[ Note: contains scenes involving the aftermath of violence. If that sort of thing is at all triggering for you, do please move along. ]

I felt like I was on fire when I woke up.

In my head, I flung back the sweat-damp duvet and pivoted up and sideways on one hip. In reality, I managed to push myself half-upright before discovering I couldn't even lean against the bed properly and so slithered gracelessly to the floor. My legs didn't want to work the way I expected and I had a weapons-grade headache. That was when I remembered the stabbing pain in my leg while at the metro station the day before. I twisted round as best I could and found what looked like a serious insect bite.

Spiked.

It was the sort of thing that happened to other people - usually in the more excitable media.

Like most others, I'd stashed a box of energy gels in the bathroom when there'd been the last moral panic about rogue nanotech. I crawled there on wobbly limbs, hoping that the gels weren't too far out of date, fumbled the box from under the sink and squinted at it; March 2065. Not too bad, then. I clutched the box to my chest and crawled into the shower. I set it full on cold and squeezed two gels down my throat. The immediate problem with an involuntary nanotech infection is that it's not keyed to your metabolism. Thus it has a tendency to run hot and cook you from the inside. It also tends to use more power that it can easily find. That means you need to carb-load like there is a tomorrow and you'll be running a couple of marathons.

After half an hour, I'd stopped shivering enough to be able to take stock. Female again, and, if the empty box of gels was a useful measure, going to end up curvy when the nanotech finished its work. I'd been female before; there were only a few over-religious sorts who didn't experiment with the stuff as soon as they were old enough. I'd had large breasts before, too. There are clubs south of the river where most of the clientele are horny teenage boys wearing ludicrous porn star bodies with unlikely breasts or horny teenage girls wearing muscle-mary bodies with unfeasible penises. Most people settle down when they discover that the sex or the walking around isn't anything like as much fun as they imagined. Some people like it, of course; it's a big world out there. It's also done wonders for the accuracy of slash.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Roundish face, big brown eyes, cute nose. Pretty rather than striking. I could handle pretty. I yawned. I could handle pretty a lot more after a good long sleep.

I couldn't see over my chest when I woke again. I levered myself up on my elbows and they were just there. I was badly off balance when I went to inspect myself in the long mirror on the bedroom wall. Wow. Urban legend had it that most spikings would leave you with antlers, multiple penises or an udder; pranks more than anything else. I couldn't help smiling at my reflection; someone seemed to have gone to a lot of trouble, because I was a bit too well put together to be just the victim of a prank. I turned, flicked a mane of brown hair out of the way and viewed my ample behind. This was the sort of body that would inspire looking after rather than dribbling over. Bob would know. Bob would actually be keen to get his hands on this nanotech if it really was 0-day stuff.

I was pretty sure that I'd thrown out all my girl clothes the last time I'd changed. I'd returned to male after a relationship ended and I guess that after the first several months back in a male body, I'd carefully forgotten that I liked being female because, well, it was tainted from being suckered by that two-timing bastard. It's funny; you can kind of accidentally destroy any rigid notion of gender, but there are still arseholes. For that reason, I wasn't keen on going outside without at least a bra. The weird thing is that a good percentage of the people who'd shout from their cars would have been female themselves at one time or another. Like I said - arseholes.

I propped my phone on the table and 3D scanned myself. 34G? I scowled, shook my head and ordered some underwear, jeans and random tops. A few minutes later, the phone chimed to tell me that the items I'd requested would be delivered tomorrow. I spent the rest of the day slumped moodily in my dressing gown and composing flame-mail to my personal AV vendor in my head.

Bob's Body Shop was more or less what you'd expect; a high-end body modification suite done out to look like a pseudo-retro car repair place.

"Simone! Dudette! Long time no wossname!" Bob, or Bobbi by the state of her hips, was rocking a very designer version of a mechanic's overall.

"Angel! Why on earth are you hiding those gorge legs under that?" I said, matching her fashionista-for-the-gallery tone.

We air-kissed. I didn't know how much longer I could keep it up. Bobbi grabbed my hand and hauled me into her office. She perched on the end of an authentically cluttered desk and looked me up and down.

"That's so not you. I mean, I like what you're trying to say, but that whole girl-next-door thing is..." She flapped her hands to indicate something like 'too last week to be spoken about'.

I nodded and looked around for a chair to flop into. I found one and flopped. Some interior designer must have spent several days scanning through pictures of old-time garages and several more finding just the right manuals and parts books with just the right oily fingermarks. I sniffed. It smelled of moisturiser and antiseptic rather than motor oil and hand cleanser.

"This wasn't voluntary," I said.

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward to inspect me some more. "You don't say. Want to talk me through it?"

I shrugged. "Not much to tell. Markov-spiked two days ago. I woke up just before I cooked off, so I'm guessing some 0-day nanotech and I'm lucky not to be a pile of steaming goo."

Bobbi looked suitably horrified. That sort of thing bad for business.

"So you toddled down here for a M-scan and to share the reward for finding a new exploit? Good girl!"

"Yes, that... And because I never came round to apologise for not listening when you warned me off The Arsehole."

Her expression softened. "I've missed you. It really is good to see you again, and I'm sorry it all went to ratshit. I've seen you about in that smelly male body, but I couldn't..." She shrugged and dropped her gaze.

I leaned forward and grabbed her hand. "It's ok. I understand. I needed to be on my own for a while, and it kind of turned into a lifestyle choice. And for your information I rather liked that body. It was original for a start."

Bobbi clutched at her chest in mock horror. "Walking around in public unmodified? Dear lord what sort of mutant are you?"

"A happy one," I said.

She smiled. "Touché. Right then, let's get you debugged... Are you sure you don't want to stay like that? It is rather growing on me."

I stood up. "I'm tempted, but," I prodded at my cleavage. "These things are a complete liability."

In keeping with the whole retro-motoring theme, most of the M-scan platforms were skeletal things that would go up and down on small hydraulic rams. Bobbi led me past all that and through a door with the ominous name 'Parts dept.'

I looked a question at her. She stooped, rubbed her hands together and cackled 'Velcome to my laboratory...' She then straightened and pointed things out. "High-bandwith M-scanner, disposable VM rig in case of active countermeasures, no connection to the outside world ditto and the room's a Faraday cage. You get the special treatment because your payload might cut up rough if we look at it funny."

That stopped me in my tracks.

"Bobbi, when you say 'cut up rough'..?" I asked.

She shrugged and made a face. "Thermal runaway's the one you know about. Ebola-style hard fail's popular too. Look, don't worry; I've not lost a client yet, and can you imagine the cost of a full level-5 hazmat clear up? So not going to happen. Now, get your lovely arse on that scanner and let us see what is to be seen."

I settled myself on the bed of the thing. I thought I felt a static tingle and a warm flush, the same way you think you feel something when standing in front of a microwave. I stared at the ceiling as Bobbi typed and hummed tunelessly. It seemed to be a stainless mesh, behind which were cable-trays filled with great hanks of orange and yellow fibre.

"Ok, angel. You're done," said Bobbi.

I raised my head and looked sideways at her. She smiled and patted the chair next to her own, so I beetled across and sat. She pointed at the screen.

"Ok. Good news; it's commercial, so nothing we haven't seen before. Bad news; the exploit is pretty hardcore. I'm going to need a blood sample I can work on in isolation, so I can send a proof-of-concept to your AV vendor. All basic stuff, but it takes time. It'll be about a week before we can put you back in your stinky male body."

I nodded. I could cope with this body for a week.

"Odd news," she continued. "You're carrying a lot more payload than required for a one-off change. It may be just a feature of the way the thing was bolted together though, which is probably more good news. This is scriptkiddy stuff, though without the usual level of cock-for-a-tie 'humour'.

She actually made the finger quotes in the air. I smiled and realised that I'd properly missed her. Don't let arseholes rent space in your head.

Bobbi waved a vampire tap at me. "I vant to trink your blut. Or rather this wee machine does."

She positioned the thing in the crook of my elbow. It wriggled against me, and then I felt it nip and start to suck, It seemed like it had slurped up an armful by the time Bobbi tapped the big button on the top. It licked fake skin onto the puncture wound and probably tried to kiss it better, too.

She held the thing over a petri dish and had it spit a few drops. There was a loud hiss as it bubbled furiously. The blood, my blood from inside me, boiled away to a brown sludge. I gawped at the remains.

"That's going to make life interesting," said Bobbi.

She sounded calm enough. I took a deep breath and tried not to squeak too much.

"Is that challenge-interesting or oh-shit-interesting?"

Bobbi looked surprised. "Oh. Sorry. It's weird; I'd forgotten that you've not been involved with this stuff. No, don't worry. It's a self-destruct to make it hard to reverse-engineer. It's kind of like flavour of the month. Like you remember when that gear came out of South Korea that was all penis-antler boobytraps? So two years ago. Um. Where was I? Right. That means it'll take a while longer to debug, so you'll have to remain adorable for at least a month."

I couldn't help smiling. I was getting the distinct impression that Bobbi had taken a bit of a shine to me in this body. I briefly entertained the idea of finding out how much of a shine, but it could be a quick way of fucking a friendship. I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed and smiled.

"Thank you," I said. "You've been lovely."

"Oh, absolutely any time, angel. Which, um. Would you perhaps fancy glamming it up this Saturday and accompanying me to a thing? I have a plus-one and no-one to share it with... Oh, lordy. That sounds both desperate and a sympathy fuck doesn't it? I'm sorry, I just..."

I put a hand on her arm. "Bobbi. Yes. Ping me with details. Although, um, how glam?"

I was treated to a kilowatt smile. God, I was so in here.

"It's a modern art event, so I think that means charity shop chic for the artists and cocktail wear for the patrons and hangers-on. And it's Bee. Bobbi's the name for the punters."

"Little black dress. Bee. Got it," I said.

There was a chime from the screen.

"Oops," she said. "That'll be a paying customer. Not that you... Oh, you know."

I knew.

We steamed out onto the shop-floor, air kissed for the audience, and then she was off angel-ing and sweetie-ing at the next person.

I walked home rather than take the metro. There were fewer people to stare down my cleavage or try to stick me with designer bugs, and I wanted time to think and stare into shop windows. Bee was very obviously into me; even an idiot could spot that. I tried to remember how she'd been when we last met. I'd been female and working for Bob-the-male as a nanotech coder, which was how I met The Arsehole, who'd been one of his customers at the time. It was a stupid and regularly re-hashed story, which didn't make it any less painful. Arsehole had pulled this big 'Why Simone, you're gorgeous, let me tempt you away to a life of luxury goods hacking the nanotech of the rich and/or famous' and like an idiot hypnotised by the smell of Vuitton luggage, I'd fallen for it wholesale. The fact that he was an amazing shag didn't hurt in the slightest.

The moment that still plays in my head when my subconscious feels I need a good kicking is a party on some gin-palace of a motor yacht. I'm standing in a corner in a borrowed gown that's showing more leg than I thought possible and drinking steadily to numb the shyness, when Bob heaves to. He's clutching a bottle of champagne like it's his only friend in the room and goes "Si, I... Look, this is going to sound awful, but... Please don't go off with that man. I don't... I don't think he has anyone's best interests at heart but his own."

I tell him, loudly, that I couldn't believe he'd try something like that and make to storm out. He holds my arm and says "I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I... Simone, I..." which is when I twist free and flounce off.

Two days later I woke in a hotel room in Berlin to discover that The Arsehole had vanished with all the designs I'd been working on for him, and a good section of Bob's customer list that I'd been persuaded to 'liberate' too. I'd been so embarrassed by my stupidity that I returned to male within hours of getting home and the longer I went without finding Bob to apologise, the worse it all became in my head.

I cringed inwardly and tried to think about something far less unpleasant. The shop to my left had a quite striking dress in ther window. Overbust corset as top half, floor-length skirt with at least two slits and a faux-military lycra shrug-thing if the owner wanted to show slightly less flesh. Though given the way it and I were put together, it would be an unmistakable bosom showcase.

For two years I'd bought clothes that kept me warm or had pockets for phones and clean handkerchiefs, and I'd forgotten that odd rush that went 'I can't wear that. I mean I could wear that but great christ I might as well wear a t-shirt reading 'willing dupe of the patriarchy'. God that's so hot, I wonder if I could get away with it? When on earth would I wear something like that anyway? Oh, wait...'

I looked stunning in it. I'd need to put my hair up for the complete effect, but it was total red-carpet stuff. I'd got the thing home and had been thinking what Bee would say when I passed out.

I was cold and curled into a ball when I came to. Everything hurt. My eyelids felt like like they were crusted shut with something. I let go of my knees and tried to rub whatever-it-was away. My right eye worked; I was lying naked on the hall carpet near the open door of my bedroom. I whimpered when I touched my left eye. That whole side of my face felt like it was about twice the size it should have been. I must have fainted and bounced my head off something on the way down. I levered myself into a kneeling position. My breasts were a mass of bites and scratches. I was... Oh God. I started to weep silently. I couldn't make my legs move independently and I just wanted to curl up again and protect my... my... oh god oh god oh fuck. What if he or... or oh fuck no... they were still in the place? Where was my phone? Think, Si. It's a tiny place you've got. I held my breath, but all I could hear was... nothing. I forced my legs to move. It was like I'd caned it in the gym and fallen asleep in an odd position all at once. I crabbed slowly to where I'd left my phone next to my computer and peered at the thing with my one good eye. Sunday? How had I lost two days? There were about a dozen messages from Bee. They started out cheerful, made a dive toward put out and finished with a plaintive 'Call me? Please? Bx.' I sniffed, blinked away the tears and managed to send 'please come over now'.

Bee found me in the shower. I'd scrubbed myself raw with a nailbrush and was curled up again to protect myself from the sting of the hot water, when I heard a squeak of pure anguish. I looked up to see Bee, wide-eyed and hands over her mouth. Her expression made me feel awful.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I couldn't think of anyone else to call."

Bee reached in to turn the water off. "You're sorry? Oh, you poor, poor girl."

She found a towel, wrapped it round me and held me while I snivelled into her lap.

Much later, I was curled up on the sofa. I was too sore to sit up straight, so I'd pulled my legs up underneath me and was leaning sideways on Bee.

"Some fucker out there really hates her," I said.

"Her? D'you mean you?"

I looked up at Bee. She was still giving me an all-purpose worried look. I half smiled.

"No, her. Whoever's the original for this body. I've not gone dissociative, Bobs."

"Well, if you say so. Look, walk me through it, would you?"

I took a breath. "Ok, so. I'm stabbed in the leg in a crowd like it was some historic cold-war re-enactment of that Markov fellow. You discover that the nanotech isn't anything special, which rules out the spooks or corporate espionage, if only because I'm not doing anything important and I'm not dead. So we assume a prank. Then I'm... I'm... Oh, hell. I can't even say the word. How crap's that? Anyway. The people listed on the door access control list are me and, as of a few hours ago, you. The logs show that I let someone in late on Friday night, which is a bit damn odd because the last thing I remember is admiring the dress I bought for our date."

I stopped and looked up at her again.

"It was a date, wasn't it?"

She nodded, eyes bright. "Yes."

"I'm sorry I stood you up. I feel awful."

"Don't be stupid. I mean, really," said Bee.

"So, um, the only thing that makes any sort of sense is that some sick fuck out there has a really nasty thing for this body and I was just the lucky contestant he picked to ply his foul trade. I mean, it's an awful lot of trouble to go to. And. God. Just look at her, um, me. I'm cute and harmless and just, you know, nice. And yet he... he walloped me and he bit me and he..."

"Shh..." Bee held me until I stopped shivering.

I took a deep breath and held up a finger. I had to get the next sentences out in one piece, otherwise I'd just explode.

"You know, this is the first time I've been glad to only be slapped about. Well, I say 'glad' and I use the phrase 'slapped about' because, actually, 'beaten fucking witless' is, ugh, how did that happen to me? It's not like there's some man of the house to decide that I need to be disciplined in some way or another. And... And the thing I keep thinking is that it could have been so much worse and I am glad that it wasn't. Only a kicking? Not too bad. Obviously only a minor transgression that one of us made... God, I don't even..." I shrugged and curled up tighter.

"We should go to the police," said Bee.

I scowled. "Riiight. 'So, er, 'sir'. You say that you were 'accidentally' changed in broad daylight on a metro platform, then you let person or persons unknown into your flat, whereupon you allege that you were assaulted. Yet you also state that you have no memory of the alleged activities'. Somehow I don't see them putting a squad of their best people on it... God, sorry Bobs."

She gave me a squeeze. "Good point, slightly over-the-top execution," she said. "Anyway, should I, um..?" She left me to fill in the blanks.

"Yes I would like you to stay and no I won't make you sleep on the sofa. I don't expect that I'll thump you in the face mid-nightmare or be turned into a sex-robot... Christ. I'm someone's meatbag fuck puppet, aren't I? But I feel I should warn y..."

"Yes."

"... that it'll all be terribly chaste. Obviously."

"Yes," she said again.

I slunk into bed and pointedly didn't watch Bee fling her clothes on the floor. She snuggled into my back, which gave me something else to think about. I had these scenes looping in my head; waking up on the hall floor, looking down at myself covered in scratches and then looking back up to see Bee come steaming into the bathroom.

I woke up in the Parts Department. I was on the M-scanner again. Naked, this time.

"Don't move," said Bee.

I didn't move.

"You had another fembot attack in the small hours. It was, um, pretty obvious that there was a sex-crazed bastard at the door and that you were jolly keen to let them in. I, um, was quite insistent that we should bunk off down the fire escape. Thankfully your controller likes them docile, otherwise, well, we're here now. I think I also owe you an apology... Ok, you can get up now."

I levered myself off the scanner bed. Everything still ached, although less so. My robe had been slung over the back of the chair next to Bee. She mad a point of not looking at my reflection in the screen as I hobbled over and wrapped myself in the thing.

"Apology?" I asked.

"Yeah. I think I know how your remote control works. I really wasn't looking for big structures yesterday and, well, take a look."

There was some girl's back view on the screen. She had a way cute bum and... Oh, that was me. The scanner was doing some false colour cycling thing that looped through the various structures - skin, muscle, nerves, veins & arteries, skeleton, tendons, clusters of nanotech and something narrow and opaque that ran the length of my spine.

"What is it?" I peered at the screen. I was two years out of practice and everything I once knew about nanotech and body-work was screamingly obsolete.

"An aerial. Mr. Sex-bastard emits a signal and your bogus nanotech doses you up with a rohypnol analogue."

"That's some fucked up shit right there."

I was having trouble dealing with the fact that this was actually happening to me. It felt like we were looking at the logs from some poor unfortunate and working out how long it was going to take to get everything back to normal for her.

Bee turned to me. "Stupid question, but do you fancy helping me with some debugging?"

"I need breakfast and clothes and someone to go to my flat to make it secure, because I guess if I leave this room, I'm fucked. Oh, and if they could bring back the dress at the right-hand end of the wardrobe, too," I said.

"Dress? Why?"

"You'll see..."

It took all of four hours to get back into the swing of it. Among the day's discoveries were that as soon as I stopped worrying about having out-of-date skills, some odd muscle-memory asserted itself and I was elbow-deep in reverse engineering my personal infestation. The other notable discovery was that a steel-boned overbust corset is a usefully effective personal Faraday cage. Bee's expression when she saw me scuttle out of the Parts Dept towards the toilet was remarkable. One third soppy grin, one third drooling lust and one third concern that I'd fembot out again and do something untoward in view of the customers. I didn't process any of that until hours later, though. I had a complex map of nanobot logic in my head to puzzle through.

I forgot to flinch when someone dug their thumbs into my shoulder muscles and started easing the kinks out. By the time that I remembered I should have jumped a mile, it seemed a much better idea to un-hunch my shoulders and think hard about not purring.

"Progress, angel?" Bee. Obviously.

"Mmmmmohgodyesdontstop," I said.

She kept going until I flapped my hands for mercy. I think I flowed into a slumped position while Bee composed herself in the other chair, crossed her legs and looked at me with raised eyebrows and a half smile. She was way better at the girl performance than I.

"Progress. Yes. I can now give you a library of, um, 'specialist' options for your more, er, demanding clientele, which probably explains the density of the nanotech."

Bee waved at the screen. "Please, demonstrate your findings."

I demonstrated. A rendering of a woman catwalked in and out of the screen. Bee blinked and leaned in for a closer look.

"Ponygirls are a little two years ago. Nice touch with the white fetlocks, though."

"What on earth do you wear when you've got a tail?" I said.

She shrugged. "Holdups or stockings and a cake-frill skirt, lycra, latex. Or just hotpants and tie a red bow into your tail." It seemed like she knew far too much about it.

"Your kink?" I smiled.

Bee blushed and re-crossed her legs. I looked at her with my head on one side.

"What?"

"Just imagining you with a tail. Actually, I think it could be kind of hot."

She blushed some more. It really was staggeringly cute.

"Next deviancy, please... That's not too odd. Wait, is that a tongue? Ew! Next!"

"What happened to your professional detachment and acceptance of the broad range of human sexuality" I said.

Bee grimaced. "Anything that doesn't startle the horses, when it's a client. It's just... I can't help imagining what you'd be feeling when you woke up like that. Without knowing what was going to happen, I mean. That's one of the more fucked up bits. It's like, um, there's the set of people who totally dig ponygirls because that's their thing, right? Then there's another set of people who want a tail because all the cool kids have one, and it's just a fashion accessory like any other... But they all go into actual shops and say 'I want one of those things', then stride out a while later to show off their latest purchase... You don't get the option, you just get what Freaky McFuckup wants... And, yeah, I know that there are people who'd totally go for that particular scene, but I don't think that's your bag, right?"

I shuddered. "Ugh. True. I think I fell into thinking about it happening to someone else.

Bee gave me a very odd look.

"What?"

"Did you ever wonder who was the model for your body?"

I stared at the screen. The avatar of the woman with two tongues was still waddling to and fro.

"Of course. The fact that... that... happened makes me think that either sex-bastard can't get at her, so he has to satisfy his foul urges by other means, or, um, he already has got at her and now he wants another taste, which, um, sort of means that... Oh god what if she's dead?"

Bee squeezed my hand. "No point speculating, angel. Can you bring up your current body, too?"

I could.

"God. Do I really walk like that?" I said.

"You do. It's distracting. Oh, do stop smirking. It's unseemly to be that pleased with yourself. Anyway, search for those three and let the inference engine to its work."

I was about to demonstrate the remainder of my possible bodies, when there was a 'Bok!' noise and the screen filled with pictures.

Bee pointed. "Look, there's our ponygirl."

The picture was part of a news item from four years ago. 'Brutal slaying of local woman' read the headline.

There are times when being right is less than no fun at all. Ms. Two-tongue was on the next screen: 'No new clues in park stabbing.' A front page from two years ago.

"Oh, fucking hell," I said.

Bee did her best to be reassuring. "Look, there's no sign of your body in the news section. Have a poke across the FriendFace."

I poked. There she was. Mugging for the camera in a sequence of bars and restaurants, peering hungover from a tent at a festival, trying to ignore the camera from a sunlounger somewhere hot and popular. I ordered the photos by time and location. The dots speckled across the map and seemed to cluster in a suburb to the west.

Bee hauled her chair closer and rested her chin on my shoulder. "She seems to be quite the visitor to the Skylab Lounge."

"You know the place?" I said.

She moved her chin back and forth on my collarbone. "Yep. It's got a wierd sort of retro-future vibe to it. All luminous cocktails and random jazz. You'd love it."

I took a deep breath. "We're going to have to find her and, I don't know, warn her or ask if she knows any nutters or something."

The barman seemed really pleased to see me.

"Robyn! You're early dear. But omigod that outfit is..." He smiled and gestured to the phone on the shelf behind him. "Sorry. New phone. Hasn't synced all my contacts yet. But that's still a storming outfit."

Dealing with mistaken identity is one of those modern manners for which they briefly made comedy.

We lurked in a booth at the back of the place. Bee kept an eye on the door while I poked at social graph data on my phone. There had to be some connection between the three of them. I'd contructed a large query and set it running when Bee nudged me. I looked up to see my twin walking in with a group of people. There was some back and forth with the barman before he pointed us out. Her friends froze, then two of the bigger lads very deliberately stood between us and the bar.

"They know," I said.

"Know what? There's no copyright on looks anymore. I mean, as far as faux pas go, two people turning up with the same body is good for a laugh and maybe a picture for the FriendFace."

I shrugged. "You may be right. Look, she's coming over."

"I'm always right, dear."

Robyn had pushed past her two friends and turned to shoo them to the other end of the bar. She slid into the booth next to Bee and leaned her forearms on the tabletop. "That's a very nice body you've got there," she said. Her grin was wide and wicked. I made a mental note to try a look like that out on Bee.

"Thank you," I said. "I'm becoming rather fond of it. Although I must say that you seem much more at home in it."

Her smile softened into something a lot less plastic. "Thanks. I have had several years for it to grow on me." She smiled again and glanced at Bee.

"Oh, sorry," I said. "Manners and all that. This is Bee and I'm Simone. I'm guessing you're Robyn. I mean the barman was way pleased to see me, or at least this body so, um..."

I peered at my phone. It was still crunching its way through the query I'd handed it; find some person common to Robyn and the two dead women. I looked up again. Robyn was starting to look a little wary. There are damaged people who'll fixate on someone else, usually a someone in the middle of their fifteen minutes, and try their best to cargo-cult their victim's life because they think their own is so rubbish. My heart sank.

"Oh. God. I've just worked out what this looks like. I'm totally like some awful chasey-chasey freakshow which, um, God no. Bee? Help?" I glanced at my phone again. What was taking so long?

Bee rolled her eyes. "What my dear but geeky friend is failing to explain is that a few days ago some nut-job spiked her with some dodgy nanotech and she woke up looking like you. We were kinda-sorta wondering if you might have a pet stalker or something."

Robyn had the good grace to look relieved.

"That's so weird. I mean I guess I was kind of flattered when I saw you, and totally curious. Then I remembered that a friend had a crap time with a chaser and... I'm sorry." She seemed suddenly fascinated by whatever was in her lap.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm having a hard time explaining what's going on to myself, so anyone else is going to get arm-waving and gibberish," I said.

Robyn looked up again. "I'm still curious, though. What, um, did you think when you looked in the mirror? Were you really freaked out and stuff?"

I smiled. "Actually, I thought I looked totally cute. And it meant that I had to go and find Bee here so I could apologise for being an idiot, so it's basically been a win all round."

She looked thoughtful. "Is it weird to be pleased about that?"

Bee raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure the internet's got a word for it."

"True that!" Robyn laughed, bounced up out of her seat and held a hand out towards me. "Simone, can I borrow you for two minutes?"

I glanced at Bee, who made shooing motions.

"Go and do girl-things. You need the practice."

I allowed Robyn to drag me to the toilet. She headed for the urinals while I ducked into a cubicle. Afterwards, we regarded each other silently in the mirror over the taps. We both started speaking at the same time, then laughed, which broke most of the tension.

"After you," I said.

"Who hit you? I mean it wasn't, um, Bee was it?" She looked uncomfortable saying it.

"No, not Bee. Actually, it's a short story, but quite a nasty one, which I will tell you later if you feel up to it."

She narrowed her eyes theatrically. "I can't say no now, can I? So. Your turn."

