My wife and I were looking in the mirror as I held “my” breasts tightly against my chest. This was a defining moment. No going back. My commitment to save our marriage. Next would be the red-haired wig, with real hair, provided by her sister.

It was actually her sister whom I met first, years ago, shortly after I moved to this town. Trying to get in some social circles here, I had signed up for a bowling league. Most people came as a team, and in the end I was partnered with Janet, a redhead just like me.

Obviously we called our team “The Reds”, and although Janet was beautiful, she made it clear from the get-go that she was a staunch lesbian. Thus, nothing romantic, but we soon became best friends.

In a way it was fun how we both looked at other women, in other teams, or recreational bowlers, and often we compared notes. I started understanding how a beautiful woman like her could still be single, simply because the pool of lesbians wasn't very big.

Apart from bowling we went out to other places as well. Restaurants of course, and we tried style dancing, only to drop out quickly. The most fun we had was actually in a gay bar, where she had more chances, choices, whatever you want to call it. But, silly as it may sound, I got more proposals than she. Not that I acted on that, I mean, I wasn't gay, but we made a few friends, who didn't mind a straight guy in their midst.

In our second year of the bowling league she took me with her to her parental home, for Thanksgiving. And that's where I met her sister Marion.

It wasn't love at first sight, but it was close. The family figured I was gay, like Janet, why else would she bring me? But once that was cleared up, Marion and I became an item, and we got married within a year. Janet was her bridesmaid and Brandon, my best gay friend, stood by me.

We had a couple good years, though we weren't ready for children yet, but then things started going south. I had more and more problems with satisfying Marion in bed. And I hate to blame someone else for my “problem”, but Marion didn't seem to try to put any effort in herself.

We did try some marriage counseling, and during one session the truth came finally out. Marion had come to realize that being with a man did not interest her anymore, and that she was as lesbian as her sister.

Problem was, she still loved me, she knew I was a good man, best friend to her sister. And it was Janet, that very same sister, who suggested a solution.

She knew I understood her, so in a way I should understand Marion too, which I did actually. It's just hard to see your love life evaporate, just because you're the wrong gender. And Janet's solution? Maybe I should become the right gender.

Stupid of course. But the more we thought it over, the more we realized it could be our last resort. If I could pull it off, the love we had for each other could light up again and give us a second chance. With the added bonus that Janet and I could be best friends, without the continuous suggestions that men and women couldn't be best friends, and we were probably sleeping together behind my wife's back.

Eventually I gave in, and so did Marion. And Janet, who was an attorney, drew up a contract.

One year. One year I would be a woman for Marion. We would do our best to repair our marriage, but if it was beyond repair, then divorce was inevitable. For my efforts however in trying to save our marriage, I would get most of our common assets, like the house, and she would move out and try to build a new life in which she can be happy again. It was up to me if I would transform back into myself though.

Now, in case our marriage would indeed improve, the one-year point being the measure stick, I had a choice to make. Stay a woman and hopefully live a long happy life with my wife. Or become my original self again, because being a woman was too hard for me. We would again have a friendly divorce, in which she would get the house, but most of the financial assets would go to me, so I could rebuild my life.

I had no clue how this would develop, but at least we gave ourselves a chance at happiness again. And that was worth giving up on being male for a year, and perhaps longer. So, I signed the contract, as did Marion, and so did Janet, as the notary.

Now, Janet had provided a different kind of service as well. A mold was made from her breasts, from which the breast forms were created that were now glued on my chest. And she had given up on her very long hair, which was used to create the wig that I was about to place on my head. In a way, after this, my hair would match the length and shape of Janet's current hair.

With the wig on my head, and a bra around my new breasts, I could already be mistaken for a woman, if it wasn't for the dick hanging between my legs. It was the final piece to be “fixed”. Marion sat on her knees in front of me and used an icecube to take any life away that potentially existed in my crotch area still. Then, a fleshlike strip was pulled over my completely flaccid manhood, as I could feel a little tube pushed into the tip.

Five minutes later it was part of me, like the breasts, with a glue that needed surgery to separate fake from real flesh. My dick and balls were gone, leaving only a smooth crotch and a pee hole where any woman would have one. Mind you, it looked like I had a vagina, but the lips were fake, and there was nothing that could be pushed inside.

