I then selected my tightest skirt, which happened to be the calf-length burgundy one that I had last worn just before Lucy had spilled the beans about the hormones. I remembered thinking I had put on some weight because it had hugged my hips so well…

While waiting for Lucy to come home I decided to have a shower, so I stripped off, turned on the water, got myself wet and started to soap up. As soon as I touched my nipples I began to lose control. The feeling was just so erotic that I could not resist the urge to keep on massaging them, twirling them between fingers and thumbs until they were absolutely rigid and my consciousness floated on a wave of pure ecstasy.

For I don’t know how long I succumbed to this mindless lustful joy, until, with a shudder that ran through every fibre of my body, I climaxed, and sagged gasping against the shower screen. My body was certainly giving me the message that it loved what was happening to it and wanted more.

I finished washing myself, stepped out and dried off, took off my shower cap and shook out my hair. Looking back at me from the mirror was the face and head of a girl set on the lanky body of a skinny boy. The only signs of femininity below my neck were the now obviously swollen nipples and growing aureoles on my chest with a suggestion of puffiness behind them, and the shaped and painted nails on my fingers and toes.

I imagined myself a couple of years in the future, with a pair of beautiful breasts backing those nipples, standing proudly out from my chest. I so wanted those wonderful symbols of girlhood. How lovely it would be to put on my bra and not have to worry about wearing falsies, to have real cleavage and be able to wear garments with plunging necklines; to be able to show my femininity...no, my female self... to the world.

I imagined my hips and backside with that shaping layer of feminine fat to give me the wherewithal to dress in tight figure-hugging skirts, that totally female curve below my waist. I would be able to sashay around in my high heels with a sexy little wiggle. I knew I would love those improvements to my body.

Most of my mind was telling me that Lucy was doing the right thing for me in giving me the hormones that would irrevocably reshape me into a female form. I should accept the inevitable. My destiny was to be a girl after all, wasn’t it? Wasn't that what I wanted....what I had already chosen? If not, what was I doing here, looking into this mirror?

Then I let my imagination wander further. In that future my penis and testicles, shrunken and useless, dangled pathetically; then ultimately no longer existed, having been replaced with a neat vagina, much more aesthetically pleasing. This was the last piece of the puzzle, no more gaff, only silken panties. I would at last be able to wear sexy bathing suits and go to the beach where my body would be admired by one and all.

Somehow I was torn by this prospect. I wanted it; I really wanted it; the completion of my desires. On the other hand the main function of a vagina, no matter how cute it looked, was to allow a man to thrust into a woman. The thought of a man having sex with me was revolting. I had never been sexually attracted to men and the possibility that my orientation might change to not only allow that but desire it was frightening.

Despite what Lucy said, suppose she was repulsed by it? Suppose she no longer wanted this new pseudo-woman. It was she who had introduced me to the wonders of a man making love to a woman; she who had taught me all the ways of satisfying each other. She taught me too well. No matter what other ways of lovemaking there were which did not need a penis I knew they could never replace the feelings I got when we climaxed together after a sensuous period of foreplay and penetration.

Standing there, my mind wandered more fanciful pathways. When we met, I had been like a dormant seed with a secret, hopeless desire to be a girl. She had taken that seed and planted it in fertile soil. She had watered it and nurtured it, placed it in a sunny spot and helped it to develop, growing into a beautiful flower with a delicate perfume. There had been no need for force, just tender guidance and education. Where she had led I eagerly followed, and the outside world admired the flower and the flower was happy with what it had become. That flower was now just beginning to blossom and ached to become a fully-fledged bloom.

Then something changed. The gardener had decided that the flower must be improved, and had begun to snip away unwanted pieces, to tie and bend the stem into the direction she wanted it to go, like a bonsai plant in a little pot, not permitted to grow beyond its allotted limits. Although the plant might end up prettier, it would not be its own mistress. People would admire the gardener for her skill and cleverness rather than the flower for its natural beauty. Could this be simple jealousy on my part, or was it the fact that she was in control?

