There are many programmes out there that allow you to manipulate photographs, some might say improve on the original. Magazines do this with their models to create perfect skin etc. But what if those changes affect more than the skin and go deeper?

Having sold my business, and having enough pension to live off I only wanted some part time work for pocket money and to give me something to do. So when a friend asked if I would help out with his photography work I did not ask what was needed, just said yes.

The work was mainly school photos, weddings and the occasional studio family photo shoot. So I would help with the equipment and directing people to their positions. Paul was easy to get along with and I always enjoyed being asked to help, he was the expert but would ask my advice at times about which picture looked best if there was a choice.

So life was fine, that was until Paul got some new software. As he was learning how it worked from scratch I was able to keep up with his learning and became involved exploring the possibilities. The idea was to use it so photos could be improved by removing blemishes from the subjects, or maybe highlight certain parts by altering shadow or colour. The basics we soon mastered, and we could do small adjustments. Then Paul started experimenting by altering pictures of us, he would change skin tones, increase beard cover, alter hairstyles. It was as he increased my hair to shoulder length that we both noticed what a dramatic effect it had on my face. Paul then went off to an appointment without me so I stopped to play with the images. I had always wondered what I would look like if I did things differently, and this was a perfect opportunity to find out.

I am not sure why but I tried a few hairstyles and found a long fringe sweeping across the face my favourite. Then after a break to make a drink I came back to the image and realised how feminine it looked, so I played with the image some more, the eyebrows thinned nicely, I was able to add colour to the eyes, lips and cheeks as well as changing the overall colour of the face. It was so absorbing the time passed really quickly, and Paul was back from his last job to find me still playing. We had a good laugh about what I had done saying I had turned a Jim into a Jem.

We did not meet up for a week or so after that, but when we did Paul wanted to show me what he had done. He had proper studio shots of a woman in evening dress stood next to a smart dressed man. I looked closer and saw the man was Paul and complimented him on how good he looked and asked why the photo and who is the lady, and was it a special occasion they had been out on. He just told me to look more closely, then it dawned on me the person in emerald green gown was me, well at least my face. Paul stood back and grinned, obviously pleased with his creation 'so what do you think?' 'Very clever, I look different and you're not so bad yourself'

We spent a long drink discussing how he had done it and what else he might be able to do. So when he left me to mind the shop I had a play myself, I tried making Paul look female but he was just wrong without changing his face shape, so I went back to me and searched the archives and mixed my image with different clothes.

Over the next weeks then months we got really good at making little improvements, the odd mole disappeared, stray hair on an otherwise great photo was brushed away, the shadow of a tummy bulge faded to create a flatter stomach, the instant diet, whites of the eyes became white not yellow or bloodshot with just the click on a mouse.

The original picture of the pair of us was improved on, and became quite a good selling tool to show how much we can change the image. We were surprised when one customer actually called in and asked if we could 'do' him as a her. He seemed genuine, had a set of photos taken, paid up front, and left us to 'improve' them. It felt a little weird but I did a set for him, he asked for a cocktail dress, an office outfit and most odd to me a wedding dress. He called a week later to pick them up and was simply thrilled, and asked for one more to be done. Could we merge a picture of his wedding dress image with him in a suit stood together as man and wife as it were? No matter what I thought he was paying, so I told him a week and call back. A week later he returns and loved the wedding day photo. To say my curiosity was on full would be an understatement, so I chatted for a bit, then as it was late, closed up and asked if he fancied a drink in a pub nearby.

Well I got his full history about how he likes female clothes, and wanted a picture that was perfect. He did not have the nerve to find someone to do the whole thing for real with, so we offered second best. He then got around to asking if the emerald dress that I 'wore' was real, when I said it was not, he looked quite shocked, and insisted I was a naturally feminine featured person. After a while the subject moved on, and we went our separate ways, but the conversation kept playing over in my mind.