"Penis?" I said. Not exactly the most outré mod, but some people were a bit funny about it.

She nodded. "I went through the same pornstar phase as every other sixteen-year-old, discovered that I didn't care to be male and swapped back. Well, mostly. You mean you've got a vagina? And you were male when you were spiked? That's so weird."

Halfway back across the bar, she pulled me to a halt and leaned in to my ear. "Do you really like that body?"

I smiled. "Yes, I really do. So does Bee, I think."

Her face lit up. "You mean you two are..?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. I hope so. I don't know yet."

Robyn favoured me with an evil grin. "That's almost a shame..."

I blinked. She, er? Oh. Riiight. I couldn't help but grin back.

"God. That's... There's a chapter in the psychiatry manual for people who do that sort of thing. It's called 'Bad and Wrong.'"

She leaned in further to press her boobs against mine. I shivered and tried hard not think about her naked.

"You're no fun," she said, with an over-the-top pout, "It's not like you did it on purpose, is it?"

I shook my head. I didn't trust myself to do anything more than squeak.

"So..?"

"So I have your number, you brazen creature, and I so, so would... But... " I nodded in the direction of Bee.

Robyn laughed and pulled me forward again. "Brazen creature? That's a lovely thing to say."

What are you two so happy about?" said Bee when we slid back into the booth.

"Mysteries," said Robyn. "And happy endings." She turned to me. "So. Let's have the nasty story."

I told her the nasty story with as little emotion as I could manage. Robyn had her hands over her mouth by the time I was half-way through. I still felt weirdly guilty about sharing it with anyone - as if I should apologise for making them listen to my private horrible experience. She was silent when I finished, staring at me with saucer eyes.

"And you think that is somehow connected with me?" she said eventually.

I nodded. "I can't help thinking that one or other of us is in deep trouble. Are you sure that you don't know any angry nutters?"

She shook her head like a child refusing the notion of bedtime. "Nope. But let's have a look at your pictures anyway."

I pulled up the head-shots of ponygirl and tongue-woman and handed her my phone.

"Oh," she squeaked. "That's Lex and, um, Sam. They were in my class at college. I saw Sam last week and Lex is over there with the rest of the mob.

I stared into the middle distance. There was a huge exploded diagram of an Apollo service module across one wall. I was missing something. I could feel that there was a hole, but couldn't fathom the size of it.

Bee scowled. "This is all making my head hurt. How about pausing the investigation for a swift glass of lemonade?"

"Good plan," said Robyn. "I can introduce you to the gang and see if they've got any ideas about stalkers that they've been hiding from me... That is if you, um, don't mind and stuff?"

I wiggled back out of my seat. "Works for me."

I was drunkenly poking about with the FriendFace on the big monitor in the Parts Dept. when I realised I needed to pee Right Now. I looked across at the corset on top of the pile of discarded clothes. It stopped moving when I closed one eye. By the time I struggled into it, I'd be standing in a warm puddle of my own making. What's the worst thing that could happen in two minutes? I hauled on a t-shirt and tottered towards the door.

This time I wasn't curled up on my own hall carpet.

It felt like I'd jerked awake after catching myself nodding forward. I was in my own spare armchair; the one usually home to a pile of books. Sitting across from me on the sofa was a nondescript sort of man; t-shirt, short medium-brown hair, jeans, trainers; just some random bloke, really. This was sex-perve? I was a little disappointed. I'd expected some flavour of towering muscle-man or a freak in a disturbingly normal suit or, I didn't know, a wild-eyed harpy in designer leatherwear. Instead, my apparent nemesis seemed to be a web designer. He looked up from his mobile.

"... And you're back in the room," he said. There was something about his voice. He crossed his legs at the knee. There was a moment of discomfort on his face, then he shifted his position on the sofa. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, elbows on upper knee.

"How are you finding that body? Top-heavy and annoying? Good." He nodded to himself. "Men acting surprised when they notice you've got a head and a brain? That is if they manage to tear their eyes away from your cleavage. Back pain? No clothes that fit? Scaffolding for underwear? It must be horrible."

If I'd had a working brain, I would have agreed with the nutter and kept on agreeing until I worked out what was going on. Instead I was bad tempered through unexpected sleep and a medium-rare hangover.

I looked him in the eye. "Actually, no. It's been quite pleasant. For an entirely un-fucking-wanted dose of dodgy nanotech."

He smiled with the bottom half of his face. "Yes, well. You always were a pig-headed bitch."

Oh. So someone from my past then. Who the hell had I pissed off badly enough for this? I mean, I knew some web-designers, some of whom were a bit flaky, but none of them were actually, clinically, barking. And. Where did Robyn and her friends fit in? Bee would know.

There was a groan that came from the direction of by bedroom, followed by some freestyle swearing. Bee. My captor rolled his eyes and stood. He pointed at me. "Sit. Stay," he said.

"Or?"

He glared at me. "Or you'll be dead. Duh."

I couldn't hear what was said in the bedroom, but moments later Bee walked out, holding the back of her head and looking rough. She was followed by my, our, captor, who looked far too pleased with himself for comfort. Bee gave me an awkward one-armed hug and sat on the arm of the chair, leaning against me. I was surprised how pleased I was to see her and twined the fingers of my left hand around her right. I looked up at her, raised my eyebrows and tipped my head a fraction in the direction of web-bloke. She shook her head minutely. Ok, so we weren't going to jump him.

Web-bloke shook his head. "As they probably still say on all the good cop shows, 'Don't get any ideas.'" He brandished his phone at us. "If the screensaver on this activates, so does her nanotech. You'll cook off, dear. I don't think either of you want that to happen."

Bee gripped my hand. It hurt like hell and I stifled a squeak.

"Hello, Dee," she said.

Dee rolled his eyes again.

"Diana, bitch. And could we please stop pretending we're all post-gender now? It's just a mob of fucking men playing fucking dress-up.

Apparently, there were once people who refused to have phones. There were also people who refused to have anything to do with the FriendFace. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that recreational nanotech body-mod rubs some people up the wrong way. 'Post-gender' was one of those throw-away statements made by someone who was about to make a lot of money, or someone writing a profile of same, that was dragged out of context and used as a rhetorical weapon in exactly the same way that 'politically correct' was a century ago. Some people liked to be female, some people liked to be male, others liked to mix and match in order to annoy the squares, and there were some people who really, really didn't hold with any of it and took the entire business as a personal affront.

"Simone, you remember Diana. She was Devin's partner." said Bee, as if introducing us at a cocktail party. Devin? Who the hell was..? Oh. The Arsehole. I'd actually forgotten his name.

"Is, please." Diana looked daggers at Bee. "I don't know what lies this one's been spreading, but he loves me more than ever. When we met at college, we just knew."

"How is Devin these days, anyway?" I said.

Diana glared at me. "You should know, you slut."

I blinked. "Should I? I don't think I've seen him for two years."

"You were talking on the FriendFace last night."

"I... What? I was in a bar last night with Bee."

"Oh, really. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you've managed to turn this one against me, just like the others."

I watched Diana flinch as her phone vibrated. She wiped a thumb across it to stop the screensaver. I started counting in my head.

"Others?" said Bee.

"People are always plotting to take Devin from me. I've stopped them before and I'm going to stop that evil bitch, too. She thinks she's so clever in that body."

"The body that you forced on her."

"I'm just showing off her true colours so everyone can see who she really is. She was pretending to be a woman when she tried to take Devin the first time, but I got him out of that love-nest in Berlin. I paid her back for that. I showed her what men are really like." He turned to me. "That's what you really are, bitch, and it's no more than you deserved."

Diana twitched his thumb across his phone again. Ninety seconds, give or take.

Bee stiffened. "And Robyn?"

"She has to be stopped, too. You all have to be stopped."

Bee lurched upright. Diana met her halfway and walloped her with the fist that held his phone. Bee yelped and crumpled backwards. I was still pushing myself out of the chair when Diana hit me across the side of the head.

I stayed on the floor until the room stopped bouncing. I could taste blood in my mouth where he'd backhanded me. It crackled on my tongue like a handful of space-dust. Of course the sick bastard had had hit me on the left side again, so it hurt twice as much as last time.

"Come on Simon, you useless bitch." He grabbed my upper arm, hauled me upright and propped me against the wall with his forearm across my throat.

He was concentrating on his phone, jabbing at it with his right thumb.

"Just got to put you in a more receptive state of mind, then all this unpleasantness can be over," he said,

I sucked the inside of my cheek as hard as I could. It felt like I had a bulging mouthful of blood and snot and saliva. I tried to crane over his shoulder to see if Bee was moving yet, but he felt me change position and leaned harder on my throat without looking away from his phone.

"Now I will teach you your fucking place." He pushed his face close to mine and held the phone up so I could see his thumb on the 'send' pad.

I gobbed in his face as hard as I could.

"You hateful little slut!" He had enough time to half close his eyes before the fizzing started. He collapsed backwards, spastically rubbing at his face and making a keening noise as his eyeballs boiled dry.

I shuffled past him to check on Bee. She levered herself into a sitting position against the wall and grinned lopsidedly at me. I grinned back. I wanted to crawl under the nearest duvet with her and stay there for a month.

"What in hell did you do to him?" she said.

"Spat in his eyes."

"Holy fuck. Really?" She looked horrified.

"What? Was that not a happening deal?" I glanced round to check that he'd not turned into an avenging monster in the interim.

"If he's lucky, your self-destructing nanotech will burn out while it's still chewing on his optic nerves."

"Oh."

She shrugged and grimaced. "Ow. Shouldn't have done that. Anyway, it's his own fault. Don't fuck with the woman I love."

"Christ!" I bolted upright and lurched toward Diana.

"What? What is it? Do you... Did I?" Bee was looking back and forth between me and the writhing Diana.

"Bee. Angel. Your timing is impeccable, but where's his sodding phone?" I said.

"Here. Catch."

I caught it, more by luck than clear thinking. It buzzed in my hand to warn me that the screensaver was about to turn me into a nasty stain. Diana moaned when I hauled a hand away from his eye socket and dragged his thumb across the face of the phone. The buzzing stopped.

I poked through the applications on the thing.

"Find anything?" Bee had crawled across and was leaning over my shoulder.

"Nothing obvious," I said. I'm sure she meant well, but I wanted her to shut the hell up and let me get on with it.

"What's hooked into the screensaver?" she asked.

Oh. Now I wanted to hug her and tell her she was lovely. I found the running screensaver process.

"That's odd. Why would it be wired to a... Oh."

I started the astrology application. It was an ugly mess of buttons, none of which had anything to do with being a Scorpio.

"Bee. I love you," I said. I yelped and nearly dropped the phone when she tried to hug me and squished my left breast.

"Oh! Sorry! I... Sorry," she said.

I growled and dragged the button-screen to and fro, looking for something incriminating. One of the buttons seemed to be a countdown timer. I poked at it. A box appeared, reading 'Disable watchdog?'. I opted for 'yes'.

The timer stopped. I held very still. Would I be able to feel my nanotech going to work? I guessed that I'd begin to feel feverish first and maybe start to sweat, or glow or something. I looked at the back of my hand, poised over the phone. It still seemed smaller than usual, although it was just lack of hair and a coat of dark varnish on my nails. There was a pain in my chest that was getting worse all the time. Maybe that was it? Maybe I should..?

I took several deep breaths and felt better immediately.

"I think," I said. "I think that's it."

Bee hugged me very gently. "I'm sorry..."

I twisted round. "Stop apologising, dear. It's distracting."

She sat back on her heels. "Do you really?"

"Do I really wha.. Oh. Right, um. How long have you, er..?"

Bee looked down and raked her fingers back and forth on the carpet. "I... You remember the party on that gin-palace?"

I nodded.

"That's when I was going to tell you. I couldn't let you go off with that arsehole. You would have been making a massive mistake. You just weren't thinking straight."

"Uh-huh." I nodded again.

"But it was my mistake to make and my body to make it with." I said it to myself. I felt sick thinking about it, but I couldn't make it un-happen.

"What?" Bee looked up from her carpet-raking.

"Nothing. Go on," I said. Louder this time.

"And then, well, things happened. And I, um, changed back to female because I heard you were a bloke again. I sort of thought that if you dropped by you might..."

Bee looked up again. She was radiating... something. I wanted to recoil as if I had a hangover and she'd been at the garlic sandwiches.

"What do we do about Diana?"

I said it deliberately. Bee looked annoyed, as if I'd stopped her in the middle of something important, but composed herself.

"Better call an ambulance. Your access logs and that phone will show that he was up to no good. Nanotech spiking's still one of those book-throwing offences."

I inspected the control panel on the phone again and poked at the button marked 'change log'. A long list of modifications popped up with an 'on/off' slider next to each. Some of the later ones were... I took a couple of deep breaths and tried not to think about waking up in the morning to discover hooves. The last green-tagged item was named 'remote control'; when I turned it off, a box popped up to tell me that the change was being rolled back. I hesitated a finger over 'Snapshot: Robyn' and looked down at myself. There was a massive greeny-purple bruise on my left breast and four parallel scratches ran diagonally and vanished under the neckline of my top. My heart began to thud when I found the 'flush' button. There was a chime as I poked it and a box reading 'dump active system? Uncomitted changes will be lost.' I tapped the 'go' button and the phone chimed again.

"What did you just do?" Bee craned her head and tried to read the screen upside-down.

"Got rid of my aerial." I took a deep breath. I felt hot with guilt and embarassment; as if I'd just done something really stupid. "I flushed the nanotech, too."

Bee rocked backwards again.

"Oh. Ok. Well, you are utterly cute in that body and it won't take long for your AV vendor to issue a patch and I probably love you more like that than..."

"Bee..?"

"Yes?"

"Please stop."

"I.. Stop? Stop what?"

I looked her in the eye. "Stop sounding like a crazy-ass stalker."

She looked annoyed again and allowed herself a small laugh.

"Oh, now you're just being silly. I love you, and you," she said, pausing to knead my shoulder. "You need looking after."

I grimaced. I probably did need looking after for a while. Crowded station platforms, web-designery men, other people's crazed stalker ex-girlfriends, men in general and probably crowds in general were all going to give me The Fear. I could... I could allow Bee to look after me for as long as it took to get some confidence or to work out if I wanted to be male again or... I hugged my shoulders and concentrated on the floor.

"Bee. Would you please just... go. I need to sleep for about a week, and then I need to work out who the hell I am."

"You're the person I love, you ungrateful cow. And you work for me. You need me if you don't want to be stuck like that for months on end." She tried to make it sound like a joke, but there was a nasty edge to her voice and the implied threat was clear enough.

"Do I?" I sounded bleak. I wanted it to stop. I wanted people to stop being rubbish. Hell, I wanted to stop being rubbish. I hauled myself to my feet and tottered for the door. Bee looked daggers at me from the floor, but managed to barge past me when I got the door open. She turned to glare at me from the lobby.

"You'd better not be doing something you'll regret, missy."

I stared at her. She still looked like Bee, but the more she said, the less I could see of the person I cared about. I wanted to give her another chance to stop talking, but it was long past too late for that. I closed the door and removed her entry from the access control list through a film of tears.

The second part of the increasingly poorly-titled 'Stone fox tapes', which will likely make little sense without a swift (re)read of the first part.

I was right. Monday was a complete nightmare. If I wasn't staring, horrified, at the re-animated corpse in the mirror and wishing I knew something about make-up, I was bursting into tears over random Java compiler errors. Which sent me scurrying into the bogs for more red-eyed mirror staring. If I'd had my brains about me I'd have bunked off early, but some daft pride about not giving in to perceived stereotype kept me chained to my workstation. The cavalcade of wonderful continued when I left work. It was pissing down with rain, and by the time I'd made it to the end of my road my trudging had become squelching. Still, at least no-one could spot the difference between tears and raindrops.

I left a wet trail of clothing from the door of my flat to the shower, then slouched around in my bathrobe until I could seize the family-sized lardy special from the startled pizza bloke. I washed the thing down with a bottle of wine and then sprawled drunkenly on the sofa feeling sad and bulbous.

When Katie rang, I held it together for about thirty seconds before hiccupping and sniffing the day's entertainments down the phone to her. She was all set to drop Jack with her mum and steam round to keep me company, which made me feel even worse.

"Alix," she commanded "Go and get your bag. The one you had last night."

I tottered into the kitchen to retrieve it from the table.

"Got it? Good. Now empty it out."

I upended the thing on the sofa. Keys, hankies and wallet cascaded out. And a vibrator with a red bow attached.

"Katie!" I shrieked "I've been carrying that around all day! What if... What if..."

I could hear the dreadful girl laughing delightedly down the phone. I bit my lip and tried to think serious thoughts. Oh bollocks, it was no use at all. She'd got me grinning like a loon.

"I suppose you think that's funny," I said between giggles.

"Yes, actually. I do. Now go and discover how futile any of your remaining blokey cave-dwelling behaviours are. I expect you to have shagged the batteries in the thing when you bring it with you tomorrow. Oh, and if you still hadn't worked it out, bring enough underwear for the rest of the week."

"Yes, miss," I said, half meekly.

"That's better." Katie sounded... slightly nervous. I wasn't sure. Sometimes you can tell when someone's working up to an announcement.

"Alix, I... Bugger. I think I set Jack off. Alix, I... "

"Go!" I interrupted. "See to your splendid offspring. We can talk tomorrow."

"But, I..." Katie sounded torn. "Ah, it'll keep. See you, lover."

"You too, sweetie," I said.

Sweetie? Jesus. I was taking to this female business like a duck to a nice plum sauce.

I put the vibrator in my bathrobe pocket. Looking at it made me want to clamp my knees together - it seemed huge. On the other hand, the effects of a bottle of wine made Katie's plan seem like the best idea ever. Two more votes came from my nipples. I really was going to have to get a less-rough robe. I shuffled into the bedroom, threw the bathrobe to one side and eyed the vibrator drunkenly.

'That's never going to fit' I thought.

Well, it did. Repeatedly.

* * *

Tuesday's hangover was a lot less fierce than I had any right to expect. I wandered through the day with slightly sore head and cunt, bursting to explain to anyone who'd listen that multiple orgasms were an excellent cure for the Monday Bleak. Of course I couldn't, because as far as they were concerned I was a man in a fetching frock. That was all going to get very confusing.

When I arrived at Katie's, shopping in one hand and stuffed day-pack in the other, she at least allowed me to shut the door before pinning me against it for an entirely lovely hip-grinding snog.

"Don't you ever make me wait that long again," she growled when we came up for air.

I stood there, panting slightly and wondering if I could get away with ripping her clothes off right now and fucking her on the stairs, or if I should make supper first. The doorbell ringing loudly in my ear made the decision for me, though it was touch and go.

Emma steamed in and looked askance at the pair of us.

"Hello. Have we interrupted something?"

"Yes," said Katie cheerfully "We were about to shag on the stairs."

Dave peered round the door.

"You just carry right on with your lesbian things. We'll make ourselves at home. Do you have a video camera? Ow! Emma!"

Katie slid behind me and cupped my breasts with both hands. I jutted one hip out and tried to look sultry. Though since both Dave and Emma burst into laughter, it probably looked like I was wondering if I'd left the gas on.

We adjourned to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. I was giving the blender the full Jamie Oliver two-handed shake before a ribald audience when Katie's parents arrived.

"I never believed anyone actually did that," declared Liz from the doorway.

I tipped the curry sauce over the chicken and set about it with a wooden spoon.

"Neither did I until I tried it. You have to remember to hold the lid on, otherwise it all gets a bit messy."

"I shall take your word for it, my dear."

Liz looked around the room, as if searching for something. Katie coughed and held up the wine.

"Oh, well spotted, Catherine. Yes, a glass each will be a splendid start."

She and Mike had met Emma before and knew of Dave, so introductions were minimal. It took about ten minutes for the conversation to go technical. Emma and Katie poured themselves large glasses and let the other three get on with it. I was torn between not wanting the curry to go on fire, needing to stick my oar in regarding the rubbishness of consumer PCs, and wanting to display girly solidarity with my partner and best friend. Given that the two of them were glancing regularly in my direction and laughing into their glasses, I thought it best to leave them to it and content myself with food bothering and pithy observations about the state of Windows drivers.

As luck would have it, the curry was a success. I was sitting there feeling stuffed, a little tipsy and only half paying attention when Liz turned to me.

"So then, Alix. When are you moving in?"

I sat up quickly and tried very hard not to breathe wine. Emma smirked and Katie looked horrified. I couldn't see Dave and Mike's expressions, but they were probably of the resigned variety.

"I, um... We, I mean..." I tailed off. We. I'd said 'we' to Katie's mum. And her dad.

Liz looked amused at my confusion. Katie grabbed my hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.

"Come come, dear," said Liz "You must know the joke as well as I. What does a lesbian bring on a second date?"

"Mother!"

I couldn't work out if Katie's horror was real or mock. I hoped for mock.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Catherine. The pair of you are so sweet it's making my teeth itch."

Emma joined in.

"It's true. You are both repulsively cute."

I grinned at Katie and pulled the hand that still held hers from its hiding place in my lap and rested it on the table.

"Good. So now that's settled, tell me about yourself. Where are you from?" said Liz.

Your blood doesn't actually run cold at any point. What happens is that there's a massive pulse of adrenaline as your fight or flight reflex is kicked off.

Katie squeaked in surprise when my grip tightened.

Emma chose that exact moment to have a coughing fit. It was quite a production, complete with back-rubbing and sips of water, and when she finally waved us away, the moment had passed.

* * *

"There was nothing wrong with Emma, was there?" said Katie.

"No."

"Oh."

The last time we'd been on that sofa, it was for wild and sweaty sex. We were now snuggled together under a duvet and holding hands again. It felt like a good default choice.

"It's a bit of a rubbish story," I said. "Technically, if I'm from anywhere it's Wiltshire, since I was born at Stonehenge."

Katie's eyebrows shot up and she opened her mouth to say something. I rushed on. Better to get it all out in one piece.

"I've no idea who my father was. Mum never thought it was important to tell me, and since we spent a lot of time in radical lesbian communes, banging on about men wasn't a popular choice. It was bad enough that I was a boy, I think. I mean, probably. Then when I was nine, she got bored with the idea of motherhood and fucked off. We were at some eco-community in Wales at the time, and the rest of the people there were like an extended family anyway, but it wasn't... " I ground to a halt.

Katie hugged me.

"Oh, Alix. I'm so, so sorry. That's awful. You must hate that sort of question."

I sniffed and smiled a little.

"It's... I used to hate her so much. The useless selfish cow, how could she? But it's much better now. I mean, there's Emma and stuff."

"Emma?" Katie looked taken aback.

"Yeah, we got trashed one night at uni. It was my birthday and it all came out. The silly girl volunteered to be my backup mum on the spot."

"Backup mum? That's..."

"Pretty damn brave under the circumstances."

Katie looked uncomfortable.

"Alix, sweetie. I..."

I kissed her on the nose.

"Don't worry. You can ask me anything now. Emma was just being over-protective."

"That wasn't what I was going to say, but since you mention it. Do you know where your mother is now?"

"Olivia? The last postcard came from some place on the Moroccan coast. So, what were you going to say?"

"That I love you."

I sat there and stared at Katie for what seemed a very long time.

"Well say something, you cow," she said eventually.

"Um. Good."

"Good? Fucking 'good?' That's... " There were tears in her eyes.

"Good, because I love you, too."

"Oh. Good."

"Yes," I said.

"You are such a complete man sometimes."

We kissed for a very long time. Interspersed with the removal of clothing. In the end we gave up on the sofa and went for proper grown-up sex in a bed.

* * *

I made it back to my own flat at the weekend. Ostensibly to pick up the post, but mostly to fling all the clothes that I could still wear into a rucksack and then steam back to Katie's for a mug of tea and more sex.

* * *

As the days lengthened over the next few months, I learned about nappy-changing, how to avoid looking like a clown in make-up and the 'boots first, then corset' rule.

Liz had come charging up soon after I'd 'moved in', hugged me enthusiastically, whispered "I'm so sorry for asking about your parents. Can you forgive me?" and then shot off before I could get my thoughts in order. I wrote her a note that read 'Yes. Forgiven.' and posted it that very evening.

Jack had decided I was one of the family within weeks. We'd been sitting up in bed one morning when he'd started crying. I brought him into the bedroom and discovered that he was hungry rather than whiffy when he made a bee-line for my breast. I was transfixed when he latched on and sucked hard. It felt... I didn't know what it felt like. Katie returned from the bathroom at about the same time that Jack gave up in disgust. She smiled when she saw my expression.

"Good, isn't it?"

"I, um... Oh God. This is so confusing."

I was cradling Jack against my breast still, and he was looking up at me as if to say "You're not my mum and your tits don't work, but I'm comfortable so that's ok."

Katie re-joined me in bed and rescued him from my clutches.

"Remember what Emma said? Just relax and go with it. You'll work it all out in time."

I nodded and wriggled my way down under the duvet to stare at the ceiling.

* * *

I moved in properly - in that I set my computer up in the box room and dumped several boxes of CDs and DVDs next to Katie's stack - when the lease on my flat ran out at the end of the month after that. I didn't miss my old place much, since it still smelled of Julia and me as a man. We were preparing to clean the place so as to recover the security deposit when Katie and Emma bustled into the now anonymous-looking sitting room. They found me crouching in front of the big VCR that seemed to have started all this.

"Come on Alix," said Katie. "Are you going to want a hand with that or... Oh. That's it, isn't it?"

I looked up at them and nodded. I was still a little shellshocked from the experience of a period the week before. I'd felt hateful and bloated as a man, but not like that and not accompanied by bleeding from the sex-bits. It was a regular reminder that I was a healthy and fertile woman, and staring at the VCR was a little like looking at photographs of happy times with ex-partners. Another complete life to which you cannot return.

"Did you ever wonder if it would work backwards?"

Trust Emma to ask the question that I'd been carefully not thinking about.

I let myself collapse backwards against the sofa and looked down the top of my pale grey fleece at my bra-encased breasts.

"I... Yes. No."

Katie was hanging on every fumbled word. I tried again.

"I mean, yes I did, to begin with. But I was also thinking 'What if I visualised the wrong thing at the wrong time?' I might never get back to being, y'know, me. A me that people might mistake for a young Diana Rigg seemed to be the best option. Especially when you introduced me to this one."

I reached for Katie's hand and squeezed it. She beamed at me.

"Alix, I'd still love you to pieces if you were a man. Well, as long as you were as good with the toilet seat and the sex and stuff."

Emma rolled her eyes in disgust.

"You two are still repulsive together. I'd say to go and have a shag to get it out of your systems, but you'd be there all afternoon."

Katie grinned broadly.

"You can join in if it makes you feel better..."

I blushed deeply while Emma performed goldfish impressions.

"That's a lovely offer," she said when she'd regained some composure, "and don't think I wouldn't take you up on it, because I so would... It's just that we don't do poly round here, do we you dreadful pair. Now, come over here. It's time for a strictly non-sexual group hug."

So we did.

"Mmm... Boobies," I said as we squished together.

"Just you wait 'til you get pregnant, you slim cow," said Katie. "You'll be buying bras from our end of the shop."

Emma raised an eyebrow when I went quiet and blushed again, but didn't pursue the matter.

* * *

It took two of us to heave the VCR into Liz's Volvo and then back out and into the far corner of the box room. I had no idea what to do with it, but I wanted to know where it was.

