When Sam finally discovered the house where his mother lived and died, he thought it would be the end of his search. He little realised that events would soon plunge him into the search for his mother's murderer. Even less did he realise he would have to stand in for her in the re-enactment.

The complete story has been serialised into five parts which will be published at approximately daily intervals.

PART TWO - MONDAY

Emily had told him that breakfast would be a do it yourself affair, so he spent a while browsing the internet on his phone before going downstairs.

After exchanging their good mornings, he asked, "Emily, how far is Seacombe from here? Only there's a shop there called Big Busts which I think might help us with our project."

Her face brightened. "You're still willing to give it a try? Only I thought you might have changed your mind in the night."

He nodded, not telling her that, after lying awake for a long time, his thoughts twirling around his mind, he had slipped out of bed in which he had been lying naked, pulled open a drawer and put on a silky nightdress. In the dark, it didn't matter what he looked like, but it felt so good sliding over his body. He had got back into bed and quickly gone to asleep.

"It'll take you about an hour and half, including the bus journey to Charminster Station. I'd come with you, only on Mondays, I go to the cathedral in Charminster and change the flowers." She thought for a second and added, "I think I know Big Busts. It's in the pedestrianised bit behind the High St. But they make head and shoulder busts for the tourists, so I don't know what you want from them."

"Apparently, they produce far more than head and shoulder busts," he said. "Look, I have to say I still have tremendous doubts about this whole thing. But I can see it's probably the only way we're going to find any answers, so I'll give it my best shot. I think the stuff I can get from Big Busts might help."

"Presumably, you'll need some money," Emily said. "Do you have any?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I've still got my credit cards."

"But they're probably over the limit," Emily correctly surmised, "and you can't afford to pay them off?"

Sam nodded.

Emily went to the sideboard, opened the top drawer and rummaged through the contents until she located a key. "Here's the key to the safe in the study. You'd better make certain you have plenty. Take a thousand pounds."

"Emily, you can't..."

"Of course I can. Let's call it an advance on your wages as cook/housekeeper. I'd have thought one thousand pounds cash for a week's work with all keep found would be acceptable, wouldn't it?"

Sam confirmed that would be very acceptable indeed.

The safe contained ten bundles of one thousand pounds each! Sam extracted one bundle, and then carefully locked the safe and returned the key to the drawer, showing the bundle he had taken to Emily. Whilst he was delighted that Emily trusted him to that extent, it showed how easy it was to steal from older people.

"Emily, you shouldn't hand over the key of a safe containing all that money to someone you don't really know. I might have walked off with it."

She smiled. "That's just what Sally said when I asked her to get out some money for me. I guess honesty runs in your genes. Anyway, take the money and I hope you get something useful."

Sam nodded. "Thanks Emily. I really appreciate your confidence in me. Let's hope that Big Busts give me a big bust."

***

They certainly did. As he faced the mirror in his bedroom that afternoon, he was staring at a woman with large breasts, wide hips and a huge bottom. He'd taken his mother's photographs from the album with him and had embarrassingly explained what he wanted to do. Without any trace of embarrassment on their part, the staff had been more than helpful, matching his skin colour to two products.

One was called a Bustlet - which was like a high-necked singlet with built in breasts - the other, a Hiplet - a long-legged control brief with padding which, unlike a normal control brief, expanded his dimensions, rather than reducing them. Between the legs, there was all the appearance of a vagina.

Not only the appearance, he realised, as he tentatively explored the slit between his legs with a finger. He wasn't quite certain where his own genitals had been squashed as he fastened the garment but, after a moment's discomfort, they had made no further protest. Big Busts had even produced a wig in a similar style to his mother's.

He pulled on a pair of panties over his new wide bottom, and slipped his breasts into a bra. He fumbled behind his back for ages with the bra clip, before managing to hook the two bits together. He pulled a black uniform dress over his head, but there was no way he could bring the two halves of the back together to button them up. Like his mother, he was too large around the waist.

