I couldn't tell my family the company fired me months ago. I suppose I still have my pride. Not that anyone would believe that if they saw what I do to scrape a living these days. Not that they'd recognise me if they did, thank god.

Every day I wake before sunrise. I kiss my wife, put on my suit and tie, and take my empty briefcase. I drive two blocks away and park the car out of sight in the alley behind the coffee shop where nobody I know will notice it. I usually sit in the driver's seat staring bleary eyed at myself in the rear view mirror for a good few minutes, wondering where my career went wrong. Then I inject.

There's three injections. The feminizing agent first, delivered straight into the thigh. That's the most effective spot - the chemicals rush straight to the penis, and once that is shrunken away it really speeds up the effects on the rest of the body.

I change out of the business suit and into the barista uniform now, before the hips and ass have had time to grow in. The second injection goes into the chest just between my soon-to-be tits. That one is bovine DNA. My tits really start to balloon after that.

Once my milky breasts finish filling up the cups of my bra, the third injection goes into both of them, sending a ripple of brown through my skin, the smell of freshly ground coffee emitting from my pores. That one is taken from C. Arabica. Coffee DNA

That's why I have to get up so early, so that my tits have time to build up 'supply' before the early commuters arrive. The other girls can serve dozens before my nipples finally start leaking. Lastly I don the rest of the uniform - the humiliating nursing bra with the velcro clasp, designed to be easily opened for dispensing... drinks.

That's my job now. I'm a coffee girl. Or as people like to call me, a 'hucow'. I give customers - men mostly - their milky morning caffeine fix.

The traditionalists among them, or those taking it 'to go' just ask for it expressed in a cup and microwaved to boiling, while others take it straight from the teat. They pay a lot more for the freshness, naturally, which is honestly the only way I manage to cover the cost of the three daily injections.

It's a humiliating job but it's all I can find in this economy, and what matters most is that I'm providing for my family. Actually, what matters most is that they never find out. The injections revert after 10 hours but my wife has started noticing the lingering coffee smell.

Midday I'm restocking the syrups under the counter when the shop bell tinkles. I reel off the customer greeting. "Hi, welcome to Moo-Moo Mochas! My name is Kimberly. I'm udderly delighted to express-o your espesso this mo-aargh!"

As my head emerges from below the counter, I find my son staring at me, wallet in hand.