Marion's first kiss was wonderful, like we would be getting out of our funk indeed. But there was still more to do. A corset to define my new curves. Stockings under a pencil skirt and a satin blouse. Finally heels and makeup. I couldn't believe it, but I looked very feminine, pretty even, perhaps a lookalike of her sister Janet. She named me Agatha.

For a while things seemed to improve. They were very understanding at my work, although I needed easily half an hour extra in the morning to meet their dress code for women. Having said that, some of my responsibilities had become easier, working with customers or other departments, others were tougher, mainly in my own department, as some people couldn't handle a woman with authority.

Bowling season had started again, and we were still the Reds. Most people thought we were twin sisters, and we didn't bother to correct them. We played in a serious league on Mondays and a fun league on Thursdays. These evenings that I'd come home very late, Marion went out with her own group of friends.

It was one of these late nights that I felt something wasn't right. Our sex life still wasn't perfect, for a big part because it was still one-sided, simply because I didn't have a real pussy, and also because my breasts were fake. Oh, she loved sucking them, and although I acted like I loved it, for her sake, I had completely no feeling in them.

Since there is only one real pussy in our relationship, I was the one always eating it, so I had a pretty good idea how horny she was, but that night she said she had her period. As said connoisseur I knew she wasn't due for another week, but I gave her her out. Since then this happened more often, and always on bowling nights.

Eventually I broached the subject with Janet, trying to tell her very carefully, because it was still her sister. The bowling alley had the fire alarm gone off, and the league was canceled, and I went home with Janet for a few hours, so perfect timing I figured. But, we ended up talking about me.

In short, with all my effort trying to fix my marriage, the experiment wasn't working. Because I wasn't a real woman. Sure, I looked like one, and had gotten better at acting like one, but in the end I could potentially go back to my old self, being a man.

Janet herself could sense it, a lesbian herself, and with my looks she should have had more intimate feelings for me, yet I was still the same best friend under it all. And although she had no idea what her sister did on our bowling nights, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, Marion was experiencing a true lesbian relationship. And she had to be worried I could taste it in her cum, while eating her out.

I found it hard to believe that Marion would do something like that, after I was giving my all to try to save our relationship. But, as Janet suggested, maybe I wasn't giving my all.

Giving my all meant committing to womanhood. In such a way that after our year was up, I could not go back to my old self. One outcome was predicted in the contract, Marion and I living happily ever after. But, this new scenario wasn't described, one where Marion and I have no future together, but I would remain a woman.

At first it sounded ridiculous, but the more I thought it over, the more I realized Janet was right. Until I had real breasts myself, I would never enjoy it for real, when Marion sucked them. And not until I had a real pussy would we have a two-way street, where Marion could enjoy eating me out as well.

But, I understood what it would take to grow real breasts. Female hormones would help with that. But that wasn't enough to get my own pussy. For that, surgery was the only way, Janet said, and that meant indeed that there was no way back for me.

It's funny, but I'd gotten used to seeing myself already as a woman. But I was frustrated about the sex part, not fulfilling my own needs at all. It was simply not sustainable. And in all honesty? I didn't like being called Agatha.

Janet jumped on that. Who would I be, if I decided to go all the way?

Kimberly. Or Kim. Or Kimmi, as I hoped my lover would call me when we fucked. Much closer to my original name Kenneth, or Ken.

Janet was impressed, as she said Kimmi a few times, while licking her lips. How do you call Agatha out in a moment of passion? Aggie? Ridiculous, right?

Seriously again, would I dare to become Kimberly, all the way? Hormones first, and eventually surgery? And, hormones do more than just changing the body. They can affect the mind as well. They WILL affect the mind, no doubt about it. There was a chance, although highly unlikely in my mind, that I myself would start looking at men, meaning there was no chance between Marion and me.

I felt like I should discuss this with Marion first. But Janet told me I shouldn't, as Marion would choose to her own advantage. It should be my decision to make, and mine only, as it was my future, potentially beyond Marion. And for the same reason Janet wouldn't advise me, but she would help me, stand by me, no matter what my decision. What else are friends for?

That night Marion was sleeping already, perhaps faking it, I couldn't tell. To me it seemed like I had two choices. First, keep on going like we're doing now. With the most likely outcome that we would break up at the end of the year. And I had no idea if I'd swap back to my old self. How awkward would that be at work, after they more or less accepted the new me?