The next time I was with Paul and not rushing about but drinking a coffee, the subject of this man came up, so I recounted much of his tale and what else he had said. To my surprise he agreed how female my face is, I asked if he was going weird as well, to which he laughed.

Business continued, I was becoming more full time than part time, but enjoying the new skills, and enjoying the thanks customers gave when they saw the improved photos. Then Paul told me he had a job doing some publicity shots for what he called a dressing service, our bride had apparently been telling his friends about us, and this had generated the enquiry. They wanted a set of images from male to female, they had a model, but they wanted to emphasise the maleness at the start and improve on the female with the final picture.

So Paul took the set, as the man was transformed into a lady with lots of pictures showing the changes. Then after the best had been chosen, I set about improving them, the first picture of the man I made rough looking, he had not shaved, but I darkened his skin a tone, the bags under his eyes deepened, his eyebrows grew some extra hair and so on, the pictures showing the work of the dressing service did not really want any attention, but the final one I made sure the face was faultless and his dress, a lovely burgundy velvet tube was perfect.

I was particularly happy with the results, and so were they. It was some months later I went past their shop and saw my handiwork displayed in the window showing the transition of the man, and felt oddly proud.

Paul and I occasionally had conversations about these odd jobs that came in, sometimes they were pictures already taken that I improved others were for a complete works like the first man. But no matter how much we tried to work out what made these men tick, we never really got it.

So after one really nice gent had asked us to alter his image so he looked like a secretary, I made up my mind to find out for myself, he seemed such a nice bloke, as they all had, so I asked where he gets his clothes from. I was shocked when he said department stores, but he did admit to using the internet at times if he knew exactly what he wanted. He even offered to come with me shopping, but that was too far for me and declined his offer. The thought of me and another man going in to buy anything female made me blush at the thought.

So I went on e bay and ordered some knickers, then spent two days worrying someone would find out it was me who had ordered them. They arrived and I can't tell you how nervous I was opening the package, I went through the whole range of chuck it before opening it, right to getting them on as quick as possible to find out what all the fuss is about. In the end I opened the package, ate my supper, then tried on a pair. It was at this point I was hooked, silk French knickers gently sliding up my legs, then coming to rest on my hips felt to wonderful for words, they were beyond comfortable. I remember pulling my trousers back on which just added to the feel of silk on my arse.

Next morning I dressed as usual but this time without my underpants, I wore the black silk all day. Besides the feel of the knickers, there was also a subversive thrill of doing something I had always told myself was wrong. And so I was hooked. Later that day I ordered more underwear, different pants some thongs, some control and some camisoles to match, well it was cold and I should wear a vest I jokingly told myself.

Within a month I had to move the male underwear out of its drawer to make way for my knickers. The next thing to go was night wear, I always wore cotton pyjamas, so first I ordered a green satin set of pyjamas, which felt so good I would change for bed early just so I could sit around in them, then as I thought of getting a second pair I saw a red silk nightie, ankle length with a robe to match. Two days later I was sleeping in it, a week later I had bought two more.

For a month I hardly bought anything, but wore my new clothes constantly never once going back to the male thick cotton things of the past. They still felt great, but at times I would forget then a movement would remind me what I was wearing and I would smile to myself.

At the end of the month I was looking at a lingerie website and had a coffee in hand, before I clicked on the 'submit order' I paused and reflected on the last four weeks. I tried to answer questions such as what was I doing, why was I wearing a pink thong at the time with a matching camisole, could I stop if I wanted to, did I want to stop, what would happen if I was ever found out. I sat back unable answer any of the questions, except to confirm in my mind that I enjoyed it, and the thought of being found out added an extra thrill. The coffee finished I clicked the mouse and ordered my first bra, only an A cup and with no real idea if it was the right size, but the white lacy garment that had no male equivalent would arrive shortly.