I did not think so. If she had asked me, and led me through it, I probably would have agreed. After all, I had never been any good at defying her, nor had I ever wanted to. It was the fact that she HADN’T asked which so upset me. I was still a teenager and hated to be treated like a child by those who thought they knew better. It was that lack of consideration, that selfishness, the simple lack of trust from my love that hurt.

I resolved to tackle her head-on when she got home. Deep down, I wanted her to persuade me, to convince me that she was right and she was doing it because she thought I had asked her to do it by wishing to be a girl. I wanted her to reassure me that she would always love me, and even though there was a price to be paid, we would still be able to satisfy each other sexually and spiritually. I wanted her to tell me she was sorry for going ahead without asking me and to beg my forgiveness, to plead her case with tears in her eyes as she told me she loved me and always would.

I moved away and slipped on a satin nightie, which not so subtly reminded me what my body wanted by caressing my nipples with a silken touch, hardening them once again. I tried to ignore it and shrugged into a dressing gown. Then I went to the kitchen and got a large glass of white wine to keep up my courage.

I sat and waited until I heard the key turn in the lock. She came in looking worn out, and my resolve to confront her disappeared. She looked so tired and disspirited that I just wanted to hold her and comfort her.

“Hello, darling,” she said. “My God, what a day. I’m absolutely shattered. Get me a drink, sweetie, please.”

I did as she asked, and she sat at the table without even taking her coat off, taking a large swig as she did so.

“Lucy, can we talk? It’s important.”

“Oh, please, Suzie, can it wait till tomorrow. I can’t think straight at the moment.”

My steely resolve dissolved and my backbone turned to pure jelly.

“I suppose so,” I replied weakly.

“That’s a good girl. Give me a cuddle and I’ll go and have a shower before we go to bed.”

So she went to undress while I cleaned my teeth and went to bed frustrated. Amazingly, I fell asleep before she joined me.

I woke up in the morning in her arms. She was really making it difficult for me to be strong. I untangled myself, got up and did my morning bathroom routine. I was determined to be businesslike, so I put on my maid’s uniform, the black one, complete with cap and my hair up, seamed stockings and 5 inch patent leather heels, my petticoats caressing my legs. I made her coffee and poured her juice. I had my milk and vitamins (all of them) while the coffee was brewing. I took the two items into the bedroom, put them on the side-table and gently shook her awake.

“Mistress, here’s your coffee and juice.”

She sat up, yawning.

“Thanks, Suzie,” she said. Then her brain clicked into gear.

“Mistress? What’s wrong with you today?”

“Well, you are my Mistress now, aren’t you? I am supposed to do what you say, so I’m obviously just your maid. Will there be anything else, Madam?” I curtseyed and turned to go.

“Hang on, you. What’s this about?”

“I asked you last night if we could talk, Mistress, and you didn’t want to, so now I’ll assume my proper station in life as your plaything.”

“Aaah, this is about the hormones, isn’t it? You’ve been stewing for a week. OK, darling, let me get human and put on some clothes. Then we’ll talk and you can get it all off your chest.”

“Very well, Mistress.” I left the room, feeling rather pleased with myself. Ten minutes later she came into the kitchen. I made sure I was standing in a corner when she entered and I curtseyed.

“Is there anything I can get you, Madam?” I asked.

“Cut that out, Suzie, and sit down. Tell me what’s eating you.”

This was crunch time. Suddenly I didn’t want to do this, but I knew I had to, so I took a deep breath and started.

“When we met I was a kind-of boy and I fell head-over-heels in love with you. I thought you loved me too. Then you found out I wanted to be a girl and you helped me. You didn't hate me or sneer at me like I was scared you would and you encouraged me and taught me how to do all the things I needed to know to become a proper girl. It was all lovely and I was so happy and you were so kind and gentle with me. I worshipped you and I wanted to look after you forever. You never forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do, like when we came to London you let me choose if I wanted to live as a girl all the time. You fixed it so I became Suzie and then you...well you went and spoiled it all by giving me hormones without asking me. You’re saying I have to be a girl whether I want to or not.” By this time I was weeping and getting almost incoherent.

