The Chick Before the Egg / Dumbass Egg Ch. 6 and 7

Ch. 6

It may have been Saturday, but, after my misadventures the previous night -- or, what were probably misadventures. I didn’t actually know what I’d done, which was the point -- I decided to keep things chill for the duration of the night. I spent a few more hours at my desk, streaming some random series that caught my eye. Honestly, I wasn’t paying too much attention to it. I was much more focused on how my body felt, on how cool it was that I got to look the way I did. And it was just nice. It was relaxing, reassuring. For once, I decided not to let my anxious internal monologue rule me, so I spent little, if any time worrying over what any of it meant. I just enjoyed myself. In a few more ways than one. As it turned out, I was a lot more sensitive in some areas than before. Which was quite nice. When I turned in for the night I had no trouble drifting off into a deep, peaceful slumber.

This time when I woke up, I was fortunate enough to both have all my memories of the night before, and not have any sort of pounding headache or nausea. A twofer, if you will. Needless to say, I woke up very well rested. I took a moment to luxuriate in a long, exaggerated stretch, groaning as I did so and wow, my voice sounded really different. It had been coming out sort of androgynous last night, but this morning I was sounding downright feminine. It sounded really great. I felt a little flutter in my core at the sound of it. Still, the sound was pretty odd, cause it definitely hadn’t sounded that way before. But in general my stretch noises tended to register a little higher in pitch than my typical speaking voice, so maybe it was fine.

I took a few minutes to psych myself up for actually getting out of bed, but instead just wound up curling into my blankets and burying my face into the pillow until the sleepiness began to wear off. At least, that was the plan; instead, I fell right back to sleep, which was fine by me. Sleep was great. When I awoke again, I repeated the whole wake-up process all over again, then finally gathered up the will to actually leave my bed. I scooted to the edge of the bed, plopped my feet onto the cold tile floor, and promptly felt something bounce. I blinked, my sleepy brain still processing just what that could possibly mean, then glanced down and holy shit, my boobs had gotten bigger overnight. Not like obscenely bigger or anything, but enough that hiding them was definitely going to be a pain in the ass. I scrambled to the mirror for a proper look and quickly realized my boobs weren’t the only thing that had changed overnight.

I was cute, like really cute. I’d lost a few more inches of height, while my hair had lengthened to around jaw length. It formed a cute bob on either side of my head that framed an angular, delicate-looking face with big eyes, plump cheeks, pouty lips, and an upturned nose. My frame had grown even more slender, with narrow shoulders and a waist that pinched inward attractively, though I hadn’t developed much more to speak of in the hip department. I was fairly certain I’d lost some more muscle mass, though surprisingly not a lot. My arms were toned; my butt had become supple and plush, matching my powerful thighs that extended into strong calves. Not only that, but I had a fairly impressive set of abs. All together, it left me with an overall slight-framed, lithe build that I found quite nice to look at indeed. I possibly found it even nicer to inhabit.

I still had a bit of a boyish appearance, but it was boyish in that particular way that only happened with girls, or people who looked like girls, in my case, since I wasn’t a girl, after all. There were little traces of masculinity here and there, a slight squareness to a few of my facial features, slightly wider than average shoulders, and of course, there was my dick. Which, yeah, girls could have dicks too, I was obviously aware of trans women, I’d even seen some very pretty one with very nice looking dicks, but that only worked for them because they were girls, unlike me. Still, at this point, I would very doubtlessly be seen as a woman unless I put a particular amount of effort into appearing male. Which I was definitely not going to do. Why would I ever even bother when I could look like a girl instead?

Besides, even if I wanted to, which I didn’t, it would be pretty counter-intuitive; the whole point was to make myself look like more of a girl so Olivia would date me. That was why I’d had Dylan give me these pills in the first place. Speaking of which, why had I changed more? From the way Dylan had phrased it, it seemed as though the pills would apply their best approximation of the feminine blueprint onto my body, and from there that approximation would need to be maintained by continuous doses to stop my body from reverting back. He didn’t say anything about more changes occurring. Maybe the initial effect just took more time than I previously would have guessed?

That was probably something to talk with Dylan about, but it was fine. Part of me wondered if this warranted some kind of spell malfunction, and if that was something I should be worried about. But how could I worry about that when I looked this nice? This just seemed like the more preferable option. I definitely wasn’t going to complain. Getting to look like this was pretty damn cool; I was pretty, really. I believed it this time, no need for justification. Getting to look this way was like a wet dream come to life mixed with this very strange deeper sense of relief and fulfillment that I’d never felt before. Not only did I get a really attractive body like in all of my fantasies -- what guy wouldn’t want to literally inhabit the object of their own desire? -- but beyond that, I felt really at home in said body. Like the person I was seeing was authentic and honest instead of forced like before. I never wanted it to end, though it probably would have to eventually, unfortunately. But that was something I really did not want to spend more time thinking about.