Another decision I made about that time was to not have a haircut, for months I had been intending getting a trim, but being busy I had just not got around to finding the time. I was already constantly flicking the fringe back and pulling it out of my collar when I put on a jacket, so the idea of getting a short cut again seemed the wrong way to go.

The bra came and as I put it on I wondered if I could wear it to go out in, I settled for a sweat top as it is baggy and thick, the cups filled with my small fatty lumps, and did not stand out more than before, so I decided to go to the studio in it and see how it went. Paul never made a comment, and it did not seem to be obvious at all so relaxed and enjoyed the new garment and thought of what style to get next.

A week later I had five more, lacy, satin, under wired and sport, I even tried them under a shirt. At first I thought they would be noticed but Paul said nothing and nobody seemed to stare at my chest, so I assumed I was ok.

Wondering what to try next, I lay in the bath looking at my legs, and recognised that women are always clean shaven, so with time on my hands I started filling the bath water with leg hair, then I trimmed the pubic area, next my arms and last my arm pits. It had taken ages but once dry and warm it felt good. The decision was made that at least once a week I would shave unless I felt stubble before.

I was now well into my new hobby, and while I did consider what might happen if caught, I became more casual about what I wore. I bought a new t shirt but instead of the baggy men's variety I choose a nice white fitted ladies style, the two things I noticed were how well it fitted my body and the other was how short it was, this would never tuck in and stay in. but I never wore it as an outer top so nobody need know, or so I thought.

Next I bought slippers for the house, nobody would ever see these so I went mad and ordered a pair of fluffy pink wedge heeled mules. It was such fun to mince around the house doing whatever, with the slippers on my feet.

At some point after the mules, I painted my toe nails for the first time, just a pink colour then, but within weeks I had changed the colour so many times I could not remember which I liked the most, and was applying clear buff polish to my fingers as well, which three weeks later instead of cutting I was filling to get a nicer shape.

Then I almost came out to Paul, I had an image of me on the screen and was changing the hair colour to see how it changed my look, and asked Paul what he thought of a lighter shade, he looked at me oddly and asked why I should want to colour my hair, I tried to cover up saying I was just curious and playing around. Then to my surprise he takes the mouse does a few clicks, lightens the hair a few shades and says 'something like that would probably be best' and walked away leaving me to decide what he meant. I noted the colour all the same. The next day Paul casually asked if I was thinking of having a haircut and was the colour thing connected, seeing no real way out I agreed it was getting untidy. Then he goes on the computer and pulls up the first picture he had done of me on the green dress, and zoomed in on the head. 'You could have it in that style I should think, it's long enough you know' my throat went dry as I struggled to find a reply in my racing mind, all I could squeeze out was 'do you think so?'

'Do what you like, your ends are splitting, and I am sure you would like a new style' was his unexpected reply.

It was nerve wracking just making a hair appointment at a unisex salon, but going in and then being asked about how I wanted it to look was far beyond my experience of barbers, luckily I took an image of the style and in the shade I hoped for, so the nice patient lady was able to sit me down and get on without getting me any more worked up. It was nearly a copy of the picture, I had collar length hair, side parted with a fringe that swept across my face and ear. Julie (the nice patient lady) sold me a jar of gel so I could remodel it the next day, though I was unsure I could get the same volume or easy sweep that she had created. But for then it looked great.

I had a nervous walk back to my car wondering if people were looking, but after a while convinced myself it always did feel odd after I had had a haircut especially when a fair bit had been trimmed off. The evening was anything but restful either, I knew Paul had sort of encouraged me, but I now had the hair we had put on a woman's image, just how would he react?

The worry was wasted, Paul hardly looked up, just said hello and asked if I would make a coffee. It was later over lunch that he asked how I liked the hair now I had it for real, was the colour right, did I like the fringe? This all left me asking myself if Paul minded how I looked at all, I knew that a trip to the club would be difficult, drinking pints and playing pool would not be the place to ask how friends thought the new style looked.

