My muse simply insists that I develop this tale. There will probably be five or so parts, and at extremely random intervals. But there's a solid tale there, and I have to write it. Enjoy.

Pling Plong.

Dave groaned and forced one eye open. He had fallen asleep on the couch again, his head at a painful angle to the rest of his body. In the corner the television flickered and danced with some daytime quiz program he'd never seen before. He was lying at a low angle, obviously having fallen over as he drifted off. He attempted to straighten up, wincing as his neck assumed its proper orientation. The weights on his chest moved alarmingly, travelling around of their own accord as he sat up, finally assuming their normal hanging position. He yawned.

Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2011 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

Pling Plong.

The door. Wincing again as he stood, he picked up the remote, hit standby and dropped it on the table as he staggered towards the front door.

"Who is it?"

"Diane with your food."

"Oh."

Dave pulled open the door to find two young women standing in front of him, both holding supermarket carrier bags.

"Uh, come in."

He tried to rub his face, to wake himself up, but decided it looked off-putting. He followed the two into the tiny kitchen.

"Here you go," Diane said, putting the bags on the table before handing him the receipt. "Shall I put them away for you? Oh! Silly me, this is Debra, who I told you about the other day. Debra, Dave."

Dave looked from one to the other. Debra was a little younger than Diane, he guessed. She had blonde hair that almost reached her shoulders, with some auburn highlights in the current fashion. Her face was delicate and heavily made up. She was taller than Diane but still wasn't as tall as himself, which meant that she was about five feet six or so. Both women were dressed in hooded tops, fashion jeans and trainers in an assortment of colours.

"Hello."

The two stared at each other with unrestrained curiosity, Dave because she was a type of person he had never known existed, Debra because she had heard about Dave's problem and wanted to help.

"Hello. You look like a girl to me," he said. "You don't look like you could ever have been a boy."

"Thank you," she replied. "That's kind of what I've been aiming for. I can assure you, though, that I'm just as much a man as you are, underneath these clothes."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Leave it, you two," Diane said. "Let's get this stuff put away and then we can sit and talk."

"Right."

"I got you these," she said, pulling a meat pack out of a bag. "The ones you asked for didn't look too good and the date was almost up. They were doing these on special offer, so I got two and I'm taking one home with me. We'll split the price, that all right?"

"Yeah, fine. You carry on, Diane, I'll get the kettle on."

With the two girls on the couch and Dave facing them in an easy chair, teas in front of them on a small table, he started asking questions.

"So, what's your story then, Debra?"

"I was about eleven when these started popping out," she said, covering a breast with each hand. "I was hauled off to the quack pretty quick once my mum found out. Nobody could work out why and they wanted to put me on all kinds of strong drugs to stop them but I didn't want to do that. Seemed to me if nobody knew why they were developing any treatment could just make the situation worse rather than better."

Dave nodded. "That's what my doctor says as well, as it happens."

"Well, so they pointed out that if I grew breasts I'd get all kinds of stick at school and what did I think I wanted to do about it? I told them I didn't really identify as a boy anyhow so it didn't matter to me which side of the school I went in. Then I got asked if I wanted to be a girl and I said not exactly." She rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't believe the number of psychologists I saw! It was ridiculous, and they all came to different conclusions. In the end I told them I wasn't going to even think about surgery till I was eighteen, and I'd keep everything I had." She rolled her eyes again. "Cue more psychologists, lawyers and even Social Services got into the act! Tried to make out my parents wanted to turn me into the Bearded Lady or something out of a freak show." A rebellious grin. "We saw them off eventually, I went to school as a girl - with special provisions for PE, naturally - and here I am."

"So... do they know what it was, then?"

"Not at first. Last year with the modern scanners they found a tumour on my pineal gland. It was extremely small which may be why they didn't spot it before, though I think they weren't looking that hard anyway. I had a keyhole op about a year ago and it all seems to have cleared up now, although I'll have to keep popping pills for a long time."

Dave nodded. "So, that's why you look so female, then. You never properly developed as a man, is that right?"

