The Chick Before The Egg Ch. 4 and Ch. 5

Ch. 4

As I settled on to Olivia’s couch, the elephant in the room continued to eat at me, despite her outwardly welcoming, accepting attitude. As she plopped herself beside me and snuggled into my neck, I forced myself to ignore the delicious feeling of my softer, smoother skin running along her own soft, smooth skin and actually speak up. “Hey, so um. Did you still want to talk?” I stammered quietly, still dreading the possibility that she was just buttering me up so I would feel more comfortable when she let me down.

Olivia paused for a moment, thoughts seeming to drift in contemplation before she lightly shook her head. “For the most part, no. I had some stuff on my mind since last night, but honestly? I think it’s not such a big deal after all. So did you really black out last night?”

“For the most part yeah, I remember the big stuff, but almost everything after we returned from the grocery store is gone.” I played the night over in my head one last time, trying to scrounge any missing pieces, but failing.

“Well, it seems like you’re doing well. I’m really happy you’re exploring your gender more.” She lightly kissed me on the lips and cuddled up to me, acting as the big spoon, which was odd, but it was nice. It almost made me feel small in a weird, but also kind of good way.

“So where did you want to go for dinner?” I blurted, trying to change the focus away from my new presentation. It was weird, something about drawing her attention to my new form made me feel really really strange. Not bad strange, just strange in a way I wasn’t equipped to think about.

“I had some ideas, but now I’m thinking maybe we stay in? I’m kind of tired and well, are you sure you’re ready to go out presenting as your new self?” Her voice took on a very tender, supportive tone as she finished, emphasizing ‘new self’ in a way that left me scratching my head a little. It was nice to see she was into me like this, but she seemed to be making some assumptions that were a tad puzzling. She seemed to be putting a lot of weight on things that were obviously not that big of a deal. The idea of going out like this was a little embarrassing, but at the same time exciting. And it wasn’t as though I were a different person.

“I mean, it is kind of weird, yeah, I’ll probably get some looks, but this is a college town; people try on new presentations all the time.” I shrugged and saw that Olivia seemed to be searching me with her eyes, obviously a little put off by my response. Not that I could blame her; if anything, I was a little put off by how she literally hadn’t missed a beat with my new appearance, immediately jumping into full-on acceptance and even embracing it. Seriously, how was my plan working this well? I figured there would at least still be some confusion as to whether she still wanted to leave me for that other girl, but the way she was acting right, now it was almost as though there was no other girl.

“I was thinking we could stay in tonight. I have some really good leftover curry from that Indian place we like. We could heat it up, relax together and help you get comfortable with your new identity.” She gave me a little kiss on the cheek at the end, and her lips felt really nice pressing against my hairless skin. Smooth really was best. Still, I couldn’t help but scratch my head a little in confusion. On the one hand, it was great to see Olivia being so supportive, but this really was getting to be too much.

All this talk of new selves and new identities. Who said anything about a new identity? I was just trying to look more feminine for her, not be someone else entirely. I decided then and there I definitely shouldn’t mention the pills; she was already being kind of weird. Not the bad kind of weird, just weird. Mostly I was just relieved that she seemed to no longer be breaking up with me. Still, who was that other girl she was seeing? It was probably best if I found out a bit about her, but that could wait. Honestly, that just sounded like a really anxiety-inducing conversion, and right now I was feeling really relaxed and comfortable.

Olivia was stroking my hair, which felt a lot silkier in very nice ways. And despite the fact that I was still a good three or four inches taller than her -- thankfully she seemed to have somehow not noticed the height thing -- I fit very neatly in her arms. I gave a little sigh, my tone sounding surprisingly androgynous, almost feminine, and lived in the moment. Some ten minutes later, Oliva slid off the couch and padded to the kitchen, leaving me to relax. I heard her start the microwave, and after another few minutes, she returned with two large bowls of curry and rice. She set them on her coffee table and I sat upright, leaning forward to take the bowl in my hand, and gasping a little at the feeling of my sweater rubbing against my nipples. I shivered in surprise and confused happiness. Was this how girls got to feel all the time? I had to admit, I was pretty jealous. It was a shame I’d probably eventually have to go back to normal.

I sank backward into the cushion, and Oliva rested her head on my shoulder as we ate. She flipped on her TV, and started streaming some show she’d been trying to get me into. To be honest, I didn’t really have the mental energy to follow it, I had too much on my mind. But it was nice; we chatted idly throughout, and before long she had me giggling -- yes giggling, absolutely furiously. It was strange; despite everything, I felt so relaxed around her, so much more natural. Normally I felt the need to perform as this strong, providing masculine figure, but lying together on the couch, it felt as though any and all pretenses of that were abandoned and I just got to be me.