On the Monday Paul asked what I did over the weekend, we nearly always meet up with friends for a drink, maybe golf or a hike, but I had avoided the friends fearful of their reaction, and had spent an enjoyable time researching some more about female clothes and cross dressing. I obviously did not tell him that I had been ordering tights and stockings, but was surprised when he told me that the hair looked great, and people would get used to it after the initial shock of the change. So I got used to my new style and grew relaxed with it, but when I went out I would wear a baseball cap to hide the fringe as I felt that the most girly part, and my social life returned.

Julie had told me that roots would show after a few weeks, and sure enough I felt the parting was getting to dark so rang to book an appointment. It seemed I was getting into a routine just to maintain things. I was shaving all over and doing my nails at least once a week, the salon about every four weeks and moisturising every night with a slow tanning product that was making my pale skin look far better.

I suppose it had to happen eventually, I was working at the desk and Paul came up behind and placed his hand on my back to steady himself, I had on a nice black under wired satin bra, with a black satin camisole, he could not see this under my black shirt, but he surely felt the straps. He jumped back as if electrified, apologised for being so clumsy, stammered a lot then went out for what seemed along time. I sat trying to work, but gave up and went to find him. He was trying to be busy fiddling with a camera.

'So?' I asked 'do we need to talk?'

'I don't know do we?' he almost whispered.

I offered him a coffee I had made 'do you want me to leave?'

'Oh god no'

I paused to think 'sure?'

'Yes' he replied without hesitation, 'but it was a bra strap I felt wasn't it'

I blushed 'fraid so, will it be a problem?'

'Well no I guess not, but….' And we ended up talking about me and how I came to be wearing a bra, by the end he had come to accept that though odd he could not see a problem and actually asked if I had anything else I was planning on trying, which I took as a good sign that I was more or less free to be as adventurous as I liked.

I did nothing about my new felt freedom until the week after, I was quiet so spent some time playing with my new look. I wondered what make up might change about the face, so tinted the eye lashes, thinned the brows and coloured the lips only slightly, as I sat back to think Paul came in and saw the screen.

'What are you planning now?'

'Just playing' I replied.

'Well lets see then' and he sat down and clicked away with the mouse,

'nothing to dramatic please, think of me and the customers'. he promised me he would, then I had a look at what he had done, he had defined the brows, darkened the lashes and glossed the lips, so with his unsaid approval I bought lip gloss and mascara to experiment with, and the next time I had a salon appointment I would ask them to 'tidy up' my brows.

In fact I could not wait for my full four weeks before I needed the roots doing, so booked early and asked for some extras, fine Julie said and booked me in. A few days later I came out with my usual well finished hair, but also under the fringe, my brows had been thinned, and in my ears two studs had been fixed. Nobody would see except me I reassured myself, and then went to work the next day looking similiar to the doctored picture Paul had done before.

Paul said nothing really, just stated that I had done it, and asked if it was what I hoped for. This was a changing day really, previously odd customers had addressed me as miss as they reacted to the hair I suppose, but that day nearly all the customers referred to me as a miss, one came back the next day and asked Paul if that helpful lady was in, which puzzled Paul for a moment, but he said he recovered quickly.

After a week of this I concluded that if I was going to be called miss it made no difference what I wore and might as well enjoy myself. I started by wearing my t-shirts so they could be seen, white and black at first, then I tried a yellow and then pale blue. Paul said nothing. I then bought linen trousers that I wore with thong sandals, but I did clean off the nail polish from my toes. This all took a few weeks to experiment with, so when I made my next appointment with Julie I asked if I could have a change, and a few days later she obliged me with blonde streaks which had the effect of making the fringe even more dramatic.