That night I jackknifed up out of a restless sleep with tears streaming down my face. Katie, as light a sleeper as any parent with young offspring was already awake.

"Alix, sweetie. What's wrong? You've been crying for minutes."

"Oh God. Did I wake you? I'm so sorry. It was... It was.. Oh, it was /horrible,/" I was babbling.

"Shhh... Slow down and breathe. You're here now, ok?"

I sniffed. Katie handed me a paper handkerchief and I honked into it quietly.

"We were, um, having sex..."

"And that was a nightmare?" Katie smiled.

"No, stop. It wasn't like that, I..."

"Sorry, love. You go on," said Katie, looking worried.

"So I looked down because something felt wrong and I... I... Oh God I was male again, and it was the worst most wrong and horrible feeling. You know when something really bad happens and you get this sense of total dread in the pit of your stomach because you know nothing will ever be the same again?"

Katie nodded. "I believe I do."

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm such a complete idiot sometimes..."

"Oh, shush. It's fine. So, do you think this means anything?"

I slumped back down again and stared into space.

"I don't know. Maybe my subconscious has really got into the idea of being female, or... I don't know. It's just totally confusing."

I could feel Katie lying down and snuggling up against me. She seemed to be gathering her thoughts.

"You know I meant what I said about that VCR thing and you being male again, right?"

I turned to face her and wriggled so our breasts squashed together.

"I think I've just been handed a message by myself about that, don't you? Katie. I love you with all my heart and most other major organs. This is what I want now... God, that sounds so girly and everything."

She kissed me on the forehead.

"Well, yeah. Obviously. Now, are you good for going back to sleep?" She yawned, which set me off.

"Ah, yeah. Night-night."

* * *

"Katie... Are you asleep?"

"No. Not really," she muttered through a pillow.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lumber you with that performance."

"It wasn't your fault, sweetie." Katie sounded as awake as I felt.

"Um. You know what might work..?"

"You want to lay a demon, right?"

If you're going to fall in love with anyone, make sure it's someone who can see inside your soul. It saves an awful lot of conversation.

There was enough light to see without turning anything else on. I padded across the bedroom to the toy-drawer and retrieved the Feeldoe. I was already moist at the thought of using it with Katie, so when I half-squatted and gently pressed the bulbous end upwards, it slid into me with a tiny wet sound that was several kinds of hot. I could feel it inside me when I tensed my PC muscles, and it was strange to have to walk slightly like a man again, if only for a few steps. There was definitely some muscle-memory there, although it felt rather alien.

Katie had thrown the duvet to one side, so I carefully clambered into the bed and scooted up between her warm thighs. As I looked down to kiss her, I could see her eyes shining in the dim light.

"Are you really OK with this?" she said.

Right inside my soul.

"If you catch me crying, it'll be for what I've gained rather than lost."

"Right you are. Any chance of a fuck, poet-girl?"

She gasped when I guided the penis end of the Feeldoe into her cunt and then wiggled my hips so as to squash as many sensitive parts together as humanly possible.

I moved my hips again experimentally, and soon discovered that keeping my thighs pressed together helped keep the Feeldoe in place. I was quickly back into a familiar rhythm, although the sensation of my nipples swaying against Katie's breasts was lusciously off putting, as was the slow-burn warmth of the bulbous end of the sex-toy rubbing against some extra-sensitive spot inside my own cunt. Katie, as usual unsatisfied with passivity, slung her legs about my waist and started to move her own hips in time with mine, which just made the sensations coming from the Feeldoe even more intense.

"Ka... Katie," I gasped "I don't think I... I can keep going much..."

"Just. A. Little. More. Ooooooh... Yesssss..."

She gripped me firmly with her thighs as she orgasmed, which tipped me right over the edge.

We lay there panting for a while, breasts squashed together. I could feel her heart beating through my own ribcage.

Katie kissed my cheek gently. It felt wet. I blinked away the tears.

"So what were you crying for?"

"Sheer joy."

"Idiot." She kissed me again. "Now roll over. I shall show you what it feels like for a girl."

"I think I already know, don't you?"

* * *

That summer was utterly idyllic. Work turned into something I turned up for in the daytime, rather than the place I spent most of my time. If anyone there noticed that the shape I revealed under a widening selection of summer tops and skirts was rather well-developed for someone of my allegedly transgendered status, they didn't mention it. I don't think I would have cared if they did.

When I let on that Liz and Mike had invited the three of us to join them for a month in Brittany, most people wished me luck with a small child unused to long-distance travel. I assumed jealousy for the first half hour of the journey. After that, Jack was a nightmare. He seemed to have stored up six months of bad temper and was intent on using it all up at once. Katie and I just had to sit on either side of his child-seat in the back of the Volvo and try to distract him. Liz tried Mahler, then some spectacularly unhinged Ornette Coleman. Nothing worked. He calmed down slightly once we were on the ferry, but we were still favoured with pitying glances and one well-meant comment of 'It doesn't get any easier when they get older'. In the end, Katie told me to go and find a quiet corner so I could get some sleep. It had been a while since I'd driven on the other side of the road and she was keen that I be awake for it.

Jack fell asleep the instant we hit French soil. While in the queue to leave the ferry terminal, I fiddled with the seatbelt, trying to get it to lie in a comfortable position across my chest. A few hours later, I realised I wasn't going to come to an understanding with the thing and gave up. Jack remained asleep as we continued to trundle across France.

Our destination turned out to be a farmhouse on the outskirts of a remarkably picturesque village. There were no chaps cycling past with baguettes under their arms, but it was only a matter of time. However, there was a pool, trees to sit under, a different tree with a rope swing, an open fireplace and thankfully a bedroom suite at each end of the house, separated by several sound-deadening walls. I wandered about the place with an idiot grin on my face until Katie informed me that I could either change Jack or help unload the car.

The first couple of days were a little uncomfortable since I felt very much 'on show'. Katie and I were a very tactile couple. We also tended to wander her house nude or partially-clad. I didn't realise how much I'd closed myself off until Katie pinned me against the washing machine and had a hand up my skirt before I could protest.

"Katie!" I squeaked. "Stop that... Ah, actually, don't."

She leant against me, pressing my bum against the corner of the washing machine to make sure I felt the full benefit of the spin-cycle.

"Alix, sweetie, would you calm the hell down? Mum and dad don't have a problem with the way we are around each other. In fact right now they're convinced they've done something wrong and you're hating every second."

That put me in my place.

"Oh, Katie. I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. I just... Sorry."

She hugged me, then stood back and made a show of slowly licking her fingers. God that was hot. Two could play at that, I thought. I wiggled out of my panties, tossed them into the pile of dirty washing then tugged my skirt back down while grinning at her.

Katie clapped slowly.

"If there's a gust of wind while we're out and you get arrested for indecent exposure, I'm going to pretend not to know you."

"Oh, suuure you are." I folded my arms and arched an eyebrow.

"Cow."

"Bitch."

"Slut."

We were almost nose to nose now. I brushed some hair away from Katie's ear and whispered "Only for you, angel."

She kissed me.

A while later, there was a cough from the doorway. Katie looked over my shoulder.

"Oh, hi mum."

I stiffened. Katie gave my bum a warning squeeze. I forced myself to relax.

"We were just going to beetle over to the next town for supplies," said Liz. "Do you two want to come along, or are you otherwise occupied?"

I turned, keeping one arm draped around Katie's waist.

"We'd love to come. Have I got time to fetch a camera?"

Luckily for all concerned, it was a still afternoon. Liz and Mike commandeered Jack so they could play at grandparents, which gave Katie and I the opportunity to explore the cobbled environs of the church and town square without letting go of each other.

We were on our way back to a cafe to meet the rest of the party when I stopped in my tracks. Katie turned and smiled.

"What's up?"

"How did I get this lucky?"

"It's not luck," she said. "You deserve every second of it."

The following morning, I wandered sleepily into the kitchen to discover I was first up. I started the coffee machine and opened the kitchen door. The morning was glorious; one of those 'Let's chuck in our jobs and move to France' days. I was wondering if I could get away with just the bikini bottom and t-shirt I had on, should I decide on a mission to the boulangerie, when Liz interrupted my train of thought.

"Wonderful morning, isn't it?"

She joined me by the door.

"And you've got the coffee on. Good girl."

I tugged on an imaginary forelock.

"We don't bite, you know," said Liz.

Oh, oops. I turned to face her.

"I'm, um, really sorry that I've been a bit crap. It's just... I think I'm still feeling my way with this family thing."

Liz hugged me and kissed my forehead.

"Shush, little one. You were doing splendidly yesterday afternoon... Oh, have I said the wrong thing?"

I blinked away the tears.

"No, no. Not at all. I think I'm ridiculously happy."

"Good. Now blow."

She handed me a wad of kitchen roll and I honked into it. I still needed to work on the ladylike business.

That afternoon, Katie and I stayed at the farmhouse while Liz and Mike went exploring. We left Jack to sleep in the shade while we covered each other in Factor-50 and then made love by the pool.

I was playing with Jack when I heard the Volvo turn into the drive. There was no way I could abandon the darling boy and run back to the pool where I'd left my clothes. I was just going to have to bus it. Just as the Volvo hove into view, Katie padded up and handed me the bikini bottom.

"Dive behind that tree. I'll look after himself."

I hauled the thing on and was half-presentable by the time the car rolled to a halt.

"Should we ring when we're nearly back next time?" said Liz.

I blushed furiously. Liz laughed.

"Oh, don't worry dear. You and Jack looked lovely. Earth mother and child. And we were always nude around Catherine when she was growing up."

"Mu-um!" It was Katie's turn to blush.

We toned it down slightly after that.

* * *

It didn't take long to fill both the memory cards we'd brought with pictures. I borrowed Katie's laptop and started it hoovering pictures off the spare card before going to the kitchen for a bottle of water. When I returned, the sodding thing had crashed. I swore and then rebooted it. When it came back, there was no sign of any of the pictures on either the laptop or the memory card. I swore at it a lot more.

Mike and Liz returned from a walk at about the time I ran out of swearwords and began to feel like bursting into tears.

"Problem?" said Mike, peering over his glasses at the screen. I took a deep breath to compose myself. Snivelling away about a computer was for other people. Especially since I worked with the damn things and especially especially given the present company.

"The bloody thing's eaten the pictures off the memory card," I said. "I could probably have a crack at recovering them myself, if I had another machine and access to Google. Probably. I don't do operating system stuff and I don't want to guess it and there were a whole set of pictures of Jack and... "

I was blinking back tears again. Shit.

Mike looked thoughtful. "If you pull the memory card and store it out of the way, we can have a look at it when we get home. You can buy the damn things everywhere; it's really not worth getting stressed about."

Liz rubbed my shoulders. "Come on, dear. Chin up. There's a bottle of wine that needs drinking and worrying about poorly-specified technology won't fix it."

Katie and Jack returned from the village as we were starting on the second bottle. I related what had happened, but she seemed more or less uninterested. Liz changed the subject as soon as she was able, after what looked like a nudge from Mike.

Over supper, we talked about going to the nearest large town before hitting the beach the day after. Perhaps I'd imagined the odd atmosphere earlier.

I followed Katie when she went to put Jack to bed. When she passed the laptop, she handed Jack to me and grabbed the computer and memory card.

"What are..?" I started.

"Shh," she said, holding a finger to my lips. "Would you get Jack settled? I'll come and kiss him goodnight in a while." With that she made her way to the far quiet end of the house.

About two hours later she returned, looking triumphant. She grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack and uncorked it before coming to stand next to my chair.

"Mum, dad. I'm going to drag Alix out for a moonlight wander. Could you keep an ear out for Jack until we get back?"

"Of course dear," said Liz immediately. "Is everything OK?"

"Everything," said Katie firmly, "Is utterly lovely."

She looked down at me and waved the bottle.

"Come on, Alix. A post-prandial will do us good."

We went. About five minutes later, we'd reached the centre of the village. There were people doing happy people things in the two bars, but Katie steered me towards a bench in a quieter corner. She took a good swig from the bottle and passed it to me.

"Sorry about all that," she said.

"No apology seems necessary, because I don't know what's going on."

"Oh. Did you not ever stop to wonder why someone with two terribly middle-class hackers for parents ends up as a hairdressing single mum?"

Katie was picking her words very carefully. I handed her the bottle and she took another good swig.

"Well, no," I said. "I mean, it's just... I love you and people aren't what they do and there's obviously some messy family stuff that's just sailed over my head and, oh, just assume I'm an idiot."

"I'm sorry. It is just family stuff. Look, let's finish this bottle and go and find a comfortable sofa in one of those bars, then I can tell you the whole story."

I stood and helped myself to the bottle.

"Sounds good to me. Um, unless you're going to tell me that you used to be a man or something. That would be weird."

Katie reclaimed the bottle and finished it off.

"Don't be absurd. You're the only dreadful freak in this relationship."

We found a free sofa in the second cafe and arranged ourselves on it with another bottle of wine for company. Katie ended up draped across me, with her head resting semi-comfortably on my chest.

"So did you ever grow up with people who were really good at stuff?"

She looked up at me.

"I mean... Shit. Sorry, Alix."

"Don't worry. Just carry on."

"Anyway. Mum and dad were pretty hardcore. There were dismembered computers everywhere when I was growing up, so I naturally started playing with them, which was strongly encouraged. Proud parents and all that. The problem was that neither of them could let me make my own mistakes. Ever. It was always 'Oh, Catherine. Not like that!' or 'You'd be better with one of these...'"

She looked pained at the memory and slugged back another mouthful from the wine-vases we'd mistakenly been handed instead of glasses.

"So I rebelled a bit by getting into the festival circuit and following bands and stuff, but my heart wasn't really in it because I really did like messing about with computers. My great plan was to go off to Uni and get into some computing research that mum and dad wouldn't understand. That was how I was going to show them."

Katie grinned.

"You know, that made perfect sense when I was sixteen... So, moving right along, I went off to Uni, worked really hard for the first year and then worked out that my parents weren't looking over my shoulder now. So I went completely bugfuck, basically. I dropped out, moved in with this bloke I met while working in a bar, then got a diploma in hairdressing and beauty therapy... And the very day I was awarded that diploma I discovered I was pregnant with Jack. Fuckface the father scarpered within days and I had a bit of a meltdown, so came running back to mummy and daddy, which was... fraught. I mean, they didn't actually come out and tell me that I'd blown my chance at a glittering career being patronised by twatty middle-managers, but you could cut the sense of disappointment with a knife. They just won't talk about hacking with me at all, which is, oh god Alix, it's awful. It's like it's become the elephant in the drawing room for them. I think that's why they're so keen on you..."

Katie's face was wet with tears. I wrapped my free arm around her shoulders and hugged her. She sniffed and swallowed.

"You know that memory card? The data was all still there, it's just that the directory entries were marked as deleted. Since I don't have an undelete program on that machine, I had to bash one out in Python. I mean, I love what I do; it's art and you're making people feel better about themselves, but... Say you don't hate me for being a fuckup."

I gently kissed the top of her head.

"If anything, and if it's possible, I love you more than ever," I said.

She looked up at me.

"How did I get this lucky?"

I kissed her again.

"It's not luck. We deserve every second."

We meandered back, hand in hand. At the bottom of the farmhouse drive, Katie stopped.

"You won't say anything about this, will you?"

I held her, and felt oddly masculine doing it.

"Nah, don't worry. I shall not draw attention to any elephants. Outside of wildlife parks, anyway. Although. You do know that competence is an incredible turn-on, right?"

Katie wrapped her arms around my waist and leaned back slightly to bring me into focus.

"I was aware of that, yes."

"Good. Bed?"

"Water first, then bed."

She took a few paces up the drive and then turned.

"Or we could, you know, recompile a kernel or something."

"You big tease," I said, following her.

* * *

By any measure, apart from the unexpectedly female business, I was having an incredibly lucky time of it, and even being a woman was just... Normal, bordering on good now.

I admitted as much to Emma as we chattered stereotypically over cappuccinos while an equally stereotypical pile of shopping bags littered the ground at our feet. Although much of my shopping was girly-basics - underwear, tops and the like - there were also two bags of hard-won computer bits. The spotty idiot in the shop had just been oily at first; gracelessly staring at Emma's breasts while I tried to explain what I wanted. When I'd mentioned that the parts were for my partner's computer, the condescending little git had started going on about how my partner would have to come in HIMself so I didn't buy the wrong stuff and have to bring it back. At this point I explained in great detail exactly how I was going to build a software-managed RAID box and why I was demanding a particular model of serial ATA controller, given the one he was trying to sell me was a bug-ridden piece of crap. As an extra bonus wind-up, Emma made a show of kissing me in the door of the shop. You could hear the seams of half a dozen teenage trousers groaning under the load.

It was a hot afternoon in late August and even in strappy top and floaty skirt, I was glad to be in an air conditioned cafe after our adventure in the sweaty computer shop.

Emma peered at me over the top of her sunglasses.

"So let me see," she said, and began ticking off points on her fingers. "You have a partner you love and who loves you, an adorable child, a house to live in, you all managed your first holiday together without a major meltdown and you appear to be dealing with your new gender-role swimmingly... Do you actually have anything to worry about, or are you just making a point so you can gloat at us mere mortals?"

"No, it's just... You know how when things go well or a program compiles first time and you sit there waiting for the other shoe to drop or the computer to go on fire or something?"

"I remain delightfully ignorant regarding compilers, despite Dave and your best efforts, but yes. Pray continue."

I briefly narrowed my eyes at Emma. Blokes think that they're allowed an emotional range that runs from A to D. I felt that I'd got as far as M or P recently without major incident.

"I keep thinking something's going to cock up. Like I'll have an especially choice period, get drunk and pull that sodding VCR out in desperation... You know if I end up arrested or in hospital, I'm really up shit creek?"

Emma looked confused.

"How so... Oh. Medical records?"

I nodded and slurped cappuccino.

"Can't you, you know, do some hacking or something?"

"Nah. The Gender Recognition Act is pretty straightforward stuff."

Emma held my hand across the table.

"I'm sure you'll, no, we'll work something out, angel. Now, what's really bothering you?"

I slumped and sighed. Having her as my backup mum was a curse and a blessing. She knew me far too well.

"I... Oh, hell. Promise you won't laugh."

"Absolutely not."

"I, um, want a baby," I said. You're supposed to feel better after revelations like that. I'm not sure I did yet.

"But you've already... Oh. Properly, you mean? With vomiting, stretch-marks and serious pain at the end of it?"

"Yes."

"And Jack's toxic nappies and 4am starts haven't put you off?"

"No."

Emma sat back and folded her arms.

"Without wishing to raise the spectre of the obvious, given your current attire, where is the real Alix and what have you done with her?"

"Not funny, Em."

I must have looked terribly uncomfortable, because she was back leaning on the table and squeezing my hand in an instant.

"No. Sorry, angel. It's just that you never seemed to be the breeding type. None of us were. You remember that year when everyone seemed to be getting married? There never were any follow up christenings or naming ceremonies, were there? And it's not like you were suddenly struck broody the day after I took you bra shopping that first time, so... Sorry."

I smiled and squeezed her hand. I think that was the first time I'd seen Emma on the back foot conversationally.

"I know. It's weirder than a bag of weird from Weirdy McWeird's shop of strange."

I related the Jack and breast incident. Emma nodded slowly the while.

"So what does Katie think about all of this?"

"I, um, haven't told her. I haven't worked out what I think about it yet."

Emma raised her eyebrows.

"That's a rubbish excuse and you know it. If there's a local expert, it's Katie. And she's your girlfriend for heaven's sake. She'll probably have turkey baster and selection of nice gay men lined up before you can say 'morning sickness' "

"Emma!" I shrieked. I was getting good at that.

* * *

I went on not telling Katie about the broodiness. It was stupid. As it became a bigger thing in my head, it felt harder and harder to know how to begin talking about it. So I ignored the idea and hoped that it would get bored and go away.

* * *

We had taken to walking in the park fairly regularly. One corner of it backed onto an extensive and overgrown cemetery, and the wilderness and quiet seemed to have spread into the park proper. There, we were far from huffing joggers and brightly coloured mountain bikers. I walked ahead of Katie and Jack, into the lengthening sunlight, because I wanted a picture of the pair of them. She was as gorgeous as ever in the same purple combats that she'd been wearing when we met, and a black wifebeater top. When I finished fiddling with the camera, she shaded her eyes and moved so I was directly between her and the setting sun.

"Alix, are you wearing any knickers?" she said with an evil grin.

There's a bunch of stuff you just know - breathing in and out is good and Saturday evening television will dull your soul - that sort of thing. And then there are the things that people will tell you, but you have to work out for yourself before the information sticks - mains electricity bites, other people's perl code is horrid, and that if you wear a summer dress in a light cotton fabric, it will go transparent when you least expect.

"No." I brazened it out. What was I going to do? Rush back home in the crouched position?

"And I didn't bother with a bra, either." I shook my shoulders for effect.

"That much has been obvious. Didn't you notice that jogger nearly colliding with the dog-mess bin?" Katie walked up to join me.

"Um, no. I only have eyes for you. And Jack." It was true.

"Oh, excellent answer." She circled her forearms round my waist and kissed me deeply.

When we parted some time later, it had become painfully obvious that going bra-less might have been a bad idea.

"If we don't stop I'm not going to make it home," I said, breathing heavily.

Katie was looking flushed and had a glint in her eye that meant I could look forward to a thorough and enthusiastic fucking.

"Who said anything about going home?" She had two fistfuls of my dress and I could feel the waistband and fly of her combats pressing against my stomach.

"Um, Jack?"

We looked at him. The darling boy was spark out in his pushchair and it looked like it would take an explosion in an iron foundry to wake him.

I took Katie's hand in a mock-ladylike fashion and collapsed inelegantly against the base of a handy tree. I paused, then gathered the dress up to my waist. Grass-stains were so incredibly teenage. I looked up at Katie - she was watching my performance with a smirk. I was lying there with my arse hanging out, more or less in public. I felt vulnerable, but it was also powerfully erotic.

Katie knelt between my knees and bent forward to pull my clit-hood back so she could kiss my clitoris gently. I shivered in anticipation. I had expected her to dive in with a fiery passion, but she gently nibbled, sucked and licked until I could hold back no more and whimpered loudly as I orgasmed. She responded by cupping my bum in both hands and almost bodily lifting my hips up against her mouth as she pushed her tongue into my cunt and sucked hard. It was incredible, I orgasmed again almost immediately and collapsed away from her, unable to support my own weight.

I lay there, panting, until Katie hauled me up onto very wobbly legs. My own come was smeared across her face, and I took great care in kissing and licking her clean. We walked back slowly, when my heart-rate had slowed to an acceptable level and I didn't look quite as freshly fucked. My cunt still felt incredibly slick as I walked, and the breeze evaporated the fluids on my labia and inner thighs.

Part way back I had to cling to Katie and stifle a surprised yelp. She grinned and kissed me.

"Aftershock?"

I nodded and concentrated on breathing.

"I get them too, sometimes. I think they only work when you're really into someone. Y'know, just the thought of them gets you hot..." She was looking at me with a sly smile.

"We really are completely repulsive together, aren't we?" I said.

"Completely."

She brushed some leaf-mould from my bum and I shivered and yelped again.

Jack didn't wake up until we reached the park gates. He looked grumpily at us and then the traffic that had woken him before passing out again almost straight away.

* * *

"Ready?"

"Ready. Let's knock 'em dead."

"I think that is the bride's job."

"Oh well. Let's get drunk instead." I looked about for my purse - I still hadn't got used to the things - and caught it in mid-air when Katie threw it at my head.

"Come on. We'll be late for the taxi." She sounded only slightly exasperated as she more or less pushed me out of the hotel room door and made very sure I had stashed the key-card in the vintage-looking clutch purse she'd recently aimed at me.

Emma and Dave arrived in the hotel lobby mere moments after we did. There was a very brief silence as we all took in our respective outfits before the demands for photographs began.

Dave was wearing a sixties two-button single breasted suit that Emma had found while hunting for my outfit. Had anyone made the mistake of handing him a shotgun, he would have looked like Michael Caine's bigger and scarier brother.

Emma had pulled a fifties halter-top ball gown out of a distant wardrobe, de-flounced the skirt by throwing away the petticoats and dyed her hair black so as not to match the dark purple of the dress. She looked like a Hollywood starlet about to wallop the next photographer with a brick.

Katie had gone for a little black dress and a large black hat. The lack of sleeves showed off her tattoos to wonderful effect, and I'd carefully re-shaved her undercut the night before.

I was wearing a thirties-modernist wide-legged trouser suit with a halter top and sharply tailored jacket. Katie had spent nowhere near as long as I expected weaving my hair into a French pleat while I sat and fretted. Collectively, I thought we looked like several million dollars, though there was still the voice in the back of my head trying to tell me just how badly our old Uni friends would take the change in my appearance.

"Oi. Fashionistas front and centre," called Dave. "The taxi's here."

We trooped out into the September sunshine. It struck me that the last time we'd been in a taxi together was the night I'd found out about this wedding in the first place.

* * *

We'd been sitting in our favourite corner of the ex pub cellar where Sanctuary happened, bitching about grimly dressed tradgoths and waiting for their dirge-like music to finish, when Dave returned from the bar clutching a pint for himself and bottles for the rest of us. I'd rapidly discovered that while I could still knock back the pints, the muffin-top look was so not me.

"Did you two get the invitation to Manda's wedding yet?" he said, cheerfully ignoring any party-based manners.

"Manda? Dead tall and a procession of useless boyfriends?" I said, before taking a pull from the bottle of Czech lager he'd handed me.

"That's her. Hey, didn't you have a go at joining that procession once?"

Katie raised her eyebrows. "Ooh. More stories of Alix's terrible heterosexual past? Do go on."

I attempted a look of resignation. "No, Dave. Thus far we have not been invited to that particular event. Are there any other parties or happenings you'd like to mention to which we are similarly uninvited?"

The uncomfortable expression on Dave's face meant the size and shape of the faux-pas he'd just committed had made its way through the beer.

"Oh. Ah. I'm sure your invitation will turn up tomorrow. I mean, it would have to be redirected from you old address and that's bound to take an extra day or so. It's not like her family are going to be homophobic or trannyphobic or whatever because... Oh. Shit."

"Dave. I may only be a girl now" - that earned me an elbow in the corset from Katie - "but why would Manda's family being homophobic be an issue? I haven't told any of that mob about... Oh."

Dave was looking increasingly uncomfortable. As the saying goes 'when in a hole, stop digging.'

"I, um. Manda emailed me about a month ago. She was making sure she'd got addresses for people and, um, I gave her your new name, so she emailed back asking about the 'i' thing and I kind of might have mentioned in passing that you were a girl now..."

"Uh-huh."

I slumped back as much as the corset would allow and stared at the bottle in my hands. My cleavage, pushed up and together by the corset, was in the way. My breasts heaved as I sighed, which was still utterly distracting. Katie and Emma regularly explained that the novelty would soon wear off, but I wasn't entirely sure. Not while one or other of them kept coming up with new and interesting ways of showing them off. They were obviously working on some familiarity breeding contempt effort, but...

Katie squeezed my arm. I looked up.

"Are you ok?" She sounded as worried as Dave looked.

"Oh, yeah. I'll be fine. It's just... You know."

Emma slid in beside me.

"No, I don't know. What's up? What's Dave said now?"

