We were kissing and petting on the sofa, to the sounds of her favourite Prince album, when Neera suddenly pulled away from me, put her finger to her lips and flashing me that dazzling white smile of hers, said "Shhhh... This is the one I really like..."

Pop has never been my strong suit. I am more into the heavier guitar stuff myself, but there was no way I was going to tell Neera that it all sounded the same to me. Well... Nearly the same, anyway. "If I were your girlfriend..." sighed the little bugger on the CD and so I mentally switched him off and feasted my eyes on the sight of Neera, curled up on the sofa next to me, listening ever so seriously.

She's tall and dark, with all the right curves, but with rather athletic shoulders, which to my infatuated mind simply provide a lovely counterpoint to the narrow waist and the perky, perfectly shaped breasts. Her legs are long, her teeth indecently white, her eyes black, as is her long heavy mane of glossy hair, and the sound of her voice is a heavenly, head turning sing-song.

When the track finished, she snuggled up to me and nibbled my ear. While my fingers were following the curve of her breast, leisurely aiming for the nipple, in the sure knowledge of finding it large and hard, she let go of my ear-lobe and with her hand gently tracing the line of my jaw from the ear down, whispered huskily: "Nick, would _you_ like to be my girlfriend?"

I briefly groped in my memory for any trace of the lyrics of the song, hoping to work out what might be meant on that startling question, but when I tune out, I tune out - I drew a complete blank.

"Um... How do you mean?" I said eventually, my fingers finally closing on the nipple. She wriggled with pleasure and rubbed her other hand over my bulging crotch.

"I mean... literally. Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Hard though it was to do, I pulled away and looked her square in the eyes. They were as lively as ever, perhaps with a hint of mischief, suggesting that she was up to something - most likely up to pulling my leg. Though English wasn't her first language (not with that lilting accent of hers), it was very fluent and if she wanted it to be, quite precise. Still, one could pretend otherwise...

"My lady," I said with the utmost gravity. "I fear you have come across a serious limitation of the English language. With all the will in the world, I cannot be your girlfriend, for the simple reason that, not to put too fine a point on it, I am not a girl."

"Oh, pfui!..." she laughed back at me, "Such details! We can always fix that!"

That took me aback. "What? You'd have me prancing around in drag, bewigged and made up?" Somehow that didn't seem her style.

Neera put her pretty face to one side and considered me with a mock deliberation. Then she shook her head: "Let's admit it, you have no face or figure for that. You'd look silly... I suppose that might have an appeal of its own, but... No, I just thought it would be fun turning you into a pretty girl."

I just stared. Well, wouldn't you too? Neera had clearly gone bonkers and I wasn't sure how far to humour her. However, I was still very much in lust with her and precious near to being in love too.

She must have misinterpreted my stare. "A lesbian, if you prefer. But very beautiful - truly. And sexy as hell."

Try humouring that! "What on Earth are you talking about?!"

She laughed - that delightful ringing laugh that only Neera can do without sounding affected. "You don't believe me, do you? You think I'm nuts?" Without warning she switched into a hammed-up sulk, turning her head to present me with the uplifted, pouting profile: "You are no gentleman, Nick. Here I am trying to make a lady out of you and are you grateful? Bah!..." She tossed her head and turned away altogether.

Now, I am not overly endowed in the sensitivity department, but even I could tell that I was being wound up, and that a hearty laugh, a good kiss and an apology for boorish manners would make everything all right. Which they did. But I was still left wondering what it had been all about.

I was wondering even more when late that night, after some hectic love making, Neera snuggled up to me, licked behind my ear and murmured: "The offer still stands. You'd enjoy being a girl, I promise you that." With these words she put a finger across my lips, forestalling any response, kissed me on the nose, rolled over and instantly went to sleep. That's something I've always envied her, being able to drop off at the drop of a hat.

For myself, I lay there sleepless for quite a while, wondering what'd got into her.