Next I tried a silk top, definitely not a male style with its low neck and loose sleeves. As everyone now called me miss, I started to seriously and not just because it felt right, to talk more softly, would walk differently, oh lots of things but basically copying female actions when I could. My nails all went pink, which I loved to see on the keyboard. My lips also gained a pink tint to match the nails. For getting to the studio I found a lovely coat, whereas my old coat was best described as loose, the new beige one was a snug fit and very comfortable. I was looking for a fresh pair of shoes, thinking plain women's style with laces might be best when I saw some nice pump type and ordered them, within a week I had ordered a pair of heeled courts, which once I had found some longer trousers, I wore to work.

I was still enjoying myself with the lovely clothes, and the attention I was taking with my appearance, but the buzz from having a secret hidden under my male clothes was gone now, but it was replaced with a desire not to be laughed at as a man in drag. I now wanted to present totally as a woman for fear of embarrassment. My research went into comparing men and women, how they moved, gestured, spoke and many other little things.

About three months after I first wore make up to work Paul made a coffee and looked at me carefully. I had used a hand bag for the first time, but as I sat I reflected on what he saw, heeled shoes, fitted trousers, white satin blouse, long pink nails, a ladies watch, gold chain round my neck, the hair had not changed much over time, just a bit longer and lighter, my face now clear of beard was subtly made up with just enough to emphasize my eyes, cheeks and lips, and from my ears hung dangling gold chains that showed below the hair cut.

Eventually Paul spoke 'so how long before I see you in a dress?'

'Oh' was my only reaction, then 'had not really thought of it, but trousers seem more appropriate for work'

'well have you worn a dress when not at work?'

I had to say no because it was the truth. I had looked at many dress and skirt styles but could not decide what I would go for, so had always gone for trousers. I asked why he was asking, and I got a, just wondered reply, but it got me wondering about coming to work in a skirt one day.

I now had another interest to study, skirts, there is such variety. But first I wanted to explore shoes some more as they become a bigger part of the outfit when legs are on display. So along with baggy cream silk trousers, a brown angora top I stepped into the studio in a pair of brown sandals with a slim 3" heel. As I hung my coat up Paul said 'hi Jem, the kettle just boiled' he called me Jem, I had half expected it some time ago, but to hear it as I wore these sandals for the first time, especially with the luxurious angora and silk, was like a real boost, he might as well have said you look gorgeous.

'You can wear a skirt if you want' this was Paul again telling me he had no problem with how I was dressing, I always toned it down if I was socialising but even that was getting hard as my mannerisms were becoming ingrained.

'I'm not sure about that' I answered.

'Well how about finding somewhere you would have to wear one'

'I think you want me to wear a dress don't you?'

'OK I think you should try a dress at least once, you present as female all the time, why not?' and so I agreed to go out that Saturday to a wedding were I was needed to herd the guests, but I insisted I would need at least half a day to do the shopping, and a visit to the salon in the morning.

The Saturday was a lovely day and I knew the outfit would be great. First Julie styled my hair giving the volume only she could achieve, then her friend gave my face a complete make over, and the nails had their first manicure. Then back at the studio I changed into a new blue outfit, a camisole top with matching calf length skirt that had a chiffon over skirt and a long sleeved top over the camisole. I hoped I had not over done it, I did not want to upstage the wedding, but as I meet Paul he just stood back and told me I looked fabulous, and for some reason I lent over and gave him a kiss, then sprang back to apologise. The wedding job was easy, but the feel of the skirt on my legs was wonderful and I knew I would be looking for opportunities to wear it again.

As we finished up at the wedding Paul enquired what I would be doing that evening, would I be meeting up with our usual social group later, when I told him I had made no plans but did not fancy a drink with our mates he suggested he get his best suit and we go out on our own.

'Are you taking me out then? Like a date?' I asked

'well if you want to call it that, but I can't imagine you being in a hurry to change, and you are stunning, so why not make the most of it?' I did not hesitate in agreeing.

At seven he picked me up, I had touched up my make up, put on a fancy pair of sandals and changed my jewellery, Paul was indeed in his best suit and looking very smart. There was a table booked at a top restaurant; candles, small portions and attentive waiters made it a quality evening.