He'd seen the girdles when he'd put away his mother's clothes the previous evening, and he got one of them out now. Emily said the clothes appeared to have come from the 1950s, and going by the films he'd seen of that period, he now realised how the actresses achieved such tiny waists. It was a long garment, stretching from just beneath the breasts down to the hips, with a back zip. It used elastic rather than laces to draw in the waist, but the downside of that was there no way of adjusting the size it was designed to squeeze a person down to. Emily had said Sally was overweight, but it seemed impossible to believe her waist could have been any larger than Sam's, for as he held it up before him, it had an impossibly tiny waist.

He pulled the girdle over his hips, and then reached behind him and pulled on the zip. Sally had left a piece of cord slipped through the zipper so that she could heave it up really hard. It took all his strength to pull it right up, and then all his strength of character not to immediately pull it back down again. It was only when he again looked in the mirror and saw his figure looked rather like Jane Russell, that he knew why women through the ages have worn foundation garments.

He had no problems buttoning the dress now - except he had to fumble behind his back to do it, and with a final, heart-stopping glance in the mirror, he headed downstairs to where he knew Emily was waiting.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"That's fantastic," she replied. "You're so like her. There's no way anyone is going to think you are not your mother's daughter. From now on, that's the only way I shall talk to you and think of you. Agreed?"

"Agreed," he said. "But I still have some work to do to improve my femininity. They gave me some pills to swallow that will raise my voice in pitch. I'll try those later."

"OK," Emily said with a grin. "And really, Samantha, you do have quite a lot of body hair for a young woman. Has no one told you about waxing?

"After that," she continued with a wicked smile on her face, "you had better start your day's work as housekeeper. There's an awful lot of cleaning to get this house ready for my birthday party at the weekend."

TUESDAY

The following afternoon, Emily had gone out to see one of her friends, whilst Sam was taking the opportunity to sit back and relieve the weight off his shoulders. Emily had not been joking about the amount of cleaning necessary to ready the house for the weekend party, and he'd been working almost non-stop since the previous afternoon. But it wasn't just the work itself which was the problem. He guessed that women with large breasts eventually got used to the constant pull, but he was finding it quite literally a real pain.

The problem was that Big Busts had told him that it was necessary to spread a gel on the skin beneath the garments which prevented perspiration by bonding the garments to the skin and blocking up the sweat pores. The downside was that this was a semi-permanent bonding. The garments would only come off when the outer layer of skin was shed. Until then, his breasts and Hiplet would be a part of him!

Which meant the weight of his breasts gave him a perpetual back ache, and he couldn't even take them off at night. The only way to relieve the pain was by lying back in a soft chair and relaxing. He closed his eyes for a few seconds.

***

He was awoken by the front door opening, which surprised him. Surely, he hadn't been asleep that long. But it wasn't Emily who came through the door into the lounge, but a middle-aged, very angry-looking man.

"Oh," the man said, in a highly sarcastic voice, "I do hope I didn't wake you up."

Sam smiled politely at him and confirmed that was exactly what he had done.

"That's strange," he said, "because Mother told me that she'd employed someone to work here, not to swan about the place."

"You must be Matthew," he guessed, remembering the family photos.

"And you're this person masquerading as Sally Brown's daughter. Well, let's have a close look at you." He came right up to stand closely in front of his chair, towering right over Sam, whilst peering down at his face and, he suspected, down his cleavage as well. "Hmm. There's certainly a resemblance there, but that gives you no right to come in and trick my mother into giving you money. And I suppose next, you'll wheedle your way into getting her to change her will, just like your mother did to my father."

Ah! He thought. That was why Matthew was so sensitive. He thought about trying to stand up, but Matthew was standing so close, Sam's boobs would have pushed against his chest, and he'd have fallen back down again. He wasn't going to give him that pleasure, so he relaxed and leaned back in the seat to address him, a posture which, if done well, gives the seated person the position of power, rather than the person standing over them.

"Firstly, it was your mother who suggested I could work for her and she who suggested the salary. Secondly, she told me that the idea of changing your father's will in favour of my mother also came from her. I have no intention of wheedling my way around your mother, so you can stop being so thoroughly rude and bad mannered."

From the way his face turned a shade of puce, he thought Matthew probably hadn't been spoken to like that since he'd been a child, and he didn't like it.

"I'll stop being rude and bad mannered when the person causing it is thrown out of this house and onto the street where she belongs. That's exactly what I'm going to do."

