Fasse den folgenden TExt zusammen"Part 1

I had just tossed my headset down and was starting to pack things up when
Dave came up behind me.

"Hey, Brian - when are you finished?"

Since I already knew what was coming next, I deliberately continued shutting
down my programs, killing them one by one with a simple click of the mouse.
"About five minutes ago," I told him.

He shuffled his feet and stared down at me with that nervous, doomed look he
did so well. In the six months I'd been with the company, I don't think I'd
ever seen him relaxed. "Would you mind staying a couple hours?" He actually
cringed as he said it, which suggested he was learning. "Even an hour would
be great."

"Nope. Sorry, but I've gotta go." With all the important programs closed, I
did a control-alt-delete and logged off the office network. "Normally I'd
love the overtime," I lied, "but I've got plans for tonight."

One thing I had to say for Dave - he was persistent. "Not even an hour?"

"Can't do it, Dave." I rolled my chair away from the desk, forcing him to
side-step out of the way. "I've got too many things to get done tonight."

"Come on, just an hour." He watched as I zipped up my black bomber jacket
and grabbed my knapsack, but still refused to give up. "It'd be a huge
help."

The first few times he'd badgered me like this, I'd actually felt guilty and
had given in. The next few times I'd told him the truth - that I simply didn
't want to stay - and he had continued begging all the way the elevators.
Now, after enduring the same routine a hundred times, I'd learned that a
quick and simple lie was the only way out.

"Sorry, but I've got plans." Not giving him a chance to ask again, I began
weaving my way through the office and slipped out through the nearest
doorway.

<>

Ten minutes later I was stepping out of the change-room at the gym, having
exchanged my business attire for the comfort of a pair of shorts and a
T-shirt. Located less than a block away from the office, the gym was the
perfect place to stop after sitting behind a desk all day. Not only did it
give me a chance to work out my frustrations, but it was also helping me to
develop the kind of body I felt I should have been born with.

A closet transsexual for most of my life, I'd only recently starting getting
serious about making the changes I needed to be happy. Of course, I knew it
was going to take years of hormones and a lot of surgery to make that
happen, but working out certainly helped. While it might not give me the
breasts and vagina that my soul demanded, it WAS helping to trim my waist
and thighs into a more feminine shape.

And, if nothing else, it made me feel a little better about myself.

To my surprise, the gym was pretty busy for a Wednesday night. Fortunately,
there were still two Lifecycles available, so I hurried over to grab one
before somebody else beat me to it. As I climbed onto the seat i made my
usual selection - a thirty-minute random hill profile - but upped the
difficulty level from 8 to 9. It looked like I might have some trouble
finding another free machine later, so I figured I might as well burn a few
extra calories now.

Still, as I settled into the rhythm of the bike, I realised there were some
advantages to working out in a busy gym - and three of them were right
before me.

On the cross-trainer to my left was a beautiful brunette that I'd seen a few
times before. Tall and slim, with the body of a pin-up model, she was the
kind of girl who was strictly there to show off. Dressed rather
provocatively in a pair of tight white shorts and a black cut-off shirt, she
was always careful not to exercise too strenuously -- otherwise her little
shirt might slide up and reveal those delicious little B-cup breasts. Also,
whereas most girls tied their hair back to keep it from getting damp and
matted, she wore hers long and loose, making her chestnut tresses fan out
behind her as if she were on a photo-shoot.

I was sure she'd look absolutely stunning with a little makeup, but that was
pretty much where my interest stopped. My one attempt at casual conversation
had been met with a sneer, and the last time I'd seen her she had stormed
out in a huff after finding all the cross-trainers taken. Not exactly Miss
Personality.

By comparison, the woman on the stair-master next to her was an absolute
angel. A petite, athletic beauty with nice little breasts and a tight ass,
she was there every Monday and Wednesday night. Tonight she was wearing a
black sports bra, matching spandex shorts, and a black leather baseball cap
with her single braid of black hair dangling out the back. She had one of
the tightest, toned, tanned bodies I had ever seen, and she certainly worked
for it. Honestly, it was sometimes tiring just watching her, but she was
never too busy or breathless to spare a friendly hello.

We'd actually chatted a few times, but she was clearly out of my league. Of
course, the fact that her boyfriend could probably bench-press me with one
arm certainly didn't help! Still, she was somebody I could look up, and she
was definitely an inspiration.

Finally, jogging on the treadmill directly ahead of me was a woman I'd never
seen before, but sincerely hoped would become a regular. She was a six-foot
tall Amazon, dressed in a grey sports bra and matching sweatpants. A short
coppery perm covered the top of her head, but it gave way to a curly
ponytail that stretched all the way down to her incredible ass. At first,
all I'd been able to see were her incredibly well-muscled arms and legs,
which had me expecting some over-developed bodybuilder. When she turned to
adjust the volume on her CD-player, though, I completely forgot myself and
gasped in surprise.

My gawd - she was an Amazonian goddess with a classic hourglass figure! Not
only could this woman crush me without a thought, but her magnificent 40DD
breasts could just as thoughtlessly smother me. Her stomach was definitely
of the washboard variety - as I'd expected -- but her waist was almost
waspish for her size. I was literally in awe, and the quick wink of her
emerald green eyes told me she had noticed.

I don't know what it was about her, but I found myself powerless to look
away. It was as if that single backwards glance had cast some sort of spell
over me. Physically, she was well out of my league, and she looked to be at
least ten years older as well. While I might stare and admire a woman like
that from time to time, I was never silly enough to think something might