I was kind of dreading having to face the actual consequences of this body. So far it had just all been a fun little jaunt into femininity, but the real world was out there, with all its real world responsibilities and obligations. Eventually I’d have to face the music with Olivia, and it wasn’t as though I could just keep looking this way forever, that was hardly practical. I forcefully snapped myself out of those thought patterns, they didn’t lead anywhere happy.

I slipped away from the mirror -- which admittedly was pretty difficult to do, I liked seeing myself -- and began my morning routine. I had an agenda today, namely: going shopping for clothes. Olivia wanted me looking sharp for our date that night and I was going to figure out what that meant, exactly. Which was definitely going to be some kind of adventure, that was for sure. I rifled through my wardrobe in the hopes of finding something that would fit, only to realize quickly that the best I had was the exact outfit I’d had on yesterday, which was now visibly too big, but managed to at the very least stay on. Swimming in my clothes, I ascended the stairs and quite literally slid into my shoes. This was going to be a problem. I definitely could not walk too far as I was.

I settled for some slip-ons instead of normal shoes; at least those were designed to be loose, and, instead of bothering to get myself to a bus stop, decided to bite the fiscal bullet and call a rideshare. It was fine, I’d been pretty frugal the past few months. I snagged my magical bottle of “girl pills” for good measure since I planned to be out for several hours, and headed outside to wait for the driver. Which was always annoying because they were always either way too early or way, way late but there was never any way to know. Regardless, it wasn’t particularly cold outside, so I could stay relatively comfortable.

It was pretty awkward when the driver pulled up asking for Theo, and I cursed myself internally for forgetting to change the name on my account. What if he was some judgy asshole? Then I remembered he was just some random underpaid guy who almost certainly didn’t care as long as he got paid. I came up with some BS excuse about Theo being my brother, which didn’t seem to raise any eyebrows, and got in without a second glance. I was just glad my voice sounded pretty feminine by that point. He still didn’t seem to bother making much small talk with the girl wearing weird oversized clothes, which to be honest I was thankful for. I always hated forced small-talk in rideshares, and I could only imagine women had it way worse than guys did. And since my driver almost certainly mistakenly took me for a girl, I was happy to avoid any weirdness.

I took the moment of respite to send a text to Olivia. It’s not like I had anything better to do, the car ride would take at least ten minutes. Besides, I did really want to hear Olivia’s reaction to finding out I was going clothes shopping. I was, as it turned out, pretty excited to get some new outfits, even though I was kind of nervous. Point being, it was pretty much either her or Dylan, and Dylan wasn’t exactly the target audience for this particular sort of conversation. Sitting back and crossing one leg over the other in a decidedly feminine manner -- which also didn’t hurt? Had my testicles shriveled up that much? -- I began tapping out a message.

“Hey you! On the way to the store, gonna buy some new clothes for tonight!” I sent the message, and waiting, half expecting her to not see it any time soon and spend the duration of the ride just staring at my screen, luckily Olivia was right on it with the reply.

“Omg!! Babe that so exciting! I can’t believe I have to miss it. I’m really sorry, I wish I could be there, but I’ve got stuff going on til later. Still, I can’t wait to see how pretty you look tonight, You’re gonna be so hot, I’m sure of it. Just thinking about it gets me a little excited.” Oh, okay. Shit. That was foreward, be still my beating heart. How could Olivia just say things like that? And fuck, she didn’t even know what I actually looked like now? How would she react upon seeing my changes? I’d probably have to spill the beans on the whole magic thing, wouldn’t I? Oh well, it was worth it to look like this, even if admitting it was a bit embarrassing. I’d also need to think of a reason for wanting to do this to myself. But that was a problem for later. Before I had the chance to respond, she sent another text.

“Do you know what you’re getting? Any particular style you want? I can send recommendations if you want! No offense, but it seems like historically you haven’t really had much of a fashion sense, you just kind of get simple, practical stuff. I’m sure I can help you develop one.” Well gosh, that was kind of rude, and well, she did have a point and was just trying to be helpful. But still, guy clothes were so boring, of course I’d have no real fashion sense with them. With girl clothes I could definitely see some interesting ideas. Well, I probably would once I got there, in the moment I didn’t really have any idea what I was doing.

“I’m probably going to be very lost at first, but I’ll figure it out. Also, don’t be mean to me.” I replied.

