So, silly as it may sound, Amy and I became best friends, and that included Andromeda I guess. Similarly Zara and Sonya spent more time cooking together, enjoying the new friendship just as much. At night we were back to two sets of lovers, generously sharing ourselves. But, during those moments it was clear that Amy and I leaned more toward each other, and so did Zara and Sonya. These were the only moments anymore that our manhoods came into play, Sonya and I no longer needed it, but both Amy and Zara needed their fill now and then.

It was the week that Amy had texted that her period had started, that I taped a special capsule right behind my scrotum. This by itself was already not comfortable, but it randomly released a blood-like substance, while pricking my skin. I needed a pad in my panties, and couldn't use my sleeve to keep my manhood away. I was scared to stain my skirt, and I guess that's what the whole experience was about. An inconvenient necessity.

And it had been leaking quite a bit during class, and I could feel how heavy the pad had become, I knew I needed to change it before walking home. In the bathroom I was really questioning my sanity, why did I even bother with this? But deep down I thought of Marla, the girl in class that had been telling me for weeks now that I was not “a real woman”. Was I trying to prove something?

By the time I came out of the bathroom the building had emptied out, and on my way to the exit I was surprised to hear a muffled scream in one of the classrooms.

Many thoughts shot through my mind, but only one made sense. Someone needed help right now. So, I opened the door, and there, on the teacher's table was the same Marla, being a real woman? Her legs were spread, her skirt pulled up, and one of the guys in our last class between her legs, his dick hard and exposed. But, one of his hands was on her throat, and her face showed a look of terror. She was about to be raped.

The guy, John I suddenly remembered, looked at me and said, “Get out of here, you freak! You have no business here.” I felt cold sweat break out, as years of being bullied suddenly came back to the surface, and told me to turn around and run away.

But I knew I somehow had to help Marla. And thus, I forced myself to stand up straight and I said, “Stop it John”, with emphasis on John, so he realized I knew his name, “nothing bad has happened yet, but if you rape her, you rape every woman, and thus you rape me. I cannot allow that!”

“Rape?” he laughed, “this isn't rape, she gave her consent. Isn't that right bitch?” And I saw him squeeze Marla's throat, at which she could only whimper. “See? And what is it to you? You're not even a real woman.”

“Do you think that when I walk on the street that anyone knows I'm not a real woman? We always check our backs, so some asshole can't sneak up on us. And my fear is even bigger, what do you think a guy would do if he finds out what's between my legs? My only option is to fight. And if you don't step away from her, I'm going to kick these heels straight through your crotch.” And I showed him the three inch spikes on my heels.

He switched tactics. “I'll kill you both! No one will find out. I'll make it look like you raped her. Don't come closer or I will squeeze her throat shut!”

I played my last card, even though it was a lie. “There's a camera right here in the hallway. It has seen you already going in with Marla. And me. And if only you come out, leaving two bodies behind, it'll be the death penalty for you. Is it worth it? You're not even hard anymore!”

He hesitated, perhaps wondering if I was bluffing. But in that short time span I moved forward, much faster than he probably thought I could in my heels. And in defense he stepped back, letting go of Marla. His now limp dick was a perfect target, as I started kicking my heel out. I managed to hold back just inches from his crotch, and his face went white as a sheet.

He managed to pull away, tucking his dick away, and before he left the room he turned around and said, “I'll get you for this, you bitch!” It was then that Marla spoke. “No you won't. If anything happens to Diana, the police will hear my story, and you'll go to jail, you asshole!” It was enough for him to disappear.

As I looked at her, stunned, she got off the table, smoothed her skirt down, and then she hugged me. Next thing I know she was crying on my shoulder. The fear, the relief, the anger, it all came out, but what I didn't expect was the apology.

“Oh Diana, I'm so sorry!” she cried. And I tried to comfort her, my arms around her in my part of the hug, and I told her, “Nothing to be sorry about, he was a serious asshole.” But that was clearly not what she meant.

“Oh he was, yes, but that's not what I meant.” And as she pulled away, wiping her tears, she continued. “Ever since you came out as Diana, I've given you a hard time. I didn't understand why you'd want to be a woman. And then suddenly you looked so cute, sexy even, and I figured you were gay or something and this was your way to get through to the boys. And everybody seemed to accept you so easily, I thought it was unfair, and it made me jealous. So, I kept reminding them, you, that you weren't a real woman.

