For a Girl, J.T. D'Arelli [reading fiction txt] 📗

to make erect. Instead his panties... my panties grew wet. Without my willing it, my hand strayed closer to my crotch to... Oh!

My mom called to me from outside the changing room. I stopped myself and struggled quickly into the jeans, noting the snugness of the fit around my hips. I also noted the gap between my tank top and the low-riding waistband of the girl's dungarees. My flawlessly flat tummy was now showing an inch or so of creamy skin in the fashion so popular with young women these days. Nevertheless, I could tell the jeans were a good fit for my changed form.

We bought several pairs along with some simple pullover blouses. Mom kept steering me towards some dresses. She held one out — a ruffled pink number.

"You'd look so sweet in this, honey. Don't you want to try it on?"

"No, Mom. It's just not me."

She looked disappointed. "Mom, I know you may have some mother-daughter shopping/bonding vision going here. But..." I actually grinned, "I'm not that kind of girl."

"Are you sure?"

"Very. I accept the basics — I'll wear a bra if for no other reason than to keep the boys away. But I'm not ready for anything else yet."

"Oh, Jack, I don't think you'll ever keep the boys away. But I understand. We'll take it slow."

Hearing the incongruity of my old name reminded me I hadn't told her my new one. I pulled my license out of my wallet and showed it to her.

"Ste... Stephanie?"

"It seems to work for some reason — I don't know why. I wasn't going to go with Sue — Johnny Cash already covered that one."

She was silent for a moment. "I don't think I really appreciated how hard this is for you. You're not Jack any more, are you?"

"No, I'm not. I'm mean... I was him and I still feel like him inside. But I know I can't live that life any more. The world's not going to change for me. I learned that at Girl School."

"This is so surreal. I have a daughter named Stephanie. Good Heavens, how are you coping with this?"

"I'm not sure, Mom. I don't like this at all, but I seem to be able to tolerate it. Not everyone does." I thought of Jerome.

"I knew you were strong, Ja... Stephanie. You're proving me right." She hugged me then, and I felt comforted by her faith in me.

We left the store and began the walk through the mall, back to the car. I refused to even look at the Victoria's Secrets shop. Mom didn't try to push me towards any more girly accoutrements, except for — a purse. I knew I had to have one — most girl's fashions didn't have pockets for wallets. I chose a very simple black style that would go with anything.

Now I was fully outfitted — a bra, snug jeans, a pastel blouse, flats and a purse. I was a match for every girl I saw. I still got far too many looks for my taste — but at least the women weren't criticizing my previously braless state and the boys were slightly less overt in their attentions. Slightly.

The other thing I was adjusting to was my new size. I'd lost 4 inches in height and about 30 pounds in weight. I was small again, like I had been before my growth spurt and I didn't like it one bit. Although I was still taller than the average girl, I no longer towered over them. Instead, nearly all the boys towered over me. I felt a sense of fragility that was very disconcerting. They're so much bigger than me! How could I ever stand up to them if they gave me trouble? I was glad when we made it to the car and began the drive home.

I remained quiet as we headed back — staring at my so- slender arms. I was still having difficulty accepting my new status — small, weak, vulnerable... female. I knew exactly how boys thought. I knew what they felt when they saw me. I knew how sex and desire dominated most of their waking moments. Hell, I still felt it myself. Part of me wanted to molest my own body. But if a boy wanted to take advantage of me, there was no way I could fight him off. Even the puniest geeks could overpower me, now.

As a guy, I'd grown up with the rough and tumble culture of physical competition. And until the last year or so (when I'd shot up in height), I'd been on the short end of the stick — so to speak. I'd been relieved to get my growth spurt and at the very least — if I got into some confrontation I couldn't handle — I could run away. There wasn't a kid in America who could outpace me once I got a lead on him.

But now I was back where I started — physically fragile again. Only this was even worse. Now I was a girl, and every boy would try to... or at least want to...

I found myself trembling at this line of thought.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" my mom asked me.

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"How do you face the fact that any guy could... hurt you? I mean, we're so... fragile in comparison to men. Any of them could... force themselves on us and we couldn't possibly stop them."

She thought about it for a moment. "You're really scared, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"You're scared of being raped."

Just to hear the word filled me with horror — since I knew it could now happen to me.

"Yeah — I'm scared of being..." I couldn't even say it.

"Good."

"What?!" I said in disbelief.

"Ja... Stephanie, contrary to TV and the movies, the majority of sexual assaults are not perpetrated by strangers. Usually, the girl knows her attacker — acquaintances, dates, step-family and so forth. Now, most men and boys, as you know, may have a strong desire for women but they will behave themselves. If you draw a firm line, they won't cross it. But there are a few men who will. The majority of women learn at a young age how to tell the difference. Sadly, some women never do learn and fall victim over and over again."