I expected to hear no more of that foolishness, but Neera returned to it a few nights later. We were resting in bed, with her on top of me and me still inside her, when she propped herself on her elbows staring into my eyes almost nose to nose. She calls it playing cyclops, because when you do that, it looks like your partner only has one eye.

"Still don't want to be my girlfriend?" she enquired. "I rather thought allowing yourself to be re-fashioned into a lesbian beauty would appeal by the delightful decadence of the notion..." She giggled, giving me a squeeze with her pussy. "Quite apart, that is, from your honourable member responding to the suggestion in its own right!"

She had a point on both counts. I'd never been unhappy with my maleness - quite the contrary, as Neera herself had good reasons to know. Nevertheless, however absurd and fantastic, the notion of her turning me into a pretty girl with the explicit purpose of indulging in all-female sexual delights... It had a curious mixture of wickedness, innocence and, yes, elegant decadence, to which my body did respond, whether I willed it or not.

"Neera," I said. "Love. Wise one. Witch. Angel. You are right as ever. I thank you for the delightful fantasy - it does have a kind of shivery appeal. But let's face it. I am a man. A rather handsome one at that, I flatter myself to think, in a way which is quite un-feminine. We already agreed that I would look ridiculous in drag, and I am not into the humiliation scene and I don't think you are either. As for hormones, knives and what-not... so sorry."

Neera was shaking her head vigorously. "Details," she said impatiently. "Such silly details. No hormones. No knives. I ask a simple question, like would you like to be my girlfriend, and you complicate it out of all proportion. Men - honestly!..."

She pulled herself off me, rolled onto her side and put her head on my shoulder, her hand finding my still erect penis and caressing it gently.

"Nick, be a sport... Just say yes... Please..."

It is hard to refuse a beautiful woman ministering to you in such a way. "OK..." I said, "Yes. Hypothetically speaking. If it were possible to wave a magic wand... Yes. It would be an interesting experience."

Neera laughed merrily, pulling herself upwards.

"Thank you!" she said, planting a big smacker of a kiss on my willing lips, rolled over and went to sleep - just like that. What can you do with such an imp of a woman? Answer: you cherish her, nuts or not.

With those thoughts I myself slipped into sleep much quicker and easier than I would have expected.

That night I had some confused dreams - my unconscious clearly working overtime on the raw material of Neera's fantasy proposal. In one of them we were in a large department store, with me trying on a variety of female bodies and Neera criticising all of them on patently silly grounds, like "No, no, no... It's got a mole on the right buttock... That won't do... Excuse me, would you have one in this size and colour but with a left hand mole? No? Well, get out of that Nick and try... Let's see... How about this one?"

This dream played itself in several variants through the night until finally the dream Neera said "That will do, I think. Do you like it? Does it fit under the arms? And I rather like its wide shoulders, don't you? A nice contrast with that narrow waist and girly hips and posterior, no?..." And without giving me any chance of replying to any of these question, or of pointing out that I had no idea what the body looked like because there were no mirrors in sight, she turned to a shadowy assistant: "Right, we'll take this one. Do you have to pack it or can he keep it on?" I ask you!

The upshot was that I woke up almost believing that I might find myself wearing a female body purchased in the dream. Neera was still asleep next to me, despite the sunshine pouring in through the window, and so I was rather cautious in my quick exploration of my anatomy. I felt a real fool, finding a penis still hung between my legs, a flat chest and, somewhat to my regret, small man-sized nipples. I felt relieved too, though curiously enough also somehow cheated.

Despite my care, I obviously managed to disturb Neera's sleep, because she snuggled up to me with her eyes open. "Good morning, beautiful!" she said brightly. I grinned back at her and chanted: "Good morning, good morning, good mo-o-orning!". She freed a hand from under the blanket and ran it along my chin and then lightly down my body, over a nipple, into my groin for a quick but very sexy "handshake".

"Well, get up," she said, "And let me have a look at you!"