Dave looked hunted.

"Nothing. Introspection moment," I lied.

"If you'll forgive the allusion, bollocks," said Emma.

"I was talking about Manda... " said Dave.

Emma looked at him and then back to me.

"Oh, David. You absolute oaf. Did it also occur to you to mention that Manda sent their invitation to us because she didn't trust the mail redirection?"

Dave looked relieved and mystified at the same time. A good trick.

"She what? Why?"

"I stopped second-guessing Manda long ago - it hurt too much. Anyway, she was deep into Bridezilla territory, which made such speculation even less productive."

Emma dug in her capacious bag and withdrew an envelope that had 'Alix & Katie' scrawled on the outside and handed it to me gravely.

"Rest assured that had there been a hint of transphobia abroad, we would have pointedly refused to attend. As it is, I'm thinking nice hotel, serious dressing-up and perhaps even the odd glass of shandy. What think you two?"

Katie pounced on the envelope and extracted a sheaf of documents - embossed invitation, map, local hotels, details of the wedding-list. All very formal.

"We're totally going to this, aren't we?" she said.

I was staring at a barely perceptible vein running down my left breast. If I sucked in my stomach muscles, that breast would pull away from the corset and I thought I could follow the vein a little further. I tried to remember if it had been there before. Maybe. I refocussed on my beer, getting warm as I held it with both hands resting in my lap. My long skirt was split up both sides and revealed thighs clad in hold-ups expensive enough to actually hold up. It had taken only one unfortunate miscommunication with my best mate to kick my confidence right in its no-longer-existing bollocks.

"Earth calling Alix?" Katie waved the invitation at me. "I mean, if you think it would be a bad idea or something, we can just as well not go..."

I took another pull on my beer and gave myself a mental boot up the arse.

"We are absolutely going to this wedding, and if anyone else there has the utter lack of manners to cause a scene, I'm sure the ushers will deal with them appropriately."

* * *

The ushers, like the groom, were Guards officers. Each one seemed to be about seven feet of steely charm and spit-shined shoes. We shuffled into a pew on the bride's side of the church and looked around for familiar faces. A few people smiled and waved, but I could imagine the whispered conversations going along the lines of "That's Emma and whatshis... Dave. Right. I wonder who the other two are? D'you think they're together?"

Manda looked incredible. A mediaeval-ish corset-laced bodice and a long and straight ivory satin skirt made her look even taller than I remembered. It was all terribly traditional, even down to 'Jerusalem' being a stirring hymn but a complete pig to sing. We did ok for a bunch of atheists.

Katie handed me a paper hankie while the newlyweds were signing the register. I'm sure the way I looked at the thing and then her meant 'I'm a bloke and I don't cry at weddings' because I got a patient 'Sure. Right.' expression in return.

All I can say is praise 'Bob' for waterproof mascara, otherwise I'd have looked like a butch panda.

We milled about outside the church while the first set of photographs were taken. Manda made a bee-line in our direction as soon as she spotted us and gave me an enthusiastic hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Alix! I'm so glad you made it." She leaned in again and lowered her voice. "And you look utterly incredible. Seriously."

"Thank you. But nowhere near as incredible as you," I said.

"Well, I am the bride. It's part of the whole deal. The ushers were under strict instruction to go boot out anyone who looked better anyway."

She turned to Katie and hugged her, too.

"You have to be Katie. Alix is appalling at keeping in touch and Emma hasn't told me nearly enough about you... Yes, you, Emma. Come over here the pair of you."

There was more hugging. Then Manda grabbed my hand.

"Look, I'm going to get about ten minutes to myself today and won't remember a damn thing anyway, but are you chaps free for a spot of lunch tomorrow? I took the liberty of booking a table at the pub and... Please say you'll come? You always were the cool people and... Damn, I'm being paged. Think about it, ok?" She charged off in the direction of her new husband.

Katie looked at me, slightly shellshocked.

"Was she always like that?"

"Not as far as I remember. From what I recall, she spent most of her time hanging around the rugby club and failing to get off with any of them, because they were all scared of a woman who could match them pint for pint and knew more dirty songs than they did."

"... So, yes. She's not changed a bit," said Dave. "Calmed down, if anything."

In due course, we were herded across the village green for champagne outside the big house. Then inside for a sit-down meal, more alcohol and the speeches.

Nobody paid me a blind bit of attention. Or rather, I was asked several times where I found my outfit and about an equal number of times if I was single by the drunken types holding up the bar. At no point were there flaming torches and shouts of 'Witch! Er, Trannie! Burn the trannie!' A small voice of reason in the back of my head was triumphantly telling me that I should bloody well relax and enjoy it while I could. After all, if I was happy enough in my comfort zone of being with Katie and going to work, it was time to stop caring about what other people might think and have a laugh while the laughing was good. I stood up and turned to Katie.

"Are you dancing?"

"Are you asking?" She was grinning from ear to ear. How did I get this lucky?

"I'm asking," I said, grinning like an idiot as well.

"Yes. And about bloody time too." She grabbed my hand and towed me to the dancefloor.

* * *

Much, much later the four of us were to be found putting a tin lid on the evening in the hotel bar.

"Why Manda?" Katie regarded me owlishly.

"Beats me. Em?"

"Whuh?" Emma was massaging some life back into one foot. "Oh. Hated Amanda, sounded too prissy she said. And so not a Mandy, so Manda it was. An' you can say it when you're drunk. Which we all seem to be."

"Hurrah for our team!" Dave finished his pint and wobbled upright. "I think I'm full, so I'm going to go and crash. You coming along, Em?"

She waved a glass half-filled with gin & tonic. "As soon as I deal with this."

Katie yawned. "I'm going to follow Dave, I think. No, not like that. Honestly."

She and Dave tottered off, leaving Emma and I contemplating the remains of our alcohol. She patted the space on the sofa where Dave had been, so I obligingly fell into it. We slumped together and clinked our glasses.

"You know," said Emma, staring pointed at her glass, "I was convinced that this time the silly sod would finally be overtaken by the spirit of the occasion and, you know..."

I didn't know. What was she on about? Occasion? Wait...

"Oh, Emma. I had no idea."

I slumped a little and Emma slid gracefully down my front and ended up curled sideways on the sofa with her head in my lap. Her gin remained half-full. I started stroking hair away from her face. She sniffed.

"I know I'm just being silly and everything. I mean, they're a ritual of the patriarchy and so many people I know have got divorced after happily living together for ages and it's just cultural programming and... I've got this design for a wedding dress and stuff. I've had it for years and not shown anyone. I did the bridesmaid's dresses, too..."

She laughed. Once.

"I mean, now I could ask you to be a bridesmaid. How cool's that?"

Right then, I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do more than be Emma's bridesmaid. I was fuzzy on the details, but it probably involved dressing up, champagne, cake and more champagne. Did bridesmaids get hats?

"Emma, I'd absolutely love to be your bridesmaid. In fact, I shall go upstairs now and make young Dave aware of certain facts."

"No!" Emma squeaked, "I mean, you're lovely for offering and I so totally do want to have you on bridesmaiding duty, it's just that the silly bastard's got to work it out for himself."

"Or you could ask him," I said.

"Um. Yes."

Emma struggled upright, dug a tissue and mirror out of her bag, blew her nose, checked her face and took a large swig of G&T.

"God. Just listen to me. Anyway. What got into you for the latter half of the evening? You were acting like someone slipped you a disco biscuit," she said.

I got the impression that that part of the conversation was over.

"I worked out that I was the only one giving a shit about me being an ex-bloke and decided it was about time I stopped letting it rule my life," I said.

"I'm jolly glad to hear it. Three cheers for finally getting some sense into that undeniably pretty head of yours," she said.

"Ta very much I'm sure."

Emma considered for a moment.

"You two really are properly in love, aren't you?"

I sat up a bit.

"Yes. It's been a very long time since I felt this way about anyone."

"Oh? And who was the last lucky person?" Emma smiled in a gossip-collecting manner.

"Well, you, obviously."

I stopped far too late.

"Oh. Shit. You were never supposed to know that..."

She leaned over and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

"I... Wow. Without wishing to make light, how long have you held that particular candle?"

I groaned in mock horror.

"What? Oh. Right." Emma sat back and eyed me over the rim of her glass.

"Since, um, since you moved in that autumn. I don't remember... No, that's a lie. I remember it vividly. You and Dave had gone off to the union bar, and I was going to turn up later after I'd done some work, but I fell asleep and you two coming back woke me up and I just knew then that you'd got on really well and I cared for the both of you too much to fuck things up. So I just bottled it up and, well, that was that. I used to think a lot about how such a small thing could alter your life so much. What if I'd just gone 'sod it' and gone to the bar with you..."

A tear dropped off the end of my nose. This time, I grovelled in my own purse for a handkerchief and wiped the rest of them away.

Emma was silent for a long time. I started babbling.

"Have I just fucked things up really badly? I'm sorry..."

She waved me into silence.

"That's a huge load to carry for so long on your own. You silly sod. You silly, silly sod. Cow. Oh, come here."

She dragged me upright with her, wrapped her arms around me and kissed me enthusiastically. She tasted of gin & tonic.

We looked at each other from close range. I could barely focus.

"That was... I don't know what that was. A moment between friends. Now don't you ever ever hold in anything like that again, understand?" said Emma.

I nodded carefully.

"Now, you shall go to Katie who you love, and I shall go to Dave, who I love. In the morning we all will have hangovers the size of Belgium, but we will do anything for each other, won't we?"

"Assblutely. Absolutely. Shit, time I was in bed. Need a hand up those stairs?"

The hotel stairs were only slightly less impossible to manage for two giggling idiots who were arm in arm all the way to their respective rooms.

* * *

The pub lunch was a trifle subdued, unsurprisingly. In some odd form of hungover synchronicity, we were all wearing jeans in various flavours of arse-hugging, though it was probably just dressing-up backlash. Manda was of course consumed with curiosity, but doing her best not to let on. Her new husband, Stuart, was a lovely chap, even if he was an officer. I could quickly see that they were well suited.

After a fortifying roast lunch I felt brave enough to take Manda up on her offer of a tour round the village. We were halfway round the churchyard by the time she ran out of headstones of ancestors to point out. The conversation drifted after that; we were agreeing about the annoyance of seatbelts and breasts when I stopped and looked her in the eye.

"Manda. The last time we met, I was Alex with an 'e'. Now I'm Alix with an 'i'. If you have any questions, now would be a good time."

She stopped and sat on a memorial. If I'd been the late Dr. Arbuthnot Tonks, I would have let her park her splendid arse on me at any time.

"Are you happy?" she asked, looking up and shading her eyes since the sun was behind my head.

Wow. You never expect the simple questions. I'd been expecting long and complicated versions of 'Why?', 'How?' or 'When?' but... 'Happy?' That involved thinking rather than emitting socially acceptable lies.

I sat beside her and considered. Dr. Tonks was getting good value.

"Yes. I am. And I think it's mostly your fault."

Manda peered at me over her sunglasses.

"Really? I'm pleased that you think that, but how so?"

"Last night, I was expecting... I don't know what I was expecting. I think like just now I was expecting you to be insanely curious about all of this," I waved a hand at my body. "But no-one gave - is giving - a bugger, obviously because it was all about you two last night, so I just felt, I don't know, free to be me finally... And it's stuck."

God. That managed to sound both gushy and lame at the same time.

She smiled. A dazzling thing that seemed to burn away a good amount of hangover.

"That's the loveliest thing I think anyone could say. Thank you. You guys always were the cool ones and I'm honoured that you..."

"No, I'm the honoured one. You're right, I'm rubbish at keeping in touch and yet years later you pick me and my strange mates to share all this? I mean, that was the first wedding I've cried at..." I stopped staring out toward the pub and turned to face her.

"You were like that as a man, you know," she said.

"Like what?"

"Absolutely open once you got to know someone. Don't ever lose that."

Manda stood up.

"Come on, I've got a tithe barn and a village hall to show off before you all go."

* * *

We gathered around the hire-car, parked behind the pub next to Manda's battered Land Rover.

"What's the first thing you're going to do when you get back?" said Stuart.

I don't think he meant it, but it sounded like he wanted us to do something dangerously heroic.

"Email you and Manda with all our addresses," said Dave. There was the ghost of a 'sir!' hanging in the air.

"Very good. Carry on."

Manda prodded Stuart and belmed at him. He looked confused and then horrified in quick succession.

"Oh, Christ. Sorry. I was doing it again, wasn't I?"

Dave laughed. "No bother. I get like that with Emma sometimes."

"Yes, and you get more than a prod in retaliation," she growled.

"Um... " Said Katie. "I don't know what you childless types think, but I'm missing Jack and I'd rather like to get home to rescue him from mum."

Stuart was galvanised.

"Yes, of course. Come on Manda. Time we were packing anyway. Email us and we'll come and descend on you filthy city types when we're back."

We piled into the car. I was piloting on the way back and had to concentrate on avoiding tractors and horses until we hit the main road.

"Do you think they will? You know, email and stuff," I said.

"Yes, I think so," said Emma from behind me. "She kept banging on about how we were the cool people at uni. Strange girl."

"You got that too? Must be true then."

* * *

In November, work packed me off on a course at the other end of the country. Someone further up the tree had decided that they needed documentary evidence of local Python clue, and I was the lucky winner selected to go sit in an over-airconditioned 'training suite' and try not to fall asleep during descriptions of the wonders of someone else's favourite toy language.

Predictably I was the only woman in the room. Equally predictably, half the rest of the inmates looked me right in the chest most of the time and the instructor assumed I was an idiot until I fixed the classroom network while he tried hard to stare down my T-shirt. I was on the phone to Katie every night relating the daily catalogue of testosterone because I would rather have been dead in a ditch than accept any of the heavy-handed invitations for a curry from the frankly smelly Neanderthals.

"They're not all like that," said Katie patiently, after I'd whined for ten minutes. "I mean, you weren't, according to Emma."

That brought me up sharp. Most of the times when I'd considered myself a bit suave rushed through my head in a terrible procession of cringeworthiness.

"God, Katie. I've been banging on like some stereotype."

"The irony in that statement is not lost, sweetie. But they do say that there's no-one more anti smoking than an ex-smoker."

"That's a disturbing simile on many levels," I said.

"It is? Oh... Oh God. Alix, you're totally disgusting."

"If I am, it's because I have an excellent teacher."

"Flattery will get you into all sorts of trouble, dear. Speaking of which, I'm going to crawl into bed now and think mucky thoughts about you."

I could hear Katie yawning down the telephone.

"I miss you too. I love you," I said.

"I love you, too. G'night."

* * *

I looked around the classroom with fresher eyes the following morning. The sweaty shirt contingent still seemed to be trying to discern the colour of my underwear through the material of my blouse (Black satin and unpadded, losers), however the guy to my immediate right was wearing an Arcwelder tour shirt, which for want of other clues made me well-disposed toward him. We fell to chatting over coffee. He could look me in the eye and confessed to missing his girlfriend. It also transpired that we'd probably been at the same gigs in the past and he had an impressive set of software development war-stories. It was, in fact, just like having an adult conversation.

Lord. When did I become so down on the male half of the species? I looked across at the instructor to see if the day was going to kick off any time soon and caught one of the sweaties pointedly not looking at my chest again. Oh, I remember now.

I surreptitiously peered at the scribbled nametag in front of Mr. Arcwelder's course notes; Nick.

"I have the same problem," he said from behind me.

Damn. Not surreptitious enough. Problem? People stared at his chest too?

"You're surrounded by midwestern indie-rock fanboys?" I asked, confused.

"Not as far as I can tell. No, I mean I have a problem with names."

"Oh. Right." Please don't ask me to explain my previous answer, I thought. "It's a geek thing," I continued. "Names fall out of your head, but email addresses are stuck forever."

Nick nodded and smiled.

"True that. Nameservers, too. Oh, hello. Looks like we're under starter's orders, finally."

I grabbed my coffee and prepared to feign interest in more Python.

* * *

I was half-way through a lunchtime baguette when Nick arrived to hover uncertainly with a tray. I could feel the massed stares of the sweaties as they waited for me to tell him to sod off. I waved the half-baguette at the empty chair; I'm such a classy bird. Nick sat down and the sweaty-talk probably returned to cars, sport and women with large breasts.

"So, umm..." Nick began.

Oh Lord he's going to ask me out. I mean, not in a smutty way because we're both attached and stuff and anyway I spent long enough as a man to ever want to sleep with one. Oh God don't think of him with an erection you'll never be able to eat that yogurt for heaven's sake just listen to yourself you've only been stuck in a hotel room for a week why don't you...

"... tonight? I'm told it's not too bad."

"Yes. Um, what? Where? Sorry, I was..." I jabbered to a halt.

"Gastropub. Isn't that an awful word? Anyway, it's about a half-mile thataway, keeps an impressive selection of real ale and, um, if you'd like to come along this evening..." he said.

I smiled. Nick looked relieved.

"Yes," I said. "Eight in the hotel bar?"

"Works for me. I'm, um, planning to walk there and back, so..."

"Stout shoes, a thermos, mackintosh and a whistle. Got it."

* * *

Well, ok. Maybe not. Actually black turtlenecked jersey dress-thing, opaque tights, knee boots and a wide purple belt. I twisted and stared at myself in the mirror over one shoulder. Was this too dressy? Did it say 'Going for a pint with a colleague' or 'Coming back to my place?' As a compromise, I tried a light touch with the warpaint and shrugged into my old leather jacket, which looked sexier still. Bugger.

Nick only boggled slightly when I arrived in the bar. There was also a distinct rustle of sports-section from the sweaty corner of the bar, but when I glanced over they were all suddenly engrossed in the rugby. Or something.

"I'm glad I put on a clean shirt now," he said, grinning.

"I can go back and put on some jeans if, um... " I was only half joking.

"If it makes you feel more comfortable, but please don't feel you have to on my account."

I thought about it. No. I was becoming rather keen on dressing up properly.

"Sod it," I said. "Let's go and drink some beer."

* * *

We drank some beer. That was chased down by a wild boar burger with fennel relish or something, which followed by more beer as we worked our way down the real ale list chalked on the board by the bar.

I may have been slightly drunk.

We tottered back to the hotel, arm in arm. Mostly to avoid falling over, but also because it was warmer that way. I decided I rather liked having Nick's arm around my waist and I began to wonder what it would be like to kiss him, We shambled to a halt outside my bedroom door and I turned to thank him for an ale-filled evening. He leaned down to kiss me. It was lovely, so I joined in. He leaned against me; I could feel his mobile phone pressing against my leg. Wait. That's not a mobile. I wondered what someone else's penis would feel like. There was only one way to find out. I pulled away from him and fished in my bag for the door keycard. He disappeared into the bog while I flopped onto the end of the bed and struggled out of my boots and tights.

The snogging continued in earnest. Nick was slowly working my dress up toward my waist, until I unzipped his jeans and wrapped my hand firmly round his penis. If felt familiar, but distant. Like the rooms of a house that you'd lived in a long time ago. I fell back on the bed with Nick more or less on top of me. I felt bloated and tried not to look at the lamp on the ceiling that was starting to describe lazy circles. I felt him pull my knickers to one side and wanted to tell him to be less rough, since I rather liked them, but it was all happening miles away and I was thinking hard about not being ill. He prodded at my cunt with his penis; I was wet enough that he slid right in. I squealed involuntarily. It did feel very nice, but he was leaning on my bladder and I wanted him to stop before I puked or peed myself.

"Oh God, I'm going to..." I started.

He must have got the message that I was going to vom because he stiffened, stopped thrusting, then lurched sideways into a heap on the bed. I lay there with one eye closed in an effort to make the nausea go away. I'd mostly succeeded when I felt something leaking out of my cunt.

Oh. Jesus. Fuck.

I minced sideways into the bathroom, hauled off my remaining clothes, then regurgitated what felt like all the real ale in the world.

The slam of the hotel room door woke me. I was curled round the base of the toilet and feeling very cold. I dragged myself into the shower; the parts of my crotch that weren't sticky felt crusty as I moved. I stood under the shower for a very long time before I felt together enough to scrub myself clean.

* * *

I opened one eye very carefully. I could sense that I was going to be hungover, but had no idea how bad it was going to be. Surprisingly low key, it seemed. I opened the other eye and peered carefully over the edge of the bed. There was a trail of towels leading back to the bathroom. So I did end up having a shower last night. I lay there and poked at the edges of the blank spot between leaving the pub last night and now. Nothing. I sat up slowly and looked about for my clothes. There were my boots, with my tights balled untidily into the top of the left one. I craned my head to see another lump in the bathroom sink. Jesus. Was I a classy bird or what?

Anyway. I had a train to catch and Katie & Jack would be waiting at the other end.

I was brushing my teeth when I remembered Nick leaning in to give me a goodnight kiss. I cringed at the memory. Katie would get a laugh out of my filthy heterosexual experimentation.

I was halfway home when the rest of the night fell out of the overcast sky and thudded back into place. I desperately blinked back the tears and stared fixedly out of the window. I didn't want the people around me knowing anything was up. I glanced sideways at the shadowy reflection of the miserable drunken whore. The two-timing cow looked right back; pale and puffy-eyed. Serves the useless bitch right, I thought. Give her a loving and adult relationship and the slut will just fuck it up the first chance she gets. Now all her friends will hate her, and rightly so. The only thing the grim slag can do is pack her bags and slip away to find a place amongst her own kind.

I was a hollow model of myself when I got off the train. Katie was standing back from the crush with Jack in his pushchair. I kept telling myself to hold it together. Don't fuck up any further. Not yet, anyway. But there was another voice in my head; 'See the way she looks at you? She can tell. You don't deserve anyone that good, you filthy slut. Confess now. It'll be easier.'

Katie hugged me, then held me at arm's length.

'She can tell. She can tell.'

"Dear lord, you look terrible. Have you been drinking with the straight boys?"

'Oh god what does she know?'

"I, um, yes. Look, I..."

She hugged me again.

"Oh, Alix. I was joking when I suggested it. You tried to match someone pint for pint, right?"

I nodded.

"You are a complete idiot sometimes.Come on, let's get you home. You've got the weekend to recover and I've missed your lovely body."

* * *

I coped, as usual, by throwing myself into my work and using that as an excuse to think about anything else.

It even worked, for a while.

A few Sundays later, I tottered down to breakfast. Katie was feeding Jack. She looked up to make sure that I wasn't a rubbish burglar.

"You're late."

I yawned.

"I'm sorry. Crap Java. Fixed now."

"No. I mean your period's late. You should be a complete bitch and mainlining Green & Black's by now..."

There was a horrible pulse as my stomach tried to make a break for my feet, and I felt a sickly lurch. No, I really was going to puke. I scuttled for the downstairs bog.

"Morning sickness?" Katie smirked when I returned.

I tried to smile, but she saw right through me.

"Sorry Alix, bad joke," she said, and hugged me.

* * *

I bought a pregnancy testing kit Monday lunchtime and locked it and myself into the toilet furthest from my department.

"Manda?"

"Hi Alix. Good to hear from you. What's up?"

"Can I ask a massive favour?"

"I can't say 'no' now, can I? Name it."

"Do you have a cottage or mansion-wing I can stay in for a while?"

"Of course. No problem. Um. Should I ask why?"

"I'd, um, rather not say right now. Sorry."

"Oh. Well. If you're sure. Um, what time should we expect you?"

"About nine tonight?"

"Shit me. Right. See you then."

* * *

I am such a horrible geek that I set one of my work computers to email Katie when I was safely on the train. I'd left my mobile behind, too. I carried nothing but a medium-sized rucksack and a family-sized pit of despair.

Manda, being far from thick, was waiting at the station.

"You don't keep a car and the last train's at quarter-to. Bit of a coincidence you turning up at nine, so..." She fiddled the Land-Rover into reverse.

"Thanks, Manda," I said. "This is all a bit more melodramatic than I'm used to."

She looked across at me while waiting for a BMW to turn right out of the car-park.

"Uh-huh. So, in once sentence, what's going on?"

I stared out of the window. I'd been doing that a lot.

"Got drunk. Shagged some random bloke. Pee-test positive."

I made it sound like a bullet-pointed presentation.

"Oh crap. I take it Katie's gone non-linear and pitched you out?"

"Probably. I sent her an email this evening."

Manda's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

"Christ. You're not handling this very well, are you?"

"Well, I've never been pregnant before," I said.

Manda glared at me.

"That's not quite what I meant."

I hadn't got anything useful to say about that, so I stared out of the window some more. A few minutes later we crested the hill above Manda's village. Had it been in black and white, it would have looked like an Ealing Comedy; the sort of twee England that never really existed. Manda pulled the Land-Rover into a gateway and turned the engine off.

"I'm sorry how I came across. I'm really not angry with you for screwing up. I'm just, I don't know, surprised. I mean, I watched you and Katie together the other month and you were like the perfect couple. Look, I'll help in any way I can, but I have to say that I think you really need to talk to Katie very soon."

I sniffed and nodded.

"Thanks. I know. I just... need some time to think. God. That's so Hollywood."

* * *

Manda parked outside a cottage that seemed two-thirds human scale. There was a kitchen warmed by a fire-breathing Rayburn, and a tiny front room off that. Upstairs there was a single bedroom and a modern bathroom obviously carved out of what had been the second bedroom. I coveted the Rayburn immediately.

She poked about for a bit, demonstrating where useful objects were likely to be found. I sat quietly by the Rayburn and roasted myself. She'd either make her excuses and leave, or make her excuses and stay.

Manda straightened and brandished a bottle at me.

"Oh look. Wine," she deadpanned.

I grinned. Actually, company felt like a good idea. Assuming company knew what it was letting itself in for,

"And you've found two glasses. How convenient."

Manda heaved open the bottle and poured two generous goblets.

"To impending motherhood and running away from stuff," she said.

I took a long swig. The easy option would have been to go someplace where no-one knew me, wave a credit-card at a private clinic, then pretend nothing had happened. Or deal with it in my lunch hour. This was not the easy option, but it was the one I had chosen.

I saluted Manda with my glass.

"I deserve that. I want this baby, though."

There. Said it. Out loud and everything.

She put her glass down and inspected me.

"I have a question."

"Yes?"

"If, um, you're a TS or whatever, how are you pregnant? If you'll forgive the crudity, the plumbing just ain't there, dear."

"A good point. There's a straight answer, surprisingly."

I told her about the VCR.

Manda tipped the remains of the bottle into our glasses.

"Ha. Empty. That's no good."

She retrieved a fresh bottle.

"So I'm going to enumerate some salient points here, purely for dramatic effect you understand. Not because we've been drinking. No."

I nodded, not soberly at all.

"You more-or-less accidentally transform yourself into the dead spit of Emma Peel, only have a minor freak-out, tell your work it's all kosher, embark on a quite repulsively couply-couply lesbo relationship with a single parent, sashay hither and yon in a variety of dresses, skirts and presumably figure-hugging tops..."

She paused.

"There have been figure-hugging tops, haven't there?"

I nodded again. Just stick me on the parcel shelf of your car.

"And now you have fallen pregnant in the sort of grimly quotidian manner that is the staple of tabloid problem pages the world over."

I was still nodding.

"Yet you have had this alleged magical VCR in your box room the entire time, so it would have cost you little more than one off the wrist to return to being, um, you again, right? I put it to you, young Alix, that this is exactly what you wanted and you have no intention of going near that box of tricks again."

