And so this little Ad Hoc tale continues. There won't be any more for at least two weeks, I'm afraid.

The name tag said Shirley. Underneath that, in smaller type, it said Foundation Fitter and underneath that again it said Supervisor.

"Dave? Dave Shepherd? You remember me, don't you? Shirley Boothroyd from school, only I'm Shirley Parsons now. What are you doing in here?"

The man standing in front of her reddened and looked extremely embarrassed, as well he might, since they were standing in the Ladies Underwear department of Maddens, a top department store. They had decided to travel to a nearby city so that he wouldn't meet anyone he knew, and as luck would have it...

Shirley decided that it was more than simple embarrassment that had upset an old school chum. There had been nothing between the two of them to cause any problem so why..? She looked briefly at the two young women with him, and then back to Dave, raising an eyebrow.

"I, um, need to be fitted for a bra."

Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2011 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

She automatically glanced down at his body, taking in the way his shoulders were hunched and the fact that his coat looked unnaturally baggy on his chest. Then he straightened up, and the double bulge became more obvious. Her eyes widened, and she looked again at the two women.

"Are these two with you?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, they've come along to help me and give me moral support. I never expected to meet anyone here I knew, Shirley."

She straightened into her business persona. "Yes, well, we offer a professional and discreet service here, as you might expect. Anything that happens inside here stays private, I can assure you." She looked suspiciously at the two women and came to a decision. "If you'd like to follow me, sir." The two started to follow and she turned to them, professional smile in place. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to consult with the client on my own, please. If you will wait here?"

She indicated some chairs to the side of the changing area, where the husbands usually sat, and the two reluctantly took seats while Shirley ushered Dave into the cubicle farthest from the doorway and yanked the curtain shut.

"Dave, what on earth is going on?" she whispered rapidly. "Is this legit? You're not being pressured or anything, are you? I can ring the police if you want."

Dave looked at her, startled. This was definitely not the reaction he had expected once he'd discovered he and the fitter knew each other.

"Why would you want to ring the police?" he asked, frightened. "I'm not committing any crime, am I? I've just come here to... buy a bra." The last words came out in almost a whisper.

"No!" She dismissed his fears with a flick of the hand. "No, what I meant is... oh, heck, Dave, what have you gone and got yourself mixed up in?"

"It's not what you think. Here, I'll show you."

He took off his coat and the sweatshirt and vest underneath, showing the elastic device which had been holding his chest in. As he laboriously peeled it up and over his head, Shirley gasped.

"Oh my goodness! Are those yours?"

"Of course they're mine," he replied irritably. This whole business, which he had already expected to be very difficult, had just veered into the bizarre. "Who else's did you think they were?"

"That came out wrong," she said. "We get the occasional tranny in here, and sometimes they have falsies glued on. Sometimes they're so well done you can't tell them from the real thing. I wondered... are you sure you're not in any trouble?"

"I'm not," he said, "and I have no idea what you mean."

"Those two aren't pressurising you? You're not some kind of..." she searched for the word, "submissive, are you? We've had one or two of that sort in here as well, although we discourage it."

"What? Oh, I see what you're getting at! No, these are the result of an industrial, um, accident. I got contaminated with chemicals. Please?" Dave was getting redder by the minute, and wishing the episode was long over.

"Very well... Dave. Do you want me to call your friends in?"

"If you wouldn't mind. Those two have virtually saved my life."

"I'll just measure you up first, I think."

She pulled the tape from around her neck and took the necessary details, estimating the cup size she would start with.

"Hm. I'll start with a thirty-six, I think, and I'll get a B and C cup to test for the breast sizing. Do you know anything about styles?" She looked at him carefully. "This is your first time doing this, isn't it?"

Dave nodded. "I bet young girls can't wait to get in here to get fitted. Not many men would care to, though. Yes, this is my first, and no, I have no idea about styles. We're going for comfort, so just something plain?"

Shirley left to pick stock and shortly afterwards Debra and Diane entered.

"What was that all about, love? Is she upset by the unusual circumstances?"

"Not exactly." He gave a short laugh. "She wondered whether I was your slave."