I considered objecting to being evicted from a snug bed on such a flimsy pretence, but the morning was beautiful and I felt awake and very much alive. So I got out of the bed and playing up the "girlfriend" conceit of hers, pirouetted slowly, raising my arms over my head.

Neera laughed. "You'll do!" she declared. "Come here and have a look for yourself," she nodded at the wall mirror by her side of the bed. Still humouring her, I did as suggested... and had the shock of my life.

"Nicky, dear," said Neera smugly after a few seconds, "I think you'll agree that with a bit of careful padding you could now wear my clothes without anybody batting an eyelid."

I was too stunned to respond, but the mirror made it abundantly clear that she was right. Looking back at me was the strangest creature. It was thoroughly feminine in its overall contours. Smooth long legs flowed into shapely hips and a very feminine posterior, yet with a hairless penis slowly lifting itself in the groin, out of the patch of silky hair, with no other body hair to be seen anywhere. Fairly wide shoulders atop a hairless but quite flat torso, narrowing to a small waist. Smooth arms with delicate but long-fingered hands. The curve of the long neck uninterrupted by an Adam's apple, and a lovely face atop it, crowned by a cap of closely cropped light hair... My penis was responding rapidly to this strange vision, and on the conscious level I too found it mightily attractive, however bizarre.

Yet the stupid thing was, my body felt entirely mine. The mirror made it clear that I was now woman-shaped, but I didn't feel any different. My body proportions were changed, but my balance and movements remained quite unaffected. My hairless skin felt normal and familiar...

"How?... What?...", I stopped. The voice was my ordinary voice, but since when was my ordinary voice a husky contralto? It sounded normal and familiar to my ears, but having been alerted by the image in the mirror, I was suddenly very aware that it did not match my memory of my voice yesterday. It hadn't occurred to me previously that the mirror might be simply lying, but now with the additional confirmation from my ears, that explanation was gone even before being examined. I ran a quick check anyway, with my eyes and my hands, twisting my head over my shoulder and sticking my bum out, peeking at my hairless armpits, feeling the perfect smoothness of my thighs - only to confirm that the mirror told no lies.

Neera climbed out of the bed and stood naked next to me. Looking at our reflections, it was clear that we were practically the same height and almost identical in shape - except for her breasts and my penis. She hadn't been joking about the clothes.

Her thoughts were obviously running parallel to mine: "We'll have to tuck you in, when you are not so excited, and the bra will need padding, but otherwise... What do you fancy for today? A dress? A skirt and a blouse? A pair of pants? Heels? You can wear anything now..." She smiled. "Even man's clothes! And look good in those too."

She turned me towards her, stood on her toes, deftly slid herself onto my erect shaft and putting her arms around my narrow waist, gently asked: "Like it?"

Only the absolute truth would do, however strange: "Yes..." I sighed, as she slowly massaged me inside her.

Needless to say, we wound back in the bed again and didn't get up until much later.

When we did, I quickly realised I had a problem - my briefs were far too tight and my jeans no longer fit round my hips at all. Neera gleefully offered her exercise briefs and jeans. The briefs were fine and the jeans would have fitted me like a glove, I suppose, except that they made no allowance for my male equipment, which would have to be squashed out of existence. Spurning the offer of a skirt, I settled for a T-shirt (Neera's - she insisted she didn't like the look of my own ones on my new frame) tucked into a pair of harem trousers.

Finally dressed, I settled down to tea and toast. Only after putting away some breakfast did I nerve myself to ask THE question, which I'd been studiously avoiding even thinking about.

"Neera," I said taking the bull by the horns, "An explanation is in order. What the hell is going on?"

She was all innocence: "Why... You consented to becoming my girlfriend. That's all."

"Cut the nonsense. I've CHANGED. One doesn't change just by agreeing to a pleasant sex fantasy! WHAT IS GOING ON? You knew this was going to happen. In fact, I think you MADE it happen!"

"What a strange idea!..." Those black eyes were positively radiating injured sincerity.