I stopped nodding.

"Um," I said.

She was right of course. I couldn't imagine life with Katie any other way. Oh. Oh God. Katie...

I wept. Quietly and steadily, as if I were full of something damp and it was just overflowing everywhere. At some point, Manda joined me on my side of the table and held me. Eventually I ran out of steam.

"Katie," I said from the depths of her shoulder. "I have to call Katie to find out how much she hates me."

Manda stroked hair away from my face.

"Already in hand. I texted her from the Landie."

"Oh."

I couldn't find the energy to be happy or angry or much of anything. Partly because I just felt wrung out, partly because the wine had made everything far away and someone else's problem. I wondered, distantly, if I was getting other people to make my decisions for me. That would be rubbish.

I pulled away from Manda and blew my nose in a wad of kitchen roll.

"What time is she turning up? I should get ready."

"It sounds like the entire clan is descending for lunchtime tomorrow. I think you scared the hell out of several people. You certainly scared me," she said, rearranging her top so my snot and tears didn't show so much.

I sniffed.

"Sorry. I just..."

I gave up and shrugged.

"Really, really sorry. I am. Totally," I said.

Manda squeezed my hand.

"Save the grovelling for tomorrow. You'll need it, I think. Anyway, we have a bottle to finish."

I blinked owlishly. I was drunker than I thought.

"Are you sure that's safe?"

"Totally. Only one freak-out per bottle, and you've had yours. It'll be my turn soon. Just don't ask me what it costs to repair half the houses in a village."

"Oh. Much?"

Manda sloshed more wine into our glasses.

"I said not to ask," she growled. "But since you have, yes. Much. Such much you wouldn't believe."

* * *

In the morning I walked up to a small coppice on the hill above the village. It was surrounded by a stone wall that had benches let into it to allow commanding views and/or sheltered resting. Ostensibly, I'd gone up there to burn off the wine. The windswept loneliness of the place also suited my inner drama-queen, who was less inner by the day. I like to think that I lost track of time, but I was probably still trying to hide or run away, because my space-staring was interrupted by someone flopping down next to me on the stone bench. I glanced sideways, startled. Katie. She looked... pale and distant. As if I were someone she didn't really know.

"So what happened?"

I told her. Short, controlled sentences.

"I think I see," she said after a while. "It was just fucking drunken stupidity. Emphasis on the fucking, there. So I guess I can't be too angry with you for that because you've never had to deal with drunken men before, and, well, been there done that bought the maternity wear. The thing that really hurts is that you chose to just fuck off out of it and leave everyone who cares about you wondering what the hell they've done to deserve that."

I started leaking snot and tears again.

"So I don't know what to do. No-one actually thinks I should let you get away with this bollocks, but I'm too fucking angry to think straight and I love you to pieces and I want to... Aaagh!"

She leaned forward, covered her face with her hands and made sobbing noises.

I had no idea how much seeing that could hurt.

I reached out to touch her shoulder, expecting her to flinch away. Instead she turned and half smiled at me, As if we were... us again. Then she buried her head in my shoulder and wept.

Some time later, we both stopped and stared at each other, red-eyed.

"I still really need to think about this," said Katie.

I nodded. I didn't want to say anything because it would come out stupid and annoying, but sometimes stupid questions have to be asked.

"How long... I mean, is there still..?"

Katie stared at the patch of bench between us.

"I don't know. A week? I have to work out... Let the anger drain away and see what's left? That sort of thing. It's up to you, though. You can't just walk away from people like that... If only because it proves Julia right."

That was low. I stiffened, gathering my thoughts for a swift-ish answer. I had my reasons, they were... Oh. Bloody hell.

"I couldn't begin to speculate," I said carefully. "Where someone might get the idea that running away from people is a good strategy for dealing with your problems. Although I'd probably start by blaming the parents. Learned behaviour and all that."

Katie favoured me with another half smile.

"By Jove, I think she's got it."

"Why can't a woman be less like a man in this case, though," I said.

Katie's laugh sounded like a fish barking. Once.

She stood and looked around.

"I should go. You need to work some things out on your own, but to answer your first question, there's still an 'us'."

She leaned forwards and touched my belly.

"All four of us."

I watched her stride down the hill towards the village. A week. I could handle that. The solitude would do me good. Some 'me' time, as the Sunday colour sections had it. An opportunity to stop and feel... distinctly queasy. I scrambled up onto the wall, leaned over and vomited at the nearest tree. How the hell was I going to cope with being pregnant?

I was going to be someone's...

I turned back towards the village.

"I want my mum," I told the world.

... Because some people deserve everybody they have.
Instant Karma
by jtl

---

 
Last evening, my girlfriend picked another fight over Amy.

Amy is a close friend and colleague, but unfortunately Elaine has developed an entirely pathalogical hatred for the poor woman. Amy and I manage to laugh about it during work hours, however it's an uncomfortable situation.

Over time, I've become used to Elaine's enumerations of Amy and her husband's many alleged faults and more or less tune it all out. Until some part of me decided that I'd heard quite enough paranoid rubbish spouted about how they were turning Elaine's friends against her and said as much.

That went down about as well as you'd expect, and the atmosphere in the bedroom as I drifted off was more than a little frosty.

I woke to the sound of Elaine sulking off for a shower. Honestly, the woman could keep grudges fresh for years. I drifted pleasantly towards consciousness with the feeling that the bedclothes were trapped in a lump between my chest and my right arm. Meanwhile, there was something warm pressed into the upper part of my left arm. I fuzzily ignored it and blew out of the corner of my mouth in an attempt to displace the hair that had fallen across my face. I thought about that fuzzily too, before remembering that my hair was cut short. I sat up to rearrange the bedclothes and pull my hair out of the way. A few stray locks had managed to become trapped under my right breast. I extracted them and bundled my hair over one shoulder. I thought about it all some more. Something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on quite what. I lifted the bedclothes again and peered downward. Nothing odd there. I settled back into the pillows and allowed the fuzzy warmth to creep back.

"What in hell do you think you're doing here!?"

Elaine was back; a large angry person in a towelling turban. She was clearly exercised about something.

"Um... Lying in bed?" I said.

"I can see that you evil slut! I don't know what your game is, but you've got ten minutes to get dressed and fuck off out of my house before I call the police!"

She'd turned and stormed off into the bathroom before I could gather my thoughts. Whatever was going on sounded serious, so I wobbled out of bed and started poking about for clean clothes. When I looked at the pile by the mirror, I was startled to see Amy looking at me. We both straightened, confused.

The fog cleared somewhat. I looked down at myself and back at the mirror. Amy. Yes. That explained the Elaine explosion, but wasn't I a man last night?

Oh, hang it. I was going to have to get dressed and think this through over a coffee or two. My underwear didn't fit, I couldn't find a bra and my combats were tight in the arse and loose at the waist. I swore and pulled at the drawcord waist until they fitted better.

Elaine peered through a crack in the door as I made my way downstairs.

"Go on. Fuck off, slut!"

I'd had about enough of that sort of talk, and instead of making for the kettle and some coffee, I grabbed my car keys and strode out of the house. I drove towards Amy's on autopilot. For some reason I looked an awful lot like her. For some other reason I felt fine about it. Although that feeling was like a loose tooth that I didn't want to fiddle with too much in case it all went horribly wrong. Mind the traffic, change gear, look left and right at junctions, don't think too hard about the seatbelt pinching your breasts.

I didn't know what Amy's reaction would be when she opened the door. She yawned and held it open further.

"Hi Mike, you'd better come in."

I came in. She led me to the kitchen, sat me down and handed me a coffee.

"How did you know it was me? I mean, I look like you. People are supposed to freak out and stuff when an unexpected twin arrives on the doorstep."

Amy shrugged and made a 'beats me' face.

"I'm not sure. It's like there's something really strange going on, but it's not a problem and I shouldn't worry."

"Strange? Tell me about it. I woke up like this and Elaine had a massive head-fit and threw me out."

Amy laughed.

"I'll just bet she did. Your alleged worst enemy in your own bed? After all the shit she's pulled, it's like weapons-grade karma or the Wiccan threefold thing."

I smiled and nodded.

"It was pretty damn choice. She looked like she was about to explode with hatred, and I was just lying there with no idea why, which made her even angrier."

I leaned forward to rest my elbows on the table and nearly dropped my coffee when my breasts got in the way.

Amy winced sympathetically at my surprise.

"Can I scrounge some underwear or something? I couldn't find my own for some reason."

Amy turned and reached into the dryer, pulled a handful of clothes into her lap and then extracted a bra and some knickers from the pile.

"Here you go. Think you can manage on your own?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I?" I stopped and looked at the underwear in my hand, turning the clothes over as if seeing their like for the first time.

"Oh. Right," I said quietly.

I tried again. "You know, if I don't write down the fact that I was a man, it'll be gone. Ha, I'll forget my own name next."

Amy looked right at me.

"Which is?"

"Miche... Oh, hell."

Amy seemed to decide she was taking charge.

"You go and get into some more seemly underwear while I ring the office and tell them we're working from home today. Then we can sit down and try to discover why reality seems to have wandered off for a bit."

Ten minutes later I was back in the kitchen, looking down the neck of my T-shirt and waggling my shoulders experimentally.

Amy seemed amused.

"Better?"

I looked up again.

"Yes. Much. What did the boss-lady have to say?"

"She asked after you by name, which was odd."

"How so?"

"I quote 'Don't let Michelle get bogged down with the details.'"

"That, as you say, is odd. Oh, hold on."

I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and fished out all the plastic.

"Damn."

Amy craned to look. I handed them to her.

"Oh, I see. MJ Harrison on every one. Where MJ stands for..?"

"Michelle Jane, rather than Michael James," I said.

By now, Amy had the light of battle in her eyes. Whatever was going on would have to give a very good account of itself, or suffer some rather withering scorn.

"Do you have any documentation in your car?" She asked.

I handed her the keys.

"My ID badge and driver's licence are in the glove compartment."

Amy strode off in the direction of the front door. I made for the hall when I heard her return.

"Stop right there," she said, standing with her back to the door and brandishing my licence.

"What's up?"

"It had a picture of Mike and there was a 'M' in the gender box when it was in the car. Now the photo's gone indistinct, but it still reads 'M'."

I thought for a second or two.

"OK, so I'll walk towards you while you keep an eye on the thing and tell me what happens."

Amy nodded, and I walked slowly toward her.

"Right, the picture looks like me now... Ok, stop. It's just changed to 'F'. Try backing up... No, no change. It looks like a one-way process."

We regrouped in the kitchen for more coffee and a bit of a think. Halfway down that second mug my phone chimed; an incoming SMS. I read it, then put the phone down and stared into the middle distance, trying to work out how I felt.

Amy noticed that something wasn't quite right.

"Are you OK?" She asked.

I passed the phone to her.

"Oh God. That bitch. I'm sorry."

I made a face.

"Dumped via SMS. How 21st century. You know, I think I'm actually relieved... Oh, sod. Where am I going to go? And you read the bit about wanting me to remove all of my gear while she's at work tomorrow? I'd better get a van rented and speak to one of those storage places..."

Amy looked slightly put out.

"Or you could, I don't know, ask your best friend if she can help. I mean, not that we've got a spare room and an otherwise empty garage or anything..."

"Oh, Amy. I'm sorry. I was just... I mean, isn't Steve going to throw a fit when he comes home to find two of you this evening?"

She leaned on the table and cradled her coffee.

"Nah, he's off in foreign parts for a fortnight making telephones work, and judging by the way the whatever-it-is seems to work, he'll come back to be only mildly surprised to see Michelle who looks a lot like his wife."

I let a long breath out and slumped in my chair.

"True, I guess. So, what now?"

Amy grinned at me.

"Shopping? To celebrate your newly-won freedom?"

"Shopping? You must be jok... Oh, hell. That actually sounds like a really good idea now," I said, a note of horror in my voice.

"Great scott! It's worse than I thought," said Amy.

"You are so not helping..."

* * *

The following morning found us across the road from Elaine's house. We were early and waiting in the shade of a beech tree for the coast to become clear. It was a quiet morning, and all that could be heard was birdsong and the distant howl of DIY. Until the screeching started.

"Dear heavens. What on earth is that?" Amy was rather startled.

I grimaced.

"It sounds like Elaine at full throttle."

"Being murdered?"

"One can only hope."

A very few minutes later, a woman bolted from the front door of Elaine's house and scuttled across the road. She was quite close by the time she noticed our presence and slowed to a halt. Her trouser suit was either rather poorly tailored or had been made for a man. She looked at us, then stared at her reflection in a car window, then back to us, becoming more confused at each turn.

"Hello. Are we, um, related?" She said at last.

I found my voice first.

"No, I think the reason we all look alike is the result of enemy action. Pardon me for being blunt, but did you sleep with a woman named Elaine last night?"

She looked oddly relieved at that, as if the idea of a particularly warped STD was familiar enough to deal with. She pulled her shoulders back and shook the hair out from the collar of her jacket.

"Yes. Yes, I did. She seemed alright in the bar last night. Bit of a big lass, but not a bunny-boiler or anything like that. But when she woke up this morning and spotted me, she went completely berzerk and locked herself in the bathroom. I scarpered before she called the old bill. I'm Terry, by the way. Um, I mean Theresa, but people call me Terry."

"I'm Michelle. Pleased to meet you."

"Amy. Hello."

Theresa inspected herself in the car window again.

"So if we're not related, why do we all look alike?"

"I think Elaine's mad and full enough of hate to bend reality," said Amy.

Theresa looked unconvinced.

"You're having a laugh, surely?"

"I think we'll find out soon enough," I said, peering over the top of a parked car. "Come over here and copy what I do."

Amy and Theresa followed me to a clear stretch of pavement opposite Elaine's house just as Elaine turned to lock the front door. She turned to see the three of us standing in a line, smiling and waving slowly.

Elaine went bright red and pointed a fat and shaking finger at us.

"Evil!" She bellowed. "Witches!"

We continued our synchronised waving.

Elaine drew her handbag up to her chin for protection and advanced slowly to her car, not taking her eyes off us. She fumbled the keyfob out of her bag, then dived into the vehicle and shot off with a screech of tyres and a sickly rattle from the engine.

"Bloody hell." Theresa was shaking her head in wonder. "That one's as mad as a bus. Madder."

She turned to Amy and I.

"Look, I've got to go home and wash the smell of mad person from, well, me and everything I'm wearing."

"Sure. I quite understand. See you," said Amy.

I dug my own keys out of a pocket as we walked across the road.

"D'you think she'll work it out?"

Amy glanced at me.

"Which one?"

"Elaine."

"No, I don't think so. Self-awareness has never been her thing, has it?"

"True that. So how many men do you think a large and angry woman can sleep with before someone works out that they're all turning into the same woman?"

That stopped Amy in her tracks. I turned away from the front door, key in hand, to see her leaning on the garden gate looking queasy.

"Oh. Crap."

The video player seemed to stare at me like a mechanical toad squatting amid the remains of some disaster in an electronics warehouse. The woman tending the stall appeared more than keen that I should buy it, though in truth my interest had waned as soon as I was close enough to discover that it wasn't a U-Matic - a video format from the heroic age of technology - after all.

She bore a disturbing resemblance to Cameron Diaz, and, mistaking my disinterest for the non-committal attitude of the canny haggler, began to describe the merits of the device with a strangely masculine attention to technical detail. Eventually, and for reasons that still elude me, I gave in to her bluster and allowed myself to be convinced to buy the beast, along with an armload of other obsolete components in order to retain some measure of shopper's honour.

As I emerged into the wintry afternoon sunlight, my reluctant purchases heaped into a shopping trolley borrowed for the purpose, I wondered what the hell I'd got myself into this time. Ostensibly, I'd been on a mission to buy myself some presents because enough people had mentioned that I 'needed some cheering up'. Julia had finally cleared the majority of her worldly goods from our briefly-shared flat the weekend before and had left, as departing girlfriends are wont to do, a series of holes. Mostly where books, CDs, clothes and the like had been, but also a small one somewhere in my centre. The fact that my personal hole wasn't that large was a contributing factor in her departure, it transpired.

She had cited an entire range of phrases that could only have been culled from some self-help book or other - emotional autism was my worst crime, I was told. Along with casual cruelty, taking her for granted and not growing as a person. My pointing out that if she were looking for excuses to leave, she could at least have put some original thought into it, and anyway Java didn't code itself and the odd 4AM finish was the reason we'd got to live in such a nice place, were just taken as yet more proof as to my unsuitability as future partner material. Thus I had walked into town, more to shut up the well-meaning than for any particular desire for purchase, and mingled with the shopping throng.

When I lifted the device from the trolley, I almost abandoned the thing on the spot, since it was clearly made from Soviet tank bits welded to a surplus road roller chassis. However, the same odd feeling that had driven me to buy the player in the first place compelled me to risk permanent injury as I struggled it up two flights of stairs. Similarly, I was hanged if the thing was going to be allowed to sit and gather dust after all this hassle - it was going to show me moving pictures, or we'd both expire in the attempt.

And show me moving pictures it did. Pictures of such remarkable clarity that I had to check that I'd not connected the DVD player to the telly by mistake. At first the scenes on the tape were jumbled and random - as if someone had compiled a sequence of jump-cut channel hops into some attempted-hypnotic whole. As time progressed however, the material settled down into a long montage of scenes featuring Diana Rigg. Now, you can say what you like about old Avengers programmes, but it's all good as far as I'm concerned. Good enough, in fact, that my hand was inside my boxers without apparent conscious thought. As I reached lift-off I half noticed a strong smell of ozone, as if something were considering emitting smoke, but I was past caring by that point, capable only of concentrating on my approaching orgasm and the pictures on the screen. At the instant I came, a blue-white bolt arced from the video and hit me squarely in the chest, knocking me back and unconscious into the depths of the sofa.

* * *

Daylight kicked me into shape, or at least turned the hangover up to eleven. I wobbled upright off the sofa and kicked my trousers off from where they were hobbling me around my feet. I felt woozy, off-balance and everything ached - as if I'd run a marathon and then spent a night on the ale - but the steamhammer in my head made any mental process over and above getting to the bog before I puked and/or pissed myself hard to deal with.

The fact that there was a woman staring back at me from the bathroom mirror lifted the fog somewhat, though it still felt like someone else's problem. I guess I should have panicked, but as anyone with a passing interest in psychedelics will tell you, not only do you get to see Elvis piloting spacecraft or wee chaps surfing the waves breaking on the living-room carpet, you also sometimes get to see deep inside your own head. It wasn't the first time I'd seen a woman there, so I hauled my boxers to my ankles and slumped onto the bog. I'd lurched half upright again before realising that my crotch felt... damp. I peered downwards to discover the neck of my T-shirt gaping somewhat due to the breasts it contained. Beyond that was a vulva framed by a pair of hips that, while not childbearing, were definitely not the sort that would generally belong to a bloke.

Oh. Bloody. Hell.

I still wasn't in much of a mood to panic, though by rights I should have been curled into a catatonic ball on the bathroom floor, sobbing quietly about lost manhood or some such nonsense. I grabbed a handful of bogroll and gingerly dabbed at my apparent new parts, then kicked the boxers into the corner nearest the laundry bin, where they were swiftly joined by the T-shirt. Since it was going to stop when I came down from whatever-substance-it-was, I wanted a damn good view of what I looked like.

Cheekbones, mostly. Shoulder length brown hair surrounding an oval face that did regal and stand-offish about as well as it did evil grin and 'Well, hell-o...', thanks to those cheekbones. Average-sized breasts that were comfortably in proportion to a trim-but-not-hardbodied waist and hips. Height - about the same. I looked... Stunning, stunned and more than a little familiar. But mostly stunning.

I stood under the shower for about twenty minutes, trying to wake up, work out if this was real or not and piece together last night's events: Bring home video (Ow! Mind your nipples!), plug video in, watch odd tape (Oh! Oh, I may have been a bloke but even I know what that bit is. Not now though), wake up in a different yet familiar body. There's something missing, though. I absently rubbed a spot between my breasts (My! Breasts!) that seemed more tender than anywhere else, as if I'd be bruised or hit... Ha! A lightning-emitting video player? I would have called that a bloody stupid idea, but that was before I found myself standing in the middle of my own bathroom dripping quietly and wondering if the female pubic area was towelled vigorously, carefully patted or left to dry out of its own accord.
'Bugger it.' I thought, probably plenty of time to worry about that sort of thing later, and wrapped myself in my bathrobe as usual.

I wandered. Huge mug of coffee in one hand and bacon sarnie in the other, I moved restlessly from room to room, trying to work out what felt different, what felt the same and what the hell to do next. The oddly loud silence when the heating clicked off and the hint of a chill reminded me that clothing would probably be a good idea. Julia might yet have left something behind, too. I opened the wardrobe doors to be greeted by the clatter of depleted hangers and a half-dozen refuse sacks obscuring the remnants of a footwear collection that would have disturbed Imelda Marcos.

Tipping the bags out on the bed revealed a pile of summer dresses and casual tops that no sane person would be seen dead in, underwear in various shades of white or nasty, and a much smaller pile of mostly black things that even someone with my limited fashion sense could approve of. I remembered the day Julia had consigned the boot-cut jeans to the back of the wardrobe, claiming shrinkage and poor quality. Well they looked damn fine on me as I slid on a pair of vaguely-heeled black boots that she'd complained 'made her ankles look fat.' I glanced in the mirror - so far, so topless sixties rock-chick. None of her bras fit worth a damn. The size seemed right, but I overflowed the cups, and the four-breasted look isn't good on anyone. I shrugged mentally and dragged on a plain black baby-t that showed off my waist, among other things, to slightly better effect than I was at comfortable with. Still, no-one to see but me, and I could always find something else to cover myself further.

As if for spite, the entry phone buzzed loudly. I picked it up without thinking, and time slowed to a crawl. I couldn't put the thing back down again because whoever-it-was would know I was in, and yet I didn't know what I sounded like. I guess if I sounded like old-me, then that would be some sort of proof that this was the product of Owsley-grade acid and I should just relax and enjoy the ride. If I sounded, well, female, then the world had spun off-axis and I should probably just relax and enjoy that ride too. But do you know what you sound like to other people without recording it first? Of course not. When you do record it, is it anything other than a horrible shock? Of course not. The entry phone handset was still inching toward my head as entire ecosystems of horrible scenarios lived and died. In the end, I gave up and decided to enjoy the ride.

"Ah... Hello?" I think I still sounded like me, though with the lower registers missing.

"Oh. Er. Hello there." It was Dave, otherwise known as 'Big Dave' - because everyone knows at least one Big Dave - one of my oldest friends. He seemed confused. Since he'd spoken to old-me on this entry phone before, it was looking like my voice had changed. Interesting.

"Is, um, Alex about?" This was the tone used by someone who was expecting to speak to an old friend, but who'd been confronted by a mystery voice that was either going to be a previously unknown female (or male) companion or an incompetent burglar.

"Um... Not right now." 'Well, not in so many words' I added, under my breath. I wasn't sure if I wanted to deal with people right now or not. I suppose I knew I would have to sooner or later, or the whatever-it-was would wear off, but the likelihood of psychedelics was lessening by the second, were I bright enough to admit it.

"Hm. Could I come in and wait? It's parky out." Oh, good one. An excuse to check out the random totty or crap burglar. How could I refuse such combined curiosity and grovelling? Even if the silly sod did live just round the corner...

"Oh, sure. Come on up."

This was going to be interesting.

I had about thirty seconds to find a normal and non-suspicious pose or place to be in. What was 'normal' for this sort of situation anyway? Open the door wearing nothing but a duvet and a 'just shagged senseless' expression? Stalk the place with a set of paint-samples and a look that screamed 'predatory girlfriend'? Hide under the bed? Not answer the entry phone like a damn fool in the first place?

In the end I remembered that I'd decided to enjoy the ride and leaned against the door-frame in time to watch Dave puff his way up the final flight of stairs.

"Hi. I'm Dave. I'm a friend of Alex's." He said while getting his breath back.

"Hello, Dave. I'm, um, Alice. Alex got some message on his phone and had to rush off. He didn't say anything about not letting people in, so if you promise not to steal the stereo we'll probably be ok." Speaking about yourself in the third person is a pretty strange feeling, and not one I liked. Alice? Well, it'll have to do for the time being.

"Ha! That old rig? If anyone stole that, they'd soon bring it back for a refund!" Were all his jokes-for-strangers that crap? What in hell was so fascinating about my chest that made him talk to that instead of... Oh. I looked down to discover that the combination of a thin cotton T-shirt and a freezing draught had made my newly enlarged nipples extra obvious. I allowed myself a smirk when Dave looked up to discover that I'd noticed the direction of his gaze. Were straight boys all this obvious? Apparently so. At least he had the good grace to blush and look away. Checking out what might be your best friend's new girlfriend? Busted.

I turned to go back indoors.

"You'd better come inside - it's too cold to be standing out here, and I think I need a jumper."

Dave scuttled in as I held the door open. The least I could do would be to put him to work to make up for his transgression.

"Um... Could you make the coffee-machine do its thing? I still don't know where anything is." I lied sweetly.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. This place can be a bit of an adventure if you're not used to it."

'You cheeky sod' I thought as I rummaged through the pile of Julia's clothing for something that wasn't ugly. I gave up and scrambled into one of my own jumpers - a huge knitted thing that would have belonged to a trawlerman in a previous life. With any luck I'd look 'cute' rather than 'sexy' and Dave would remember that he'd been going out with my other best friend, Emma, for ten years.

Things felt nearly normal after that. Granted, Dave was continually looking at me as if he knew me from somewhere, but as we sat around the kitchen table and slowly drained large mugs of coffee, it was as if nothing had changed. Even Dave's unfortunate tendency to assume that everyone he talked to was as knowledgeable and interested in the arcana of NT server administration as he was. During a particularly tedious and involved saga about domains, I forgot I was supposed to be a complete stranger.

"It does mostly serve you right, you know. Microsoft follow standards in the same way that fish follow migrating caribou. If you'd used a proper OS in the first place you wouldn't have this problem..."

Dave's eyes bulged slightly as he tried not to breathe coffee.

"Alex. You total bastard."

Oh shit. Here we go.

"Are those things real? Who did your face? And the hair... I would never have guessed until you said... How did you learn to sound like that? No, wait. Don't explain yet. I'm going to call Emma. She's going to completely freak out when she sees you." He said, jabbing rapidly at his mobile.

"'lo Em. Me. You seriously want to whistle round here now and meet the new woman in Alex's life. Yeah. Fair enough. Bye." He stuffed the phone back into his combats and turned to me. "She'll be round as soon as is likely. Dead excited, by the sound of it."

I folded my arms on the kitchen table and rested my chin on them in semi-mock despair.

"Oh God. Did it cross your mind that I might not be interested in being paraded about like a performing seal at the circus?" I said, peering at him through a curtain of brown hair.

"Um. No. That does seem an awful lot of trouble to go to just to meander about in your own flat. From where I'm sitting it's a definite shame not to show it all off."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Good. I mean, those boobs look real to me. They must have cost a mint." Dave charged on, seemingly untroubled by the concepts of good taste.

"Well, now that you come to..."

I was saved by the sound of the entry phone.

"If that's Emma, she must have run the whole way." I said, as I escaped to buzz her in. "Be a sweetie and unlatch the door."