“Oh, this is so confusing! I really want to be a girl but I’m so scared, Lucy. I’m scared I’ll lose you and I’m scared I might change and start loving men, and you will decide you can’t love me without a penis. You’ll get used to doing things to me without asking and I’ll be no more than a toy to you. I’ll really just be your maid and you’ll treat me like a piece of furniture until one day you’ll get tired of me and throw me out. I want you to help me, not force me. I want you to tell me you’re sorry for not asking me. I...” I nearly couldn’t go on for sobbing, even though I knew I probably hadn’t made much sense.

“What if it all doesn’t work? What if I end up with a pussy that doesn’t have any feeling? Suppose the papers find out and hound me like they did April Ashley?”

She was bent over me, holding me in her arms and stroking my tear-stained face.

“You really are upset, aren’t you, my love? I don’t think we should continue this here. I want you to get undressed again and come back to bed, where I can hold you properly, and we’ll talk there.”

I kind of knew I shouldn’t, but I did as she told me and five minutes later we were in bed together, both naked. She held me and looked into my eyes.

“You have such pretty eyes my love. No boy should ever have eyes like yours, and your lips are the perfect shape to be kissed. Now, you silly girl, tell me again what’s worrying you and I’ll set your mind at ease.”

She knew just how to disarm me with her flattery, and the problem was I always fell for it. I didn’t feel at all strong lying there in her arms. I knew it was the right place for me to be, and I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I just wanted to kiss her and have her kiss me back, to snuggle into her and make love together. Nevertheless, I tried again.

“Lucy, you should have trusted me about the hormones. If you had talked to me and explained what you were intending to do, I probably would have agreed. Do you remember the night we went to the ball? We had a conversation and I thought maybe that gave you the idea.”

She looked nonplussed for a moment.

“What I remember about that night is the way you flirted outrageously with Richard and draped yourself all over him until the poor man was cross-eyed with lust, you awful little slut, and he could hardly walk because of the bulge in his pants, and you tell me you’re not attracted to men?”

I had to blush. Isn’t it funny how memory is selective? She was right inasmuch as I had been flirting with my escort, but it wasn’t because I was attracted to HIM. She looked like she was having much too much of a good time with her date Peter and I was trying to make her jealous, so she would take more notice of ME!

I went deep red and mentally brushed that aside.

“That was...well anyway it’s not what I meant. We were talking before we went, when we were getting ready. Don’t you remember?”

She obviously struggled with it and finally said, “Well, I do remember some silly joke about me being your fairy godmother, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

I gave up. This was not what I wanted to hear. Her memory could be selective too. I wished she had said she remembered me telling her I wanted to be a girl like her and she had thought I would be pleased if she waved her magic wand over me. That was why she had given me hormones.

“All right, tell me again why you decided to give me the hormones and why it is right for me.”

“Darling, we’ve been through that, but I don’t mind going over it again if it makes you feel better. Let’s go back to the beginning. Do you like being a girl?”

“You know I do.”

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life as a girl?”

“Yes, I do, as long as it’s with you.”

“Then shouldn’t you be the very best girl you can be?”

“I suppose so.”

“I think you should be, too, so all I was trying to do was help you become what you want to be. What’s so wrong with that?”

“We’re supposed to be partners. I remember you telling me once that we shouldn’t have secrets from one another, and you kept a secret from me.”

This is where I expected her to realise and tell me she was wrong, but she didn’t.

“Suzie, I didn’t want to keep a secret from you, but sometimes it’s necessary to do the right thing. I knew you would get all nervous and jittery, so I decided to go ahead and hoped by the time you realised what I had done you would like it so much you would be grateful to me. Surely you can’t believe I meant to hurt you? And you do like it, don’t you? You should see yourself when I suck your nipples. You’re on cloud nine.”

This was true, of course. I literally couldn’t control myself, but I was beginning to harden mentally, because we were talking about that most basic thing in a relationship, trust. She continued.

“Just think, in a couple of years you’ll have gorgeous breasts and a beautifully shaped bum and hips. Your skin will stay soft and you won’t get all hairy and muscled. We’ll put you on a course of electrolysis straight away so you won’t have to shave any more. Maybe we’ll get you a little facial surgery and, if you want, we’ll have your Adam’s apple shaved, although it’s hardly necessary, and your vocal chords tightened. We can decide then whether you ought to have a vagina or we just leave your willy in place. Of course, you should see a doctor as soon as possible so we can get you a course of injected hormones to boost your system. You will be such a wonderful girl and I KNOW you’ll be so happy, and you’ll be all mine.”

