For a Girl by J.T. D'Arelli (best ereader for pdf .txt) 📖

hearing it from Erin makes me feel better. If a jock like he must have been can enjoy it — maybe we can too."

"Let's hope so," Todd responded. "Because we don't seem to have a choice." He pulled off his shirt and stripped to his briefs. My eyes traveled to his chest — where I saw nipples even larger than mine atop two swellings that were well on their way to becoming... breasts.

I sighed, stripped to my underwear as well, and got into bed. Despite the strange surroundings, I zonked out rather quickly.

When I woke up — there was a topless girl asleep on Todd's bed.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at her. She was stretched out above the covers, wearing only boy's briefs — which seemed tight around her flared hips and all too loose in the crotch. She had long blonde hair cascading luxuriously over the pillow and a very cute face. But my eyes were riveted to her chest — where a pair of lovely breasts graced by full nipples pointed skyward. I'd never seen a girl topless in person before and to see her chest, rising and falling with her breath, was almost inhumanly sexy to me.

Of course I knew it was Todd. GB was obviously finished with him... her. And as she lay there, she seemed to be having some kind of erotic dream. Her small hands were gently rubbing her belly as she smiled to herself — eyes still closed. A soft moan escaped from her wide lips as her hand reached still lower — into the boy's briefs that were completely unsuited for her changed body. I could see her hand moving about in the crotch of her underwear — searching... searching...

For what she would never find again, except between the legs of a man. Her eyes snapped open and a look of shock appeared. She sat up all at once and her hands immediately reached to cup her breasts — confirming the femininity that had been inflicted on her. Ignoring me completely, she rose and stepped unsteadily to the mirror, where she saw the girl she had become.

I found myself using the pronouns of 'her' and 'she' because that's how I saw her. Yeah, I knew that inside that pretty body was the mind of a normal boy — but there was no way I could make the connection to what my eyes saw on the outside. Todd was a girl, and if even I couldn't see the male he'd once been, then it was certain the rest of the world would not.

Todd just stood there, trying to take in the female body that was now hers. I saw a wide range of emotions on her face as she attempted to absorb the image in the mirror. I stepped up to help her.

"Are you all right?" I asked — possibly the most inane thing I could have said.

"Oh God," she gasped. "It really happened to me. Somehow I thought I would just wake up and still be a boy... but I'm a g... gir... girl!"

I said nothing — reaching out touch her — when suddenly I felt a ferocious itching in my nipples. A great lassitude seemed to come over me and I staggered. Todd caught me just as I fell and she helped me back to my bed. I lay down — struggling to stay awake.

Todd spoke. "I think it's your turn now, Jack," she said sadly.

I knew she was right — but I tried to fight it. I was finally at the moment of truth — and despite my attempts to steel myself for what was about to happen — I felt pure panic. I couldn't even talk — all I could do was mentally plead for help — useless of course. Oh, please stop this! I don't want to be a girl! I don't want to wear bras — I don't want to have a...a pussy! Please let me stay a boy! I want to grow up to be a man, not a woman! Please...

But I might as well have been talking to the Borg. Resistance was futile.

I could actually feel myself changing with every second, could feel the new vagina delving deep between my legs. GB was winning its final victory — transforming me into the young woman I was doomed to be. It was like a near-death experience as I felt more and more distant from my body. After a few minutes, I simply passed out.

When I awoke, I knew. I didn't have to touch my chest or reach down below — I could sense it through every inch of my form.

I was no longer a boy.

I was now a girl.

This wasn't some gradual realization — it was instantaneous. If I had to pick one feeling above all other, it would be my chest. Lying on my back, I had to look UP to see my huge nipples — which tingled a bit from the cool air. And the breasts? They were enormous! Horrified, I sat up — my tiny hands reached to cup my new chest — my nipples instantly hardened against my palms.

My god, my breasts were so... heavy! I felt their weight tugging firmly against my torso as I leaned forward. An hour ago, my chest was that of an 11 year old. Now, I had the body of a... woman!

But I was distracted by the cape of hair sweeping across my shoulders and down my back. I could actually sense the pressure of the long hair pulling against my scalp. I stood up unsteadily. Between the heaviness of my gigantic breasts and lengthy tresses, it was a wonder I didn't fall over.

I took my first tottering steps — which felt so different, so wrong. My legs seemed to be incorrectly attached to my hips — hips that were as wide as my shoulders. Jesus, I'm a freak! I've been turned into some hyper-voluptuous Playboy centerfold! My... tits are bouncing around like Anna Nicole Smith! I must look like a stripper!