I stared at myself in the bedroom mirror again. Sill definitely female. Looking slightly shell-shocked this time, though definitely 'wearing boyfriend's huge jumper' cute. Emma's probably going to hate that.

I could hear lowered voices, so I walked back into the kitchen as Dave closed the door behind Emma. For some reason there didn't seem much point in continuing with the Alice charade.

"Emma. Hi. I'm sorry Dave's dragged you round here at such short notice." I said.

She stared at me briefly, turned to look at Dave with raised eyebrows and then looked at me again.

"Alex?"

"Yep."

"Wow. I totally hate you."

I must have looked horror-struck, because she rushed across the kitchen and gathered me into a hug.

"Oh, angel, I'm sorry, but you know what I mean." she said, as I peered round her vivid purple mane at a shrugging Dave. "You look utterly stunning and you're a bloke. I'm just envious."

That hug felt lovely, but I disentangled myself anyway.

"You approve?" I said, cautiously.

"Of course I do. Now show me. Bedroom."

She almost dragged me off while ordering Dave to brew more coffee.

I slumped on the bed as Emma closed the door. I was trying hard to just go with the flow, but increasingly I felt like curling into a ball under the duvet and waiting for all the weird shit to go away. I looked up to discover that she was looking at me in a half-fascinated, half-appraising way.

"You look really, really good. I'm not just saying that, you know." She said.

"Thanks, but... You know that bit about being a bloke?" I was explaining it to myself as much as anyone else. I'd experienced some pretty full-on trips in the past, but there was no way this was a hallucination any more. Time to try to deal with it.

"What? No! How? Show me? Please?" Emma sat down next to me and held my hand. I'd known her for something like ten years, and while she'd always been this tactile, some odd barrier between us has fallen away.

"Well, um, ok. But I'm not wearing a bra or anything..." I said, feeling strangely shy. I wouldn't have been keen to show myself off in other circumstances, but this would mean really looking at my new body. I wasn't sure about that.

"Oh, come on. If what I think you're saying's true, then you won't have got anything I haven't seen plenty of times before."

"That's not it. I..."

"Look. I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours, 'k?"

I giggled at the childish tone she'd used and nodded. Emma stood and unzipped the blue fleece she was wearing. I was disconcerted to see that she was only wearing a bra underneath. She quickly shrugged that off and her ample bosom wobbled freely as she shimmied her way out of the long black cybery skirt. She sat back down on the bed to pull off the chunky trainers and tights.

"Right then. Your turn." She said.

I started with the boots. They were quickly joined in a heap on the floor by the jeans, jumper and T-shirt. I stood there in just my (or Julia's) panties and let Emma stare at me open-mouthed.

"Bloody hell," she breathed. She glanced at my crotch. "Are you, um, 'all girl'?"

"Yeah, as far as I can tell. I was convinced I was off my head this morning, and now I'm a little too freaked out to check..." I tried to fold my arms, but my breasts got in the way a bit and that felt weird, so I let my arms drop to my sides where they brushed my hips and that felt weird too so I just flopped back on the bed with a sigh of exasperation. Emma hugged me and I was surprised to find that my eyes were leaking. We sat there for what seemed ages as Emma gently rubbed my back and made shushing noises while I sobbed quietly.

Eventually, I regained some composure. Emma held my shoulders at arm's length and grinned. "You big girl."

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Not as big as some."

"That's as maybe, but you've still got bigger tits than that ex of yours." said Emma, brushing my hair away from my face.

"I found that out for myself earlier. That's why I was doing without a bra."

"I wondered where the clothing had come from. If those were her panties, she's got a fat arse and no mistake."

"They're not supposed to fit like this then?" I said, pulling the waistband out sideways a few inches.

"Not at all. Now turn around - we're going to get you calmed down and then we're going out to get you some clothes that fit. Though you could wear a potato sack and still look gorgeous, you cow."

Obediently, I shuffled round on the bed. Emma proceeded to massage all the kinks out of my shoulders. I think I'd started to purr quietly about half-way through that process, but when she produced a brush and started to de tangle my hair, I was in heaven.

"Is this a service you extend to all your friends who're taken unexpectedly female?" I said when she'd finished.

"No, just the ones I really care about."

"You're taking this remarkably well. Some people would have run screaming and left me to it."

"Yeah, well, serves you right for going out with her." said Emma, tartly. "I still have no idea what happened, and I guess you'll tell us when you work it out yourself, but in the meantime I'll do what I can to help you deal with all of this. Meanwhile, I want to show you something."

She led me to the big mirror on the front of the wardrobe.

"What d'you see?"

"Um, nude women?" I said. "The one with the purple hair's got great tits."

"Thank you. But if you can tear your eyes away from her and notice the slimmer one with the cheekbones, I think you'll see someone who looks very happy indeed. Joyful, even. Now, I don't know how much of that is suppressed hysteria, culture shock or what, but mark this young woman; you seem outwardly happy with your lot. Accept that bijou fact-ette and move on with your life, for we have shopping to do."

"Oh goody. A whole new wardrobe?" I said.

"Not likely, what d'you think this is? Bad tranny-fic? At minimum you need some underwear, but if there's some good basics to be had we'd better bag those too. Friends don't let friends slob around in Julia's cast-offs."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think that you didn't like my ex much."

"Hush now. We'll talk about that later. We need to get you down to M&S pronto." said Emma as she re-zipped her skirt.

* * *

There was shopping. Nobody stared, other than the woman in the underwear dept. who eyed me critically, muttered '34C' and then left us to our own devices. We came away with about a week's supply of underwear in various flavours of black, a couple of long skirts and a selection of tops that, according to Emma, could be worn for work and then dressed up for the evening. I wasn't entirely sure how that might become relevant, but let it slide. What I was sure about was that wearing a bra made me feel almost armoured against the rest of the world. That was odd.

Dave & Emma's flat was slightly nearer town than my own, so she asked if I'd be ok on my own while delving through her bag for the door keys under a handy street lamp.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Um, would you guys like to come over for food later on? You've both been wonderful." I said.

"Of course, sweetie. We'd be delighted. Half-seven ok? Oh, should we bring booze?"

"If you would. I'm going to have to pick up some bits from the mini-mart anyway, but the sort of wine they keep is probably best avoided."

"True that. Later, then." She leaned over to give me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. I must have looked slightly confused, because she grinned and said "Girl thing. Better get used to it."

Our local shop is run by an extended family who all seem to take turns in minding the place. This evening, the mother of the teenagers who could be seen shifting stock in the back of the place was on duty. She looked at me oddly when I walked in, and I wondered if I'd committed some clothing faux-pas by wearing my old leather jacket. Granted, I couldn't zip it up anymore without it looking odd, but it was warm and the only thing I owned with enough storage to make up for the impossibility of getting anything in the pockets of the jeans I'd 'liberated' from Julia.

I dumped my usual set of purchases on the counter and started to dig out my wallet.

"Hello," she said, "are you staying with Alex round the corner?"

"Um, yeah. More or less." I guess if you saw a strange woman wearing a distinctive jacket usually seen on one of your regular customers, you'd ask too.

"Oh that's good. It was a shame to see him on his own. You'll be good for him."

"Ah, thanks." I took the carrier she handed me and turned to go.

"Tell Alex I said hello, ok?"

"Sure. Um, bye."

* * *

I mentioned this episode to Emma and Dave as I refilled their glasses after we'd demolished the pasta I'd created. One of the other things that had annoyed Julia was my ability to knock together interesting meals from uninspiring combinations of ingredients.

"You did troll about looking glum and unapproachable most of the time." said Dave.

"I did?" I was, well, shocked would be putting it too strongly, but...

"Yup. The old Alex certainly gave off an air of being a grumpy bugger. Until you got to know him, of course." The last hurriedly added when he noticed my expression.

"Since it's obviously escaped your notice, that old Alex is still in here." I tapped my head for emphasis. "Just because the container's changed, it doesn't mean I'm going to lose my brains and start wittering about knitting and fluffy kittens. At least I hope not. Actually, that would be bad. You have my permission to shoot me if that happens."

"Speaking of that container" said Emma, "are you actually going to tell us what the hell happened? Frankly, I'm dying to know."

"Well, if you'll follow me and the wine into the sitting-room, I'll have a go at explaining. It's going to be a bit odd, though."

"So turning up on your best mate's doorstep to discover he's changed into fit totty overnight is normal? Ow! That hurt, Em." Dave collapsed into a chair and rubbed the shin that Emma had kicked.

"And so it should. 'Fit totty' indeed." Emma composed herself in a corner of the sofa, thankfully not the one where I'd woken this morning. "So then, Alex. Tell. We're all ears. Agog, even."

I launched into the tale of how an antique-looking video player came to be lurking near the television and why I suspected it played a starring role in my transformation. When I got to the part about the thing playing old Avengers episodes just before zapping me, Dave got this look on his face that was partly road-to-Damascus but mostly road-to-the-off-licence.

"What?" I had hips I could put my hands on to great effect now. So I did. Emma smirked.

"I bloody knew I'd seen you before!"

"Um, yeah. In the pub last weekend."

"Well, yes. But not like that. Here, look at this:" He pulled an Avengers DVD from the rack and pointed at the back. "That's you, that is."

He was right. I could see myself reflected in the blank television screen looking gormlessly at the picture of Diana Rigg on the DVD case, and there was a lot more than a passing likeness. I sank into the sofa, clutching DVD in one hand and wineglass in the other. Wine seemed like a very good idea right then, so I slurped down the best part of the glass before allowing Emma to pry the DVD case away from me.

"I think what Dave the diplomat has failed to mention is that it's obvious to anyone with sense in their head that you're still Alex. How you hold yourself and what you say hasn't changed a bit. You just... Look different."

"I look like HER, though. Am I a copy of her? Do I just THINK I'm Alex? Are the things I remember real? This is all a bit too Phil Dick for me to cope with." I slurped more wine and realised that my glass was empty, so started to look around for the bottle.

"Who's this Dick bloke she's on about?" Emma stage-whispered.

"Science fiction author. 'Total Recall' and 'Blade runner' were both based on his stuff." said Dave.

"She?" I muttered "Bloody hell."

Emma took charge. "See now, that's Alex all over. A ten second drunken freak-out and then back to normal. Relatively speaking. You're not some dreadful robot assassin young woman, and if you are I shall slap you silly. Now. There are now two things I wish to learn. First, how in creation did that box do whatever it did? Second, what are you going to do for a name?"

"I have no idea how the thing worked. To steal a line from Arthur Clarke 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic', so whatever's underneath its cover is going to be impossible to fathom. Could be nanotech, could be a black hole in a jar, could be intestines or a crack squad of underpants gnomes. The scariest option is that it's normal electronics in there and this is all happening inside my own head." I held my hand up as Emma started to object. "Yes, I understand that you think this is real, but if this is inside my own head, you're bound to act the way I expect you to."

She slapped me. Not hard, but it was enough to shut me up.

"I refute that. You are not Bishop Berkeley. You're acting like Alex when he gets drunk and argumentative."

"Anyway, moving ever-so-swiftly on" she continued, "Have you thought about changing your name, or are you just going to stay as Alex? It is fairly gender-neutral after all."

I stared at my booted toes and wiggled them absently. I'd rarely been hit; we're all brought up to believe that thumping people is just bad and it's what the stupid people do. However, somehow Emma had managed to rattle a jumble of thoughts into place.

"I'm not sure. There's 'Alexa', but that reminds me of that space-woman off the telly and that's so not me. Alyx-with-a-Y sounds a bit too porn-star... I think Alix-with-an-I might work best. It's me-but-not-me, if you see what I mean?"

"Not really, but that wouldn't be the first time." said Dave. "What are you going to do about work?"

"I've honestly not had time to think about that. I have no idea at all."

"If I might make a suggestion" said Emma, "why not just walk in there and tell them that you're TS and that you're starting your real-life test? Most people know what box that goes in, so they'll just deal with it. They'll put the fact that you look different down to a change of haircut and the addition of make-up, since that's the easy explanation. Hell, all you'll really have to do is wear a low-cut top and most blokes will be too busy staring at your boobs to notice that you look like Dame D. The fact that you won't need to go for surgery is neither here nor there; it's not like you're expected to show off your new bits at any stage. It'll also make the paperwork really easy. The system knows how to deal with people who've changed gender by medical means, there's no point confusing the issue by letting them know the truth. If you did, they'd put you in a cage and prod you with sticks for the rest of your life."

I considered it for all of three seconds.

"You know, that's a brilliant idea. I love you. Both."

"And we love you too, sweetie. Now, we should probably make our excuses and leave, since you'll have a busy day tomorrow."

"Um, I'd kind of thought I'd bunk off tomorrow and get in a bit more girl-practice. If you weren't doing anything else, that is..."

"Oh, of course. I think we're both working from home tomorrow." Emma looked expectantly at Dave, and he nodded vigorously.

"Good. That's sorted then. And with that we shall withdraw and bid you a good evening. Come on our Dave, get that wine down yer neck, like."

As soon as Dave and Emma left, I emailed my boss, telling him that I was taking a sick day on the Monday and requesting a meeting with him and our HR person the day after. The sparseness of the message would probably put the wind up him, but sod it; he'd probably be relieved that I wasn't leaving or lodging a grievance, so turning up in a skirt would hopefully seem tame by comparison. As a university department, they'd be falling over themselves to be seen to be inclusive, tolerant and diversity-aware anyway. Now that Emma had defused that particular mental land-mine, that bit felt easy. There were going to be a whole load of other things to think about and deal with over time, but right now I was feeling tired and tipsy and it was time to crawl into bed.

I dumped Julia's abandoned ugly clothing back inside the wardrobe. As I closed the door, I caught a view of myself from an angle in the mirror. I didn't immediately recognise the woman standing there and almost looked round to see who the stranger in the room was. That was a very odd feeling indeed. I guessed that people who have had plastic surgery may feel the same way and made a shrugging 'What the hell' face at her. She looked effortlessly gorgeous doing it and I spent a good while studying myself from various angles. For better or worse, this was likely to be the way my body looked for a good long time, so I'd better get used to seeing it.

After a while I undressed, piling my clothes in a careless heap. This was the first time I had felt able to study myself properly; the couple of glasses of wine probably helped. However, as I was removing the capacious Julia-knickers, I glanced up at the mirror to see Emma Peel with her breasts hanging freely and panties around her knees. I'd wrapped one arm over my chest and started to haul my underwear back up before I realised that it was me in the mirror, so it was actually OK to have a bit of a perve.

I grinned and arched my eyebrows at my reflection, then hauled the knickers off, wadded them into a ball and lobbed them at the bin in the corner. Unsurprisingly, I missed; my aim disturbed by my wobbling breasts and differently-moving hips. I collapsed back on the bed and propped myself up on my elbows to view my reflection in the mirror again. My breasts squidged out sideways and I peered at the lightly-furred mound between my widened hips. Tipsy or not, I still wasn't sure how much fiddling and prodding my new plumbing would cope with before breaking or falling off. Although as soon as I thought that, more sensible parts of my head reminded me that it was all likely more robust than the anatomy I'd previously been used to and actually wasn't this the ideal opportunity for a test-drive?

I shifted position slightly and cupped one hand over my crotch. I could feel labia. And I could also feel fingers on my labia. It was freaky as all hell. I glanced up to see myself in a familiar porn-star pose in the mirror, looking uncertain but turned on.

Other parts of my body were getting hard and as I stroked a finger up and down. I realised that my shoulder was becoming uncomfortable and I was probably going to need both hands now. I scooted up the bed and arranged myself on the pillows, one knee pulled up to allow better access. I could feel my labia parting as I moved my knee sideways, and I wiggled that leg back and forth so as to get full value from the sensation.

Once I'd got used to that, I began to feel about for my clitoris. Even though I'd been a man for all of my life, save the last twenty hours or so, I found it within seconds. I uncurled my toes and resolved to be a lot more gentle with myself. I wished I could properly see what I was doing, but pulling my clit-hood back slowly felt a lot like rolling the foreskin off the head of my penis had, only a great deal more so. I pushed the hood back and forth, one finger each side of my clit, and that felt very nice indeed thank-you. I paused and slid my hand a little further down, one finger parting my inner labia, until I found what I assumed was the entrance to my vagina. Next time I was coming equipped with a hand-mirror. I carefully pushed one finger inside myself and once again marvelled at being able to feel it from both sides.

I returned to rubbing my clitoris and just lay there for a while, revelling in the sensations. I could feel an orgasm coming, as if from a long way off, but it was hard not to become distracted and have that feeling recede, which was insanely frustrating. I changed hands, brushing a nipple with my upper arm, and cursed myself for being an idiot. I gently stroked that nipple and continued rubbing my clit. This time the onrushing orgasm would not be denied and hit me like a speeding truck.

I lay there, eyes unfocussed and breathing heavily while I tried to get my senses back in order. I could seriously get used to that sort of thing. The woman in the mirror was looking very pleased with herself indeed. I made a show of licking my fingers clean and then wriggled underneath the duvet to sleep.

* * *

I came to the following morning with that post-alcohol feeling of bursting bladder that's common to all the sexes. I scuttled to the toilet, entirely aware of how odd it felt that the freely-bouncing breasts were mine. Attached to me.

A couple of hours later I was showered, breakfasted and outfitted in a long skirt and opaque tights. I really liked the way my chunky old jersey looked with the leather jacket, so I girled it up with a long purple scarf from the Julia-pile and toddled round to Dave and Emma's looking every inch the boho art-rock chick, which was entirely appropriate.

We sat around for a while, guzzling coffee and inspecting Emma's latest work. She designed clothing for a variety of gothy/fetish shops and web sites, and it was a strangely liberating feeling to be able to look at much of the range with the eyes of a potential wearer, rather than feeling like a bit of a filthy old perve.

For her part, Emma seemed really pleased with the way I'd just thrown an outfit together and kept going on about how it 'was really me' and how I'd instantly managed to find my own style, rather than dressing like I was still a bloke or going over-feminine. She was further galvanized when I mentioned that maybe my hair could do with tidying up for my appearance at work the day after. She pounced on her mobile, saying "I know the very person. You'll totally get on" as she prodded through her phonebook.

"Katie? Yeah, hi. Look, I know this is short notice and everything, but have you got a slot left today? It's a friend; she just needs a trim. No, you'll love her to bits. She's a really special person. You do? Oh, you're an angel. Really. Yes, we'll troll over as soon as. Bye!"

"You're in luck: Katie's had someone cancel, so if we motor round to her place we can get you dealt with right away."

So motor we did.

We were met at the door by exactly the sort of woman I found devastatingly attractive. Her hair was long, black and shaved at the sides. A sleeveless T-shirt showed off tribal tattoos encircling both sleekly muscular arms, and a pair of purple combats completed the ensemble. Had I still been male, I would probably have been trying not to stare, but as it was I think I felt a first stab of loss. Emma must have noticed something because she immediately took charge.

"Katie, this is Alix. She's got to go and be professional at her manager tomorrow. D'you think you could work your magic? Something low-maintenance that even a man could look after."

I glared at Emma and she stuck her tongue out at me. Katie viewed the exchange with some curiosity, but let it pass and guided us into the room where the hairdressing happened.

"Sit yourself down and don't worry - I know the ideal look. Emma, be a love and go burn some coffee for all of us?"

Katie set to work on my head, and was pretty much finished by the time Emma returned with the coffees in one hand and a small child in tow.

"I hope you don't mind, but Jack wanted to come and say hello." She said.

Katie looked round.

"No, that's fine. Just keep him away from anything sharp or poisonous."

"Will do. How old is the little terror anyway?"

"He's eight months." Katie took two of the mugs from Emma and handed me one.

"Wow. I hadn't realised that much time had gone by. Speaking of poisonous, have you had any joy with his father?"

"No, the useless tosser doesn't want to know," Katie said bitterly. "He'll cough up the maintenance, but doesn't want to be involved otherwise. God, Men. I despair. I'd have been in real trouble if I hadn't been able to work from home.

Katie was clearly exercised by this and downed tools in order to pay proper attention to both her son and her coffee.

"Oh, that doesn't remind me but anyway," she went on. "I've got that fake hair you wanted in the back room. Um, Alix, could I get you to keep an eye on Jack for a couple of minutes?"

Emma was smirking again. Honestly, that woman was remarkable.

"Um. Sure. No problem."

"Oh, super. You're a lifesaver." said Katie, plonking the child in my lap.

We stared at each other for a bit. I wasn't too hot with any offspring below the age of about seventeen, but in a spirit of either desperation or experimentation, I began to recite Edward Lear's 'The Pobble who had no toes' because my mother had done the same when I was that age. Jack seemed entranced. I had no idea how long Emma and Katie had been watching me, but when I came to the end of the poem, I looked up to see them both grinning like idiots from the doorway.

"I told you she'd be a natural" said Emma, smugly.

"I'm impressed. You're the first person to entertain him with poetry." said Katie.

"And to think she used to be a man..."

I could have killed Emma when she said that. I mean, it's not like it was going to be a secret, but it was my not-secret to tell.

"No, really? That's so cool!" Katie's reaction was rather unexpected.

She retrieved Jack, dragged a stool over and sat opposite me, holding my hand.

"I knew Emma was bursting to tell me something, but I had no idea. If there's anything you need or I can help you with?"

"Thank you. I'll take you up on that. Emma's being wonderful at the moment, but I can't lean on her forever..."

"Of course. Um... If you don't mind my asking, when was your surgery? It's really hard to believe that you weren't born like this."

"You know, that's a bit of a long story. Do you have half an hour?"

* * *

"So you're that Alex? The one that went out with that Julia woman?" said Katie.

"The very same."

"Wow. Really. I love the new you." She waved a hand to indicate my entirety.

"Thanks. Though it's taking some getting used to not being the old me."

"Yeah, I guess. Sorry for asking so many questions, it's just that you're so... Natural."

"I'll take that as a good thing." I said. In truth, I felt entirely un-natural.

"Good. Hey, you know that your ex has been going to 'Sanctuary' a lot recently?"

"Has she by God, the two-faced bitch." said Emma.

I was really going to have to ask her what Julia had done... Oh, sod it...

"Two questions: One - what's a Sanctuary when it's at home, and two - Emma, please explain why you dislike Julia so much? I'm obviously not going to be angry, but I would like to know."

"In reverse order, she's a manipulative cow who didn't like the idea of you having friends she didn't approve of and did her absolute best to make sure you didn't get to mix with them."

"Oh hell. So that means..."

"Yes. The reason we didn't get to see you for a year was down to that nasty piece of work."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Em. I didn't know."

"Not your fault she's mad. Move on and be glad she's gone. We all are."

Katie took up the explanation.

"Sanctuary's a gothy-alternative club night. I guess your ex has been out on the prowl there the last couple of months. At least, that's what I've been hearing from my customers."

"Months? But she only left... Oh. Bloody hell."

"Oh, Alix. I'm sorry. I didn't know. You're not angry with me?"

"No, Katie. Of course not. I'm peeved with myself if anyone, but mostly that - what was it, Em? Oh, yeah - fat-arsed bitch."

Emma giggled evilly.

"That's the spirit. Hey, you know what, you should totally go to Sanctuary and show the cow up."

Katie nodded vigorously.

"Completely. You can come with me. It'll be great, please say you will?"

The idea was very appealing, but I had the prospect of dealing with work looming over me.

"I'm really not sure. It's not like I've got anything suitable to wear..."

"Oh, no problem" declared Katie, "we're about the same size and I've got lots of clothes that I've not worn since having Jack."

"Right then. That's settled." said Emma, with an air of finality.

Some bitching and outfit-planning later, Emma and I walked back to my flat.

"You know Katie really likes you." She said.

"That's good. I've a feeling I'm going to need a lot of friends this weekend."

"No, idiot. Not like that. She REALLY likes you."

"What? But I thought she..."

"Haven't you ever heard of tranny-chasers? No, obviously not. There's no reason why you should. Katie's bi, but she likes her men to be very... Female. You, my girl, are her fantasy made flesh."

"Wow. I had no idea."

"That much was patently obvious. Just be aware that if she makes a move on you and you end up hurting her, you'll be answering to me, clear?"

"Yes mum..." I paused to consider in a nebulous sort of way where I was about to steer the conversation. Ordinarily, I'd just leave it, but things were far from ordinary.

"Hold on... That's all a little convenient, isn't it?"

Emma stopped and viewed me in a manner usually described as 'speculative'.

"Alix, dear. How long have we known each other?"

We'd met when Dave and I had decided that since we were into our second year of university, living in halls would be too juvenile. One of the other students on Dave's chemistry course was living in a rambling old house that his father had bought to serve as an 'investment' by letting rooms out to other students. His theory was that the place wouldn't get trashed since his dutiful offspring would be on hand to keep order and vet potential letters. As it was, said offspring had learned just enough chemistry to set up a MDMA lab in a lock-up across town and was more interested in swanning about in his BMW than remembering to charge rent and get the gutters looked at. The pair of us couldn't quite believe our luck, so advertised for an extra tenant just in case we needed to make up the shortfall in the rent.

We were sitting behind a table filled with empty pint glasses in the darkest corner of the student union bar when Emma hove into view. In a purple mohawk, biker jacket and DMs, she cut a horrified swathe through the crowd of rugger buggers and Benneton babes.

"I think I'm in love." I said.

Dave gurgled into his lager.

Emma loomed over us.

"Don't tell me you two jokers are advertising the room for rent..."

Dave recovered the power of speech first.

"Ah, yeah. That's us. We're harmless, honestly."

"That much is obvious, since you're either chemists or IT spods."

She went on in a similarly dry manner. "So, what's the catch, other than secret cameras in the shower or thirty of your horrible chums turning up for Tuesday night D&D sessions?"

I spluttered.

"Christ. Even we wouldn't stoop that low. You'll want those guys over there with the Marillion badges and junior real-ale club T-shirts for that sort of thing. The only obvious catch is that the owner of the place might be carted off in the night by the drug squad, but for some people that might lend a certain social cachet."

Emma grimaced.

"Thankfully I'm not that desperate for street credibility. I'm in though. Be warned that I'll walk at the first sign of a twenty-sided die."

I finished my pint in what I hoped was a theatrical manner, but probably just looked alcoholic.

"You seem to know an awful lot about the D&D thing for one who professes to hate it."

"Half my floor in halls were in thrall to the White Wolf organisation, the other half to Wizards of the Coast. I earned my aversion, laddie. Now, who's round is it?"

I looked back up at Emma from where I'd been studying the pavement, somewhat lost in thought.

"Um... Ten years?"

"So." said Emma, brightly. "In that terrible decade, have I ever given you the shaft, pissed on your chips or otherwise given you vague cause not to believe that you're one of my best friends and that I have only a deep and abiding love for you and what I hope to be your best interests in mind at most times?"

"Um, well, no. Not as such. It's just that it's all a bit... Convenient?"

Once again, Emma was ahead on points and looking to score a conversational knock-out.

She stopped walking and studied me.

"Look. Dave and I both knew... Well, I did, and when I told Dave so did he, that you'd probably want to spend a couple of weeks doing that blokey-isolationist post relationship thing. The one where you get drunk and listen to old Sisters of Mercy CDs a lot. No, don't look like that. I know you do because I've seen it before. So anyway, believe it or not, we were going to drag you out this next weekend and accidentally-on-purpose introduce you to Katie. I knew you'd get on well, your current situation notwithstanding. You're right in one respect; it is all a bit fortuitous, but were I you, I'd stop asking daft questions and go with the flow. You've got quite enough on your plate as it is."

