survived the cull. Emily recognised the t-shirt, but not me, and made the instant deduction - that I was her replacement, the new girlfriend. At that point, the tear between my old self and my new self became complete - I apologised for the abscence of my now imaginery male self, stating that my boyfriend was out and would be back in an hour. She turned to leave, but I encouraged her to stay and, as she entered, complemented her hair. I also happened to like her top, her skirt and her boots. Realising that I was starting to feel a hardening in my pants, I excused myself to the toilet and returned properly tucked a few minutes later and wearing an attractive silk dressing gown with a pushup bra and matching lingerie underpants instead. We talked for a short while about plesantries, and then the matter of Emily's departure somehow came into conversation. I listened sympathetically, reassured her, touched her back and shoulder, and eventually found her crying on my shoulder. She apologised, but I reassured her again, telling her I was bisexual and understood her plight. Emily perked up at that, so I asked her to stay a while and offered to get her something to eat. As she mopped her eyes, I made her her favourite food and a glass each of strawberry milkshake. She thanked me, and we ate peacefully sitting side by side as we'd done a long time before. Emily looked happy and relaxed - now it wastime for me to seize the opportunity. Carelessly, (or rather with great care), I stood up to reach my full glass of milkshake, then tripped backwards into the sofa. As planned, the pink milkshake went pouring out of the glass backwards onto my right flank and Emily's left. I gasped and apologised - my dressing gown was stuck to my bra and body underneath, and Emily's t-shirt was similarly soaked. Then Emily took the opportunity I'd made for her. She paused for a second, and then told me not to worry, removing her top to reveal her wet torso underneath. I did the same with my dressing gown, and for a moment it was obvious that we were checking each other out. Then I pointed out her bra was wet, and that I would happily clean it... and she turned to allow me to take it off, thanking me for the consideration. Next came my bra, and then her skirt, until finally we were both wearing only our underpants, which in my case contained a very, very hard penis still tucked away between my legs. A few seconds, and then we were kissing passionately, breasts pressed together and hands feeling each other's slim bodies. I explored her neck, her breasts, her back, all familiar and as responsive as ever. Then I took control and licked her gently until she could hardly stand it any longer. Emily looked like she always had done when she was enjoying sex, and suddenly I was back where I had been so long before. Lying on top of her upon the sofa, I pulled off my underpants and released my tucked penis from the tied and stuck scrotum, and then pushed inside of her. Emily squealed for a second, but then I called her Em - my pet name for her all those years ago - and her eyes opened wide in sudden understanding. For a moment she pushed me back a little, staring at my beautiful female body. Then she smiled, closed her eyes and, with barely a further movement from me, orgasmed. After that, we kept going until she was finished, and then I withdrew, my penis obviously unable to ejaculate as it might once have. Emily was ever so happy - I asked her if she enjoyed being with a girl like me, and she responded by taking my penis in her mouth while clasping at both my breasts. Later, she told me it was so good that she begged me not to have surgery to replace my penis. She wanted me just as I now was. We've been together ever since.