We finished watching her show, and stayed cuddled up for a little longer, chatting about classes, video games, food, whatever we felt like. More than a few times Olivia openly suggested we take part in some more stereotypically feminine activity; she offered to put makeup on me, to paint my nails, to see if any of her clothes would fit me. I shyly declined in all cases, feeling embarrassed and awkward at the mere idea of doing such things, but each time Olivia just nodded patiently and reminded me that we could do any or none of those things whenever I felt comfortable, and she was just trying to give me “the full experience,” whatever that meant. Still, I couldn’t deny that some part of me kind of wanted to do those things; I couldn’t really explain why. I must have been really adjusting well to this new presentation. It made sense; I was in a new situation, so naturally I would adapt to it. And so, as the night progressed, I found it very reassuring to tell myself that one day I would ask her to try those things with me.

We stayed that way for a few more hours, until around ten, when Olivia started yawning incessantly. She asked if I wanted to spend the night, but I declined; I wasn’t sure I was ready for everything staying the night with her would entail while in my altered form. Apparently, she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before, so we agreed then that I’d head out. I stood to leave, feeling a little teetery and disoriented. It was strange; I’d thought I’d gotten used to my new size and body changes, but apparently not. We met at her door, and the two of us said a slow goodbye. Just as I turned to leave Olivia called to me. I looked over my shoulder, pausing.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I was thinking that maybe you’d like to go on a proper date tomorrow? If you’re comfortable presenting as yourself in public, that is.” She sounded a little awkward and almost apologetic for asking, like she was almost expecting me to say no. But I didn’t really get what the big deal was.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I shrugged nonchalantly

“Great! I’ll figure out a restaurant. If you’re comfortable with it, I’d love to see you wear something nice. I think You’d look stunningly pretty in a dress.” She winked flirtatiously at me and suddenly I felt very flush. Her words seemed to reach in and crank up my internal thermostat as suddenly I was a blushing mess on her front porch. I nodded silently, staring at the floor and rushing off. My heart was thumping in my chest at her compliment and I couldn’t stop smiling.

Me? Pretty? I couldn’t be pretty, could I? That was ridiculous! I mean first of all, I still looked like a guy, sure, a pretty feminine guy, and yeah, maybe I wouldn’t be surprised if some stranger thought I was a pretty girl at first glance, but I couldn’t actually be pretty, right? Also secondly, why did being called pretty have my stomach in knots and my heart caught in my throat? I hurried along the sidewalk, eyes still cast downward trying to hide the blush in my cheeks and the silly smile on my face, my brain a mess of slippery gooey thoughts.

Okay, so yeah, it felt good, but good how? In the past when people had complimented my appearance, I’d just felt awkward and uncomfortable. And it was obvious why that was the case, ‘cause those compliments didn’t make sense. People who said I was a hot guy clearly were either just trying to protect my ego or were deluded because, well, for one, guys weren’t hot, just not unappealing to look at at best. And for two, it was obvious that I was a mediocre guy. I wasn’t as strong as the other strong guys, and I didn’t have that roguish handsomeness that some other guys seemed to have in order to compensate for lacking brawn. Really, I was just super average, if more muscular than some. Maybe being called pretty felt good cause it was kind of true? Not pretty like a girl, but like as girly and pretty as a guy can get without actually being a girl. And that felt kind of genuine, cause when I was looking at myself in the mirror I totally could see it from some angles.

Still, that didn’t explain why the effect was so profound. It had to have something to do with explicitly linking my femininity to some kind of deeper fulfillment. When Olivia had complimented me like that, just for a second I’d really believed her, even if my brain rushed to correct her afterward. And in that moment I felt small and appreciated in ways other compliments didn’t make me feel. It was exciting, it was embarrassing in an enticing way, and even a little arousing, if I was being honest.

It felt like for once I was being sexually appreciated for me as myself instead of me as the version of myself I had to create in the gym. So what could that mean? What kind of person liked being called girly and pretty? I wracked my brain for several moments, before the answer smacked me upside the head so hard I nearly tripped. Of course, it was so obvious. How could I be this blind? The way I’d fantasized in the past about being a girl, the fact that Dylan thought it was weird for a guy to want to be more feminine, but I didn’t, the fact that I got weird, excited little feelings from looking at myself in the mirror and was actually disappointed the pills didn’t do more.