“But what you said just now, about being a woman, and fearing people like John, I had no idea… And then you were so brave, attacking him. He could have killed you. And I realized that you were a much better woman than I have been.” Her tears were running again as she confessed.

I tried to explain, I guess, what really happened. “Oh, I was scared, believe me. He was the type of person that has bullied me most of my life, and I was ready to run, like I did in the past. But ever since I came out as Diana I have felt more confident, more alive, stronger even, as silly as it may sound. And that scared him off, I guess. Plus, a stiletto heel, almost through his crotch, that helped.

“But, you were jealous of me? You're kidding right? I still have so much to learn, what it means to be a woman. And don't worry, I'm not after any boy. As a matter of fact, I have a wonderful girlfriend that I hope to marry one day, so in that aspect I guess I'm gay indeed.”

“Oh”, she swallowed, “I really didn't get you, did I? Maybe I should have asked. I really don't have much experience with trans women. For example, why are you always wearing skirts? And heels so high, I couldn't even walk in them? And how come your makeup is always so perfect? I saw people check you out, both boys and girls. That's why I started wearing skirts myself lately. As I said, I was jealous.

And when John walked out with me today he complimented me on my skirt, and I was so happy with his words, that I didn't see his real intentions when he took me ‘somewhere private’. I was lucky that you were still in the building, as John was clearly stalling until he thought everybody was gone.”

I didn't know what to reply to first. The power that wearing heels gave me. Or the femininity I experienced by wearing skirts, or having breasts. Or the new creative talent I had found in using makeup. Perhaps I should point out to her that only two months ago I was just as clueless about trans women as she.

But it had been her words about me not being a real woman that had convinced me to go ahead with experiencing a period. And because it had been so heavy today I had spent so much time cleaning up in the bathroom, which eventually led to me being the last one in the building and being able to help her. Fate? Karma? Dumb luck?

From everything I said, Marla was the most confused about me wanting to experience a period. Why would I want something so inconvenient? My answer? “Could you choose not to have a period?” I think she finally got it.

But what we both got was a friendship. The one you never have to question. Oh, still plenty of questions, both ways, but now there were answers as well. She taught me so much about being a girl, and being a woman. Little tricks that every ten year old knows. And bigger ones, like how to get a free drink from a boy, that even works when you're a lesbian.

But the most valuable thing was to have a willing ear, a friend that always listens. Someone who gives her opinion or good advice, when you ask for it or not. You'd think having a lover is always sunshine, and your partner always gets you, understands you. It simply isn't true. But having a best friend that helps you put things in perspective is invaluable.

Most importantly, for me at least, was that my two best friends, Amy and Marla, got along very well, from the moment they met. This meant that Marla joined us for yoga, and it clicked between her and Andra right away as well. As a matter of fact, when Amy and I would go home, to our waiting lovers, Marla often stayed behind, keeping Andra company, sometimes even staying over. She helped out a lot with cleaning, washing and groceries, even doctor's appointments. It wasn't like Amy took her own responsibilities not serious, but Marla simply had more time at hand.

In the months following, the hormones did a good job on me, softer skin, a better shape, better orgasms even, but nothing in the breast area. Marla had gone from no-idea to a trans expert, and sponsored by Andra, she found me a place where they helped me out with a non-invasive surgery, implanting silicon falsies in just the right spot. Talk about orgasms now, when someone sucks your new breasts, while taking your rear. God, I love being a woman!

In the same place they offered another option to get closer to womanhood. It was a skin like sheath, glued between my legs, to replace the gaff I had been using to keep my crotch smooth. Essentially my dick was hidden now, even while naked, with about an inch of semi-soft tubing inside my pee-hole, ending in a very realistic female pee-hole. Due to this tube, and the little room that was left, it was pretty much impossible to get a hard-on anymore. The sheath covered all of it, although with a bit of pulling I could “unsheath” it for cleaning or for sex that involved my dick, which didn't happen very often lately. What I liked most was two pussy lips, formed out of my own skin. Unless you tried to poke it you couldn't tell it wasn't real, and anyone putting their tongue on it would drive me nuts.

This caused a bit of a problem with the way I had been pursuing my period each month. A simple solution, a suppository, shoved deep in my ass, was good for about five days of inconvenience, but now I could use tampons as well as pads, and in the end it was cleaner. Secretly, although Sonya knew for sure, I cherished this week.

