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

form very well. And the silky feel of my nylon panties sent a constant, pleasant tingle across my entire body.

Now I'm not saying I liked being a girl better. I still didn't want anything to do with sex this way. And I sure as hell didn't enjoy the frailty of a female. It's just that, in and of itself, my vagina was... cool.

On the other hand, there were the breasts. Yes, I'd enjoyed showing them off in gym class — but it was still unnerving to have them. They were just so... there! At the corner of my eye, or when I leaned over something or someone, or just when walking around. The colloquial 'headlights' really did apply. Their presence was a ceaseless distraction — not only for me, but for the boys, too. The brief conversations I had with the guys were frustrating — for I only got eye contact with them 50 percent of the time.

That in turn reminded me of how it was harder for a woman to be taken seriously in any given environment. She could be at the office, making a professional presentation — and most of the guys would be thinking: "She's right. And nice rack!" Now I was in the same boat.

I was starting to understand the crucial definition breasts made for a girl's sexuality. A guy's manhood was hidden — if size did matter, it was only in bed. But a girl's chest — my chest — was out there for all to see. If she was too small, she wasn't sexy enough. Too big, and she was a slut. But whatever her size, her very womanhood was displayed for everyone's judgment — in a way that a boy never experienced.

That fact was driven home when I rounded another corner and had my first female encounter with Andy Marks. My heart leapt into my throat. He was accompanied by his usual goons - today I'll call them Pol and Pot. Of course their initial reaction was to stare at my breasts. Then they looked at my face and recognition dawned.

"All right! Big, tough Jack is now a little girl," he exulted. "Isn't she cute, boys?" Pol and Pot grunted assent. "And wearing a skirt on her first day. You were definitely born to be a cunt. Stephanie, is it? A good, girly name for you."

They had me cornered in the standard formation. They were so tall! No one in the corridor, either. Remember what I said a few moments ago about liking my vagina? Forget it. I wanted my old body back. Never had I felt so vulnerable.

"You sure turned out to be sexy, Stephanie. Are you a horny little bitch yet? I hear GB girls start getting wet for guys pretty quick. Why don't we check your panties and see? Boys..." Pol and Pot reached for my skirt. I fought to keep the hem against my legs and breathed a sigh of relief when the bell sounded and the hallway filled with students.

As the three left me, Marks took one last shot. "I know you're just dying to have me, girl. Don't worry — you'll get your chance."

I raced for the bathroom, grateful to retreat to a females- only environment. Trembling, I tucked my hair behind my ears, washed my face, and tried to get calm. Jesus, that had been scary! If they'd had more time with me, who knows what would have happened? I remembered the discussion with my mother. She'd warned me that some guys were dangerous. But I'd already understood that about Marks and his cohorts. Yet the knowledge wouldn't have helped me. They could have...

I burst into tears. Standing at the mirror, I couldn't help it. A couple of girls came up to me and asked me if I was all right. Apparently, they didn't realize I was once Jack. They both patted my shoulder.

"Boy trouble?" one inquired.

"You could say that," I managed to reply.

"Don't worry. He'll see the light. If he doesn't, he's not worth your time."

I didn't bother to correct her. But I was touched by the concern she and her friend were showing me — a complete stranger. There's something about this sisterhood thing I was really beginning to appreciate. A guy crying in a boy's bathroom would have gotten his ass kicked. I smiled and thanked them.

It took me the rest of the day to get myself back under control. I went to track practice for the first time in a week. Changing in the girl's locker room wasn't so dramatic now. Besides, this was a different set of kids. I knew them all well, for they'd been my teammates for years. Sue did not run track, but Becky did. She was adorable in her flowered blue underwear and we chatted a bit as we finished getting dressed. I told her about my first day — but I didn't talk about the encounter with Andy Marks. I felt somehow... ashamed.

We headed out to the oval and there I saw Hal for the first time since this morning. It was very weird being around him and I could tell he felt the same way. We spoke little as we went through our stretching routine. Good lord, I was limber! It seemed as if I were made out of rubber. I could reach positions only dreamed of before. I smiled a little at the ease my body had in the poses. Maybe I'll take up yoga.

I did a light workout. No speed drills or fartlek (if you don't know the term, don't worry.) I ran with Becky for most of the laps — our strides mirroring each other. It occurred to me that I would be racing against her tomorrow. After all, she was the school record holder for the Milford girls in the mile. But I resisted the temptation to challenge her. I was going to run one last meet for Coach Bradford.

Then I was going to quit the team.

After practice, Hal came up to me.

"How are..." I started.

"Are you..." he started.

