[Patreon Exclusive] GOING THROUGH CHANGES: Chapter 5 (Patreon)

Chapter 5

It was that same afternoon when I noticed my breasts for the first time.

I was getting undressed to get into the shower when I caught my reflection in the mirror and saw that my flat boyish chest was no longer flat. I had two subtle lumps, which jiggled slightly when I hopped up and down. At first I assumed they were man-boobs—from Aunt Fey’s butter-rich cooking—but I didn’t have fat anywhere else on my body. And my nipples seemed to be larger and perkier. I cupped my subtle lumps. They were soft. I’d never felt a woman’s breasts before, but I imagined they felt something like this.

A nausea began to swirl in my gut. I let go and shook my head quickly. “They’re just man-boobs,” I said to myself. And that’s probably all they were.

Though when I got out of the shower and went to put on a pair of shorts instead of the jeans I’d been wearing all week, I noticed something different: my hips were suddenly wider. I could hardly squeeze into my shorts, and once I had them on my body, they looked strange: stretched out at the hips, making them look baggy around my thighs. They were unflattering, even though they’d been my go-to shorts for two years.

I took them off and then stood in front of the mirror, completely naked. I couldn’t help but notice that my ball sack was smaller, and my cock was a bit smaller as well. I reached down and cupped my whole package. It fit neatly into the palm of a single hand. Had I always been able to do that? Was my body going through changes? For years I’d been expecting a growth spurt, but this was the opposite of what I thought that I would get. I thought I would get taller. I thought my cock would grow an extra inch or two. I thought my shoulders would get wider—not my hips!

My heart was suddenly racing. What if there was something wrong? What if my body was producing the wrong hormones? What if I was actually born with both girl and boy parts, and my parents never told me? I saw that on an episode of Grey’s Anatomy—some girl finds out that she was actually a boy. Apparently it’s a real thing and happens all the time. Maybe that would explain some of the strange things I’d been noticing lately. Maybe that would explain the smaller frame I’d always had.

I didn’t go to school the next day. Instead, I walked to town, sipping my coffee from my thermos, and then I walked back to the house. I didn’t even go into the café. It was a long, pointless walk, and I only made the walk because I was hoping that the fresh air would force some of the strange thoughts and urges out from my head. But the thoughts and urges were still there when I got back to the house. Aunt Fey was gone, out for the day as she usually was. So I decided to try on some of her clothes.

But before getting dressed up, I got into the shower and shaved my legs and crotch and armpits. I knew I would look stupid in all of those skirts and dresses if I had hair all over my legs and armpits. As for the crotch—I was just curious to see how I would look clean-shaven. I kind of liked the look.

I started my dress up session with a pink satin dress. It was soft and light and I could hardly feel it on my body. I liked the way it made my bum look, especially once I had my feet stuffed into a pair of black strappy heels. The heels fit surprisingly well. Apparently Aunt Fey and I had roughly the same sized feet.

I did a few walks around the house, feeling the light dress dancing on my skin. I could even feel my soft chest lumps bouncing up and down with each heeled step. When I was getting changed into my second dress, I took a moment to check the lumps out in the mirror. Maybe I was going crazy, but they looked even bigger today, as if they’d grown a few ounces overnight. Is that even possible?

The second dress was a blue floral dress. It extended down to my calves in the back but only my thighs in the front. I loved the way it swayed when I spun from side to side. And I really loved the way the deep cut down the chest made it look like I had real cleavage. The fabric was so soft that my nipples were obvious bulges. I ran my fingers through my hair, wishing my hair were long, so I could curl it and feel it cascading down my shoulders.

With the blue dress, I wore a pair of brown heels, which were a bit beachy, with braided straps. They were comfortable and easy to walk in. I set up my phone on a table to take a few pictures as I made a few poses. Then, as I admired the photos of myself, my stomach turned. I was looking at pictures of myself wearing women’s clothing and women’s high heels. My legs were shining, hairless—and worst of all: I actually kind of looked like a chick in the pictures, even with my short hair and makeup-free face.

I quickly deleted the pictures and got undressed. “What the hell are you doing?” I said aloud many times as I got Aunt Fey’s room back to the way I found it. I looked at the time and realized I’d been playing dress up for nearly three hours already. Maybe I really was losing my mind. But even if I was losing my mind, that didn’t explain the wide hips and the sudden existence of breasts on my chest—if that was what they were.

I was a man—I’d always been a man, even if I’d never been good at manly things like sports or cars or construction. I was still a guy. I couldn’t let this sissy crap take over my life.

Though now I was starting to toy with the idea of going to school as a girl in my head. Would everyone make fun of me? Maybe behind closed doors, but not to my face. Like the gym teacher said: I would be immune if I showed up as a transgender. And then I could spend the next few months dolled up, trying out different makeup styles and wearing different outfits. Maybe those girls would even accept me as a friend, the way they did when they thought that I was gay. Maybe, for the first time in a long time, I could have some friends. The idea brought a smile to my face, but it also brought a churning dread into my gut.

I was actually considering the preposterous idea—or was it an amazing idea? My heart was pounding and I found myself looking once again inside of Aunt Fey’s large closet. I found a plaid skirt and a cute grey sweater. The outfit went perfectly with a tiny pair of black flats. It was the perfect schoolgirl outfit—sure to get the attention of at least a few boys.

My heart stuttered again. Why did I care about getting the attention of boys? Why wasn’t I rejecting this idea like it was some terminal disease? Why did I feel so strangely excited? Maybe because I knew no one knew me. I could make up a new name and then cease to exist five minutes after graduation. As I looked into that closet, I was looking at complete freedom: a life I could do whatever I wanted with, with no repercussions. Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.