"NEEEEERA!"

"All right, all right... Don't get so excited... If you insist, I did. It's a trick my grandma taught me... Don't pretend you don't like what's happening to you." She lightly ran her nails along my smooth arm and then along my unshaved, yet equally smooth jaw, but I refused to be distracted.

"Are you expecting me to believe you have supernatural powers? Powers of such magnitude that you can overnight... do this to a man?"

"Nick, you are just being silly. If I say yes, you'll refuse to believe it. If I say no, you'll refuse that too. Just accept for the moment that it's happening, so it must be possible."

And from that she would not budge. So I tried a different angle.

"Well, at least explain why I don't FEEL any different!"

"Why should you? You are still you, aren't you? Naturally your idea of yourself adjusted together with your body. Otherwise you wouldn't be you. You'd be you, stuck in somebody else's body."

"And I am not???"

"Not. You are you. Just deliciously feminised! Come on, finish that toast. I can't wait to see you in a decent make-up."

Strangely enough, neither could I. Maybe there was something in her implication that my mind got feminised in tune with my body. I suppose the thought should have worried me. Paradoxically, it sent a tiny shiver of sexual thrill down my spine. No, let me be quite honest. It wasn't THAT tiny!

After the breakfast, Neera firmly steered me to her dressing table.

I sat down in front of the mirror and was again jolted by the sight of my face. Eyebrows arching over large hazel eyes framed in long lashes, high cheek-bones, a straight nose over the full dark lips, a neat rounded chin, two small ears hiding in the loose helmet of light brown hair... It was the face of a really attractive young woman. It was my face and I was precious near falling in love with it.

Neera considered me for a while muttering to herself and then coming to some private conclusion, attacked me with creams, powders, brushes and Heavens alone know what else.

It was the strangest feeling, sitting there, letting her practice the makeup arts on me. It had never occurred to me what a sensual experience that was. The gentle touch of soft brushes and her fingers on my sensitive lids, smooth cheeks, pursed lips... It was unexpectedly arousing and for the first time in my life I realised what the word "pampering" might really refer to. I was beginning to understand why women were willing to spend so much time and money in beauty parlours.

Finally Neera stepped back and admired her handiwork in the mirror. "Not bad," she said, "Even if I say so myself. What do you think?"

"Breathtaking..." I murmured before catching myself. It was my SELF I was admiring after all: "Um... Interesting."

Neera laughed. "Don't be ashamed to fall in love with yourself, Nicky, dear. That's the real secret of feminine beauty!"

Looking at the face in the mirror, I found little need for encouragement. Tired as it was by the morning's exercise, my manhood stood to attention, saluting the beautiful woman looking back at me.

I must have been rather in a daze, while Neera proceeded to dress me in clothes of her choice. She deftly arranged my penis, so that it produced no tell-tale bulge under the silky slip, coaxed my pectorals into a fair semblance of cleavage by means of a padded bra, and in what felt like no time at all, had me in silver heels and zipped into a body-hugging half-sleeved dress of soft slate-gray velvet. I wondered whether I should feel scandalised by the unashamedly sexy way it fitted me like a glove, accentuating far too many curves for polite decency. In a word, it made me look... let's say "available", and the realisation both disturbed and excited me.

"Like it?" asked Neera quietly from behind me.

"I... Don't know... It's sort of disturbing. But exciting too. I could come to like it far too easily, I suppose..."

"You will, Nicky, you will! That's the whole idea. I think you do already, too... Just find it hard to accept the fact."

I shook my head and watched my hair fall easily back into a rather nice shape. "Well, OK... But now what?"

"Now nothing." As I turned around, she came up to me and pressed her soft warm body against mine, putting her arms around my waist with her palms on my buttocks and so I did the same sliding my hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

"Why don't we have some gentle music and dance?" she continued. "After that we could have some food - it's well past midday already. Or... I don't suppose you'd feel like going out to eat?"