Debra wrinkled her nose. "Sort of. I did start growing some facial hair, but I've had that taken care of now. Seems my body produces both Testosterone and Oestrogen but because I wanted to present as female some of those pills stop the male hormones from doing too much damage. According to one specialist I've seen recently I'm still fertile, though. I could still father children if I really cared to. What's your story, then?"

"Yeah." Dave drank some more tea before he spoke. "I worked for a small business making short runs of plastic items. One of the chemicals we used wasn't mixed right and me and the two I worked with got contaminated." His face grew grim. "One of them jumped off the footbridge over the bypass."

"Oh! Was that - Ah! So you're one of those. Oh, you poor man. What are you going to do?"

"Dunno. I think I'm too much of a coward to top myself like Brian did, though apparently if you get too depressed it gets easier to think of such things. And I am depressed, clinically so according to the doctors. They won't let me do anything about these," he pointed, "for a while yet until things stabilise. They've taken samples of the chemicals, but they really haven't got a clue what effect they'll have on my body. Apart from the obvious."

"Are you thinking about having them off?" Debra's expression was of distaste.

"I didn't know there was an alternative. Not till Diane here told me about you." Dave made his own expression of distaste. "I'm not so sure I want to get rid of them, actually. They're part of me now, aren't they? But, I've been wondering, how can I live, part man and part woman? I'm a bloke, I don't think I want to go over to the other side, as it were. Not all the way, that is. I like the idea of surgery about as much as you seem to."

"It's possible," Debra admitted. "I've been doing it, which is why you wanted to talk to me, right?" She leaned forwards, her elbows on her knees. "It'll be very hard for you, if you decide that's what you want to do. I was able to grow up as a girl, with girlfriends and so on, and although most of the others in the school knew who or what I was most treated me just as another schoolgirl. Which was just the way I wanted it. But you, you're how old?"

"Thirty-one."

"So, you've had that long to build up male habits and ideas. Now, if you want to live with those on your chest, you'll have to present as one of - as a woman, since the whole world thinks that if you have those you must be a woman. That means ripping out your entire wardrobe and starting from scratch, for one thing. That means learning a whole new way of walking, talking and thinking. That means having men treat you a completely different way, sometimes to your advantage, quite often to your disadvantage. Do you understand that?"

"Some of it." A wry smile. "I've had plenty of time to be alone with my thoughts." He hesitated. "Do you really think I could pull it off?"

"Physically?" Debra cocked her head, examining his face. "I think so. You don't look classically male, like say a boxer or a rugby player, you're like a lot of men, just enough definition so's that someone else can clock you at a glance. Your shoulders?" She shrugged her own. "A bit wide, but then girls who swim or play tennis have wide shoulders, so it's not the end of the world. What about your hips? Can I ask you to stand a moment?"

Dave clambered to his feet.

"Could be worse," Debra said. She snickered. "Actually, I've seen worse, much worse. Of course there's also your legs, but I don't think I'll ask you to drop your trousers, the neighbours will talk."

Dave's lips twisted in a rare smile as he sat down again. "Where have you seen worse, then?"

"Oh, there's a club I sometimes go to for cross-dressers and transgender folk, they have a meeting once a month over a pub down Smitton way. Some of the things you see there definitely shouldn't be seen on the streets, I tell you. If you wish, I'll ask the secretary to get in touch with you, they have lots of support for people, mainly men of course, who either like wearing the other kind of clothing or who wish they were the other gender, and everything in between."

"Hm." Dave pondered for a little while. This was definitely getting into uncharted waters, and he wasn't sure he wanted to move quite that fast. "I think I'm going to need to take things slowly, if you don't mind. But leave the contact details, they might be useful one day."

"You might want to take things slowly," Debra pointed out, "but you have those things on your chest and I think you'll have to make up your mind what to do about them fairly soon. You can't ignore them, and I'm sure the moment you walk out that front door no-one else is going to ignore them either. That's why I would ask you to think seriously about... coming over to the other side, as it were. Then you can hide them in plain sight, while you go about your life in a reasonably normal fashion. After all half the world has those, and there is a life out there waiting for you presenting as a woman. It won't be the same as what's gone before, but whatever you decide your life has been changed, hasn't it?"