Diane let out an incredulous "What?" while Debra merely nodded.

"I should have thought of that," she said. "I hope you put her right. I take it you knew each other."

"All through comprehensive school," Dave said. "She's okay, just a bit freaked out, I think. Wanted to make sure I wasn't here under duress."

"What do you mean?" asked Diane, round-eyed.

"I'll tell you later," Debra said.

Shirley reappeared with two bras and looked at the two women. Dave introduced them.

"Shirley, this is Diane, who is a waitress at the Empire cafe up Canning Street where I used to get breakfast, and this is her friend Debra, who is... actually, just like me."

Shirley did a double take at Debra.

"It's true," Debra said. "I'm technically a man with breasts too, though I'm living full time as a woman. Diane told me about Dave's problem, and we're trying to help him come to terms with his new body."

"This I have to hear about," Shirley said. "Now, let's get the fitting out of the way first, if you don't mind? Try this one on first. Put your arms through here and here."

The first one was too tight and the next one a little loose. After some discussion during which Shirley found out that no-one knew if Dave had stopped developing yet, she found one of a different model which fitted better but allowed for some small expansion. Dave dressed again and they adjourned to the till.

"You'll need a minimum three," she told Dave. "One on, one in the wash and one drying. More if you can afford it. These aren't that expensive compared to some we stock. Look, you sure you don't want to wear one now? You'll feel much more comfortable."

"No! No, thanks for the offer but I look weird enough walking around like this as it is. What do you think people are going to say if they see me with them stuck out, kind of obvious, like?"

Shirley stopped, frustrated. There was so much more that she could contribute, that she would say to a female client, that could be quite awkward discussing with a man. She could guess what most women did, she could estimate from their clothing and accessories how they would look after what she sold them and she could advise them accordingly. With a man there was a complete blank. But at least she knew this one.

"Look, this is more difficult than I thought. What are you planning to do after you walk out of here? I know it's late night shopping but we'll be closing in about ten minutes or so."

"That's why we chose this time," Debra said, "because we knew you'd be quiet, less curious onlookers, so to speak. I don't know. Dave?"

"As we're here, I thought I'd treat you two ladies to a meal, if that's all right, before we go back home. What did you have in mind, Shirley?"

"I'll be getting out of here in about fifteen minutes or so. What say you three wait for me outside, I think I need to understand just what's going on here, and if I did I might be able to help." She turned to Dave. "If that's all right with you, of course. If you don't mind an old school mate tagging along?"

"I-I'm not sure, Shirley. You probably know too much already. I really don't want this to go all round the town, do I?"

"Look, kiddo, you're obviously not doing this because you're an exhibitionist, are you? You have a problem, a serious problem, and I might be able to help. I'm guessing this won't be the only time you have to buy yourself bras, will it? I'll tell you now, I won't tell a soul. It's no different to female clients telling me things in confidence. These two will tell you."

"Do you agree, girls?" They nodded, and Dave turned to Shirley. "We'll be in the cafe-diner across the square, okay?"

"Quaglino's?" Shirley nodded. "Good choice. I'll meet you there then, fifteen minutes or so."

"Ah, good, a nice corner booth," she said when she joined them some time later. "This is one of the older restaurants, most seem to go for open-plan and bright lights these days. I think a bit of privacy is what we're going to need tonight. Shall we order first?" She lowered her voice. "That will keep the staff from hovering round us, give us a chance to talk."

They ordered, Shirley contributing the selection of a bottle of wine which proved she ate here more than occasionally. When the waiters had finally left them alone, she turned to Dave.

"I'm absolutely bursting! Come on, time to spill the beans."

"Well, it's like this, unfortunately," he began, and told Shirley all that had happened since the bungled plasticiser had been delivered.

"Oh, you poor sod. Jenny Hardwick?" Shirley said when he'd finished. "She the one from our school, two years younger than us?"

"Yes, that's her," Dave confirmed. "I don't know if things will right themselves now she's away from the contamination, I hope so. She was a good little lass."

"And you," Shirley asked, "apart from the two chesticles popping out, have you noticed anything else happening?"