This time I kept control of myself. She had once said I could never keep a secret from her, but she had forgotten that she had turned me into an excellent actress. How else could I make the world think I was a girl? I just had to keep cool. What shook me was that she had put lots of thought into my transformation, far more than I had. She had my future all planned out.

“You’ve really thought it all out, haven’t you darling? You’ve taken charge just like you always do and done the thinking for me, because you knew I wouldn’t do it, and I suppose you had to. OK, I just want you to promise we won’t do anything unless we’ve talked about it first. No more surprises, please?”

“I promise, sweetie,” she said, but I didn’t quite believe her. She had already worked out her every move without talking to me.

“Are you all right now?” she asked me. I told her I was, though I was lying through my teeth. “That’s settled then. No more nonsense, Suzie. We’ll get started properly. I’ll arrange for you to see a psychiatrist next week and we’ll get you to a doctor for the shots as soon as possible. I’m sure those male hormones are a large part of your problem. Now, let’s make love.”

With that, she began to caress my nipples and I descended into a helpless rapture. When we had finished and I could think again I showered and dressed in my uniform once more. This time I really felt like a maid, like a servant or a child being told what to do by her mother. I suppose I was in a kind of state of shock, only able to carry on in a robotic manner. My mind was whirling. Whatever was I going to do? I was determined now to act normally, as if I agreed to her scheme, until I figured out what “I” wanted and who “I” wanted to be.

I now knew I would have to do something soon. If I went along with her, there would be no turning back within weeks, if not days. For once, I could not avoid making a decision.

A few days passed until she had to do another matinee. I was due to work in the evening. I rang the manager and said I was feeling unwell and couldn’t work that night. I packed a suitcase with enough clothes and shoes for three days, put my makeup into a bag, and took my savings from the drawer in my dresser. I had a little over 500 pounds, saved from what Lucy paid me to be her maid and the tips from my job as cloakroom attendant.

I wrote her a note, which I hoped she would still be able to read after my tears smudged the words.

My dearest darling Lucy,
I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I so want to be your loving girl forever and ever, but I want everything we’ve got now, and I’m terrified of losing it. I have to go away for a few days, just to think, but I will call you soon,
I love you so much, it hurts,
XXXXXXXXXXXX,
Suzie

I walked out of the flat and took a cab to a small hotel which I thought was far enough away to stop her from finding me if she came looking. I booked in for three nights as Joanne and my boy surname, paying cash in advance.

I settled in, unpacking and hanging my clothes, my smalls going into drawers. As I did this I realised I had bought nine outfits and eight pairs of shoes to last for three days! I really was thinking like a girl automatically, although I did need all of the shoes because of my height. When I had finished unpacking I sat in the armchair to ponder my future.

I had brought all my mementoes as well. It seemed my subconscious was giving me a message. After half an hour of aimless thought I could sit still no longer and decided to go out and indulge in my second favourite pastime, window shopping and browsing through the fashion outlets. I went to the West End and admired the pretty clothes and the shoes, even though they would be too small for me to wear. Later I went to a News Theatre and watched a dozen cartoons and the Three Stooges. That too failed to cheer me up.

I felt so damned COMFORTABLE as a girl, but I was living for the day and had pushed the future away into a corner somewhere. I went to a Lyons Corner House for tea and cakes and sat there until the tea was cold. I wasn’t really thinking; my mind was in neutral and eventually I walked back to the hotel, kicking off my shoes when I entered my room. I’d been out for most of the day, so decided a good soak in the bath might do me good.

When I undressed I caught sight of myself in the mirror and I was suddenly sure I could see the beginnings of a swelling on my chest behind my enlarged nipples. How could that be? It should take longer for my bust to develop. I stopped and thought. Then I remembered that I’d actually been on a low-level dosage of hormones since we moved to London a year ago, and Lucy had increased that dosage nearly three months ago now. Maybe the initial level had been enough to suppress the onset of any masculine development and had prepared my body for more rapid feminization.