I stood there and considered. Emma was, once again, right. With my life being turned on its head, I should just take the good things handed to me and stop asking damn fool questions. I probably wouldn't like the answers anyway.

"That was a girly chat, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Emma, "was it what you expected?"

I hugged her fiercely.

"In that it was a lot like most advice you've ever given me, only it didn't require me to down half a bottle of vodka before asking, yes."

"See? You're getting the idea now you're not testosterone-poisoned. Now, continue walking. It's cold."

We walked the rest of the way to Emma & Dave's in a thoughtful yet companionable silence. So far the general shock and terror at my transformation was running at a level zero. Indeed, there was a good chance that it would work in my favour as far as Katie was concerned. However, that was only about a third of the things I had to worry about. The next third was what on earth was going to happen at work tomorrow. Despite Emma's theory that they would only be concerned with being seen to be doing the right thing, I was shit scared. That was, for better or worse, what I called 'real life'.

I broached the subject when Emma handed me a welcome mug of coffee back at hers.

"I mean, this is about the first time I've ever worried about what to wear to work in the morning. It's like going for the interview all over again."

"If I recall that interview correctly, it involved talking to a bearded Java hacker over several pints of real ale in that pub the networks team frequent. Dressing up meant finding a clean Linux T-shirt."

"However," she continued, when I started to object, "I take your point, and please don't think I'm making light of the situation when I return to last night's suggestion."

"What, show off some cleavage and all will be well? I know I work with Java geeks, but they're not arseholes. Meanwhile, the HR bod is a woman and I don't want her or anyone else to think that I've turned into some pink and fluffy male-imagined parody of a woman overnight."

I let out the rest of the breath.

"Sorry about that rant."

Emma held up both hands.

"No, you're quite correct. In fact I hadn't realised that you felt so strongly about the matter. You have surprising depths even after ten years, Alix."

"Thanks, though it's not a situation I've had to work out a position on before, so you're forgiven."

"Good. Well, in that case I suggest your other long skirt and that wrap top. If you dress too blokey, you're going to look like you cross-dressed for a bet and that you're not comfortable in your newly chosen gender role. Leaving aside for the moment that you didn't actually choose it. On the other hand, if you girl it up too much, say with a short skirt and too much slap and nailie, you're right into parody territory. Besides, it's January; you'll freeze your tits off. The long skirt's practical, the wrap top will show off your body without actually revealing anything, which should give the impression that while you like the way you look, you're there to do your job rather than just be decorative. Um. You do like the way you look, right?"

I sighed and stared into my mug.

"I can't yet answer that in any meaningful way. This is far from ideal, but it could have been a lot worse. I'm apparently a woman now, but I'm seemingly in good health and as far as I can tell, better than average-looking. Not that it should be important, but..."

* * *

Tuesday hove into view far too soon. I hid under the duvet for an extra ten minutes, but in the end the day was going to continue whether I liked it or not. I stumbled on automatic pilot through a shower, breakfast and into the clothing I'd piled on a chair in readiness for being half-asleep.

Both Emma and Katie had muttered about wearing nice underwear as part of making a good impression. I didn't feel anywhere near ready to deal with anything as obviously girly as what they'd had in mind, but nonetheless I wrapped myself in a fresh seam-free bra and wriggled into a pair of Brazilian-cut knickers. It almost seemed a shame to cover them with opaque tights, but a glance out of the window revealed that I'd be risking frostbite of the nether regions. It was still strange to feel a breast squashed against my leg when I went to pull the Julia-boots on, and it was strangely pleasing to be without that queasy-groin feeling of trapped testicle. However, the entire experience was cavalcade of strange, ranging from 'just a little bit odd' to 'How am I handling this without a screaming fit?'. All that mental shrugging was making my mental shoulders ache.

Our HR dept - a woman called Liz who'd also been handed the departmental intranet to look after - was on the floor above my section. She looked up as I arrived in her office doorway and looked briefly confused, since she was clearly expecting Alex rather than Alix.

"Hello. Can I help?"

She had that reassuring tone that they spend weeks teaching on HR courses.

"Um, yes. I have a half-nine appointment?"

Ugh. Upspeak. That would have to stop.

Her eyes performed a brief boots-to-haircut double-take.

"Alex? This is a..."

"... Surprise?" I finished for her. Rarely is the spirit of the stairway with me, but sheer terror sometimes gives it an edge.

"Yes. Ah, how long have you... Oh, God. I'm sorry. Where are my manners? You must hate those sort of questions. Come in and sit down. Um, sorry, but what do you go by now?"

She pulled her bag off one of the chairs and started looking round her cluttered office for somewhere else to put it. There didn't immediately seem to be a suitable flat surface, so she hovered for a while before dumping it on a pile of blue folders. I was feeling less nervous by the second.

"Hey Liz, it's still me in here. Calm down. In answer to your questions, a fair while and Alix, with an I."

She considered me from the other side of the comfortably untidy desk.

"Yes, I can see that now. It suits you. Look, please don't take this the wrong way, and I mean this in an entirely unprofessional capacity, but you look really good. I think the change suits you. You know Peter's going to shit and die..."

I grinned like an idiot.

"Thank you. This wasn't an easy decision, and I live in fear of an adverse reaction..."

Liz slid into sensible HR mode.

"Naturally, the university is fully committed to diversity and maintaining a tolerant environment. We fully support the rights of the staff and students to express their chosen sexuality or gender presentation."

She paused.

"... And those are really nice boots. Where did you find them?"

I smirked.

"Stole them from my ex-girlfriend."

Liz looked uncomfortable again.

"Oh, sorry. Did she leave because..."

"No. She left just before I found out she was a manipulative two-timing cow, not because I looked better in her clothing than she did."

Liz bit her lip and failed to stifle a giggle. The tension was gone. I joined in the giggling and a terrible feedback loop was established.

At that moment, my boss, Peter, turned up and recognised my leather jacket from behind.

"Bloody Hell, Alex. That haircut makes you look like a girl."

Liz stared at him, horrified. I turned round, smiled as sweetly as I could manage and said "Really? You think?"

"Holy crap!"

To his credit, he regained his managerial composure almost immediately and began a protracted set of apologies for rudeness and lack of sensitivity and gender-awareness, which culminated in him being dispatched to fetch coffee and croissants from the cafe on the next street.

Some while later, Peter was explaining at length what he'd be doing to make my 'transition' as pleasant an experience as possible.

"If only you knew, matey." I muttered.

He turned to face me as I was dabbing at remnants of croissant with a little finger and removing them from that finger with the tip of my tongue. Those remnants came from a paper napkin I'd balanced on one knee, crossed over the other one to bring it nearer. I was probably holding my cappuccino in a girly way, too.

I noticed them both looking in my direction expectantly.

"What? Oh..." I glanced down at the way I'd arranged myself and grinned.

"Sorry. Female moment. It'll probably happen again."

"Um." Peter began.

"Oh, go on. You're bursting to say something potentially inappropriate, I can tell."

"Good" He continued. "It's slightly like you're Alex's sister or something. I mean, you're still you, but, um, female. And not in a bloke in a frock sense. I don't think you could have been anything but a woman, and that's very odd if I think about it too hard."

A voice inside my head allowed that he didn't know the half of it, but knowing that other half wouldn't help in the least.

"I shall say thank you before the barrier on such personal remarks is dropped forever. Or at least until the fuckwits forget who I used to be, but just you wait until my development machine crashes again before accusing me of such femininity."

"Is that a concern?" said Liz.

"Yes, of course. There's a good chance that several people I know will react very badly. It's going to be horrible, but I think I'll spend the next few months waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Come straight to me in that case." said Peter. "Earlier comments aside, as Liz said, we have a firm policy on that sort of thing and everyone's very much aware of it."

"Understood. So, I think we're done here. I've put off showing my face to the rest of the team downstairs for long enough." I was sure they meant well, but only time would tell.

Peter stood up. "Right you are. I'll go and compose some email to get people up to speed. I'll walk with you to your office."

* * *

And that was it. There were a pair of SMSes on my phone when I checked it. One each from Emma - "Good luck! Did you wear something low-cut?" and Katie - "Heya sexy, doing ok?". I replied to them both, then started to sift through the accumulation of email. I spent the rest of the day hammering on someone else's broken code, interrupted only by lunch at the cafe where breakfast had come from and the odd soul brave enough to think up a semi-valid excuse to go and view the 'transsexual'. Anti-climactic, as I imagined these things went.

The rest of the week followed in similar mien. I'd always used hacking on code as a way of ignoring any problems I might otherwise have to deal with, and this was not an exception. I'd also given Katie my email address to save my thumb, and we were continuing a getting-to-know-you conversation that was becoming fairly suggestive.

On Friday afternoon, Valerie turned up with coffee in one hand and a printout in the other. Up until now, she'd been the only woman on the team, and had cultivated an image of being usually less-than-impressed by any behaviour judged typical of 'men'. Probably correctly, given the antics of a couple of the less socially-aware coders, but they were clueless rather than malicious, and a hard stare seemed to work wonders on them.

"So the transsexual empire claims another victim."

Oh hell. This felt like it was going to turn out unpleasant.

"Yes, absolutely." I said. "I'm just another confused little boy who's having a horrible life and wants to swap his penis for an existence of pink, pampering and something else beginning with P."

"Or indeed not." I added.

"Touche" she said, not dropping eye contact.

"Am I to expect a mob of feminist separatists burning a pile of barbie dolls on my lawn soon? Because I warn you now I live in an upstairs flat and the bloke on the ground floor will call the polis at the first sign of dungarees."

She sighed.

"No, not at all. I like you, Alix. You're a damn fine hacker with a bloody awful choice in partners..."

"Does everybody go to Sanctuary apart from me?"

"What? Where?"

"Sorry. Private non-joke. Do go on, you were being nice about me."

She took a deep breath, though the words still came out in an untidy pile.

"It's just that I don't want to see you end up doing something awful to yourself that you'd regret as soon as you discovered it wasn't the expected answer to your problems. I've never known you to have much capacity for self-delusion, and I'd hate for you to start now."

I decided to veer close to the truth. a Valerie on 'my side' would be a good thing.

"Well, not that it's anyone else's business, I'm not planning on a visit to the surgeon any time soon. While this wasn't something I had much choice in, I shall proceed slowly and carefully. I rather like the way my life is, mad girlfriends or no.

She looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"No surgery yet? But..."

She gestured at my chest.

"Interview almost over, I think. I have HR on speed-dial and need the practice at making formal complaints."

Valerie had the good grace to look horrified.

"Shit, Alix, I mean..."

I held my hand up.

"However, the designer of the push-up bra should be made to wear one of his creations until he's very sorry indeed."

In a fit of sleepy madness at morning, I'd decided to wear less boring underwear so I could go direct to Katie's after work. Anyone with some sense in their head would have taken it in an overnight bag, but at that time in the morning I was still a shambling lump.

"Ok, Alix. You've made your point. For what it's worth, I apologise for any remarks that could have been taken as personal. It's just... Be careful, OK?"

She looked defeated, which wasn't something I wanted,

"Apology accepted, Val."

On an impulse, I stood and hugged her briefly.

"What was that for?"

"For worrying about me, I think."

She looked at me oddly, shook her head in a bemused fashion and walked off, still carrying both coffee and printout.

I sagged into my expensive swivel chair and stared at the ceiling. That could have gone a whole lot better. It could also have been very much worse. I rolled my head to the left and stared at my screen side-on. There was no way I was going to calm down enough to write any more code today, and the idea of marking time with web-wandering filled me with ennui. I needed to be somewhere I could let off steam with people who knew the score and wouldn't be surprised when I burst into tears and threw things.

Half an hour later, I was on Katie's doorstep.

"You're early." She said, cheerfully.

"Yeah, um, sorry about that. There was Stuff."

"That doesn't sound good. You want to come in and talk about it?"

"I was rather hoping you'd say that."

Katie's house had been built at a time when it was still well understood that the sensible focus of family life was the kitchen, rather than the room where the television was kept. Accordingly, there was plenty of space for the scrubbed deal table that was currently home a sewing machine, laptop and several piles of papers. Jack, in high-chair, was already resident at one end. I claimed the next chair round.

"I'm sorry. Am I interrupting teatime?"

Katie turned round from filling the kettle.

"No, don't worry. His highness over there decided he'd had enough, so now we sit around for a quiet digest until mum comes round to claim him for the evening."

The details of child logistics had managed to pass me by, and I felt guilty for causing such disruption.

"Oh. Ah, does she mind?"

"No, not at all. Dotes on him, in fact."

"Oh, um, good. I'll bet she's itching to tell him terrible tales of her youth, or what you were like as a child. I know my grandfather did."

Katie looked at me sideways again.

"Oh God. I'd not thought about that. That'll be something else for the list of instructions."

"Instructions?"

"Yes. This'll be the first time I've left him with someone else."

That stopped me in my tracks.

"Bloody hell. I'm honoured. Really."

Katie deposited a mug of coffee in front of me, fussed over Jack briefly and then settled into the chair opposite.

"And so you should be. I don't abandon my child to go and goth it up with just any old magically transformed former man that turns up on my doorstep. They have to come recommended. So anyway, what's this 'Stuff' thing? Emma-shorthand for computers going on fire or something?"

"Not really. It's kind of geekish code for all the relationships or people goings-on that you're not able to deal with or that makes you really uncomfortable. Like when you don't go to a party because you know a recent ex will be there, and you don't want to have to explain it to the prurient yet again." I said.

Katie was nodding and grinning wryly.

"Oh yes. I know that one. Trust you geeks to come up with a word for it. Now you've told me what it means, how about some specifics?"

"You're about as good as Emma for getting to the point."

I sighed and pushed a brown A5 envelope across the table.

"This is most of it."

Katie peered at the thing.

"Tax? Summons? Producer?"

"Nope. A pile of handy legal documents helpfully provided by the university diversity team."

"University diversity?" echoed Katie, smiling. "But that's a good thing, isn't it? It means you can be legal, decent, honest and truthful, right?"

"Well, yeah, but... Look, I think you're still seeing it the same way they are; this is something I wanted and they're being understanding and helpful in realising the dream of a woman trapped in a man's body."

By now I had my head in my hands and was leaning on the table addressing my coffee mug.

"This last week's been like, I dunno, play acting or dressing up for charity or something. That documentation has a 'rest of life' finality about it and I don't think I can handle it."

Tears were dripping off the end of my nose into the mug. I must have looked a total sight.

"It's awful. I know that there are people who love me no matter what and everyone around me is totally supportive, but I've never felt so lost and alone in my life. I seriously don't think I can hack this, and it's just been the idea that normality would return and I'd somehow wake up as me again that's kept me from crawling under my duvet and never coming back out again."

Katie leaned across the table, gently disentangled my fingers from my hair and held both my hands on the tabletop.

"Oh, Alix. You really have been putting a brave face on things."

"I think I've been ignoring them and hoping they'll go away."

"That never works, sweetie."

I sighed and sniffed.

"I must look a right state."

She grinned.

"I've seen far worse. You should have seen me when my shitbag ex walked when he discovered I was pregnant."

I squeezed her hands.

"Thanks for listening to me whine; it's easy to forget that other people have worse times."

"Hey, everyone's own bad time is equal. It's not a competition."

"Ha. Tell that to the fat-arsed bitch queen."

Katie looked companionably disgusted.

"Oh God. She didn't do that conspicuous suffering thing? Dear Alix, how *did* you put up with her?"

"I... Hey, this is girly sharing without blokey problem-solving, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"Yep. You like?"

"God, yes. This is that emotional support thing I read about once."

"And that's that over-analytic geek thing Emma warned me about. I have no idea how the poor woman has dealt with both you and Dave. Has to be absolute pots of gin."

I sniffed again and decided I should do something about it. I regretfully pried myself from Katie's grip and hunted in my bag for a handkerchief.

Bag. I'd become fed up with trying to stuff everything I needed into various pockets in my leather jacket, and remembering that I'd need to bring along a toothbrush and a change of underwear today meant I'd scooped the contents of my jacket into the smaller of my day-packs that morning, along with my last clean pair of sensible knickers.

Katie was looking on with great amusement when I triumphantly retrieved the hanky and honked into it in an entirely unladylike manner.

"Feel better?" she smirked.

"I, um, yeah. Thanks."

"For someone who claims to be minutes from a permanent freak-out, you do very good impressions of a normal woman."

"I think that's it. I'm just doing impressions. I don't feel like I'm... Me. Like I've somehow borrowed a stranger's body... Apart from the screamingly obvious fact that I seem to have done that very thing."

Katie looked at me speculatively.

"Don't feel centred, right? I think we can do something about that. Just leave it to auntie Kate."

I was about to press her on the nature of the mysterious 'something' when the doorbell went. Jack, who seemed to have been fascinated by our conversation, made a noise like 'AaaAAwwa!' and began to drum on the tray in front of him.

"Cool. That'll be mum." said Katie, and leaped up to let her in.

Katie's mother was as tall and slender as her daughter. She had the air of someone who drove an old and junk-filled Volvo around auction houses, looking for broken antique chairs to re-upholster.

"Hello. I'm Liz, and you must be Alix. Catherine's barely shut up about you this week."

Her attitude brooked no disagreement, and I warmed to her immediately.

"Mu-um!" Katie was horrified.

"Don't just stand there like a stuffed owl, dear. Where's little Jack's change-bag? And you have talked of little else. I know I'm supposed to be shocked that my daughter plays for both teams, but this one looks like she's got a bit more about her than that last useless lump you took up with." The latter part was delivered at rising volume as Katie escaped to Jack's bedroom to retrieve his nappy-bag.

Liz turned to me.

"And what is it that you do, young woman? Something productive, I hope?"

"I work at the university as a software engineer."

"Ha. We called ourselves programmers when I was a girl. I suppose you use one of those dreadful modern toy languages?"

I boggled. It came out as some cartoonish rapid blinks and some vaguely fish-like mouth movements.

"I, er, Java mostly. But I'll admit to having to deal with postgrad Fortran once in a while."

"Hm," she sniffed. "Well, it sounds like there's some hope for you yet. Oh, there you are Catherine! Right, I'd better beetle off and allow you pair to get up to whatever depravity you've got planned. No, don't worry dear. I've not gone senile and forgotten where the door is yet."

And with that she was off, with Jack securely under one arm and a large bag slung over the other shoulder.

Katie flopped back down and looked mildly uncomfortable. I couldn't help grinning, though I couldn't work out if it was relief at surviving a storm or not.

"Your mum's brilliant, isn't she?"

Katie seemed to cheer up instantly.

"I'm so glad you think so. I'm sure she puts on that 'force of nature' thing to scare people off, but she's totally lovely when she decides you're not a complete idiot."

"So d'you think I passed?"

"Completely... Is it important that you do?"

We were both half joking, but Katie was biting her lip while doing her best to look unconcerned. In a previous life, I would have missed this moment for what it was and blundered on blokishly.

It was my turn to reach across the table and take her hands in mine.

"Katie. I... If I were still Alex. I mean, I am still him, but... Oh, you know what I mean... I'd still be pretty toxic over all the Julia stuff, and I really don't want you to be some post-breakup revenge shag. But with all this other stuff going on, I have no idea which way is up right now. So, I, um..."

"... Take each day as it comes and let's not book the civil ceremony just yet?" Katie finished for me.

"Yes. That." I was rapidly coming to like being around this woman.

"That's... You know, I was prepared to be forgiving if you said you couldn't handle the idea of Jack." She seemed to be studying the way our fingers has become entwined, but looked up, almost daring me to say the wrong thing.

"Jack? But he's adorable! ... God. I have _no_ idea where that came from..." I tailed off. Perhaps that was the wrong thing I was looking for.

"Estrogen, dear." Katie giggled.

That set me off. Another day, another tension-releasing giggle-fit that left us both gasping for breath and trying not to look at each other so we didn't set ourselves off again.

* * *

Several hours, a bottle of wine, a shower, some pasta and a huge pile of Katie's clothes later, I strode out of Jack's room and came to a sudden halt in front of Katie as she exited her bedroom in a worrying display of synchronicity. We stared at each other for a bit.

"Bloody hell..."

"Oh, my Lord..."

She was wearing spike-heeled boots that vanished under form-fitting leather trousers. Above those was a purple satin overbust corset. She had braided her hair with a leather thong into a thick rope that ran down her back and had created makeup that said 'Smoke-eyed minx. I'll take you now.' I, on the other hand, was wearing a dress-shirt under a black velvet underbust corset, undone for maximum cleavage effect. Below that was a stocking-top brushing tight black skirt and a pair of NewRocks clumpy enough to put the fear into Judge Dredd himself. Makeup was pending, but given the way Katie was eyeing me, it would probably say 'Yes, take me. We come as a set.'

"Maybe we should... " I was only half unsure. Blame the wine and the corset. God, it felt good.

"No, Alix. We are going out. Because I want to show you off and because we are both too fucking gorgeous to waste on the telly and the sofa."

I didn't know where this forceful woman who seemed to have decided I was her girlfriend or partner or whatever had come from. Perhaps that attitude came with the corset, but I liked this aspect of Katie a great deal. She reminded me of her mother, however I suspected that if I mentioned that she'd murder me and hide the body in the dustbins, so I kept schtum.

I was nearly right about the makeup. In fact it said 'I'm with this one. No you can't, straight boy.' and I couldn't help but take regular admiring glances in the rear-view mirror of the cab on the way to the club.

It turned out to be a converted cellar underneath an otherwise unprepossessing pub, I'd borrowed a long wool coat from Katie, and handed the thing in at the cloakroom, not wanting to subject it to spilled beer and fag ash. Katie elected to hang on to my leather jacket, since it kept her shoulders warm and looked more than fine with her current outfit. The place was comfortably full, so we made a bee-line for the bar before hunting out Dave and Emma. As luck would have it, they'd taken up residence in a quiet alcove handy for the bar, and given the number of empty glasses on the table, were settling in for a good session.

"Katie, Alix. Fucking Hell..."

Dave waved a pint glass at us as we approached, Emma hurtled upright and flung arms round us both.

"Oh, wow. I am _so_ glad you made it. And just _look_ at the pair of you. You are truly, truly magnificent." Emma was gushing a bit.

"Cheers, Em. You look damn fine yourself." I said, truthfully. She was wearing a clingy sleeveless keyhole top that showed off a deal of boobage and another one of her vast collection of long cybery skirts. She must have also used an ozone-destroying amount of extra-bastard hold hairspray to make her hair stand up like that.

We slid into seats that gave excellent views over both the door and the dance floor and commenced the bitching and drinking. It had been a while since I'd properly gone out with Emma and Dave. For one reason or another, I'd fallen out of the habit, but it was soon a lot like the old days, apart from catching sight of my own Wonderbra-ed cleavage nearly every time I put down my glass, and the conversation being more concerned with spirited deconstructions of other people's outfits or choices in partners. For some light relief, I bothered Dave about some choice decisions in other people's code and he bothered me about firewalls, but it turned out that we both had more fun with the peoplewatching.

Emma leaned over while Katie was at the bar getting a round in.

"So?"

"I'm having a great time, thanks."

"I'm glad to hear it, angel, but that's not quite what I meant."

"Oh. Um, we talked. I really don't want to bugger this one up."

"And?" Emma was nothing if not relentless.

"And I think we could both fall for each other really badly given but a short run-up. You weren't there when we'd both got dressed up. I was all for staying in... Oh, cheers, Katie!"

Katie slid in beside me and snaked an arm around my waist.

"I considered staying in, too." She grinned wickedly.

Dave gave a ribald cheer and raised his pint. I narrowed my eyes and stuck my tongue out theatrically. Katie followed suit and Emma laughed uproariously.

"Who knew that all it would take to get the old Alex back would be an unexpected change of gender?" she giggled.

Later, when Dave had gone to jump up and down to some industrial noise or other, and Katie was catching up with yet another someone who was glad to see her out again, Emma grabbed my by the hand and almost dragged me in the direction of the ladies loo. It was... A toilet. There was no room to be had at the mirror, but from my previous experiences of goth clubs that was true for the gents, too. In fact, gothclub toilets are basically unisex, given a bloke in a dress needs a cubicle as much as a woman does. I was damn glad that Katie had persuaded me into stockings and suspenders, the alternative operation didn't bear thinking about after several pints.

After finding a corner of mirror in which to briefly admire ourselves, we were threading our way through the drunken throng when I halted in my tracks with a sickly lurch.

There was Julia, large as life and to my mind, twice as ugly, chatting animatedly with Katie. Emma almost bounced off me.

"What? Oh, crap."

She steered me toward the dance floor after a brief stare at the two of them.

"But shouldn't we, um..? What about..?" I was nebulously worried. There was nothing I could point a finger at and say 'That's wrong', but it still felt terrible to leave Katie on her own.

Emma reassured me.

"Don't worry. The last time I saw Katie looking like that, she was in court extracting maintenance from her shitbag ex. Now stop being an overprotective man, she'll be fine."

There's a thing that many goth blokes do to music which involves pretending to be a very angry robot that's had its feet glued to the floor. There's another one that involves changing all the light bulbs in your house through the medium of interpretative dance. Since I wasn't a goth or a bloke, I didn't do either of those, I just moved as sinuously as corset and big boots would allow and tried to let the thumping near-techno stop me worrying about what Julia was saying to Katie, or worse, just what Katie had to say to Julia.

I must have been at least partly away with the fairies, because the next thing I was aware of were a pair of hands on my hips. I whirled round, expecting to tell some lurching drunk that he'd have to go fuck himself, since I surely wasn't going to oblige him, to find Katie smiling broadly at me. She took a firm hold of my bum, pulled me tightly to her and gave me a startlingly enthusiastic french kiss. After a brief moment of confusion, followed by an internal shout of 'Yess!' I joined in. There may have been some pelvis-grinding, I'm not entirely sure. When we separated an indeterminate time later, we were both breathing heavily, it felt like my nipples were trying to escape my bra and Emma looked equally pleased and embarrassed.

"Bloody hell. D'you two want me to call you a cab, or are you just going to rip each other's clothes off in some dark corner here?"

You know how it's sometimes said that people's faces 'light up'? Katie looked like she was radiating several hundred watts, I think I must have, too. She also showed no inclination to let go of my hand, which suited just fine.

"I, er, um..."

Katie interrupted. "I think what Alix means is would you get the beer in? I want to speak to my _girlfriend_ somewhere semi-private..."

She started to lead me back in the direction of the toilets, only to find our way blocked by a triumphant-looking Julia.

"I suppose Alex knows all about your little double-act?" Lord, but that woman sounded pleased with herself.

"Of course." Katie was still in command of the situation. "As a matter of fact, this is..."

"Karen. Hi-i!" It was my turn to interrupt. Julia didn't need to know the truth. I squeezed Katie's hand and went on. "You're Julia, right? Alex has talked _so_ much about you."

Julia started to look uncomfortable, I ploughed on in my newly-airheaded manner.

"Isn't he, like, so intelligent? It's so great to be with him and Katie. I'm totally learning loads of things. Especially in bed." I tried to look innocent, embarrassed and wide-eyed all at once. Katie seemed to be trying very had not to explode with laughter, Emma had made a tactical retreat to the safety of the bar, and Julia... Julia was wearing one of those straight expressions people use when they're horrified but not about to let you know it.