Dave pondered before shaking his head. "Don't think so. I mean, what else could happen? I'm hardly likely to lose them down below, am I?"

Debra said, "Nope, it doesn't work like that. Once you get them, you get to keep them. If you want rid of either lot, surgery's the only answer."

The other three all flinched at the suggestion.

"You told me," Diane said slowly to Dave, "you were shaving less. Does that count?"

"Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten that."

"And I did notice," Shirley added, "when I was measuring you in the cubicle that you had a nice slender waist. Tell me, how are your trousers fitting these days?"

Dave blinked. "Um, now you come to mention it, there are two pair of jeans I can't wear any more. I just can't get them over my hips. I thought I'd accidentally done something to them in the wash. I have been eating a lot less, Doctor Falmer told me I needed to cut down while I was off because I'm not doing the physical labour any more, so I assumed the jeans had shrunk."

Shirley nodded. "I noticed you chose one of the lighter options tonight." She gave an annoyed Hmph. "If I had known before now what I now do I would have given you a complete all-over measuring in that cubicle, I think. And I did notice that your skin was softer and smoother than my Frank's has ever been. Nicer, I think. More like a woman's than a man's."

"It sounds," Debra summed up, "like you've had a huge dose of female hormones, Dave. It's not just those bumps on your chest, it may be the rest of your body, too. Do you understand what we're saying?"

"Yes, I do," Dave hung his head. "It seems I'm in deeper shit than I ever thought I was."

"It's not just the hormone effects, though," Shirley said. "These are chemicals we're talking about. It might not end well, Dave."

"Yeah, I know that, Shirley. That's why they're taking blood, urine and spit samples weekly. Haven't had any results yet, though."

Their food and drink arrived, and they fell on the food. For three of them, it was already late for their evening meal.

"Do you think you're feeling more emotional than you used to be, Dave?" Diane asked.

"Suppose I am," he replied. "I thought that was just the depression talking." He looked up, a sudden thought in his mind. "You saying that might just be the hormones? That I might not be depressed?"

"Dunno, love," Shirley said. "But they might apply different tests for depression to a woman than they might do to a man, 'cause we're said to be more emotional. Worth mentioning next time."

The meal progressed, and the waiter cleared the table and brought their low-calorie desserts.

"Are we keeping you from anything, Shirley?" Dave asked her. "I mean, normally you'd be home by now, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, well, I phoned Frank to tell him I'd met an old school friend and I'd be having a meal out with her this evening." She grinned. "All true, isn't it? He won't notice if I'm not there tonight, there's European football on the telly and he'll be stuck in front of that all evening. I might just as well be here instead." She suddenly chuckled low. "Don't look round, but that waiter of ours is giving us peculiar looks. Every time he's been to our table, he's looked at Dave's front and completely ignored the rest of us!"

The four had all hung their coats on entering the restaurant and Dave had sufficiently relaxed that, despite the elastic undergarment, he was sitting straight enough that the bulges were plainly visible.

He sighed. "Looks like you're right, Debra. I'm not going to be able to get away with this much longer."

Shirley raised an eyebrow. "You planning to switch teams, then?"

"Looks like I have little choice, if I don't want to make a public exhibition of myself. If Debra can do it, then perhaps I can too."

"Yeah." Shirley switched to Debra. "What's your story, then? I would never have guessed you were ever a man."

Debra outlined her own history, emphasising that she had been 'a little of each' from the start. "So when I managed to start both puberties at once, all kinds of strange things happened. I decided I'd keep everything and appear to be female. It was relatively easy for me, since I was never grossly masculine as a young boy. I was given pills to damp down the male hormones and my teenage years were all as a girl. Now Dave here doesn't have that start in life, but if you look at him I think he'd manage reasonably well if we cleaned him up. What do you think?"

Shirley inspected Dave dubiously. "Well, I don't know. He's a bloke, isn't he? Granted if he had a decent hairdo and a bit of lippy no-one would take much notice of him - I mean, not the way Mario over there is doing now. Dave? You don't want to become a woman, do you?"