Dave nodded reluctantly. "I suppose you're right. I'll give this... chap? woman? a call, all right? What I really need is more information, I need to know what I'm getting myself into. Until a couple of weeks ago I didn't know any of this existed outside a Sunday newspaper. And you know how much of them is the unvarnished truth."

Debra cocked her head again. "I think we can do this slowly," she said. "You don't have to go all frilly dresses and stiletto heels, you know. That's just what the newspapers think. Most women are like us, dress down while we're doing normal things." She swept her hands down her body. "The right sort of shoes, a pair of jeans and some tops and I bet you could walk out of here and nobody would give you a second glance. Just take it easy, it'll take you a while to learn the ropes anyway."

"Do you really think so? It seems like such an alien world to me."

Debra grinned. "The one thing about women that's different to men is that we support each other, that right, Diane? You've already got two friends to help you get through this. If you want us to, and if you want to do it. What do you say?"

Dave pondered. "So what you're saying is, I have two real choices. Chop them off," there were two agonised glances from the women. "Sorry. Um, do that or, what did you call it? 'Present' as a woman."

"Not quite true," Diane said. "You could carry on as you have been, binding them up and wearing baggy clothes."

Dave shook his head. "That would just be delaying the decision. While I can do apathy as well as the next man - or woman - it doesn't solve anything in this case, does it? I think I'm going to say, what the hell, let's give it a go. If it doesn't work, I can always go back to the other option."

Both women flinched again.

"Sorry."

"If there's one thing you ought to do, and soon," Debra said, "it's to get some proper support for them, whatever you decide. Look at how you're sitting."

Dave looked down, and discovered he had folded his arms under them, as he nearly always did these days.

"What you need," Debra continued, "is a proper bra properly fitted. Will you let us help you?"

Dave flushed. "You mean, go out to a shop and have someone look at my -"

"Yes, of course. That's what they are there for. They won't get too many men in the bra department, it's true, but they do get trans folk and cross-dressers, and they treat them just as they would treat a woman customer. That's the critical word, remember, customer. You'll be a punter handing over folding money for goods, so they'll serve you all right. And if one or both of us comes with you we'll make sure you get something that fits you properly. You don't have to go for some lacy little thing, you just want a plain bra that does the job."

Dave looked down at his chest, at the bulges supported by his folded arms. It would be nice, he mused, not to have them flopping around as he moved, and to have some of the weight taken off his chest. They had got well beyond the 'jiggle' size and now were like small bags of flour glued painfully to his skin. Some control was definitely indicated, some support was definitely required.

"Look at it this way," Diane added, "you don't have to wear the things in public if you don't want to. But you'll be spending much of your time in here, where you can wear whatever you like, and if a bra makes you feel more comfortable, why not wear one?"

"You've almost convinced me," he said. "But -" He lapsed into silence. Perhaps it was a step too far at the moment.

"Do you think," Debra asked diffidently, "that I, we, might see them? Don't feel any obligation, but up till now we've just been talking about something that's more or less been hinted at."

Dave stared at her. What a thing to ask!

"Dave," Diane said, "don't forget, we've both got them, and you'll have to get them out if you have a bra fitted. You'll be showing us things we've seen in changing rooms every time we've bought something. Really, it shouldn't be a problem."

"In fact, it's something you'll have to get used to," added Debra, "if you wish to go ahead."

Dave's shoulders slumped, and then he realised that he was making a fuss over very little. Slowly he pulled up his sweatshirt and then his vest, exposing his chest for both women to see.

"Oh my God!" Diane said. "I think that's the first time I've ever had breast envy for what's on a man's chest!"

"Gosh," Debra said. "They're a bit further along than I expected. They're a nice-looking pair, Dave. You really need to get some bras."

Dave pulled his clothes down and made himself tidy again. Part of him thought he was being rushed into a decision, part of him understood that it was a decision that could be reversed any time if things didn't work out. Finally, he took a deep breath.

"Let's do it."