He bent over and grasped Sam's right arm tightly in both hands, rather hurting him, but he wasn't going to admit it. Instead, he remained relaxed in the seat and Matthew was forced into trying to pull his body up from the reclining position. It's difficult enough with even a small person, but when they're quite large with tits the size and weight of melons, there's simply no way it could be done.

Matthew's face turned an even brighter shade of purple and he grabbed at Sam's hair.

OK, his wig had been taped into place, but there was no way it would resist a violent pull like that. Sam had no choice but to quickly move his head as Matthew tugged at it. Since the rest of his body was attached to his head, he had to stand up straightaway.

As he'd guessed, it pushed his boobs hard into Matthew's chest, throwing him slightly off-balance and as Matthew moved backwards and sideways, so Sam continued to move forward with him, spinning slightly as he did so, and pulling Matthew's body closer to his, and twisting. It only needed the slightest lift of his hip for Matthew's legs to leave contact with the ground, and as Sam continued to spin and twist, so Matthew's own body described an arc through the air until it was dropping like a sack of potatoes onto the floor, with a pleasant thump.

Pleasant, that was, for Sam who'd been on the receiving end of Matthew's aggression, but from the way the wind left Matthew's body and had him gasping for air, clearly not so pleasant for Matthew. At times, Sam was very pleased that he'd kept up his judo after leaving school.

"Well done," a voice said. "I wish you'd been around when we were kids and he was bullying us."

Sam turned and looked in the direction of the voice. Two middle-aged men stood there, clearly Matthew's brothers. The younger of them walked over to Matthew, dropped to his knees, felt his pulse and then started muttering to him about taking slow, deep breaths.

"I'm Mark," the other one said, "and my brother, Luke, is the person tending the injured. He's a doctor by the way. You've clearly already met our other brother, Matthew, and realised the best way of dealing with him."

"Samantha Crawford," Sam said with a smile.

"She assaulted me," Matthew gasped. "You two witnessed it."

"We saw you attacking her," Mark said. "Attempted rape, I'd have said. The poor girl was simply defending herself. Do you want me to tell the police that?"

"She's dividing us, already," Matthew said. "Can't you see that?"

"Matthew," Mark said, "we've been divided ever since you kicked the football through the church window and blamed me. Now if you've finished attempting rape, or at the very least, constructive dismissal against Mother's employee, perhaps we can talk sensibly."

Matthew said nothing, and Mark took that as a sign of assent. He turned towards Sam. "Mother telephoned each of us last night to say she'd taken you on for the week up to her birthday party. I must say, I think you'll brighten up the party. Perhaps I could commit adultery with you, then my wife could use it as grounds for divorce."

"Shut up, Mark," Luke said without animosity. He stood up from tending Matthew and came over to shake Sam's hand. "I'm very pleased to meet Sally's daughter. Don't tell mother, but Sally taught me about sex."

"Then you admit..." Sam started to say, but Luke immediately butted in.

"I admit that Sally was the first naked woman I saw," he said. "I admit a number of other acts with her, but as a doctor I know for a fact that oral sex cannot result in pregnancy, therefore I deny being your father."

"She had some man in London," Matthew said, getting up from the floor, and dusting down his trousers with hateful looks at Sam. "Maybe she had a different man every Monday she went up there. That's what tarts generally do. But her pregnancy was nothing to do with us."

"Only she didn't go up there on Mondays," Luke said.

"What do you mean?" Mark asked, and Matthew added, "Of course she went to London on Mondays. That was her day off."

Luke shook his head. "Every Monday morning during the school holidays, I used to take extra lessons from one of my teachers who lived in Charminster. I'd often see Sally waiting at the bus stop, and after the bus journey, we'd walk together to Cathedral Way, where he lived. She used to help Mother change the flowers in the cathedral, didn't she?"

"But Mother goes flower arranging on Monday afternoons," Mark said.

Luke shrugged. "Perhaps the time changed. I only know I'm certain it was Monday mornings when I used to see old Mr Lawrence, and I'd often meet Sally on the way."

"Christ!" Matthew said. "You realise what this means. If Sally wasn't going up to London on Mondays, then it really was one of us who was the father of this bastard." He pointed towards Sam, as though anyone was in any doubt as to who he was talking about.

