He Wasn't Even A Boy! - Chapter 10

 

OTHER CHAPTERS | ALL STORY LIST

(Audio)

One of the kids in front of us turned around. It was Arleen Larkin, an attractive girl from one of the farms down the road. She was the quiet type, shy, fond of wearing dresses a lot a very feminine young woman. 

She wore her wheat- colored hair at shoulder-length, and she had a more rounded figure than I (it's still hard to believe I have a figure!) We'd been bus buddies for years, but I didn't know anyone who was really close to her.  She stared at me in wonder for a moment. 

"Jack, you look so great!" There was a delighted expression on her face, as if she were glad this had happened to me.  

"Thanks, I'm still trying to figure it all out."  "Well, I think you're beautiful! And I love your outfit. It's so cool you wore a skirt on your first day. How do you like being a girl?" She was almost gushing.  "How do YOU like being one?" I answered back. 

 "Yeah, I see what you mean. What I meant was, do you like it better than being a boy?"  I paused for a moment. "Not yet, Arleen. I still miss the old me. But I think I can live with this."  

"I know you can, Jack. You just need to give it a little time."  She continued to ask questions all the way in, she appeared actually giddy over my new form. It was remarkable that I'd captured more of her attention today than I had in the previous year. 

What was going on here?  There was no time to dwell on it as we arrived at the school. With my heart in my throat and Sue by my side, I went into the large building. And everywhere I went, I was gawked at. 

At first, the kids were just checking me out, sort of a "who's the new girl?" matter. But as people put two and two together, I seemed to be on center stage. I also felt as if I were a walking mute button; I silenced all talk for a 20-foot radius around me.  

Sue took my arm, at least we could still touch each other; had we both been guys, it would have been hands off. A little shaky, we made it to the administrative office. The GRS staff had consulted with the school, and the paperwork for gender and name change had already been set up. 

But I did need to sign some forms and so forth. The two secretaries were apparently delighted with my femininity. 

"Isn't she just the cutest thing?" I overheard one say.  Mixed feelings here, I didn't like being a cute thing, and yet.  I also saw the principal, Mr. Grogan. He came out of his office while I was finishing up.  

"So you're Stephanie, now?" he said. I felt a little uncomfortable as he looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my breasts and my bare legs. I suddenly wished I weren't wearing a skirt. 

There was just something about the way he, well, 'leered' would be too strong a word, but it seemed like that anyway.  

"Yes, Mr. Grogran," I replied, a bit intimidated.  

"You're the first person I've ever seen who's gone through GB. You certainly turned out to be a lovely little lady. Yes, very lovely indeed," he said slowly, creeping me out even more.  

He was a tall man with a full head of dark hair. I'd heard some of the female teachers refer to him as a handsome guy, but the girls said he made them feel uneasy. I could now see why. Maybe I can accept boys drooling over me. After all, I used to be one myself, so I can have a little sympathy for them. But a grown man? Ugh,  He continued. 

"Well, young lady, I know you're going through a lot of adjustments. If you ever need to talk, my door is always open."  

"Thank you, Mr. Grogan." Sue quickly took my arm again and pulled me out the door. I could still feel him watching me as I walked away.  

"That was bizarre," I said to Sue.  "He's always been that way. He's never touched anyone as far as I know, but it still feels."  

"Degrading?" I finished.  

"Yeah. How come some men are like that, Stephanie?"  "I think they just never finish growing up. One thing's for sure, I'm going to steer clear of him."  

"I guess your feminine intuition is kicking in."  I smiled at that. "God knows I need it the way I look now."  

While walking to my locker, I was still adjusting to my very female outfit. The silky panties caressed my butt in a quite stimulating way. 

The lace on the leg bands tickled me near some very personal places. Boxers had never captured my attention like this! And I continued to be intrigued by the skirt, the way it swirled around my thighs, the hem gently swaying as I walked. 

I felt this sensation of being open, somehow. I can't really describe it, but wearing a skirt made me feel more girly, cuter, and more vulnerable all at the same time.  I did notice with relief that I was adopting some of the mannerisms I'd seen on other females. 

I constantly reached up to brush my hair back from my face, a routine that was becoming automatic. I occasionally tugged on the straps of my bra, gently stretching across my slim shoulders. 

My hips swayed just by walking. I didn't have to try to move like a girl; I just did it. My arms swung a bit wider than before to account for my new anatomy. I still felt a little clumsy in this body, despite its natural grace, but I did appear like a real young woman. Hardly my choice, of course, but I felt less freakish than before. 

