"See, you just gently squeeze just above the nipple and pull it a little, the milk squirts out!" I took hold of one of Betsy's nipples willing to giv... it a try and, using the same technique she had just demonstrated to me, began extracting the milk from her breast. "Hey," I said, "This is pretty easy, look at how much we've gotten already." Betsy leaned back in the chair and relaxed while I worked on her breasts. Every so often as I continued milking her I would ask, "Am I hurting you?". She returned to her room and gently andreverently spread out her old clothes, then laid on them and readpassages from the books she'd packed for the trip. She spread her legswide and remembered her life as a child and as a man, amused by howfamiliar yet distant it felt, unconcerned by how they'd never know whathappened to the man she'd been. Nostalgia drove her to perform thoselittle rituals of farewell, but by the time the moon hung large in theblack velvet sky she knew she was ready to leave. More

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