"Shit! You're right," Mark said, suddenly looking very pensive. "But it couldn't have been me. We always used a con..."

"Jesus Christ!" Matthew exploded. "Don't admit you had sex with her. Condoms do go faulty. Keep your mouth shut."

"Well I don't have a problem," Luke said, taking his medical case over to the hall table and opening it. He withdrew four small, cardboard packs and laid them on the table. "These are DNA testing kits," he said to Sam. "One for yourself, and one for each of us. Mother suggested I bring them along."

"We're not taking them," Matthew said. "No way. Sally always said it was someone in London, so there's no reason why we should."

"I agree," Mark said.

"Well I'm quite happy for you to take a sample from me," Luke said, looking towards Sam with a smile. "So that will narrow down your search."

"London's a big place," Mark said. "It doesn't narrow it down at all."

"But guys," Luke said, "the problem we have is that Mother is convinced that Samantha is her granddaughter, and if we're not careful, we're going to have a repetition of the events of twenty-five years ago. If one of you confesses to being the father, it will take the heat out of the situation. If not, I bet things will get awkward again."

"Let's just throw the bitch out," Matthew said. "If we do it together, we'll be able to overpower her."

"You go first," Mark said. "She's bigger than I am."

"No one is going first," Luke said, "otherwise I'll call the police."

"Well done Luke," Emily's voice came from the doorway, and they all turned. "As usual, my youngest son is the most responsible of you all."

"Hello Mother," they each muttered. Clearly, none of them were pleased to see her. Sam was surprised, as he had always been delighted to see his adopted mother.

"I see, Luke, that you brought the kits as I asked," Emily said.

"A DNA test is too intrusive," Matthew said. "Sally always said the father of her child was in London, and there's no reason to believe it was any of us."

"Absolutely right," Mark agreed.

"Then you refuse to take the tests?" she said.

"I've nothing to hide," Luke said. "I'm happy to take the test." He opened one of the packs, broke the seal on a little plastic bottle, took out a swab and pushed it into his mouth. He then put the swab back inside the bottle, screwed on the top, took out his pen, and wrote on the bottle label. "I shall be brother number three," he said. Then he handed the bottle to Sam.

The others said nothing whilst he did so.

"Very well," Emily said. "Is there a reason why you others came to see me, or were you simply trying to bully Sammie into going away?"

"We wanted to see her for ourselves, Mother," Mark said. "See if she was as similar to Sally as you made out." He turned to wink at Sam and added, "Or as sexy."

"And is she?" Emily asked.

Mark smiled. "Oh yes."

***

"Thank heavens they've gone," Emily said.

"You've relaxed, now they have," Sam said.

She considered his words. "One of my sons never admitted to being your father; one murdered your mother. Perhaps they are one and the same, I don't know. I can only tell you the suspicion builds over the years. It intrudes on the relationship."

He could understand that.

"Now you've met them, who do you think are the most likely suspects?"

He considered. Not wishing to make a judgement based upon first impressions, he made a joke of it. "In Agatha Christie, it's always the most unlikely person, so on that basis Luke must be my father, and Mark, who's the most personable, must be the murderer."

She laughed. "I'm glad to see you've at last stopped wondering about your sexuality and are thinking like a woman. All women think Mark is the most personable and I think you'll be having sex with him before long. That Hiplet thing allows you to do that, doesn't it?"

"That's silly, Emily," he said, incredibly embarrassed.

"Maybe," she said.

All the same, he went and checked the instructions for the Hiplet. It did indeed say it was possible to insert a penis inside his vagina and have sex as a woman!

***

As usual, Emily went to bed immediately after dinner, and he stayed up and watched a repeat of a who dunnit on TV, which he'd seen at least twice before.

"The butler did it," said a voice from the doorway, startling him.

Sam turned to see Mark standing there. "Butlers rarely do," he said, "and in any case there isn't one in this house - nor was there in 1986."

"Well, we all make mistakes," Mark said with a smile. "I always try to be careful but sometimes it comes out wrong." He flicked his eyes towards Sam and smiled.

"Damn it!" Sam thought. "Why did that surge of excitement run through me?" He was a bloke, for heaven's sake, and since he wasn't gay, he wasn't interested in men. On the other hand, he reasoned, he was trying to immerse himself into being a woman - to think woman, talk woman, and behave like a woman. What would be more natural than to be attracted to a personable bloke? The more logical side of his brain worked out it would also give him opportunity to get Mark's DNA sample.