I put my hands on either side of these incipient breasts and pressed them inwards. Wow! There was no doubt. I had the beginnings of cleavage. I was both excited and terrified. I was on the way! I shifted my attention to my hips and bum. How could I not have noticed the development of the curves down there?

I examined myself further and saw my femininity becoming obvious. I had made my move only just in time if I did not want to go down that track, but the changes were leading me onwards like a siren song. I had my bath and, as usual, I could not resist caressing my nipples, which set my now familiar ecstasy into motion.

When I finished bathing I dried myself and got dressed in the sexiest outfit I had brought with me, a little black dress with long translucent sleeves and a boat neck. I wore sheer black stockings and a pair of 4 inch winkle picker stilettos, set off with a wide gold belt, a small gold watch on my left wrist, three gold bangles on my right, a triple-strand gold necklace and hoop earrings. I completed my make-up with a bright scarlet lipstick, batted my eyelashes at myself, donned a black bolero-length leather jacket, packed a matching black evening bag and went out on the town.

I was in a better mood. Seeing evidence of my development had somehow lifted me, made me feel more female. Amid all the turmoil in my head the pull of the feminine was irresistible and I wanted to exercise it. I caught a taxi to a pub called The King’s Arms in Earls Court, which was frequented by Australians. They made a lively and boisterous crowd. I knew a few of them and I knew Lucy was working and would not catch me.

Some of my friends were in there already and a nice boy named Ashley bought me a glass of Mateus Rose, a popular but fairly boring wine. I had a terrific time that evening. The company was fun and funny, and feeling a little wicked, I decided to play up to the flirting and the advances. Probably some of the boys were surprised to see me there without Lucy, who most assumed to be my lesbian partner.

Ashley offered to take me home at the end of the evening but I didn’t want to lead him on any more than I had already, so I refused but gave him a kiss before jumping into a cab to go back to the hotel. I had felt no sexual attraction to any of the boys I had been drinking with. They were fun, yes, but no more than that. If I was going to be a girl I was going to be Lucy’s girl.

I actually slept well that night.

After I got up in the morning, bathed, dressed and had breakfast in the hotel restaurant, I went out to do a little shopping. I only purchased three things and returned to my room, where I unwrapped my new items and stripped off to my underwear. I took off my bra and used solvent to remove my falsies. The first purchase had been a roll of surgical tape which I began to apply diagonally from under my armpit across my chest beneath my budding breasts, pushing each one upwards and inwards. It needed a little experimentation for me to find the best alignment, but soon I was satisfied.

I took the next of my items, a white padded A-cup bra with separated cups that fastened in front. I put it on and “voila”, instant cleavage! I was enthralled with the appearance of a distinct valley in the centre of my chest. Not only could I not help admiring myself, but I was soon in a state of semi-arousal as my for-once unprotected nipples moved slightly against the lining of the cups. It was lucky I was wearing a gaff.

I then selected my tightest skirt, which happened to be the calf-length burgundy one that I had last worn just before Lucy had spilled the beans about the hormones. I remembered thinking I had put on some weight because it had hugged my hips so well on that night. Stepping into it I pulled it up and immediately felt a difference as the material passed my hips. That skirt was tight! I zipped it up and it fitted me like the proverbial glove. I must have put on at least half an inch around my backside in the last couple of weeks or so. I would need new skirts in no time.

My third purchase had been a fuzzy white cardigan-style angora sweater, very tight-fitting and waist-length, so that it sat right on top of the skirt. I shrugged into it and did up the buttons, leaving the top four undone so that the valley between my little puppies was clearly visible. Lastly I slipped my feet into my highest pair of black patent heels, raising my height by 5 inches.

I turned from side to side as I looked in the mirror, and I walked backwards and forwards, taking tiny steps in the hobble-skirt, making sure I swung those hips invitingly as I moved. I was actually panting a little and my lips were half open. I batted my eyelashes at myself and giggled. I looked just like a woman on the make, ready to go into heat. I was tall and slender and nicely shaped. My God, I was turning myself on!