Second, I'd try hormone therapy. With the chance to save my relationship with Marion. But, with no chance to swap back anymore. A fixed path on which I could build a future, with or without Marion.

It kept me awake for hours, although at some point I must have fallen asleep. In my dream I was Kimberly and someone was making love to me. But, for some reason I couldn't tell who it was, you know how fuzzy some dreams can be. It could be Marion, but it could just as well be a man. As they sucked my breasts the feeling was amazing, and I knew these were real and not my current fakes. Then they moved their mouth down to my crotch, and I felt a tongue inside me. I had a pussy!

If my breasts had felt amazing, then this was… amazinger! Incredible! Unbelievable… I could feel myself cum, all throughout my body, but it didn't stop there. My lover was moving up, their hands on my breasts, their lips on mine, and then something else entered me. Something hard and soft and warm at the same time. I was being fucked and I loved every second of it. This is how sex should feel!

Then they stopped however, and I felt disappointed, I didn't want it to stop. But a voice whispered in my ear. “You want more?”

“Yes!”

“Then tell me. What's your name?”

“Ken”, I knew it didn't sound right.

“What's your name?” Louder now.

“Kim”, that felt so much better.

“Very well, Kimberly. I'm going to fuck you deep, and when you cum I want you to scream your name!”

“Yes”, I whispered.

There was no stopping after that. Whatever dick or dildo was inside me felt so good! I begged to fuck me harder. And I heard their own moaning and I knew it was coming. And as I felt their seed spray my womb, I came harder than ever in my life, and I screamed “Kimmi!!!”

I woke up in a puddle of sweat. As I opened my eyes I saw Marion look at me, with worry on her face. “Ken. Agatha. Are you okay? You were in some bad dream and I couldn't wake you up.”

“I'm fine”, I managed to say, “but I never had a dream this intense.”

She laughed now, relieved, then she asked, “Who is Kimmi?”

Dream and reality suddenly became one. “It's me”, I confessed, “Kimberly. I don't want to be Agatha anymore. And when you fuck me, or I fuck you, I want you to cry out for Kimmi.”

Her reaction was instant. “God yes! I'm so sorry I named you Agatha. I started hating that name myself. But Kimberly is sweet. Does that mean you're my Kimmi now?” And somehow, this simple, my mind was made up. There was still hope for us! “Yes. I am you Kimmi. And I love you!”

“I love you too Kimmi”, and we laid together until we fell asleep again, her arm wrapped around me like I hadn't felt for months.

I took the day off, and called Dr Pershing, our marriage counselor, asking for a private meeting, and she had time for me right after lunch. On my way I went by City Hall, and started the process to change my name to Kimberly, something I never felt the need to do so when I became Agatha.

It had almost been a month since I saw the counselor last, and she looked a bit different. Or maybe it was me looking different, because I knew I looked radiant. That feeling you know you made the right life decision.

And I told her all about it. Of course she knew about our attempt to save our marriage, as it was in part her idea, but she hadn't heard yet about it not seeming to work. And how I had come to the conclusion that the only way would be if I'd go all the way on this path to womanhood. And I needed her help with that.

Suddenly there was an awkward silence in the air, and I saw her face change, like she herself had come to some conclusion. “You know”, she said, “I'm not really qualified to help you on that path. Lilith Pershing, that is.” And she stood up and took her doctor's coat off. Then she took something from a drawer, another coat, and as she pulled it on, I saw a different name tag. Naomi Pershing.

Before I could question what was going on, she said, “I have to apologize about the confusion. My twin sister Lilith is your counselor. And she had a private session with your wife, just two weeks ago. To prevent a situation where a conflict of interest could occur, she asked me to do this session with you. She can help the two of you together, but not separately, when private feelings are disclosed. And I have to say, I admire your willingness in trying to fix the issues between you and your wife, but I realized that I'm better suitable to help you in my own field. I work with transgender people and I'm a gender reassignment surgeon. I work in a different part of the building and maybe we should go there, to discuss your options.”

I was in shock. What are the chances? The fact of the matter was that I liked her. More than her sister who seemed to favor my wife. But, I came to ask for help in finding a doctor that can prescribe me hormones, and it seemed like I found one already. “Will you be able to help me?” was all I could mutter. And she smiled, and she said, “ Yes, I think I can.”