"Like this?!"

"Well... perhaps not. You could wear something less... provocative."

"It was your choice!"

"Nicky," she sighed, "I LIKE you like this. In this outfit you look exactly how I want you: a classy, sexy, wanton, uninhibited bitch." She laughed. "Do I shock you?"

She did, but her words exploded in my mind like tiny fireworks, breaking something down, setting something free, remaking me yet further to the image she was describing. And I knew I wanted it. So I wiggled my velvet-clad bottom under her hands, pressed her to me and planted a hard kiss on her lips, which she returned with will and passion.

"Shock me?" I said eventually, slightly gasping for breath. "No, but I shock myself."

"Let's dance then! It might un-shock you..." she giggled. "And after that I decree that you'll change into a pair of cords and a silk blouse and we go out for lunch."

"Just for a moment there I thought you were about to say 'and I'll wear you'!" I laughed.

That puzzled her briefly, but then she flashed me a big smile: "Oh no... That would be a waste! And stop distracting me, I want to dance."

And so dance we did. And I didn't even turn an ankle, despite those heels, which soon felt as natural as they looked on me.

Afterwards Neera dug out a pair of gray cord trousers, sufficiently loose not to be a problem, and a forest green silk blouse for me to wear.

"Green's your colour," she assured me, "We'll think about other possibilities later."

A pair of pop-socks and sturdy flat sandals completed the outfit, but Neera still wasn't entirely satisfied. She dug through a variety of drawers and small boxes and finally handed me a band of flexible silver: "Put it around you neck, Nicky - I think it will be just right. Can you manage it without help?"

After some fiddling with the unfamiliar clasp, I did manage without her help, and felt inordinately proud of the fact. Looking into the mirror I saw that her choice was faultless. Cutting across the open v-neck of the blouse, the plain silver band added a touch of understated, sophisticated elegance.

I admit I was nervous stepping out of the flat. Not because of what I was wearing. After all, despite my guilty thrill in knowing that every single item of it was really intended for a woman, that outfit would have been considered at worst rather eccentric on a man. Nor was I nervous because of the makeup, somewhat overdone though it was for the rest of the image. No, it was the fact that I was stepping out without my credit cards (clearly belonging to a man), or money wallet (nowhere to put it), or car keys ("You can't drive, Nicky! Your licence clearly doesn't belong to you!") - in fact without a single item other than my clothes. I felt surprisingly vulnerable facing the world without those conventional tokens of my selfhood.

We walked to a nearby square, with its clutch of restaurants. "Italian?" I said, "French? Indian?..." - I wasn't really at all sure which eating places might be open for a Saturday lunch.

"Definitely French!" said Neera. "Pricey but nice. You'd look good in it!"

"What are you...? Oh..." I followed her eyes and found myself looking at a shop window. She was right, it was a nice dress and the price was indeed steep, as you would expect from that kind of shop. I vaguely recalled visiting it with Neera before, but at that time I had no directly personal interest in ladies fashions. Now though...

"Not me," I said firmly after a brief consideration. "Too many frills!"

Neera laughed. "Come on, Nicky. I was only teasing. You'll get attuned to noticing such things soon enough. Let's find some food. I don't really care what kind. The first open place we come across."

It turned out to be a little restaurant with French pretensions. The waiter enquired whether ladies were expecting other company, didn't twitch an eyebrow on being told that ladies were entirely on their own, and seated us by the window, so that passers-by would see the place having customers. Two large menus appeared in our hands and we were left to contemplate our choices of food.

He must have kept an eye on us, because as soon as we came to our decisions and stopped examining the menus, the waiter reappeared. After taking our orders he produced the wine list and hesitated slightly, clearly undecided as to which of us to offer it to. I was about to reach for the list, but he must have read my intent - or came to the conclusion by some other means. To my surprise, rather than handing me the list, he bent over presenting it to me, his whole posture suggesting a willingness to advise madame on such a complex matter as selecting a suitable wine.