After I had drunk a couple of glasses of wine, the conversation turned to me and how I dressed, Paul was still curious about it, and was obviously having no problems with it. He asked what I would do next, I honestly had not thought ahead at any time other than to think of one aspect, and at the time it was skirts that were my current interest, as it were. He asked if I ever thought of surgery, I said no, but he carried on talking about breast implants, asking how they might feel and look. At the time I just smiled and tried to answer his questions. It was later in bed that my hand felt my chest through the nightie that I felt his seed of thought take hold. What would it be like to have tits, I had a pair of inserts, but they felt unnatural so had only worn them a few times, but real ones they should feel like me.

This idea germinated over the next few days, I used the inserts to see how I might look, and I played with the computer imagines giving me a cleavage of varying sizes. Then Paul caught me, and I had to admit that I was thinking if implants but for now it was just research, size, shape, do I want them all the time. If I did it I could no longer go out as one of the boys no matter how far I stretched the idea I would still look like a woman.

Two days later I catch Paul on the computer playing with my image, he has generated a nude shot of me with a set of tits and one of me in the blue chiffon outfit.

'Do you like them?'

'They are very good' I meant the images, but I think he meant the tits.

'Did you know there is a clinic in town that does them? Takes two weeks, and there's no long waiting list.' He had me off guard.

'Oh' was all I could think to say 'is that so'

'yes, and you could stop at mine after if you needed time to recover'

'you have thought this through haven't you. How much will it cost, and what size have you got on there?' I asked as I pointed at the screen. 'Well those are D and those are CC under the top, and money is not your problem, you have helped me out so much, this is a way for me to repay you'

'so you think a D, I had looked at B'

'I know, but what is the point of just having little ones that are too big to hide, but too small to show off, I think you are past hiding now' he left me to mull over what he had said. I don't know how long I had been letting my mind wander, but he brought me around sharpish.

'you have an appointment tomorrow 3.30, and I am paying' that appeared to be it, I was getting breasts.

Next day I turned up on time with some images of how I hoped to look, he asked about the images and how it was done and seemed very interested, possibly more than in my current issues about getting a body changing procedure. He did point out D cups might feel heavy, but I lied and told him I often wore inserts so was used to how a full bra feels. Then when he asked how soon I wanted to have it done, I said I was still thinking about it. Then he tells me that there is a cancellation and if I could come in the next day. Flustered I excused myself and rang Paul, thinking we were too busy and this would need planning, he completely threw me by saying 'go for it, I can cope' so I returned to the consultant without any good reason to say no. So I signed some papers and left.

Next day Paul dropped me off with my overnight bag, reassured me I was doing the right thing, and then left me to the nurses. That afternoon while still awake I had some very small inserts fitted between my ribs and my nipples. Over next week they were inflated with a solution so my chest expanded slowly. In many ways it felt wrong being in hospital when I did not feel ill, just little tight and sore around the chest. I was then allowed to go home but was to come in daily for a top up and application of some skin cream.

It worked out well; I could spend half a day at the studio, and then go for treatment after. Paul for his part paid all the bills, and never asked to many questions, but I did occasionally catch him taking a sly look at me. The clinic provided support bras as my chest grew, but I did buy a black satin D cup bra so I could try it on and see how much farther I had to go. By two weeks I had a noticeable chest, by five I had filled my bra, I felt their weight constantly as they moved around in a most satisfying way. The whole experience was deeply stimulating, besides the weight the cream that I thought was to help the skin stretch also fed the nipples, so they too grew, no longer the size of a pip, when they were cold or tickled I had brown nipples that were the size of big raisins.

The effect of having bra fillers permanently went far deeper than I expected, besides the physical boundaries they created, they also made me feel female, I was constantly aware of them, but not the way a thong between your cheeks reminds you there is something in your arse, no this was more of reminder that told you, be a woman with these you are so definitely feminine. I did nothing to my wardrobe or make up, I just felt more deeply female.