My penis was straining in its prison, taking in this erotic vision, yet it was a delicious torture. I wished so much that Lucy was with me at that moment. I think, for once, I would have been masterful, however incongruously that tallied with my appearance, thrown her on the bed and been the leader in our sex-play. But here was my quandary. I was dying to be a girl, but I needed to be equipped as a male to savour it. So what did that make me then?

I HAD to persuade Lucy to modify her plans. I would happily accept the hormones and my feminization. No, I would welcome it, but there had to be some way that I could keep my male parts intact. I picked up the phone and rang her. She picked up on the second ring. Good, she must have been waiting for me to call.

“Hello, is that you, Suzie?” she asked before I could say a word.

“Yes, it’s me,” I replied, and she launched into me.

“Where are you? I’ve been so worried about you. You silly girl, I want you to come home at once, do you hear me? You’ve got to stop acting like a child and grow up.”

I butted in. “Wait, Lucy. Listen to me. I’ve decided I do want to be a real girl for you. I’ll take the hormones. I’ll have the injections. I’ll do the electrolysis. I’ll even have the facial surgery and breast implants if you want me to. I’ll do anything you think I should, but we must find a way to keep my willy working. I must be able to make love to you. I simply must.”

“Suzie, darling, please come home and we’ll talk about it.”

“No, not until you promise me. I know if I come home you can talk me into anything. We have to deal with it now.”

“Suzie, I can’t promise you. I already talked to the doctors and it’s very unlikely you can function as a male when your body is fully feminized. You have to accept a little sacrifice to become a proper woman. I’ve told you and told you. I won’t mind if your cock doesn’t work and we can always replace it with a nice pretty vagina. Now stop being silly and come home.”

“I’m sorry Lucy. If there’s no way, then I have to stay as I am. I wish you could see me now. The treatment is working already and I think I look absolutely fabulous. I’ve got little breasts and cleavage. My hips are rounding out really well, and I had a chance to think about it. I feel so comfortable. Can’t we just go part of the way and get the best of both worlds?”

“You’re being unreasonable and illogical, sweetie. There is no “half way”. Another couple of months on the pills and with the help of some injections when we get you to a doctor, there will be no going back. Listen to me. In no time at all you will have forgotten that you were ever a boy. The memory of your male bits will fade away and you will adjust to being a full-blown girl. The psychiatrist has assured me she can help you through any difficulties.”

There it was again. She had been making all the decisions for me and had everything prepared without ever mentioning it to me. I knew then I could not go back. My heart broke at that moment and I began to cry.

“Lucy, I’m so sorry, but I can’t come home,” I managed to choke out before I put down the phone.

I collapsed on the bed and wept until I had no tears left. I had been so sure we could solve the dilemma, that she would realise and apologise; agree we would talk through everything together, the way couples should.

Eventually, I pulled myself together and knew what I had to do. I went out shopping again and bought myself some new clothes and a few other bits and pieces. When I returned to the hotel I was mentally and physically exhausted, so I did nothing more that night except go to bed, where I tossed and turned and periodically cried until I fell asleep.

The next morning I did my ablutions and used the new soap I had bought yesterday in the shower. I put on a dressing gown and started my preparations by removing all the varnish from my nails, then cutting my finger nails back to a short length. I lit a wax taper and singed off all of my eyebrows. For what I was doing no eyebrows were better than feminine ones. One of my purchases was a barbers’ hair clipper with a cutting head that would leave about an inch of hair on my head. I used it and cut off all my beautiful hair, of which I was so proud. I flushed those tresses down the loo, crying as I did it. When I looked in the mirror John looked back. I had never thought I would see him again.

Finally, I dressed in the boys’ clothes I had purchased yesterday, packed my lovely girls’ clothes and other bibs and bobs away and walked out into a future I did not want.

Epilogue

I cried myself to sleep for the first month but eventually you run out of tears. I never saw or spoke to Lucy again. I still love her. Joanne/Suzie still forces her way out occasionally. She still loves to go window-shopping in complete anonymity. Part of me wishes I was still her. But...Well there are always the buts and the what ifs, aren’t there? Choices.... Oh, Lucy.....if only...