If it weren't for catching Neera's wicked glance over the edge of her menu, I would have probably settled for my well-honed, masterly wine-selecting tactic of sticking my finger somewhere quarter down the list, with the air of nonchalant assurance.

"Heck!" I thought, "I have nothing to prove. As long as he doesn't go for the most expensive stuff..." So I asked for his suggestions and followed his advice, and once the decision was reached, got rewarded with the reverential murmur of "A marvellous choice, madame!". A novel experience indeed!

When the waiter was gone, I stuck the tip of my tongue at Neera, who was barely suppressing her mirth. In response she reached over the table, took my hand, squeezed it gently and still smiling, said: "You'll do fine, Nicky! You'll do just fine! But you must admit it was funny."

The meal passed with no incident worth remarking upon, and it set the tone of care-free unreality for the rest of the day. We spent the afternoon walking hand-in-hand in a park and in the evening had another meal out, followed (on an impulse) by a visit to a cinema. The strangeness was, paradoxically, in the apparent normality of my walking the streets of the city with Neera, wearing the appearance of an attractive girl.

Stranger still was the realisation in the evening that the bathroom mirror had something new to tell me. I now had nipples to match Neera's!

"What's going on?" I asked bewildered.

Neera came in from the bedroom to have a look what I was on about. "I would have thought you noticed, Nicky," she said running her hands up from my waist and circling my nipples with her thumbs. "You are turning into a girl."

"What? But... I thought... You mean it hasn't finished yet?"

"Nicky, darling, you agreed to become my GIRLfriend. However, delectably feminised you may have become, you are most definitely not a girl." She lowered one of her hands and closed it around my manhood, proudly erect between my smooth thighs. "Though I guess, by tomorrow morning you may well be one."

"But... But..." I grabbed at her hand, enclosing my penis, "What about..."

"You'll have a pussy instead, Nicky," she said gently. "A slit. A cunt. And you'll enjoy having dicks put into you rather more than you have ever enjoyed putting your dicky into others. Just wait and see if I am wrong."

"But, I can't ... I mean, I am a man!"

"But tomorrow you won't be. Oh, love. Do relax and enjoy the thought that tomorrow you will be fully and irrevocably a girl. Look, your dick knows good news when you hear it. Besides, look in the mirror. Just look! I know you like what you are right now, and that is only technically a man. With a body like that you'd never pass for one, but that does not bother you. And why should it?"

She was right, of course, but I wasn't really listening - just one of her words caught my attention causing me to squeak in a quite undignified manner: "Irrevocably?!..."

"Well, yes! Oh, not because I'd refuse to turn you back, silly... Because you won't want me to. It's in the nature of the spell that you will love being what you are being turned into, because you are being turned into what you will love being - see?"

I didn't, really, and I wasn't sure I cared for the implications of this revelation, but I had to admit that the idea of going back to my old self was already too remote to be seriously contemplated. And it would have been silly to pretend that I didn't revel in my new form.

She was wrong about the timing, though. Next morning I woke up with my manhood intact and erect, despite my balls having retreated into their body cavities and the scrotal sack having shrank out of existence. On my chest however...

Well, I no longer needed to wonder what it felt like to have breasts, tipped by large brown aureolas and mountainous pink nipples. In case you've never had the experience, let me tell you, it is really something and don't let any woman tell you otherwise.

I brushed my hair (now much longer than the day before) out of my eyes and cupped my new acquisitions in my hands, lightly rolling both nipples with my thumbs... and nearly doubled over from the massive wave of sensation that hit me and spread in a tingling wave over my whole body.

"Oi!", grumbled Neera sleepily, "What do you think you are doing!?"

"It's my nipples!" I gasped.

That woke her up. "Aha!" she said sitting up, "Let's have a look at you!" and pulled down the blanket. "Mmmm... Nice jugs!" she approved, while caressing my left breast with her hand, but carefully avoiding the nipple. "Just the right size. I get really put off by the sizes men seem to find so damn attractive!"