We paused for an awkward moment. This was silly! Hal had been my best friend for years. We'd shared so much, from school to running to girls. Hell, I loved him. Of course, in a million years, I never would have told him that — guys don't communicate that way. But there was no peer I was closer to than him. So there was no reason for our friendship to change.

Yet it had.

My breasts had come between us — metaphorically speaking. Hal was not leering at me in the least, and there was a genuine look of concern on his face. He cared about me, I could tell. But still, it was different now.

Because he saw me as attractive.

And worse, as I looked up at his ever so blue eyes, with his chiseled chin and thick dark hair — I think I saw him as attractive, too.

Oh God. There was a sensation of butterflies in my stomach as I felt, for a fleeting moment, a girl's desire — for a boy.

"Are you doing okay... Stephanie?" he asked. "I've been so worried about you."

"I'm... I'm alright."

"Don't take this the wrong way — but you look great."

I knew what he meant — it was kind of like how Mark Williams had greeted me earlier today. No drooling, just respectfully admiring the view.

"Thanks."

"Are you going to run against Oxton tomorrow?"

"Yeah — I promised the coach one race. I'll keep it."

"That's good. Oxton's got an excellent team. We need to be at full strength."

"My full strength isn't what it used to be, Hal."

"Maybe. But you've still got guts. I can't even imagine going through everything that you are. I mean, wearing a bra? Or having a... And yet you're here — part of the team. One thing's for sure, you're as tough as ever."

"Yeah, it takes a real man to be a girl." The comment was so ludicrous we burst out laughing.

As we walked back to the locker rooms, we managed to resume some of our old banter. It was almost normal — except for the sideways glances we kept casting, when we thought the other person wasn't looking. He, checking out my chest — and me, checking out his... legs. I was strangely interested in the muscles on his thighs. Oh my...

We arrived at the gym — and there our routine came to an end. I didn't join him in the locker room — instead, I walked over to the girl's side. Where I belonged.

While heading home, I found myself fascinated by how I was fascinated by Hal's body. I shouldn't have been the least bit excited. And yet he made me feel, if not outright horny, at least... intrigued. I fought to ignore the thought.

I arrived home to find my mother eagerly awaiting.

"How was your day, sweetie?"

"Well, a boy tried to peek up my skirt, I think the principal is a letch, I flashed the girls in my gym class and guys are beginning to turn me on."

Mom laughed. "You know, honey, that sounds like a typical day for a girl."

I had to laugh, too. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

"So are you really thinking about boys?"

"Not exactly. I mean, I don't want to go out with anybody — but... I don't know, Mom. I guess it's just that I see the potential with boys — even if I'm not ready to act on it. It's so confusing. But I still like girls, too."

"You're probably about the same I was when I was eleven. I knew boys were out there — and I was starting to wonder about them — yet I didn't want to go near them. Then again, I did."

"That's exactly where I am, Mom. Only for me — I still feel repelled by the idea. I used to BE a boy — I shouldn't want to be WITH them. It almost seems... gay."

"Oh, honey — I don't think labels like gay and straight can have any meaning for you. Your body has its needs and you'll just act on them when you're ready. Will you be with boys or with girls? Only time can tell. What did they say at GRS?"

"They told me I would probably be attracted to boys."

"That's how I see it. You've got a healthy teenage girl's body and if you become like I was at your age, you won't be able to stop dreaming about boys. It's not like you choose to want them — you just do."

"Yuck."

She smiled. "Physically, you're a 17 year-old female. Mentally, you're a 17 year-old male. But your mind is switching over. From a psychological perspective, you're probably a girl between 8 and 10 years old."

"I don't believe it."

"Let me prove it, then. Come with me."

She led me to my room, and opened my closet door. There, a dozen very feminine outfits were hung up. Skirts and dresses; blouses and jumpers. She also opened up my underwear drawer. My white basic cotton undies were all gone, replaced by an astonishing array of dainty panties and bras — in many colors and styles, lots of lace etc, etc.

"Jesus, Mom — did you carjack a shipment to the Limited?"

"Before you pass judgment on me, look me in the eyes and answer one question truthfully: how did you feel wearing a skirt today?"

I hesitated for a moment. "I... I..."

"It felt wonderful, didn't it?" she prompted.

Damn — she was right. "Yes, mom... it did feel special."

"And the underwear, too. Didn't it make you feel all pretty and girly?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"And there's a part of you that really liked feeling that way, isn't there?"

I felt like I was being interrogated by the 'Law and Order' guys. "You're leading the witness, Mom — but... yes."

"That's the part of you that's a little girl — and she's determined to assert her gender identity. Your cousins are acting that way right now. They love any excuse to wear a dress."

My mom's sister had two daughters — age six and eight. I only saw