"But how does a woman tell — who's a good guy and who isn't?"

"Observation, instinct and experience. That's what makes me worried for you, honey."

I noticed that since I changed, my mother was calling me 'sweetie' and 'honey' a lot more. I never liked it before, but now... I didn't mind so much.

"The challenge, Stephanie, is that you are so lovely — you're a very, very attractive young woman. But you don't have the years of growing up as a girl to handle it. It's like putting someone who never drove a car into Manhattan traffic during rush hour."

Good analogy as we pulled up to our house. She continued. "So I'm glad to see you're scared. It's important for you to be thinking about these things. You don't have to live in fear — but you do need to be very cautious until you get used to the social consequences of being the pretty girl you are."

"There is one advantage," I responded. "As a former guy, I do know how teenage boys have sex-on-the-brain 24/7. So I'm not that na‘ve about what they're interested in."

"That's good. And you'll find, once you have a little practice, that you can control boys rather well." I flashed back to Erin's demonstration. "You just have to learn about the bad apples."

I went to my room and stowed away my purchases. Mom had already boxed up my old clothes. God, my underwear drawer sure looked different! And as I surveyed my room, I wondered if it would become more feminine over time. Certainly the poster of a bikini-clad Carmen Electra was not something the average teenage girl would pin on her wall.

Even more disconcerting was the thought that flashed briefly through my mind: how would I look wearing that bikini?

I heard a footstep behind. I turned.

It was Sue.

It's hard to say which one of us was more shocked. I hadn't expected to see her until school.

And she sure wasn't ready to see her boyfriend as a girl!

Both of us remained in stasis, frozen in placed as we stared at each other.

"Ja... Oh God! You're so... so... pretty!" she gasped.

"Sue? I didn't know you were going to be..."

"Your mother called me before she left to pick you up. I thought you might want to see a friendly face." She stepped up to me — I was only an inch taller than her now. She reached out her hand and gently touched my cheek. "You look so... feminine, and that hair — it's gorgeous! Is GB finished? It sure seems like it is. Are you really a girl... all the way?"

I blushed and hung my head.

"There's nothing to be ashamed about... Stephanie."

I looked back up at her.

"Your mom told me. Stephanie Lind. I like it!"

"Sue... I..."

"Shhh. I told you before how special you are to me. I'm here to help you — especially to get you through your first day of school. How 'bout we have a sleepover tonight?"

"You mean the two of us, sleeping in the same room?"

"Why not? We're both girls now — it's not like the town gossips can complain."

I considered it for about one-tenth of a second. Gee, my lovely girlfriend, spending the night with me in her pajamas. "Uh... sure!"

"Great," Sue responded. "Let's get some dinner."

It was a weird meal. The three of us were a bit tentative, for obvious reasons. Mom and Sue had always gotten along — in fact, Mom had hoped Sue (who was the class salutatorian) would influence me into pulling my grades up to the highest in the school.

But even though I was Jack on the inside, I was a whole new person on the outside. When Mom and Sue looked at me, they were seeing a stranger — a girl they'd never met before today. And even though intellectually they knew it was still me underneath it all — it was as if we had just been introduced for the first time. So our conversation was a lot more formal than it would have been otherwise.

But as you may have picked up, I have a fatalistic sense of humor, which I was liberally using to cope with all of this. My various jokes and sarcastic remarks actually helped us in a way — we didn't have to tiptoe around what had been done to me. I told them about the theory that GB was an artificial creation and I'd been deliberately infected. They were both outraged. I also told them a little about Girl School. They giggled at my description of the lingerie class.

"So now you know all about the frilly stuff we females have to wear," Sue smiled.

"I would have rather found out the way most boys do — in the back seat of a car," I smiled back.

We cleaned up the dishes. I spent a few minutes in the bathroom, brushing teeth and so forth. It was still surreal to see the girl in the mirror. I finished and turned the bathroom over to Sue. A short while later, she came into my bedroom.

"I really admire how you're handling things, Stephanie. If I suddenly turned into a boy, I don't know what I'd do."

"I'm hanging in there. But I'm also hanging out there," I said, pointing to my chest.

"You've got quite a body, Stephanie."

"I suppose. Seriously, I'm so glad you're here, Sue. It means a lot to me to have your support."

"You'll always have it. Are you going to school tomorrow?"

"I'm very nervous, but I think I will. I mean, it's not like staying home will make me any less of a girl. I might as well get it over with."

"Good for you. I'll ride in by your side — if anyone even looks cross-eyed at you, I'll..." She said that so