You may think it odd that I truly wanted to act like a girl, but my goal was simple: just fit in.  Next to my locker, I spotted Becky and Hal. Unlike before, they weren't holding hands, though they appeared to be having a spirited conversation. They turned to look at us.  

"Ja, Jack?" Becky said uncertainly.  "In the flesh," I responded. "Albeit a little differently shaped."  

"Good Lord, you're adorable!" 

You know, that reaction was becoming less bothersome to me as time went by. "How do you like it so far?"  "I'd like it a lot more if this damn bra didn't dig into me so much," I said, struggling once again with the straps.  

"Ah, the price of femininity," Becky commiserated. "But with a chest like yours, it's par for the course."  

"I'd rather be a couple of strokes under par than over it. How do you all ever get used to these things?"  

"Years of practice. You never got a chance to wear a training bra, so for you it's like going from fifth grade to the varsity team in one weekend."  Meanwhile, Hal just gazed at me, stunned. It was so odd to have to stare up at him now. I saw an expression in his eyes I'd seen before when he'd looked at Becky.  

Uh, oh.  She grabbed one of my arms, and Sue took the other. "Time for some girl talk, Hal, no boys allowed," Becky said as they hustled me down the hall. I thought I saw a look of wistfulness on Hal's face, and I was amazed to feel a hint of smugness as we both realized I'd just gained entrance to a private club he could never join.  

We arrived at a quiet corner where I explained my name change and gave Becky an abbreviated version of my Girl School experiences.  "I'm impressed, Stephanie. You seem to be handling this so well. I told you it would work out."  

"Becky, not to get your hopes up, but the jury's still out. I'm not sure about anything yet, especially how I'm going to pee while in this getup." 

 "Don't worry. You'll figure it out. Speaking of which, Sue, how the heck did you get her into a skirt?"  

"Oh, just a little peer pressure," Sue replied. 

"She won't admit it, but I think she's starting to like it."  

Both girls turned to me. "Well, I wouldn't go that far, let's just say I'm giving it a chance."  

"You go, girl," Becky said, half mocking, half serious. "Remember, I'm on your side, too."  With that, I went to homeroom. Everyone froze in place, gazing at me while I took Jack's chair. The attendant called my old name, and I had to correct her in that breathy, little-girl voice I'd acquired. 

The usual whispers began. While sitting there, I noticed a boy a couple of rows ahead had bent over to tie his shoe. He seemed to be taking a long time, until I realized what was going on.  

He was peeking up my skirt! Being a veteran of such techniques in my younger days, I knew how easy it was to catch a 'money shot' if a girl was not alert. Which was the problem? My knees were a few inches apart. Not much, but enough to give him a thrill. Instantly, I crossed my legs, blushing the whole time. All right, I will admit it.

 I was beginning to enjoy wearing pretty panties. But there was no way I wanted to model them for the guys!  From that point forward, I kept my thighs practically welded together under my skirt. 

During the next two classes, I got lots of comments from the other (other!) girls about my looks, my clothes, and so on. Most of them were positive; in fact, a surprising number of girls seemed to believe my transformation was actually cool. Their attitude was that going from boy to girl could be construed as a promotion. 

I was a long way from that; I still felt as though I'd been downsized. Literally.  On the other hand, the guys were more distant socially, that is. It was for sure that they were checking me out intensely. But I could tell they were rattled by it all. 

And I knew why. On the one hand, I was an attractive young woman, and they were attracted. On the other hand, they knew I used to be a guy, so there was that whole homophobia thing going on.  

Fine with me. I wanted the boys to give me some space. By this point, I was beginning to enjoy some of the social aspects of being a girl. The clothes were awkward, but kind of fun. 

I did seem to be connecting with the other ladies of the class in a deeper way. And the bond I was forming with Sue and Becky was nearly exhilarating. 

But I remained intensely intimidated by my sexuality. I didn't even want to deal with my vagina myself, let alone have any boys go there. And let there be no mistake, I knew exactly what the boys wanted from me.  

Actually, that's not fair. When I thought back to my prior romance with Sue, the magic of being in love with a girl was much more than just physical. And I'd spent enough time with guys like Hal to know that many of them really did want a relationship that went beyond fumbling around the couch. 

There were guys who could emotionally act as if they were something more than a collection of teenage hormones.  