Then, another month later, getting closer to graduation and wedding, we went all from over the moon down to deepest despair. It was a week that Amy wanted my dick, small as it was by now, every day, sometimes multiple times. And it was similar for Sonya, satisfying Zara, as we realized that not long after the wedding Sonya would lose that part of her body. But the end result was that both Zara and Amy were pregnant.

I remembered that Andra had called Sonya and me the missing link, but now finally the loop was closed. The best early wedding present we could have given. We all went down to Andra to tell her the good news, and as happy as she was, with my heightened senses I could tell there was a sadness under all as well. And I also remembered how she had predicted that she wouldn't be there to enjoy it. Three days later she was dead.

Oh, she went out with a bang, undeniably. Despite her bad leg, she still made daily walks through the neighborhood. And that fateful day she witnessed a girl, not much older than me, being molested by a brute. The girl was trans, like me and Sonya, and he called her all kinds of derogatory names, as he hit her and kicked her to the ground. Andra had been fearless, as she attacked the brute with her walking stick, breaking his nose and hurting him badly in the crotch area, before he slammed his fist straight into her face. She went down, never to get up again.

We buried her a week later, her murderer in jail, while the girl she saved, heavily bandaged, cried at her grave. The five of us were not in much better shape. I was perhaps the only one that knew that Andra had predicted it, confirmed just the week before, when we shared the pregnancy news.

Marla took Stephanie under her wings, the girl that was molested, nursing her slowly back to normal, whatever that was. I knew my friend well enough to see the impact Andra had had on her in the few months they had known each other, and her desire to follow in Andra's footsteps and better this world. I also sensed, way before anyone else, that Marla and Stephanie started getting feelings for each other, and moved in together after about a month.

Andra's will was relatively simple. Many women's causes received a good chunk of money, as did several organizations that advanced trans people in mental, medical and financial ways. A number of specific paintings and sculptures, select jewelry and a good chunk of her fashion collection were divided between Marla, Sonya and myself.

Her house, and the remainder of her possessions went to Amy and Zara, with distinct instructions that they were to live in the house and raise their children there. Both Sonya's surgery, and mine if I ever decided to take that last step, were fully paid for. And there were trust funds for us as well with enough money to pay for the remaining years in college.

As we helped Zara and Amy move into the house, I could clearly feel Andra's spirit there still, and I felt bad about taking anything out, even though I owned some of that now. It was then that Amy suggested that Sonya and I live in the house too. And it was big enough, so she extended the offer to Marla and Stephanie as well.

Like it was meant to be, we all agreed. The lower level was a common area. The second floor had three massive bedrooms, where each couple had their privacy. But the top floor, Andra's bedroom, despite her bad leg, was for shared sex. A bed large enough for six, with sexual art all around, a painting of a younger Andra overlooking the bed, with plenty of toys and clothes to play naughty games. It was a simple agreement between all of us. The private bedrooms stayed private, but anyone visiting the top floor was game. And we all agreed on no sex with anyone else outside our group.

Now, there was a distinct difference between my two best friends. I had had sex with Amy before we became close friends, heck, I fathered her child. But with Marla that was not the case, we did not see that sexual part in our relationship. So, although we all had agreed we were game, Marla and I had an unspoken agreement that we would not let sex interfere with our friendship.

Interestingly enough, Stephanie thrived in the agreement. The small group of trusted friends, with no need of holding back sexually, was the best therapy for her. Her life as a transgender girl had not been easy. Pretty as she was, many boys showed interest in her, but unlike Sonya and me, our manhoods slowly diminishing, her dick was of enormous proportion, and not easy to hide. And this had multiple times led to aggression by men who could tell by looking at her that she was hiding something, and hitting and kicking her for looking like a girl.

Now, with three naturally born women, two of them pregnant and continuously horny, and two trans women who liked to take it in the rear, Stephanie could finally enjoy the existence of her monster dick, rather than hating it. And we all enjoyed it with her.

So, fashion wise, there was quite a collection of expensive looking clothes, most of them clearly never used, and a lot were earmarked with names. Anything with my name on it was exactly my size, a lot of them very sexy and revealing, my gothic style well represented in leather and latex, but also satin and silk gowns, ready for an appearance on any red carpet.