I pulled my boys briefs down silky smooth legs and lurched over to the mirror.

And amazingly, I felt relieved. For my reflection was not that of an overdeveloped bimbo from a late-night Cinemax movie.

What I saw in the mirror was normal.

For a girl, that is.

A naked teenage girl.

This was the first time in my life I'd ever actually seen a naked girl. I'd dreamed of the first moment when the mystery of a woman's body would finally be revealed to me. I just never expected the body to be mine! To be sure, Hal and I had poured over Penthouse just like most adolescent boys. So I had some idea of the appearance of the nude female form. And despite our youth and inexperience, we were aware enough to know that 'real' girls wouldn't look so over-the-top anyway.

But to see an unclad young woman in person... well! The mirror revealed her in all her feminine glory. She had a very cute face, full lips and absolutely huge blue eyes. Her fine, light brown hair was very long, very straight and fell all the way down to the small of her back. Her shoulders and arms were quite slim, but not emaciated. Her breasts were indeed large, but hardly centerfold quality. I couldn't guess their size — her small frame made perspective difficult. They seemed very rounded, though — not pointy at all. Her rib cage tapered down to a narrow waist, flaring back out to hips that were wide, but somehow seemed a bit smaller that what many girls her age might have. Her legs may have been her best feature — very smooth and elegant.

Overall, her body was extremely athletic — for a girl. And of course, my eyes were drawn to the place between her legs — rising all at once from the base of her belly — the thin delta of dark brown hair that looked like an arrow, pointing to her... vagina. Her crotch was clearly female — the pinkish lips just visible beneath the downy curls.

I stared, mesmerized. She was very pretty — almost beautiful. Her body was wonderfully proportioned for a young woman who exercised regularly.

This is what I've become?

And as I moved, so did the girl in the glass. If you've ever seen that classic comedy sketch with Harpo Marx and Lucille Ball, where one mirrors the other's movements — then you know what I was hoping for. I wanted the girl to break character, to move on her own — and prove that she was not me.

But of course, she didn't. For I was her.

At this point, my mind was spinning more than Brian Boitano with an inner-ear infection inside a centrifuge (thank you, Dennis Miller). I still felt a sense of relief that my body was not some Jessica Rabbit exaggeration of femininity. But I was dismayed to see there was no trace of my male self left. But I sure was cute! And yet I felt like my breasts were huge balloons, my arms were like sticks and my hips were so wide you could shelve books on them.

But when I looked in the mirror — I saw a very attractive, normal female body. So I knew my breasts were not really so huge, my arms were okay and so forth. Yet I was a girl! So I felt lost, confused. But I was a naked girl! And so my male mind was intrigued by my exposed female body. But I missed my penis — I felt so empty... down below! But there was a girl's vagina right in front of me — waiting for me to explore its mysteries!

And on and on...

The array of emotions cascading down on me was more diverse than a Benetton ad campaign. Shock, curiosity, sadness, fear, fascination and even a little arousal. I felt dizzy from it all — I staggered over to the bed and sat down on a butt that clearly had more padding than before. I took a couple of deep breaths, watching in amazement as my... boobs jiggled. I was just reaching up to cup them when the door opened.

It was a nurse. "Oh!" she said, seeming a little surprised. "You're finished."

"Well, that's one way to put it," I responded, my voice even higher than before.

She smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry — that's not what I meant. How do you feel?"

"I guess I feel like a girl — whatever that means."

"Don't worry, you'll figure it out soon enough. Are you in any pain?"

"I'm a little dizzy, otherwise I'm okay."

I looked down and gave a start. I'd forgotten I was nude, female and having a conversation with a woman who appeared to have smaller breasts than me. I shuddered.

The nurse quickly came to my side and threw a blanket over my shoulders. "You need to take it very slow for a little while yet. I'll be back in about 15 minutes — we need to give you a physical. There are some clothes in the drawer that should fit you. Don't worry — nothing too frilly." Her manner was reassuring and I was grateful for that.

She began to leave, then turned back to me. "I feel kind of special. I'm the very first person to see you as a girl. It's almost like being in the delivery room. Just hang in there — you will adjust. You're very pretty, if it's any consolation."

It wasn't. The last thing I wanted to hear were compliments on my looks. After all, if I'm attractive — I'd have to consider who I'd be attracting. I got up, still unsteady and walked over to the dresser. Inside the drawer were a few articles of clothing. I pulled them out and took inventory. One pair gray sweatpants — okay. One tank top - okay. One pair underpants.

Not okay. For they were girls' underpants. As I held them up, I noticed they were very simple. White cotton, no lace, no