But despite that awareness, I just wasn't ready. Hell, I didn't know if I could even be aroused by a boy! After all, last night I'd attempted to seduce my girlfriend, I was still. enthusiastic about women's bodies despite having one of my own.  Between classes, I endured another initiation into femininity, a trip to a public bathroom. 

I stood outside the door marked with the doll-like representation of a female. Interesting how the gender distinction in clothing is so profound that using the icon of a figure in a dress was sufficient to identify the facility as 'for women only'. Even more interesting, as I realized how universal the symbol was, even overseas.  I took a deep breath and entered the bathroom. 

This was my first trip to forbidden territory last week. I could have gotten detention for walking in here. Immediately, I was struck by how the place smelled a lot better than the boy's restroom. 

And then there were only stalls. As I moved toward the center, one girl was at the mirror, working on her makeup. She smiled at me as she walked out, no shriek of protest at a boy sneaking in. To her, I was simply another girl.  

That fact was driven home as I looked at the infamous 'gumball machine,' the term I'd heard girls use to describe the maxi-pad dispenser. Just like an arcade game, a quarter a play. 

I stared at the small vending contraption in wonder, realizing how far I'd come across the great divide. Up to now, I hadn't really thought all that much about my periods.

 I mean, I knew I was going to have them, but only in the abstract. Now, though, the stark reality of my impending womanhood was right in front of me.  With a shuddering breath, I entered one of the stalls. 

Obviously, this was going to be different. I slowly lifted the hem of my plaid skirt, revealing those ever-so-cute panties I was wearing. 

Struggling, I held the skirt up with my forearms while I hooked my thumbs in the lace waistband, sliding my pretty underpants down my thighs. I sat, careful to keep my skirt raised. The position was faintly humiliating; no one was there to see me, of course, but I still felt embarrassed. Skirt hiked up to my waist, underwear pulled down, not much dignity in that.  

I finished, wiped, etc, and went to wash my hands. In the mirror, I gazed at the utterly female face reflected back. This was my life now. I'm this girl.  God, how did this happen to me?  

You have to understand, I'd embarked on an uncertain journey towards mental girlhood. With GRS and also with Sue, Becky, and my Mom, I felt as if I were making progress in accepting who I now was. 

But in moments like these, when I was alone, doing something new and uniquely female, I backslid a little. The sense of loss, of Jack, of the boy I once was, seemed to strike me harder whenever I was confronted with additional proof of my new role as a girl.  

My eyes grew moist, and I sniffled a bit. I guess I just missed my old life.  I took a second deep breath and headed out the door. I was also dealing with another new hassle, my purse. I wasn't used to carrying the damn thing I kept leaving it behind and racing back to get it before the next ball rang. 

Other than my wallet, I didn't even have anything in it. Although (as my recent trip to the restroom had demonstrated), I'd have to stock it up sometime in the next 28 days.  I had another interesting encounter in between classes. 

Our discus thrower, Big Mark Williams (BMW), all six feet six of him, came over to my locker. If he'd seemed large before, he now loomed over me as if he were Andre the Giant. The shadow he cast felt like an eclipse. 

At best, I came up to his chest. I tilted my head way, way back and met his eyes.  He checked me out from head to toe (in a nice way), smiled kindly, and reached one hand (the size of my head) to pat my shoulder. 

"Looking good, dude." Then he lumbered off.  Now that was cool. No mocking, no leering, just a friendly appreciation for my new appearance. Guys, if you want to make a girl feel at ease (especially if she used to be a boy), that's the way to do it. 

That led me to my next challenge: gym class. For me, physed was rather redundant I got far more exercise during track practice. 

But it beat sitting around some study hall, so I always went through the routine.  Not so routine today. I squared my shoulders, tried to calm my racing heart, and slow my breathing.  Then I walked into the girls' locker room.  

Mute-button time again. Complete silence as I made my way to the locker I'd been assigned. The room was laid out just like the boy's side. My locker was painted the same color. The benches were mounted in the usual place.  Yep, just like before. 

Except for the thirty or so half-naked girls around me. I tried very hard to keep my eyes to myself, despite the astonishing variety of female bodies on display. The last thing I wanted was to find myself ostracized further by causing the other girls to feel as though I was drooling over them.  

Which, of course, I was. Some of these ladies had been the target of admiring glances since my buddies and I were in the sixth grade. And now I was seeing them in their underwear. It took all my mental discipline to focus my eyes on my locker and the simple task of changing clothes. I slipped slowly out of my skirt and pulled off my top.  