Whereas the clothing for Sonya was much more elegant, less revealing but still stunning. Marla's share was much more business style, well cut suits, fitting for the CEO she was. Yes, Marla and Andra had set up a foundation to help women, any kind of women. With the huge grant, coming straight from the will, The Andromeda Project, or TAP, could really make a difference in the world.

In all the consternation around Andra's death, the end of year finals sneaked up on us. And for Zara and Amy that meant graduation. We were all there for them and Stephanie even brought an oversized picture of Andra's face to “cheer” with us. Everything went smoothly, and our graduates took pictures with about everybody.

Marla decided to switch her major completely, as she went fully into business. Sonya added a minor in Culinary Arts, and I followed in Amy's footsteps with a minor in Fine Arts. Stephanie stayed with Women's Studies, but recognized the need for business experience as well.

I really enjoyed the way we were surrounded by art. My favorite piece was a sculpture of me and Sonya, made by Andra shortly before she passed away. I could feel it vibrate with energy, each time I touched it, and I could feel Andra behind it each time. Everyone had their favorite pieces but it seemed like only Amy and I could feel the energy inside each piece.

The wedding was next, but rather than going all out on the party, we kept it small with maybe twenty-five people, but all six of us went on honeymoon to Jamaica. That was an amazing experience as they know how to party there. I had no idea how much I liked wearing slinky bathing suits and tiny bikinis.

In a way it was good for both Sonya and me, as she had been getting worried about her upcoming surgery, but it would give her the smoothest crotch, compared to the tiny bulge she was sporting now. And I started accepting that I was on the same path, and I wondered if I should set that part of me into motion as well.

I'll be honest with you… After seeing Sonya's struggles following the surgery, the hours spent on diluting her new womanhood, her tired curses, the side effects, the infection, asking when things would finally get better, I made an executive decision to wait at least a full year before I'd go through that hell.

But, things did get better eventually, and when she was finally cleared for full-on sex, we did find her new pleasure spots. Each was a revelation, and another obstruction removed from finally feeling content about taking that huge step that matched her body finally to her mindset. I saw the happiness back in her eyes, and I loved her even more.

Pregnancy was a totally different experience between Amy and Zara. Amy had hardly any side effects, but any piece of art she produced was vibrant with emotion. I could feel it without even touching it, but more people could sense it by now, so strong was the effect. And these people were willing to pay a steep price to own that art, making Amy one of the most successful artists in her graduation class.

Zara had pretty much every known awkwardness associated with pregnancy. From morning sickness to bloating. Mood swings and impossible food cravings. Hot spells and cold spells. Insatiable sex and crying bouts. Sometimes she looked radiant, other times she felt ugly.

The funny thing was that some of the weird food she craved for she would make herself, and one of these creations made it actually to the menu in the restaurant where she worked. “Weird Craving” it was called, and only women were allowed to order it.

But, eventually everything normalized, if you could call their huge bellies normal. We all joined the birthing classes, although it was clear that I would partner Amy and Sonya would be with Zara in the birthing room. Marla and Stephanie would help with both, where needed.

Zara's daughter Cassiopeia was born on Christmas Eve and Amy's girl Andromeda on New Year's Eve, exactly one week apart. It was an unbelievable experience to witness the birth, and I cried some later, knowing that I would never experience that for myself. It was Marla who comforted me, saying that I was more woman than most of the ones she knew. I guess we've come a long way together.

Both babies stayed in the same room with two cribs, two changing tables, and two chairs, so both girls could be changed and fed at the same time. With six women in the house there was always someone who could watch the girls.

I personally bonded very much with little Andra, as technically I was her father. And the same was true with Sonya who had fathered Cassie. I was surprised though that I could sense grandma Andra's spirit in both girls, like she had split herself to give both a soul. I know this sounds crazy, but Amy could sense it as well, we just kept it between us, as some people are not ready for that kind of “magic”.

Well, in a few years, after I graduate myself, I may add another chapter to this fairytale. There's no doubt in my mind that there will be two more weddings at some point, and probably more children. In the meantime we enjoy our family as it is right now. My own surgery date is set, exactly one year after Sonya had hers. I'm both scared and excited, but I know it's the right choice for me. I'm looking forward to “real” periods, or as real as it can get for a transgender woman like me.

As I said, I enjoyed telling my fairytale, and I will end like all do. We all lived happily ever after!