“Sorry sweetie! Maybe you’ll prove me wrong, either way, I’m sure you’ll look good in anything, have fun and see you tonight!” That last text happened to be very conveniently timed, as I received it literally just as the car turned the corner to my destination. The car came to a slow stop in the town’s shopping district, specifically in front of one of those clothing department stores that sold a little of every style. I said a quick thank you, and exited the car.

Ch. 7

I scurried past the hustle and bustle of the busy street, and into the store, hoping to avoid too many weird looks over the way I was dressed, and made my way to the footwear department. After some fiddling with those foot measuring devices I concluded that my feet had shrunk to around a women’s size 8. Still, since I wasn’t entirely certain I was done changing, it was probably best I not spend too much on shoes. I settled for the cheapest pair of generic sneakers I could buy, which were still kind of cute. They had this olive tone to them with a brown rubber sole and were pretty minimalistic in design, but in a way that really worked for me. They were casual, but the sort of casual that would go well with a nice outfit so long as there wasn’t a pretense of actual formality. I made sure they fit, then wasted no time buying them. Getting shoes that wouldn’t fall off my feet was imperative, after all.

Feet properly snug, slip-ons tucked into my bag, I set off for the real decision: what would be going on my body. I strolled into the women’s clothing section, trying my best to exude an air of yes, I totally belong here, I’m just a normal regular girl doing normal regular girl things, not a secret guy. Around the fifth or so time I awkwardly walked past a rack of clothes, grabbed a random article, and ran the fabric through my fingers in a show of consideration before letting it slip uselessly without even actually checking the size or anything, an employee seemed to pick up on the fact that I was making an utter fool of myself and approached me.

“Can I help you find something?” Her chipper voice cut through the buzzing haze of trying very hard to not stand out, startling me and causing me to whirl around. Before me stood a cute looking young woman who was, strangely, about my height. That was really not something I was used to seeing. I could tell from looking at her she was someone I’d have towered over only yesterday, but now we were practically eye to eye. She was smiling pleasantly and patiently, though she seemed to be feeling more awkward by the second as my brain struggled to catch up with everything going on. It was a lot to process, okay? I was frazzled. And it was for that reason that when I replied it came as a confused stammer.

“Huh? No. Oh, wait. Um, yes. Yes, I need help. Please help me.” I awkwardly pulled the piece of clothing I’d been fondling off the rack and handed it to her automatically, before realizing that wasn’t something people did and drawing it back closer to me, nearly clutching it to my body. She blinked, her mind probably trying to process whether she was talking to an actual human or some sort of disguised lizard creature from beneath the hollow earth come to infiltrate the flesh world.

“Right, well, uh? Did you want to try that on? Fitting rooms are over there, though it doesn’t really look like your size.” She grabbed the tag, showing that it was an XL, and yeah, definitely too big after all.

“Um, no that’s okay. Truth be told, I uh --” I trailed off, trying to come up with some kind of excuse, before being struck with inspiration, “I was holding it for a friend’s birthday. Wait no. Buying it until she came back from the bathroom, I mean --” In a last-ditch effort to save any kind of face I slumped forward, hanging my head. “I don’t really know what I’m doing,” I murmured. And bless her perfect little heart, this overworked and underpaid retail worker just giggled.

“Well, in that case, we have our work cut out for us. What exactly are you looking for?” I could tell from the look on her face she was -- quite literally -- sizing me up.

“I’m um, I’m not sure. I have a date with my girlfriend tonight and she wanted me to wear something nice. Specifically, she said I’d look pretty in a dress, but I guess it doesn’t have to be a dress,” I said, blushing. Did she realize I was a guy or just think I was a really awkward and inexperienced girl? Either way, she seemed nice and welcoming. Maybe it didn’t matter.

“Well, I think your girlfriend has a good head on her shoulders. She’s right, you’d definitely look pretty in a dress. Why don’t you head over to the changing room and try, uhh --” With dexterity and speed that came only with the familiarity of an employee whose soul had been sucked out and replaced with knowledge of her store’s clothing racks, she fished out a lovely green little number and thrust it into my arms. “This one! Go try this on, it should be closer to your size, which I assume you don’t actually know?” She didn’t wait for a reply, winking a little then stroking her chin thoughtfully. “Okay, try that on. I’ll find a few more outfits and come find you. What’s your name, by the way?”

“It’s Da-- I mean Jesse,” I stammered. She smiled.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Jessie. I’m Mellie. Let’s get you a hot outfit to match that hot bod of yours.” With that she stalked off, a woman on a mission, leaving me alone. I awkwardly drifted into one of the women’s fitting rooms, half expecting to be yelled at on the way in, and huffed, slumping onto the bench. Eventually, I worked up the courage to disrobe, donned the dress, and took a look at it in the mirror.

