Oh...

Am I to take it that you have patched things up with Mephisto? I question the wisdom of that decision my dearest toby. Have you forgot the whole carpet-and-bathtub incident? So soon?

As a new recruit to camp-booby I feel I have the authority to condemn her behaviour outright. She possesses none of those virtues pertaining to womanhood, none of that bounciness, none of that giggliness, none of that chattyness, none of that breeziness. I for one can understand her position, for I too find the norms of womanhood like a weight on my breasts. But one must be virtuous! And as for the fur, there I have no excuses!

Affectionately,

Gertrude.

P.S. Yet to give her her due, she does have beautiful fangs.

Dear Professor,

You, of all people, should know well enough not to mention the dimensions of your fleshy compact discs over the interweb! I certainly did not! Now, my beloved Mephisto is baring her beautiful fangs at me. She is, at this very moment, leaping from that wretched matrimonial bar stool. Her mouth is wide open; hungry for my blood. As I type this letter to you, oh Gertrude, my wife's succulent fangs have just punctured my jugular and in an ecstasy I get woozy... and all this due to your grandiloquent reference to your large areeeeeeee..........

TOBY!

I will not have my newly fashioned bosom talked about in public! I overheard someone who had eavesdropped on a conversation Jennifer (that horrible big-calved woman) was having with Helen (that pestilential cow) about you. Apparently you have been telling everyone down there that I have large areolae. I will have you know that no one has ever seen my not-overlarge areolae except my pet goldfish, once and on a particularly tenebrous afternoon.

Hurt,

G.

Dearest Toby,

Your lascivious letter has perplexed me. I am somewhat (40%) incensed that you have banished me from my manhood. However I am more than a little (55%) intrigued and, dare I say it, giggly by your gentle and gentlemanly words. And more over I am even modestly (a precise 25%) inclined to retort with lady-like words.

Lest you think my new bountiful form has addled with my arithmetical skill, I realize that the sum total is somewhat more than your standard 100%. Yet from my rough calculations and after prolonged consideration of the unquestionable and age old medical fact that emotions are housed 'in one's breast', my new and more anteriorly prominent physique can house 20% more emotion - 10% worth in each, lets say, appendage.

Yours blushingly,

Gertrude

x

Dearest Professor,

(Because you are still a Professor aren't you?) From the mountains of Olympus I would swoop down to grasp your bosom out of the fiery pits of Hades. Your new, and more spherical, form sends me into an ecstatic delirium. Your engorged thorax brings delight to the previously baron wasteland of gehenna. It bodes well that you are romped by your very own hormones. 'Tis but a preparation for our next friendly rendezvous.

I am,

Yours in waiting,

Toby

Toby,

I find myself bloated, in pain, thinking of chocolate, crying in spells, tender, irritable, irritating, complaining, moaning, weeping again, thinking of Twilight, engorged thoracically and southernly diminished.

Is this all part of you plan?

Yours,

G

(G for Gertrude)

P.S. Sob, moan and Oh!

Dear Toby,

You have now sunk to depths Hades itself will not accommodate, depths unimaginable by the most perverted mind in the underworld, depths so low as only to be described as very, very low.

How dare you? What gall you must have! And how green! With what nerve you must be endowed with! With what shamelessness you must be filled! Oh! What monstrous hideousness you have outraged me with! What dance you must have triumphed with! What a spectacle you must have made! Oh! How oft I wonder what dress you were wearing when you received the news. And with what shoes? With whom were you? With which language did you hear it? Must you be so insufferable?

Oh! I weep, as I endlessly due now, ravaged by hormones I knew not before.

This battle goes to you. I concede.

Yours,

The newly feminized Prof. G. Montgomary,

Gertrude.

P.S. Oh!