A few girls had actually covered themselves when I came in, and were clearly still reluctant to reveal their bodies to me. The whispers started again.  "I can't believe they let him in here." 

 "Yeah - but isn't that bra and panty set cute?"  

"Jesus, do you think they're real?"  

"Nah, she stuffs. I'm sure of it."  

"Well, she sure doesn't look like a boy."  "I don't care, they should have kicked him out of school. What a pervert  trying to act like he's a real girl."  Fuck that. I'd had enough. My turn.  

"All right, everybody, a moment of your time, please!" I had every head facing me instantly. Still standing in my matching pink underwear, I continued, speaking firmly in my soft soprano. 

 "I know some of you may not want me here. If it's any consolation, I don't want to be here either. 

Milford has lots of very pretty girls, but it's not like I volunteered for a lifetime of periods just to sneak a peek at you. Y'all are cute, but nobody's that cute. The fact is, we're stuck with this. So we might as well live with it. I promise not to make a pass at anybody in this room. In turn, maybe you can help me figure out what to do if the boys make passes at me. 

Besides, I don't have anything you don't have."  And with a theatrical flourish, I took off my bra.  

This was a bit of dirty pool, for I had a secret weapon. Two of them, to be precise. There was a whooshing sound, dozens of sudden intakes of breath. I knew from the comments I'd received at Girl School that GB females had rather special chests. I'd confirmed that upon seeing Sue and catching brief glimpses of the girls in this room. 

I'm not trying to be arrogant here, but I knew my breasts were exceptional compared to the average teenager. As a "C" cup, I was large, but not overly endowed (for which I was very grateful). And my breasts were perfectly formed, like wide-rimmed champagne glasses. So between their size, shape, and firmness, I knew I had quite a pair.  

The other girls stared at my breasts with looks of pure jealousy. And for the first time, I took a little pride in having the damn things. 

They sure were a conversation stopper! As I reached for my sports bra, I made certain the smugness I felt was not revealed on my face. Standing there in just a very skimpy pair of sheer panties, my female sex could not possibly be denied.  

Which was exactly what I'd intended. I would have jumped at a chance to go back, but if I had to be a girl, I didn't want anybody doubting it. 

As GRS had taught me, sexual ambiguity doesn't play well particularly in a hick town like Milford. By the end of this day, the thirty girls in my gym class will have reported every detail of my new body to all the other girls in the school. And that would make my transition a lot easier. 

Of course, the guys will end up getting the same report, but there wasn't a lot I could to do about that.  I pulled on my sports bra, noting how it flattened my chest and seemed to keep me from flopping around as much. 

The other girls resumed their normal discussions, although I noticed Arleen Larkin, my bus buddy, was still casting glances at me. There was a look in her eyes that was vaguely familiar, and I began to get a little suspicious.  The class was volleyball. 

As I played, I noticed a little less hot dogging and a little more team spirit amongst the girls than when I was a boy. I was still settling into my body, so I felt awkward. I kept jumping for blocks I could have made before, but were now too short to reach. 

The net was so high! Still, I was able to help my side to victory. Between that and my locker room performance earlier, some of the girls started to relax around me. 

A few were a bit hostile yet, but things were thawing somewhat. I got a lot of curious questions about whether I liked being a girl better, and so forth. I was noncommittal,  told them I was still trying to figure it all out.  Which was true, as far as it went. But I was also engaging in some diplomacy. 

If I projected a morose, bitter, doom-and-gloom attitude, the other girls might find it insulting. I didn't want to give the impression that I believed being a girl was degrading.  

Besides, was it really so bad? Nothing truly terrible had happened to me so far. The whole thing was surreal, yes, but not awful. As we left the court, I saw Coach Bradford. I ran over to him.  "Hello, Stephanie."  

"You recognize me, Coach?"  

"I'd know that stride anywhere. You sure do,"  I filled in the blank. "I know," I sighed. "I'm cute."  He laughed. "Actually, I was going to say you sure do need a new uniform. We've got our next meet against Oxton tomorrow. I expect you to be there."  

"Coach, I'm not sure if I."  

"Remember your promise, Stephanie? You said you'd do one competition under the clock. I'm holding you to that."  

I was very nervous about running again. I already knew the verdict; my miler days were finished. Volleyball was a subjective thing, but the stopwatch was not. Once I did the race, the proof of my physical inferiority as a female would be complete.  But I had promised him. 

"Okay."  

"Good. Then let's get you your new outfit."