It was cute and form-fitting, with a scoop neck that showed a tiny bit of cleavage and short, ruffled sleeves that reached just above my elbow. The skirt hung at just around my knee and had a nice little black trim around its edges. Overall it was really nice. Both Olivia and Mellie were right, I did look pretty in a dress. I blushed, smiling shyly at my reflection and feeling almost voyeuristic. How could I be so lucky as to be allowed to indulge in my wildest fantasies completely through random circumstances? And how could I be so lucky to have those fantasies be so important and so fulfilling that living them out filled me with a delight that extended beyond any sort of sexual gratification and became pure contentment and joy?

Looking in the mirror, I was sure of one thing: I wanted to wear women’s clothes every single day I remained in this form. I wanted to try them all: dresses, blouses, skinny jeans, skirts, rompers, even more masculine-coded styles like women’s blazers or cool biker jackets. Before, the idea of going clothes shopping had always sounded so boring. But now? It was super exciting; there were so many new combinations and I couldn’t wait to see how they looked on me. It really was quite the shift in perspective, surprisingly so, really. It seemed like, at the end of the day, anything could become fun when I got to look at a hot girl’s body while doing it. Or at least, a hot girl-esque body. I wasn’t actually a girl, so I didn’t have a girl’s body.

As if right on cue to remind me of that fact, my phone’s alarm chirped with a reminder to take my daily magic pill. Not wasting any time, I quickly popped one out and set the bottle on the booth’s bench while I took a swig from my travel water bottle. After swallowing it down, I waited a few minutes, half expecting some dramatic new changes to overtake me. In the end, it seemed that was only a one-time thing, though. I tried to pretend not to notice how disappointing that was and got back to enjoying the view.

I was in the middle of voguing like a madwoman -- madman, when Mellie returned, tossing about five new outfits onto the partition while I was in the middle switching from a sexy pout to a teasing smile with my tongue stuck out. I was so caught up with what I was doing that I didn’t even notice her footsteps. Messing around in this body was just too fun! It was a hazard, honestly. I bit back a startled yelp and replied with an awkward, embarrassed thanks when Mellie called to me from the other side suggesting I try on her selection.

I spent the next twenty minutes to half-hour in that changing room trying on outfit after outfit. There were a couple of dresses, including a very risque little black one that was nearly backless, a selection of button-up blouses with matching skirts, and even some casual clothes, like this cute pair of overalls which went really well with my hair color and a snug, torn-up crop top which seemed deliberately picked out to go with this pair of tight black skinny jeans for a cool punk look. Some of them didn’t fit, but I was always able to get Mellie to fish out something in the right size.

At the end of it all, when it came time to pick what to buy, I had to make a very hard decision. There was a good chance some of this wouldn’t fit at all if my body kept changing, and it wasn’t as though I was going to look this way forever, right? I didn’t have an exit strategy with this whole Olivia thing yet, but I’d obviously eventually need to go back to being a normal guy, even if that did kind of suck. So obviously, even if I could return clothes I didn’t wind up removing the tag from, it was still probably not a good idea for me to buy too much. Still, I did really want to see myself and be seen by others in just about all of those outfits. Ultimately, it became a pretty hard choice, but I knew deep down I’d made the right call. I stepped out of the changing room with a big smile on my face, my selections bundled up in my arms, and met Maria at the checkout.

“Thanks, Mellie. I think I’ll take all of them.” I said with a smile. Her face bloomed into giddy delight as she began ringing me up.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Jesse! I’m really glad I could help you out today. It always warms my heart to see new girls like you come into their own. I can really see the real you in that dress.” She gestured to the red and white sundress I’d worn out of the stall, then quickly leaned forward to scan it with her price gun. “That’ll be $167.89, by the way.” I returned her radiant smile with a perplexed gaze of my own as I fished my credit card out of my wallet and inserted the chip.

“I’m sorry, new girls?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry! That’s not an offensive term, is it? I just meant, you know, girls like you who have recently started their transition. It’s really mind-blowing what magic can do these days, by the way. You look amazing, I really wouldn’t have been able to tell you were trans from looking at you. I could only tell ‘cause you didn’t know anything about women’s clothes, oh, and also the way you almost said your deadname instead of your real name.” Her reply spilled out of her, apologetic and awkward and fast, a growing look of mortification on her face.

“Wh-what? Trans? I -- I’m not -- I have to go.” The machine beeped, telling me I was all paid for, so I gathered my purchase then turned tail, practically running out of the store as I tried as hard as I could to not think about everything I’d just heard.