And when the treatment finished and I went for the final checks, the consultant compared my original images to the end result and found them strikingly accurate, he promised to send some work our way. It was as we were doing some shots of me for the clinic that Paul gets the original image of us standing together as if at a gala dinner. I don't have an emerald gown only the chiffon blue, so an hour later we have most of it set up for a new set of photos to compare to the first. Then he took some proper studio type shots of me trying to look glamorous, it was such fun posing for him, lounging, sitting, and standing even one or two less clinical shots of my chest, Paul discovered how real they were as we did this, he casually asked if he could touch them, and to his surprise as well as mine the nipple reacted to his touch, they visibly grew and I felt a tingle run through the skin. I was about to shrug it off and call an end to the shots, when Paul suggests a models trick of icing the nipple, and so I held ice cubes to my nipples then let Paul take more erotic pictures of my swollen chest, to be fair it was very nice having the attention, even if the ice just did not seem such a nice way to get it. As I was in my favourite outfit with my newly enlarged chest, so we decided we should go out again.

Again a nice meal with relaxed chat, sometimes about how I was feeling, sometimes about how Paul felt. But once about how we felt towards each other, I think when I said that I saw him as the boss in some ways, yet as equal mates at other times, I set something in his mind ticking. I suppose this was further compounded when we walked from the restaurant and I shivered in a cool breeze, which resulted in him putting his jacket around my shoulders and my giving him a kiss to say thank you. It just seemed natural I told him, and then linked his arm as we went to find his car.

The results of Paul's mind ticking was on his screen a few days later, he had been editing the shots we had taken and cleverly merged a shot of me sat on the floor looking up a him as he looks down at me, with a hand on my shoulder. I just added to the image a title 'the boss'. When he saw it he smiled and said 'in that case you can make the coffees, while I sit here and watch your body' I laughed and made a performance out of doing the task, mincing around then curtseying as I offered the drink.

We joked about the whole thing, I called him sir or boss, and he started calling me Jem dear, sweetheart or petal. We had pinned the boss picture up, and quite unexpectedly Paul pointed to it and said 'you look far better than the image we played with originally, you are really good looking.' I blushed and mumbled I thought so too.

I bought my first dress, a cotton sundress, the weather was warm and the loose fit was cooling to wear. And when Paul suggested a trip out on Sunday I knew it would be just right for a stroll in a local beauty spot. We had afternoon tea, and then went back to his house for supper. I don't know if I encouraged him by linking arms, or sitting close on the bench in the park, but as we sat with our wine after supper, my legs tucked under me leaning on his shoulder, he asked if I would like to move in with him, followed by when was I going to come out with the lads again.

That night I spent a lot of time thinking about his questions, how would my old friends take the new me. As for moving in, that seemed like a good idea, we got on well, I felt secure with him and we had fun in our own way. So on Monday I told him about my thoughts and made plans to start moving in the next weekend, I would have the second bedroom, but I wanted some extra storage space. And so I moved in and rented out my house.

I also meet our friends one evening, Paul went all bossy on me, telling me I was going to do this, there was no way out, I was sitting around hiding in the house looking lovely and not getting out. I knew he had a strong character, but rarely felt it myself, but this time I was being told in no uncertain terms what I was doing. I wore casual trousers and a jacket, not wishing to be over stated. Then with Paul's inspection and certain attitude we went for a drink at our regular pub. We were the centre of attention that night and certain I did not want to do it again. But everyone got over the shock, two said they could see it coming, one thought it quite weird, and no one told me I was a freak that they did not wish to see again. We left early and once alone my emotions overwhelmed me, I hugged Paul and thanked him for his support, and that was that, I was totally out and able to join in with everything we used to do. I was so pleased how things had turned out.