All those experiences clearly pointed to one thing: obviously, I had a forced feminization fetish. I hadn’t historically considered myself submissive, but the way Olivia made me feel certainly had me wanting to melt into a happy little puddle. So clearly I at the very least felt that way in the context of my fetish. With that realization weighing heavily on my mind, I rushed home; oddly, I still felt a little disoriented and off-balance since getting up from Olivia’s couch, but I put such thoughts out of my mind. I was about halfway home, walking adjacent to the edge of campus when my phone buzzed lightly. I fished it out of my pocket to discover a text from Dylan.

Ch. 5

Practically the moment I unlocked my phone screen I remembered and realized exactly what Dylan wanted. We had plans, and all the shit going on today had completely erased them from my mind. I went ahead and read the text anyway, just in case.

“Hey, were we still gonna do that late-night study session we’d talked about doing tonight, or is all this stuff with Olivia getting in the way? Also, just wanted to check in on whether or not you took the pills / if they’re working.” Yup, dangit. I had completely forgotten we’d planned to study. Could I really blame myself, though? Studying on a Saturday was lame as hell, but sadly also necessary. I began tapping away a reply, marveling at how my smaller fingers looked dancing across the keyboard.

“Oh shit, yeah I totally spaced, sorry bro. Yeah, library at eleven, same spot we used last Wednesday, right? And yeah, I took the pills. Kinda weird man, but I think they’re actually working. Olivia was super into me tonight. It’s great!” I waited a few more moments, just kind of awkwardly staring at the screen, then got a reply.

“Nice! Glad to hear that at least. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting that. No weird side effects or anything? Just checking, wanna make sure everything is working correctly. Also yeah, library. Same spot.” There was something off about Dylan’s texts. I couldn’t place it, but he was definitely writing stuff differently than usual. His word choice seemed unplaceably different. After a few moments of contemplation, I shrugged and wrote back.

“Nope, none. It’s kinda weird, but also I’m enjoying it. It’s pretty cool, to be honest, dude. Just promise not to be weird about it, okay? Anyway, I’ll see you in a bit?”

“Sure, see you soon. And come on, seriously? I’m not gonna be weird. If you’re happy with what they’re doing then that’s cool.”

With that, I split off from my original path and headed toward the campus library, slightly nervous about Dylan and the general public seeing me. Despite that, nobody seemed to give me a second glance, so I kept my head down and mind focused on the destination. It was best that way, I didn’t want to get sucked into another spiral of weird self-reflection. My goal in sight, I approached the library, climbing the outer stairs, and was about to reach for the handle when some guy who had been casually lounging out front opened the door for me. Not wanting to look up and give him a good look at my face I muttered a quick thanks and rushed through the door. As I passed he smiled kindly at me, his gaze lingering a little longer than I was used to.

“Of course, Miss. Have a nice night,” he called after me. I nearly stopped dead, but somehow managed to keep going with only a light stumble and a small squeak. I blushed furiously once more and hurried into the library, eyes glued to my feet, and almost bumping into the second set of doors. Had he really just said that? He thought I was a girl? It was pretty dark and he couldn’t get a good look at my face, so maybe it wasn’t too crazy for him to make that mistake. But fuck, him calling me that brought back all those feelings from Olivia once again. I struggled to push them down and focus, then scurried across the library to the secluded little nook Dylan and I typically used to study. When I arrived he was already there, casually reading some book with pastel colors on the cover, not that I really cared what it was. Magical studies books were way beyond me, to the point there was hardly any reason to give them a second thought. As I approached he glanced my way, did a double-take, then straightened himself out and stashed the book in his bag.

“Hey um, buddy? Uh shit, sorry. Just hey, those pills really did a number on you, holy crap.” Dylan was fumbling through his words; clearly, he still hadn’t quite mentally prepared himself for what he was about to see, cause really it wasn’t that big of a change.

“You think so? I think I mostly look the same, just a bit more rounded out. Also I told you not to be weird.” I shrugged, moving to settle in next to him.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. But also, you’ve proven to me time and time again that you’re a really bad judge of your own appearance. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you were some random kind of butch-looking girl walking my way. The only thing that clued me in was that you more or less look like your own sister.” He managed to pull himself together, then flashed me a big, friendly smile that seemed almost congratulatory, and for the way-too-many-eth time that night, I found myself blushing, with my heart racing and my brain spinning out uselessly.