"Properly, you mean? No, I think that one's a bit late for me, Shirley. I have these, though, so my choices are limited. I think what Diane and Debra have in mind is that I become like Debra, just look female on the surface, but be me underneath."

Debra coughed. "It's not quite that simple, Dave. You'd have to adapt a little, otherwise you'd be found out the moment you so much as moved a muscle. But basically, yes, I think you could get away with being like me."

"What's the alternative?" Shirley asked. "Surgery, I guess."

"It looks like it," Dave said quietly. "I'm not sure I want to go down that path, not unless I really have to. I wanted to see if there was some practical alternative to surgery. Debra has shown me that there might be, and I'm willing - now - to explore it a little further. I can always back out if it won't work for me."

"The bras you bought tonight," Shirley asked. "Were they to start this experiment off, or what? Physically, you've developed enough you really should be wearing something, Dave."

"Purely practical, Shirley. While I look like this, I can't get out much, can I? So I can wear bras in the flat and no-one will care. But how am I going to start collecting a new wardrobe? I know absolutely nothing about what women wear." Dave shrugged. "Why should I?"

"That's where your little band of helpers comes in," Debra said. "We'll get you the basics and educate you enough to get you going. Our clothing is usually cheaper than yours, so it won't cost you very much to start with."

"How are you for money, Dave?" Shirley asked.

"I'm on the Sick," he replied. "It's enough for now. I may get much more once they figure out what's going to happen to my body. There's also likely to be a compensation award, but that might take months, years even. I've enough put by to start the clothes off. It was for a holiday but I can hardly lie on a beach looking like this, can I?"

"I might be able to help you out here," Shirley said thoughtfully. "We - Maddens, that is - run a personal shopper service. You sit in a lounge and drink tea while your shopper brings you things to try on. I could try and arrange a private session for you if you like. Then you'd be able to get a basic wardrobe going. I might even be able to wangle a staff discount, because of the circumstances. What do you say, should I give it a try?"

Dave looked reluctant.

"Look," Debra said, "it's a good way of getting the basics, and you'll be able to see what kind of effect everything has, without being under any pressure, and you wouldn't have the bother of taking things back, either." She turned to Shirley. "You wouldn't object to one or both of us being there?"

"No, of course not."

He gave a weak smile. "You all keep making sense. I'm sure there are reasons why this is a crazy idea, but I've already committed myself to trying this mad scheme out. Not that I have a lot of choice, is there?"

Shirley nodded. "Let me make some enquiries. This sort of thing is always good, it helps firms tick equality boxes and so on." She rolled her eyes and the others grinned.

The waiter put down a saucer with the bill on it, and the four worked out how much each was paying. They took their bill to the till at the entrance and retrieved their coats. Outside, it was beginning to cool down.

"Did you see that waiter's face?" Dave said. "He couldn't keep his eyes off my chest. They always say that men can be led around by a women's breasts, I don't think I believed it until tonight."

"Yeah," Shirley drawled as she buttoned her coat, "that can be a good thing, or it can be a bad thing. Depends what you're after at the time. I'm guessing you won't be trawling the pubs and clubs for men, then?"

"I don't think so, not in a million years. I'm not gay, never have been, never want to be." He shuddered. "What does that make me, then, if I look like a woman and like women? I'm hardly a lesbian, am I?" He shook his head sadly. "I'm just a freak, whatever I do."

"Not at all," Debra said. "There are women out there who get on well with people like us. They like the idea that we have some idea of what their life is like, that we can sympathise with them. Okay, a lot like the hardened manly men but some prefer something a little gentler, and we fit that bill exactly. Think of us as the ultimate metro-sexuals. I think you may be pleasantly surprised."

"So Diane said, which is what started me off on this strange journey. Shirley, you all right to get home, or can we give you a lift?"

"Car round the back of the store. Thanks for the offer, Dave. So I'll speak to you in a day or two and arrange something?"

"I have a horrible feeling I've bitten off way more than I can chew here. I've been pleasantly surprised by what I've found out so far, though, so I guess the answer is yes. Now let's all get home. Tomorrow, I start my life as a full bra-wearing member of the human race."