She leaned forward and took my right nipple between her lips. It was only with a tremendous effort that I laid there without convulsing again, as her tongue slithered leisurely over the top of the nipple, causing mounting waves of pleasure to fountain concentrically outwards. However, when she let go with her lips and very delicately used her teeth instead, I simply could not take any more and with a yelp of pleasure pushed her off.

Neera nodded in understanding: "You'll get used to it, but I dare say right now you get a pleasure overload." She pulled the blanket further down, exposing my penis. "Oh! You are a man still!" She knelt astride of me and slowly, sensuously impaled herself on my maleness, massaging me almost to orgasm with her vagina. Then she leaned forward and let her nipples brush against mine. "Mmmmmm.... Nice!" It was. It was more than nice. It was bloody fantastic and between gasps I told her so - or at least tried to, but was interrupted by the orgasm shaking me to the very core of my nearly female being.

Neera rode the storm with me and then slithered off and just lay there with her finger tracing complex, wide patterns over my smooth skin.

"But I want you to be a girl," she said quietly. "All girl. A boy willingly turned into a girl - completely and irrevocably. Transformed in body, mind and soul. Enchanted from male to female. A masterly man bespelled into a sensuous woman. Nick gloriously become Nicole. Doesn't just the thought of it excite you?"

Drained though I was, it did, and snuggling up to her I whispered so, half ashamed for such betrayal of my masculinity, half melting in anticipation of the final transformation, so eloquently foretold.

I didn't have to wait long. When I awoke next morning, I needed no checking to know that the transformation was indeed complete. The thought was electrifying and we spent the day and the night in a fair orgy, celebrating my new womanhood.

The song finished and I snapped out of the daydream. OK, OK... A body can dream. No law against that, is there?

I opened my eyes, feeling a bit foolish for letting my deepest fantasies to obtrude on my consciousness in such graphic ways. Curiously enough, these fantasies of being transformed (particularly into a beautiful, sexy woman) hadn't surfaced until after I met Neera. I would have laughed at the very suggestion before then. It occurred to me to wonder whether this was a mere coincidence, or whether there was something in the nature of our relationship that had uncovered these previously buried desires. Not that I could think of anything remotely likely to do so, but I dare say a psychiatrist would have come up with something profound, plausible and quite meaningless.

Neera's attention was back on me. She was considering me with her head slightly to one side, a not-quite-smile touching her lips. One could almost swear she knew what was on my mind.

She patted my knee affectionately and said: "Nick, would you like to be my girlfriend?"

I am afraid, I gaped in a most undignified manner. "Wha... Er... How?... Eh?!?..."

Neera giggled: "Poor Nick, all confused and embarrassed!... What, is it something shameful to be a girl like me?"

I shut my eyes and shook my head ruefully. This wasn't really happening, was it? Neera, having somehow divined my secret was about to humour me, pity me and eventually walk out on me. Might as well have it over and done with, so without giving myself time to reconsider words I knew I would regret at leisure, I said: "Yes. I mean no, it isn't and yes I'd love to, though how you should know..."

Neera, my angel, my witch, my true love, stopped me by putting her finger across my lips. "You'll love being a girl, Nicky" she breathed into my ear, "I've made quite sure of that.". Her lips, gently brushing against my earlobe were sending shivers down that side of my body, right into my leg, while her words made my breath catch in my throat. She slid her hand under my chin and gently pushed my head up, her breath quickening... "Be a girl, Nicky, be a proud, beautiful, clever, sexy, stylish girl... For me. For us. I know you want it. As I want it. And you want it now. Now. Now! Let it be now!!..."

And then, with no transition at all, no special effects, no convulsion of the world or the self, not even a sound of a solitary fanfare, as naturally as you please, Nick was gone. Nicole stretched herself luxuriously on the sofa, softly murmuring to the world at large: "At last... At last..."

Make what you will of her.