Besides affectionate touches there was nothing sexual about the relationship, I just felt comfortable next to Paul at times and he never tried for anything more. So when he talked about taking another set of shots, I asked what did he have in mind, he suggested something a little sexier than before, but he said it in his manner that just meant this is what we will do, I am in charge please don't argue. And so we set up a back drop and he clicked away as I did as I was asked, slowly losing clothes until I was in bra and pants, and then just pants, and ultimately naked but posing so my male parts did not show. I then told him it was my turn and took a set of shots with Paul undressed, he had a fit body and could pose well so the results were good despite my average technique.

It was over the next few days when we had time that we edited the shots, selecting favourites and enhancing others, I liked a naked one of me sat with knees up hiding my wedding tackle while looking down in a demure sort of way. But I also liked a more full on pose standing as I could then play around with my body image, I tried bigger tits first, but that looked wrong, then I increased my hips and narrowed my waist, creating more of the hour glass figure which gave me something to think about. That was until I saw what Paul had done. Once more I was sat at his feet, but this time he was naked and I was in a very full and flowing red nightie, one of his hands was behind my head, but it was where my hand was that was most provoking, it was not perfectly done, but the image had me with a hand reaching up his thigh. I let my eyes linger on the image a while longer, 'so is this what you would like?' I asked, he stumbled for words saying he was just seeing what he could do if limbs were moved, I tried again 'but would you like to see this pose for real?' I knew he could almost get me to do anything he wanted, but for once I really had the upper hand. I told him to go and set up a plain backdrop and a delay camera. Next I told him to strip naked and stand in full shot, while he was doing this I was removing my clothes down to some very nice lilac underwear, unfortunately no red nightie was available. I then walked in to see his face a mix of puzzled and anticipation. Then I curled up at his feet and slid a hand up his leg and onto his inner thigh, one thing his image had not had was an erection, mine was hidden but Paul's was being photographed. I could sense him getting too excited and called an end to the camera shots. But before I got up I asked if he had enjoyed that, 'what do you think?' he replied. As I stood up I let my hand stroke past his genitals, I could do whatever I wanted I thought, and then wondered what do I want to do. 'Would you remove my bra and suck my nipples please' he could not get it off quick enough and soon I was feeling tingles in me as his tongue sucked my now enlarged nipples. I still had his penis in my hand when I asked what do we do now, 'nothing' he said 'I have dreamt of something like this for over year, you are beautiful, and I have loved you ever since you had your hair done in a Jem style' he then hugged me tight, kissed my lips deeply and came in my hand. We said nothing as we dressed and cleaned up. I made a coffee and added some whisky. Then looked at each other as the revelations sank in. We scrolled through the shots till we got to the one he had tried to create earlier, his erection was obvious, as was his look of pleasure, what was also obvious was the look of enjoyment, lust and something like admiration as I looked up at him.

We then looked at one another 'this changes things doesn't it'

'it certainly does, should we stop and separate, is this right?'

'Right, wrong, I love you'

'let's close up early and go home, we shan't get much work done now'

'OK' I stepped over and kissed him on the lips

'right you lock up and get home as quick as possible, there is something I want to try out.

Before getting home I stopped to buy some KJ jelly, it was no surprise to find him home before me. 'Right there are two things I want to find out, one is would I be able to have bigger hips and a slimmer waist, the other is what is it like to fucked. I think you can help with the second' he nodded

'well let me find the red nightie, then I shall see you in your bedroom'.

From the expression on his face he could not believe what was happening, and from the feelings in my body I could not believe what I was doing, but there was inevitability about it and it felt right. I did not have a crushing orgasm, just a warmth of being close and feeling him inside me. The orgasm came a week later after I had learnt to relax and feel his touch inside. For that afternoon though, he had spent himself on me, then sat with a drink and rang the clinic to book me in for body contouring. I told him my clothes would not fit if I did this; he said it would be worth a whole new wardrobe to see me happy. How sweet, now that deserved another kiss at the very least.