"I'm so pleased for you. Both." she said, as if moving her face too much would make it crack and fall off. "Please give my regards to Alex." She swept off.

We more or less ran for the toilet. Luckily, the larger disabled stall at the end was free. I leaned against the inside of the door and started to giggle helplessly as Katie struggled to loosen her corset enough to allow her to haul down her leather trousers and collapse onto the seat. The giggles cascaded into full-blown laughter. It felt like ages before we regained enough composure to re-lace her corset and face the curious.

The story was twice round Katie's circle of friends within minutes. None of us were able to buy a drink for the rest of the night.

* * *

"So just what did the mad cow say to you?" I'd been insanely curious for hours.

Katie and I were wrapped in bathrobes that must have been stolen from a particularly expensive hotel, curled up on her sofa and nursing huge mugs of tea, While it was fun to wear too much makeup, corsets and big boots, it was fun to stop wearing them, too.

"She just parked her prodigious arse and started on in a snidey way that since I was going out with Alex, there were a few things she thought I ought to know. I guess it was your jacket that tipped her off."

"Shit. Sorry." I peered at her over the rim of my mug.

"De rien, sweetie. Anyway, I just let her bang on about what a shit you were and how you forced her into 'seeking comfort elsewhere'."

"I've never heard it called that before..."

"Me either. So after a while of that sort of thing, I became disenchanted and was about to tell her to fuck off and die when Dave returned and she waddled off. At that point I was seized with the need to kiss you very hard and apologise for her on behalf cunt-owners worldwide."

I put down my mug, grabbed her legs, swung her feet into my lap and put my back into a righteous foot-massage. About half-way through, Katie was moaning and gasping for breath.

"Are, are... You trying to get into my knickers?" was all she could manage.

I stopped and opened my robe to display the underwear that I'd not yet removed because I liked the look and feel too much.

"I'm already in them, dear."

Katie threw a cushion at my head.

"And just how long have you been waiting to use that line?"

"Most of the evening, as it happens."

She stood up and held out a hand.

"Come on. Up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire."

I was... While one side of my head was still shouting 'Yesss!' and running about with its football shirt over its head, the other side was mumbling about space, respect and not moving too quickly. I tried to articulate this conflict in an adult way, but all I managed was "Um. If you're sure?"

Katie looked at me patiently.

"Well, it's my bed or the floor, and it is possible for two friends to crash out in the same place without it turning into some full-on lesbian shag-fest... Unfortunately."

"Your bed it is then. I shall take Emma's advice."

"Oh really? What was that then?"

Katie was leading me upstairs looking half-amused and half 'I can't quite believe I'm doing this.'

"Go with the flow. Don't piss her off."

"That was truly excellent advice. I approve."

Katie was faffing with the duvet, so I shrugged out of the robe and carefully peeled off my underwear. I didn't know if I would have been so unselfconscious when still male. It was either the alcohol or the fact I felt comfortable with Katie. I looked up from absently rubbing the red marks left by the suspender-belt to find her staring at me in a pensive way. Perhaps getting instantly naked hadn't been a good idea and she was now having second and third thoughts about the whole enterprise.

"What's up?" I sounded worried.

"Oh, nothing much. I was admiring your pert breasts."

'Nothing much'? That was a cue for action if I ever heard one. Katie was half out of her robe, revealing a full breast with a gorgeously large chocolate brown areola. I slid behind her, rested my chin on her shoulder and wrapped my arms around her, pressing my own body into her back. I wormed my hands inside her robe and peered down over her breasts. I stroked her small mummy-belly gently, cradling her breasts with my other arm. Katie relaxed against me, so I kissed her neck and stepped back momentarily to allow her robe to fall from her shoulders and puddle on the floor. Her breathing deepened as I continued exploring; gently tracing the edge of her ribcage, comparing the outline of her hips to my own. It was only when she started as her head nodded back that I realised I'd been a little too successful at putting her at her ease.

As I was manoeuvring her carefully into bed, she looked up at me sleepily.

"You're lovely, you are. I'm keeping you."

* * *

I was woken by the sound of the toilet flushing and Katie snuggling into my back moments later. It felt weirdly proprietorial when she draped an arm across my waist. I carefully opened one eye, expecting to be walloped unceremoniously by the hangover fairy, but not much happened. True, I felt a little ragged round the edges, but it was nothing coffee wouldn't fix.

The hand on the end of Katie's proprietorial arm was stroking its way to my left nipple, which stiffened when she gently brushed it. It felt lovely, as did the companion feeling of not-erection in my crotch. However, the mental image of Emma Peel looking disapproving returned. I covered her hand with mine to stop further exploration.

"Hey sexy, what's the plan for the day?"

"Um." Katie sounded slightly disappointed. I had no doubt that I was making it hard for the poor woman to overcome years of cultural programming and take the lead, but equally I didn't want to have a screaming freak-out and find myself locked in the toilet, crying hysterically.

"Breakfast. Then mum's coming back with Jack. Then I've got a bunch of clients to see to. Then collapse on the sofa and fall asleep. Not terribly exciting, I'm afraid."

"Sounds like fun to me. Can I stick around and help out?"

"Would you? Really?" Katie sounded genuinely pleased. I wriggled my shoulders against her, luxuriantly. I was fairly sure that I could feel that her nipples were as hard as mine.

"Of course. I'm not going to walk away from anyone who makes me feel like this."

Katie kissed my neck.

"Oh? And how's that?"

I wriggled round to face her.

"Safe. Wanted. Protected. Almost entirely un-masculine."

Sometimes I manage to say exactly the right things. Katie's face lit up in the same way it had last night.

"I thought when you stopped me just now that you'd woken up and were looking to chew your own arm off in order to escape."

I smoothed some stray hair away from her face.

"I'm sorry. I... I think I kind of know how to deal with a stiffy. I'm familiar with them. But I don't know how to deal with a... My..."

"It's called a cunt, dear."

"My cunt. I can't... I mean, I've seen one or two and I've always rather cared for them, but I'd never thought about having one of my own and..."

Katie gently kissed me.

"Hush, now. I'll admit I was pushing you a bit, because you're so lovely and I want to fuck you right now, but don't worry. You'll know when you feel ready. And besides, I have a cunning plan."

"I'm not entirely sure I like the sound of that."

"Don't worry about it. Now, d'you want the shower first?"

I elected to go second, even though Katie was hinting heavily about group ablutions. It gave me a chance to throw a robe on, go downstairs to fire up the coffee machine and retrieve my last clean pair of knickers from the bag I'd carelessly dumped on a kitchen chair last night.

Katie appeared as the machine emitted a last, despairing gurgle. The worn blue jeans and trainers made her look somewhat high-street. The ancient and sleeveless NMA T-shirt less so.

"Your turn" she announced. "I dug some spare clothing out if you'd like an alternative to your office wear."

"Oh, cool. Thanks." I hadn't thought about it, over and above trying to remember where I'd flung my bra in the dressing-up frenzy of last evening. It's funny how little things like that quickly become ingrained.

I emerged from the shower, dripping pinkly, my underwear stuffed in the pocket of my robe. I'd found my bra where I'd left it on the heap of my clothing in Jack's room. For vague reasons of tidiness, I bundled it all under one arm and dropped it on the bed next to the pile that Katie had supplied.

More black boot-cut jeans. This pair so determinedly figure-hugging that I and everyone else would be fully aware of my new gender. A similarly form-fitting cardigan with buttons that stopped level with my bra. It probably had some complicated name for its colour, but I knew red-lead undercoat when I saw it. And boots. Mid-calf, chunky but not clumpy heels. So today I was to tower over Katie? Ok, I could do that. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and held it there with a black velvet scrunchie to add to the effect.

I arrived in the kitchen at about the same time as Liz and Jack. There was ritual exchange of babies, coffee, bacon sarnies, significant glances and small-talk about Jack's behaviour (seemingly excellent) and our own (equally exemplary). Jack, cradled protectively in Katie's lap, began fussing.

"Hungry, your highness?" Katie asked. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled her T-shirt up and ladled a breast out of her bra. Jack latched on with gusto.

Katie and her mother picked up the thread of conversation directly. I tried man/womanfully to carry on, but I kept sneaking glances at Katie and the peacefully nursing Jack. I'm sure I blushed when Katie caught me, since she smirked conspiratorially.

The day toddled along in a pleasant and unremarkable fashion. Or at least as unremarkable as circumstances would allow. Liz stuck around for most of the morning, ostensibly to help keep an eye on Jack while Katie was busy, but mostly to see what sort of person I was. We talked a lot about computing, poor management and the status of women in the industry. It turned out she'd been recruited as a coder straight out of uni and had gone to work on some big DEC site, where she'd met Katie's future father, Mike, 'lurking behind an oscilloscope' as she put it. Other than that, my duties were to provide tea/coffee/water/pungent fruit infusions for those having their hair done, offer opinions about men (disparaging, but what can you do?), phones (Ringtones. Hammer. End of.), fashion (not my speciality, but about as daft as I'd been led to believe) and the general quality of Katie's handiwork. (Easy.) And keep Jack occupied, which was... More satisfying than I was comfortable letting on. Katie's remark about Estrogen was buzzing around my head. I'd been female for about a week and I was already becoming broody? That would involve sex with a... Ugh!

I banished that thought and went to make more fruit tea.

* * *

We were back in the kitchen. Katie was cradling a feeding Jack and I was assembling the components for a stir-fry.

"So, which one of us do you envy?" Fluffy-hairdressing Katie had gone and the direct woman I had come to adore was back.

I closed the fridge and turned to lean my bum against the work top.

"I, um... I've been struggling with that all day. Envy wouldn't be the word I'd use for a start. I mean, it's like there's three of us..."

"If you so much as mention polydom I shall murder you and hide your body in the dustbins." Katie growled.

"I would expect nothing less, dear. So anyway, I don't envy anyone, but you and Jack have got each other and..."

"You don't quite know where you'd fit in?" Katie finished for me. She went on. "Jack's my child and I love him to bits, but... I don't think I could have coped if I hadn't been able to ring mum and cry down the phone at her at least once a day. I mean, having the customers turn up kind of made a difference to the days, but they're not interested in the trials of a single mother and I'm not saying I just want you around as backup nappy-wallah and someone to talk to because anyone with a brain would run a mile from that... It's just that when you walked in with Emma, I knew there was something about you and there was this wierd coincidence that she'd been going on about this Alex bloke I should meet, and when you... D'you know how much the whole tranny-thing turns me on? God. No, sorry. I am fucking this up so badly, you must think I'm some desperately lonely shut-in who's losing the plot and wanting to grab the first warm body through the door, but..."

"Hush."

I'd circumnavigated the kitchen table by now and was behind Katie's chair. Watching Jack from that angle was doing odd things to me.

"But..."

I laid hands on Katie's shoulders and started to massage the kinks out.

"Hush. You're sounding like me, which is terribly sweet of you but entirely unnecessary. Dear God, your shoulders are mostly knot. Just how stressed are you?"

"Mmmmnrgh. Less stressed by the second, thanks. Ahhh, yes. Theeeere. Ooooh, yes."

* * *

Supper was oddly family-like. Not that I'd call clearly lesbian households odd, it's just, well, one weekend you're a single bloke, the next you're in a same-sex relationship with a young mother. Odd.
I was more or less staring into space and musing on this when Katie returned from putting Jack to bed.

"About that cunning plan" she said, handing me a white pill.

I inspected it. I may have fallen out of the habit of clubbing, but I knew a mitsubishi when I saw one. I looked up. She was biting her lip.

"I mean, if you don't think it's a completely stupid idea..."

"No, I think it's a lovely gesture. Are you..?"

"No. Not with Jack in the same house and certainly not while I'm still breastfeeding; someone's got to be the safety adult."

I washed the pill down with a half glass of fruit juice.

"Ok, safety adult and sexual shaman, I'm in your hands now. Don't spare the horses."

"As your attorney, I advise you to get that fit arse into the living room without delay."

How could I not fall for someone that well-versed in the works of HST?

Good ecstacy makes itself apparent about half an hour after you take it. You muscles feel a lot like a bad cold's coming on, your pupils get as large as saucers and you find it very hard not to grin like an idiot in sheer joy at the wonderfulness of pretty much everything. Before it was picked up as a party drug in the eighties - something it's manifestly unsuitable for, given the side effects - MDMA was used successfully by sex therapists and in treating post traumatic stress disorder.

An hour later I was trying to wrap myself around Katie as her tongue explored the insides of my mouth. I disengaged and refocussed my eyes. She looked amused and more than a little flushed.

"I've got to get out of these jeans" I gurgled. "It feels like my cunt's on fire and I've wet myself and oh god this is niiiice."

Katie bounced up off the sofa and had hauled off t-shirt and bra by the time I'd got my fingers to work well enough to pull my boots off and start on the jeans. The musk of aroused female that hit me when I wiggled out my damp knickers was like throwing petrol on a bonfire. I wanted to rub as much of my exposed skin against the similarly nude Katie as possible. We collapsed back on the sofa, and Katie grinned at me before bending to suck enthusiastically on one of my engorged nipples. I arched my back and breathed in sharply, then whimpered when her hand brushed down to cup my labia. My cunt was slick with lubricant. Erections feel full and stiff. This felt... Full, yet loose. Katie seemed to squeeze her hand and I distinctly felt one finger slip inside me. I was being penetrated by the woman I adored, and it felt toe-curlingly, insanely good. She wiggled the finger experimentally, and I gasped and rotated my hips almost without conscious control. A second finger joined the first and she rubbed the heel of her hand against my clitoris, That sent me over the edge into a hip-bucking, knee-shaking orgasm. One or other of us didn't stop. I think I was rubbing my clit back and forth against Katie's almost stationary hand as I arched off the sofa and struggled to breathe.

"Oh oh oh fuuuu...." I managed.

After a couple of minutes, Katie prised herself from my death-grip cuddle.

"So" she asked, with a wicked grin. "How was it for you?"

I'd about got my breath back.

"That was... I... Fucking hell... There was more than one and... " I squeaked.

"I'll say. And the night is yet young. Now, scoot around a bit."

Katie had me slump down on the sofa with my bum perched on the edge of the seat-cushion. She gently pushed my knees apart and made herself comfortable on the floor, my throbbing cunt at shounder height.
I yelped and shivered slightly when she blew unexpectedly on my damp labia. I wondered briefly what it would feel like to go knickerless in a floaty skirt, until Katie claimed all my attention by running her tongue firmly up the length of my cunt. I lay there, alternately trying not to crush her head with my thighs or thrust my cunt into her face too much, as she nibbled, sucked and licked her way around my new parts. Eventually, she had her lips clamped around my clitoris and was sucking it rapidly to and fro. It was beyond anything that had come before. The orgasms peaked and melted into one continuous whole as I pretty much blacked out and melted in a quivering heap into the sofa.

When I came to, Katie was standing in front of me.

"Dear Christ, what did you do to me and do you promise to do it again? And when did you grow a penis and why is it blue?"

She walked gingerly toward me, translucent blue cock wagging from side to side.

"It's a Feeldoe. I bought it as a present for myself when I was feeling really low and wanted to know how it felt to have a cock. You like?"

"Oddly enough, yes. It's, um, very you. Ah, how's it attached?"

In response, Katie squatted slightly and seemed to push the bulbous other half of the thing out of her cunt with a delicious slurping sound.

"Before you ask, it's also been an ideal excuse for pelvic floor exercises."

"You know, that's all kinds of sexy. When do I get to return the favour?" I said from my still partially melted position on the sofa.

"Later. Tonight's all about you... Oh, bugger. That sounds like Jack. Here, amuse yourself for ten minutes." She tossed me the Feeldoe and went to see what was up.

I was still happily off my head on good ecstasy and multiple orgasms, so I stared into space and listened to the quiet techno coming from the media-stack. I idly began to fiddle with the sex-toy, rubbing the bulbous end up and down my still slippery cunt. Experimentally, I pushed the thing gently 'upwards' into me. There was a little resistance, a completely bizarre stretching sensation and then a wonderful sense of fullness. I squeezed carefully, trying out new muscle-groups, and felt the top of the penis-analogue nestle against my clit. I wiggled the glans-end of the thing and felt a half-dozen new and unlikely rubbing and pushing sensations.

"If you'll pardon my French, that is fucking hot." Katie had returned. Without delay, she slung a knee each side of my chest and reached behind herself to guide the other end of the Feeldoe into her own cunt with a wet slurp. She wriggled a little and we both gasped as our pubic areas mashed together. For a while, we both just rocked gently as the sensations from our cunts slow-burned towards a peak. Eventually, Katie could take no more, grabbed the back of the sofa and began pumping up and down. I was entranced by her freely swingly breasts and reached up to cradle them as gently as I could while 'my' end of the Feeldoe massaged the inside of my cunt and my clitoris was bounced against Katie's. She begain a growl that turned into a roar of sheer abandon before she collapsed sideways across me.

"Oh my god. You don't know how long it's been..." she said.

We were nestled together on the sofa, enjoying the afterglow. I was convinced there was a warm red aura surrounding us both, pulsing in time with the gentle throbbing coming from my cunt.

"Um..." I was mystified. Surely she wasn't going to tell me that she'd abstained from, well, everything since... No, that was mad.

"You can wank yourself blind" she went on. Perhaps I'd been thinking very loudly or the words were coming out of my head in little fluffy thought-clouds. "but there's nothing like a willing partner with a good, stiff cock."

The aura shifted abruptly to green and centered itself on me, leaving Katie in the cold. I was definitely broadcasting on all emotional wavelengths, since her eyes widened in surprise. She turned, wriggled her hips and slid down between my thighs until we were nose to nose.

"Oh, Alix. I'm sorry. Don't look like that. The only cock I want is that blue plastic one, and preferably attached to you. After the last year or so, you're as close to a man as I want to get."

I was being stupid and I knew it. Ecstacy plays with your head like that sometimes. I wrapped one leg across the small of Katie's back and kissed her deeply.

"No, I'm sorry for stuffing up an excellent vibe. Man. Er, woman."

"Pfft. You're allowed. Anyway, we've just had perfect pornstar sex. Something was bound to go wrong." Katie propped herself up on her elbows and lazily wiggled a nipple over one of mine. I vaguely tried to ignore the lovely tingles and companion twitching from my cunt.

"Come again?"

She smiled broadly. "Don't mind if I do. Look, you know all the times you've gone to bed with someone for the first time?"

I nodded in a non-committal way that I hoped conveyed rather more of a depth of experience than I'd like to let on. Katie smirked and continued.

"Well, it's always a bit rubbish and awkward, isn't it? Porn doesn't feature drunken fumblings, morning after guilt or any of the messy human bits in between."

I kissed her again to shut her up.

"Katie. Angel. Would you mind fucking me absolutely rigid?"

She didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

* * *

I woke up bright and early the next day at the crack of eleven o'clock. Katie had left me to it, so I spread out luxuriantly across the bed.

"I've got a cunt." I announced happily to the room. "Cunt cunt cunt cunny snatch quim cunt." I stroked myself. Labia, urethra, vulva, clitoris... I was going to need a mirror. Vagina, uterus, ovaries... It... I felt warm, soft and inviting. Katie came in to find me craning my neck as I pulled the skin of my clit-hood toward my navel.

"I've got a cunt!"

"I'm very glad to hear it. You'd look silly with a teapot." she remarked.

"No, I mean that I've gone this last week feeling that I had something missing, that I was somehow less of a person, and that was a load of bollocks because last night you... I mean I don't want to say something crap like 'a good fuck sorted her out' but I think maybe it did and you were lovely and... Oh, hell. Katie, I'm sorry. This is insane." I babbled myself to a standstill.

"Hush. I think we've something special, and I'm really glad you feel better about yourself, but right now I think you need coffee and toast. And get your hand out of your cunt you dirty slut, otherwise I'll be forced to join you and get nothing else done for the rest of the day."

I faffed for a bit. While Katie had dumped a handful of clean underwear on the bed, I still needed to toddle home, throw everything in the washing machine and sit on my own for several hours. I admitted as much to Katie, who immediately offered me the run of her wardrobe and semi-carelessly mentioned that her place was a lot closer to my work.

"You're being lovely again. Really. But I have to go and do that blokey retreat into cave thing" I said.

She prodded me in the chest.

"I don't think you've got any remaining claim on blokedom, miss 'I've got a cunt'."

"I'm happily aware of that, but I think that information needs to percolate back into my unconscious. I've had a completely life-changing weekend. Only very slightly less life-changing than the previous one, in fact. But I need to go wash my smalls, answer email and water the plants."

Katie sighed theatrically and hoisted a struggling Jack back onto her lap.

"So that's all I am to you? A drunken night out, followed by several hours of top-quality shagging? And to think I lent you my third-best corset. Begone, foul seductress, and never darken this kitchen table again... Tuesday night good for you?"

I smirked and twiddled an imaginary moustache. "I was half-hoping for Monday, but Tuesday's better. What's your plan?"

"Stop in, slob in front of the telly, fuck lots. Nothing special... Hey, you could cook and we could invite Emma and Dave." said Katie.

"Invite them for the food or the fucking?"

"Food, definitely. Emma's gorgeo, but Dave? Nice bloke but not my cup of tea." She grimaced.

I joined in the sympathetic wincing.

"Mine either, and I've shared a tent with the guy while drunk."

"Dear god. Am I giving houseroom to some filthy hetero? Right. That's it. Sling your hook and don't come back until Tuesday."

I stood up, mimed holding a handbag up to my chin in outrage and then kissed her for a crotch-dampeningly long time. We separated, breathing heavily.

"Tuesday? Sure you can wait that long?" I said.

"Not really. Run before I lock the front door." gasped Katie.

I left, metaphorically whistling a happy tune and more or less skipping along the pavement in the weak January sunlight.

* * *

My flat felt like it belonged to a stranger. I piled the first load of washing into the machine, tackled the washing-up, and then rather than slumping in front of the computer, threw the remainder of Julia's horrible abandoned clothing into some convenient charity-bags. After that, I gave the bathroom the once-over, retrieved the empty wine bottles from behind the sofa, emptied all the bins, stripped off everything I was wearing and threw that in with the second load of washing, then put on an old Arcwelder CD before collapsing in the sitting room with a mug of coffee.

I looked at myself reflected in the blank screen of the television. I saw me. True, I looked an awful lot like Emma Peel, but it was more me than her and I felt unnacountably pleased about that. So what was I avoiding? I'd cleaned behind the sofa, as clear an indication of problem-avoidance as anyone would need. My meandering was interrupted by the buzz of the intercom. I scuttled into the bedroom.

"Hello? Yes?"

"Alix, sweetie. Get the kettle on, it's freezing out here." Emma. Good.

I tightened my bathrobe against the chill from the stairwell before opening the door. Emma bustled past me in a flurry of hair and brightly-coloured fleece, checked that I had indeed turned the kettle on and then plonked down at the kitchen table.

"So?" She looked expectantly at me.

"So what?" I knew exactly what she meant, but wasn't going to make it easy.

"So you've spent the weekend with Katie and when we left you on Friday you were all over each other. Details, girl. I want gory details and coffee with a sugar in it."

I gave her both. She managed to look pleased, amused, shocked and aroused by turns and in combination.

"That Katie's a marvel. You'd best keep her." she said when I finished.

"That's what I was thinking about, among other things, before some random woman arrived to ask me rude questions."

Emma looked at me more seriously.

"What have you decided, and what were the other things?"

"You and Dave are invited to a soiree at Katie's on Tuesday, where I shall be cooking. Make of that what you will, but it smells of serious relationship to me. Otherwise, I've just been cleaning behind the sofa." I said.

Emma raised her eyebrows.

"That's proper displacement activity. What are you avoiding?" She knew me far too well. "Oh, and we'd love to come, of course. Should I send a SMS to Katie saying as much?"

"Probably a good idea, though I'm sure I'll be in contact with her sooner rather than later."

As if by magic, my phone squeaked. I pulled it out of my bag, together with the envelope of name-change forms from work. That was what I was avoiding.

The SMS was indeed from Katie. Emma made a shooing motion when I asked if she minded if I answered it, then disappeared in the direction of the bog.

'Place seems empty w/o you. Miss you loads... Is that pitiful?' It read.

'Miss you, too. Not pitiful at all. & Em says yes.' I wrote back.

Emma returned, looking surprised.

"You're not turning into some stereotypical bloke's view of a housewife, are you? I'm going to have to kill you if so, for the good of women everywhere."

"Not bloody likely. That would require a bogroll teacosy and a vase of daffs next to the computer. Anyway, I've found what I've been avoiding." I waved the envelope.

"Oh, is that the stuff you were in a state about on Friday? Katie was pretty worried about you."

"She was? I... We are serious about each other, aren't we? And I should stop pissing about and get with the programme, shouldn't I?" I said.

Emma smiled. "That you absolutely should, young woman. You can put your name at the bottom of all those documents while I see if there's anything in your fridge for two people to eat."

"Yes, mum." I sighed, then turned to see Emma head-first in my fridge. "Where's Dave, then?"

"On call. Some box or other went bang so he's gone to wave a dead chicken at it or something." She was slightly muffled by the contents of the freezer compartment.

I signed, Emma cooked. Then we ate and talked companionably - some bitching about Julia and the likely fallout from our performance on Friday night, some more dirty sex that made me blush and fan myself, much to Emma's amusement. At one point, she laughed out loud.

"Yes? Share?" I was mystified again.

"What does a lesbian bring on a second date?" she giggled.

"I do not know. What does a lesbian bring on a second date?" I said, in the music-hall style.

"A furniture van."

I managed to look at her po-faced for all of three seconds before bursting into a fit of the giggles myself.

"This can only mean Doc Martens and holidays in Hebden Bridge" I deadpanned.

"There have to be dungarees" said Emma.

"Oh good heavens, no."

"They'll make you go at the back of Pride marches if you don't. Especially if you admit to liking corsetry, too."

That caught me by surprise.

"I... Don't know. It was wierd; I kept looking at the fit bird in the corset and boots and then realised I was turning myself on. Especially when we were all together. I couldn't work out where all the gorgeous people had come from and what they were doing with me... I think it's going to take a long time to get used to that, though when I'm with Katie or here like this, it's beginning to feel relatively normal. Sorry, I'm wandering away from the point again."

I yawned massively.

"I think it's way past your bedtime, young woman." said Emma, looking around for bag and jacket.

"God, you're right. Sorry. I'm going to be serotonin depletion woman tomorrow, and my super-powers will include screaming paranoia and falling asleep on my keyboard."

I stood to give Emma a hug. She brushed some hair away from my face, kissed my forehead and then looked at me, brows furrowed.

"Are you going to be ok, Alix?"

"In the short or the long term?"

"Both, sweetie. I'm your backup mum, remember?"

I smiled. "I remember. Yes, I'm going to be fine. I daresay there'll be days when I have crying fits, but..." I shrugged.

Emma pushed me gently in the direction of my bedroom, then let herself out. I padded towards my bed, shedding my robe on the way. Then returned to the kitchen to pull an armload of clothing from the dryer. It felt warm against my breasts and I yawned hugely again, thinking of a warm bed with a warm Katie inside. I threw the clothes onto the chair in a heap and crawled under the duvet. I was asleep in minutes.