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

a pair of jeans, a simple pullover, sneakers and a set of the very basic underwear we'd bought yesterday. As for the second outfit...

My breath caught in my throat. There was a matching pink lace bra and panty set, a pretty red blouse and a... a skirt! A pleated, tartan kilt! Sue and Mom were smiling at me.

"You've got to be kidding," I said.

"Didn't you tell us about that girl Erin you met at GRS? She wore a skirt her first day," Mom replied.

"Yeah... but..."

"And didn't she say it helped her to fit in, to be treated more like a young woman?"

"But..."

"And aren't you just a little bit curious about what it would feel like?"

"Umm..."

Sensing I was weakening, Sue chimed in. "Stephanie — there's something else to consider. You are... were the first boy to get GB in Milford — but you may not be the last. You're popular and successful and you'll be out of here in a couple of months. The next boy might not be so lucky. He could be 15, a social outcast, and stuck for three more years in this school — all alone in the body of a girl. The way you handle your transition is going to set the stage for all the guys who come after you."

It was Mom's turn. "If you can convince everyone that you're truly female — and it shouldn't take long with that face — then it will go easier for the next person. Let's face it, Stephanie — this is a small town — one way or another, you're going to leave a legacy."

"Your mother and I have talked about this," Sue said. "The choice is yours. But you should know I'm going to wear a skirt myself today. Why not join me?" She smiled winningly.

Then they left me alone with the two outfits. Decision time. Yes, Erin had argued a persuasive case for dressing in a feminine manner right from the start. And yes, I'd already accepted the necessity of wearing a bra. But that was just it — necessity. I had to wear bras to protect my very sensitive breasts and to keep the boys from drooling any more than... normal.

But wearing a skirt was optional — which took me to another plane of womanhood. Unlike a bra, I could ignore dresses and so forth. So if I voluntarily put on a skirt, it meant that I was saying to the world — "I'm happy being a girl!"

Was I ready for that? Not really. But then I thought of Sue's comment about the next boy to get GB. She was right — since I was the first, my experience would shape his. If everyone thought of me as some androgynous freak — then I would be treated accordingly. I only had a short time left at this school — I could tough it out no matter what. But the next guy might not be so lucky.

On the other hand, if everyone saw me as a true girl — inside and out, then that next GB victim would have an easier time of it.

Also, I've been a runner for a long time. That means dealing with a lot of physical and mental pain. I can be a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.

Correction: I can be a stubborn bitch.

Besides, I WAS very curious.

What the hell. I picked up the pretty pink panties and stepped into them. The white lace caressed my smooth thighs as I pulled them into place. Oh! The sensation of the silky soft nylon sent a tingle all over my hips. I traced a finger over the satiny fabric and felt a shiver. Wow! That was certainly different from 'Jockey for Her' briefs. God, my crotch was so smooth and flat! I then strapped on the matching bra, lavished with lace, placing my breasts in the soft cups and working the front clasp gingerly.

I took a quick look in the mirror. It was remarkable how I appeared even more girly in the frilly underwear — and my, it was sexy. The panties were sheer enough to show a hint of the inverted triangle that was my pubic 'bush'. I didn't have a lot of hair down there, but it did follow the natural female pattern.

I pulled the blouse over my head — and over my breasts. Then came the moment of truth. I put on the skirt — a little awkwardly at first — working the elastic waistband all the way to my belly button. It was a dark pleated plaid kilt that fell to about two inches above my knee. Not very short by teenage girl standards — but it still felt as though I was indecently dressed. White knee socks, black flats and my purse completed the ensemble.

Another trip to the mirror. God, I was cute! The classic picture of an adorable schoolgirl — and I'm her? I stared at myself — it was stunning how the clothes dramatically enhanced my femininity. What was also stunning was the brief sense of delight I took in my appearance. I felt a strange fluttering sensation in my tummy as I realized part of me was starting to like my new look. It felt... special.

Special in a way that I'd never felt as a boy.

There was a knock at the door. Mom and Sue entered. I looked at them nervously.

Mom spoke first. "Oh honey, you look delightful."

"That outfit is definitely you," Sue chimed in — looking pretty hot in her own short blue skirt.

"It's hard to believe I have a lovely daughter."

"Mom, is it just me, or are you taking a bit of pride in the fact that I might be cute?"

"Well, it is kind of a nice reflection on me, too."

I responded. "Don't worry, Mom — you still got it, and then some."

"Stephanie, I'm really proud of you myself," Sue added. "Just one more thing." She stepped up to me and began to lift the hem of my kilt. I nearly said "eek!" She told me to relax and she fastened a large safety pin in the classic preppie manner I'd seen other girls do.

"We'll have to work on accessorizing later — but you're definitely going to be a hit. You look great. Let's get the bus."

With a final hug from my mom, we headed outside.

"Oh, and Sue?" my mother stopped us with an impish expression.

"Yes, Mrs. Lind?"

"Make sure she keeps her knees together. We don't want any boy getting a peek at her panties — they're so pretty she might be tempted to show them off."

"Mother!" I cried out, flaming red with embarrassment.

Sue laughed. "I'll teach her how to sit like a lady." Mortified, I headed for the corner while they both chuckled.

God, it was strange to wear a skirt! I felt as though I had no pants on — which of course was true. When I stood still, I couldn't sense any clothing below the waist. I was so... exposed! And the breeze gently swirling up my kilt didn't help.

Sue saw me clutching my hem. "Don't worry, Stephanie — you're perfectly dressed."

For a girl. "I feel half-naked!"

"That's because you are. We both are," she said, holding out her own skirt. "But you'll get used to it. Of course, I've been wearing dresses since I was little — so I've had more time. Admit it, though — it's fun, isn't it?"

"No! Well... maybe."

She took my hand. "You're a pretty girl in a pretty outfit, Stephanie — and you've got me by your side. You'll be fine."

The bus approached and she released my fingers. I realized a little sadly that we couldn't hold hands in public any more. At least not in Milford.

New Girl in School

We got onto the bus. I had more butterflies in my stomach than ever before. I'd been riding this bus for 10 years now — Otto the Busdriver Man (who was also a local farmer) had been behind the wheel every day. He just stared at me with an amazed expression.

One duplicated by every kid on the bus. Even though I'd changed sex and looked quite different, most of the kids already knew I'd been hit with GB. Plus, this was my house — so they were able to deduce who I was very quickly. All conversation stopped as Sue and I took our seats. I made sure to smooth my skirt under me. Everyone turned to stare and I was very grateful for my friend's presence. Then the whispers started.

"Holy... is that really Jack?"

"Jesus — he sure looks like a girl!"

"Get a load of that chest."

"It's not fair — how come he gets to be cuter than me?"

"She's... I mean he's a babe!"

"Nice legs."

"I wonder where she got that pretty blouse?"

"Damn — he's even hotter than his girlfriend."

"He's giving me a semi — does that mean I'm gay?"

"I love her hair — she must use a really good conditioner."

It was impossible to ignore all the comments. But I took heart in that no one seemed to think I was a boy in drag. At least they acknowledged I was female on the outside. Of course, looking at my full breasts pushing out my top and my creamy thighs projecting from my hem, it was an easy call.

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 me (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 - 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