"Would you like a coffee?" Sam asked.

Mark looked at him, smiled and said, "Yes please."

***

As Sam came back into the lounge, Mark took the coffee from his hands and placed it on a side table. Then Mark turned and kissed him.

Sam had never been kissed before! Oh yes, he'd done plenty of kissing, but his partner had never pulled him irresistibly forward, pushing their own body against his, lightly planted their lips on his and caused fireworks to explode in Sam's head.

Mark's tongue was jousting with his, and suddenly Sam could feel Mark's hardness rising between them. Sam shamelessly pushed his stomach against Mark and ground his body against his.

"The hearth rug in front of the fire is a wonderful place to make love," Mark said, switching off the lights so the only light in the room was coming from the fire. He led Sam across the room and pulled him down to his knees. Sam could feel Mark fumbling with his zip, then he was pulling Sam's dress down from his shoulders, kissing his neck, his shoulders and his breasts. Sam didn't even feel Mark unclip his bra - Mark was certainly far better at it than he was - but his breasts were free and he was sucking on his nipples.

Then he was pushing Sam backwards. His dress was up around his waist and Mark was pulling down his panties.

"Mustn't forget this," Mark said, holding up a foil wrapping.

"We don't need it," Sam said, quickly grabbing it and pulling it towards him.

"Oh yes we do," Mark said, holding Sam's wrist with one hand, whilst he uncurled his fingers to take the condom off him. "I told you I'm always careful, but I'm going to be more careful than normal not to leave a semen sample behind." He undid the foil and rolled the condom down his prick, which Sam was pleased to see, was considerably smaller than his own.

"Lay back," Mark said, "and enjoy the ride of your life."

Sam did as he was bid, not because he wanted sex with Mark, he told himself, but because he wanted to know his father's identity. The excitement running through him as Mark slid between his legs and moved forward was nothing to do with it.

But any excitement he'd felt before sex was nothing to that which Sam felt as Mark slipped his cock inside. Although they'd told him at Big Busts that his vagina had sensitivity, he'd never been able to feel much when he played about with his fingers. But as Mark's cock tunnelled its way upwards, the most exquisite feelings he'd ever had exploded inside him. Not just once, but each time Mark partly withdrew and then moved upward again, a different part of his vagina screamed pleasure. Mark was incredibly skilled at pleasuring a woman, Sam realised, as he started the longest and best orgasm he'd ever had in his life.

***

Half an hour later, as Mark finally pulled out his penis, he gasped in horror. "Damn! The condom's burst. Shit!" He stared for a second at Sam and then said, "You did it, didn't you, you little bitch, when you grabbed it. You damaged the condom."

Sam felt totally fucked. Mark's fucking had that effect on women, he realised. So he continued to smile at Mark as he said, "I really don't know what you're talking about,"

"It's not funny, you bitch!" Mark slapped Sam hard across the face. It hurt, and pulled Sam out of his reverie. Then he grabbed Sam's wrist rather more fiercely than the way Matthew had, earlier, giving Sam no opportunity to throw Mark off balance. "Come on, we're going to douche you out, whether you like it or not. And don't give me any trouble or you'll regret it..."

"Sammie?" Emily's voice came down from upstairs. "Could you turn the TV down a little, please? It's rather loud."

Sam pulled his wrist free, and stood up. "Of course, Emily. I'm sorry I disturbed you. Did you want me to make you some cocoa?"

"Yes please, dear. That would be lovely."

***

Mark had left by the time Sam took the cocoa up to Emily. She was lying in bed with a big smile on her face. "You got the DNA sample all right then?"

Sam gasped in surprise and then said, "You heard what was going on?"

"Darling, the way you were screaming, they heard it in Charminster. That was a magnificent act. But how did you sabotage the condom?"

Sam didn't like to tell her the screams had been no act, so he said, "When I made his coffee, I got a needle from your sewing kit and threaded it into my dress. When I grabbed the foil, I simply impaled it on the needle."

Emily smiled. "My, you are devious, aren't you? I wonder which of my children you get it from."