What the hell was wrong with me? It was one thing with Olivia complimenting me, but with guys now too? Was I bi or something? I took a moment to examine Dylan closely, taking in his form, his muscles, his chiseled jawline. I tried to imagine myself -- ugh, no thank you. I shuddered a little at the thought, while he gave me a very confused look. For my part, I was still far too preoccupied to fully register and respond to said look. Was my feminization kink really that powerful that it went beyond my own sexuality? Could literally anyone set me off then? That sounded pretty depraved, but well, I couldn’t think of any other possible reason I’d be reacting this way. And frankly, being told I looked like a girl felt too good for me to really care or bother examining it further. I barely registered Dylan excusing himself for the bathroom, too deep in thought to really care. But soon enough the gears churning in my head slowed down enough for me to think clearly again.

I took a moment to calm down, slumping forward in my chair and resting my head on the desk. I then  realized that I had been so deep in thought that I’d forgotten to swing by home and actually grab my study materials. Oh well, that would be fine, I could print them out using the library computer. Hopefully my library printer points for the semester were still plentiful, I didn’t want to pay their dumb print-fee. I stood, planning on heading over to the computer lab, then almost immediately tripped over Dylan’s bag, nearly face planting. I steadied myself on the desk and caught my breath; what the hell? Had my foot slipped inside my own shoe? That wasn’t a problem before, was it? I’d thought my feet were one of the only parts of me that hadn’t really shrunk. My feet were pretty small to begin with, for a guy, anyway.

That was another thing that had often made me feel very inadequate. A few months prior, I’d gone bowling with Dylan and some of his frat brothers, and watching them all head up to the counter asking for size twelves and thirteens, etcetera, only for me to head up and ask for a size nine had been very humiliating. Now, though, it seemed my feet had gotten even smaller, because my foot had definitely slipped inside the shoe and caused me to lose my footing and trip. I wracked my brain for an explanation before ultimately settling on the fact that it was, to be quite honest, pretty damn weird. Maybe I had been having that problem all night and just hadn’t noticed it until it caused me to trip?

Regardless of the reason, I had something more important to worry about: getting my study materials. I stooped over to straighten up Dylan’s stuff, and my eyes fell upon the book he had been reading, which had spilled out of his bag when I tripped. My eyes widened when I got a proper look at the cover. From what I could see the book seemed to be very clearly about trans people. Which was totally cool, obviously. Trans people were great and fine and honestly probably had the right idea. But why would Dylan need a book like that? He had always been always a pretty open and accepting person, but I’d never imagined him as the kind of person who researched such things on his own time. Then suddenly, as though I’d been struck by a bolt of lightning and a hit by a semi and bit in the ass all at once, it dawned on me. Holy shit. How could I have been so stupid? It was so incredibly obvious, right in front of me really, and this whole time I’d been so caught up in this thing with Olivia to give it the proper thought. Dylan, was trans, wasn’t he? That must have been why this business with him giving me a girlier body bothered him so much. Also, should I be saying her? Probably not yet, not until he asked me explicitly to call him that. They might also be fine, but I’d worry about it later.

Now that I thought about it, the pieces really did fit well together. Dylan was acting pretty weird this whole time. For one, he was just awkward in general, which was really unusual for him. He was a social butterfly in the kind of big, friendly meathead way. And also he wasn’t calling me bro or dude like he usually did, which actually, that was the thing about his texts that bothered me too, wasn’t it? Maybe he thought I was a girl too ‘cause of all this stuff with Olivia? It was also definitely possible I was wrong and he had the book for some other reason, so I couldn’t be 100% certain that he was trans. But it was probably best to start thinking of him that way to make the shift easier. I sighed; things were getting complicated, too complicated for me to fully work out at the time.

Dylan came back, looking casual as ever with a big load of books in “his” arms. I felt a little bad for him, he probably hated being that big and bulky, god knows I could relate. Still, he didn’t give any hint of sadness as he settled into “his” study spot. The night then progressed normally from there. Mostly normally, anyway. There was a certain tension in the air that I couldn't ignore. He kept looking like he wanted to say something, opening and closing his mouth awkwardly. He probably to come out or tell me he was jealous or something. But surely he could just find a way to turn himself into a girl too, couldn’t he? Sure there was probably some risk, but if nothing else I was a successful guinea pig. Kind of, anyway, I wasn’t actually a girl, of course. Maybe he was too scared or too caught up in the image of himself as hypermasculine to take those initial steps. I wanted to help him, but for the time being, I had way too many things to deal with myself. Still, when we wrapped up for the night, heading out into the cool night air, I interrupted his awkward stammering to put a hand on his shoulder and wish him a good night, giving a gently squeeze and letting him know that he could always talk to me if there was something important on his mind.

I turned tail and disappeared into the night, leaving him looking absolutely stunned, confused, and bewildered. I found myself smiling again as I set off for home. Poor Dylan; he had a lot to work out, but I would be there for him. I swore to myself then and there I would be a good ally no matter what.