I was standing in a crowded room. A rustic tiled stove stood to the left of the entry door and beyond that, another door led to a small storeroom. At the center of the room was situated a worn wooden table flanked by two mismatched chairs. Tucked into the southeast corner of the room was a solid wooden bedstead. A tall linen press stood to the right of the bedstead, and a rugged ladder stood against the wall beside it so that one might climb to the loft. Crocks, baskets, and pots were tucked in every corner and on every shelf. Garlands of flowers, herbs, fruits, and vegetables were draped from the rafters. It was a cozy and entirely charming little house. Erich walked from one side of the room to the other, running his fingers over the furniture and occasionally brushing dust away. He opened cupboards and picked up books, trinkets, and mementos, exclaiming his memory of each item. After a number of minutes, he turned toward me and smiled broadly. ‘How do you like it?’ He asked. ‘It’s. As was pointed out to me very clearly I would be free to go oncereleased from my bonds and take my chances explaining to my friends andparents when the photographs suddenly started appearing locally what Ihad been doing for the last six months. Alternatively I could remaincalm and listen to Dave's proposals on how my secret would remainbetween us.I am not making excuses for myself but bear in mind I was liberated andliving in a drug fuelled haze by now and if I had given more thoughtwould have probably realised that being outed was far easier than whatwas going to happen to me if I agreed to Dave's plan. I think whatclinched it at the time was when Dave explained that I had already beenbathing in female hormone treatments at his house once a month for thelast six months and that in my days of heavy sleep after long partysessions he had already started applying the lotions and creams thatwere now transforming my male body to that of a girl.As asked, I stupidly signed letters giving.
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