Disclaimer: Fair warning, this story contains a relationship between a tall muscled girl who’s a ftm and an initially reluctant short skinny mtf with poor self esteem who is accidentally good at it. I realize that it’s not for everyone. You’ve been warned. Also, the story takes a bit to get set up before the really fun stuff begins.
******
I adjusted my nearly empty book bag nervously as I walked into my new school. I was raised by a single mom who did factory work, and when she worked her way up into a management position the opportunity was too good for her to pass on. So, long story short, just before my senior year we moved to southern Oregon where her new job was located.
Now, if there was such a thing as a picture dictionary for adults, you’d find my likeness next to the word ‘Geek’. You would probably also find it next to ‘Bullying Victim’ and ‘Obvious Virgin’, you know, assuming said imaginary dictionary had multiple word definitions.
Eighteen years old, 5’7″, 120 pounds soaking wet. Pale white skin, shaggy dark blonde hair. I could deal with all that, but the big problem? I have zero masculine features. My blue eyes are just a little too big. My brow and chin are a little too small. My lips are a little too plump. My adam’s apple isn’t really visible, and my eyelashes are a little too long. Any of which, by themselves, wouldn’t be that big of a deal. All together though? Androgynous would be a polite way of putting it.
My game plan for surviving was to keep my head down, avoid the popular crowd and the jocks, and keep getting good grades in the hope of an academic scholarship for college.
Enrollment and registration went as smoothly as I could have hoped for. All of my credits from my old school were honored, and the overly cheerful office woman managed to get me into all of the AP classes I had been planning on taking despite my worries about them being full.
I was shown to my classrooms by a guy who seemed to be just going through the motions. He didn’t bother to introduce himself or ask my name, and I never did see him again after that first day. In all honesty, that suited me just fine. I wasn’t planning on making any friends, and the more I could fly below everyone’s radar, the better off I’d be.
After all, I was used to being all alone.
******
The hand that came out of nowhere to casually rest up and over my head against my closed locker door startled me. I slowly turned, dreading what I would find.
Three days. I made it three whole days before I drew the attention of the jocks. Only, this time it wasn’t the usual brand of jock.
“Hey there. You’re new here, right? I’m Andrea. What’s your name?”
‘Andrea’ was a giant of a woman. Well over six feet tall, with large visible muscles and a playful glint in her extremely dark brown eyes. Black hair that actually gave the illusion of being blue in the light was cut into a shorter style that for all I knew may have been fashionable. Her face wasn’t exactly beautiful, but her features were certainly striking, with a somewhat broad nose and thin lips.
I had never felt so physically intimidated by a woman before. Taking a quick look around, she was backed up by two others, a black girl nearly as tall as Andrea and a gorgeous blonde girl about my height, both of whom looked like fitness models. Also, there didn’t seem to be a readily available escape path with them standing so close by.
There was no way this was going to end well for me.
“Uh…” I tried to surreptitiously clear the fear-induced clog from my throat. “Kevin.” There, short and sweet. No need for extra talking. As long as she didn’t call me ‘Pat’.
I’d had enough of that for a lifetime from my old school.
She leaned over me a little more, and her grin grew just a sliver bigger. I reflexively hugged my book bag a little tighter to my chest.
“Kevin, this here is Nicole and Shausty,” she vaguely gestured at the two other girls. “We’re on the basketball team.”
That was the clue I needed about why these girls seemed like they owned the school. They basically did. By the end of my first day, I had overheard enough conversations to learn that the girl’s basketball team had taken the state championship the last two years back to back and it was looking like they’d win it again this year. None of the other sports teams seemed to be even marginally successful. The football team, in particular, apparently hadn’t won a game in nearly a decade.
I said nothing, wondering when she was going to get to whatever hazing they had planned. Luckily, the warning bell for the next period rang.
She casually pushed back from where she was leaning in. “See you at lunch, Kevin.”
Oh boy. The only hope I found in that entire encounter was that her friends looked genuinely confused by whatever it was that just happened.
******
My lunch period arrived with a sense of dread. Now that I’d had a little time to mull it over, I came to the realization that Andrea Betturkey knew we shared the same lunch period. Which meant that she took notice of me yesterday, if not the day before. Which also meant that whatever she’d been planning had been in the works for at least a day, minimum. Likely longer.
I filled my tray and found an empty table to sit at where I could have my back to a wall. As far away from the beaten path as I could find. This wasn’t the first time I had been targeted for a prank, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. I’d deal with it when it happened, but it made no sense to me to make it easy for her.
I was so lost in my thoughts that the simultaneous clattering of five trays of food hitting the table made me nearly jump out of my skin.
It was the girls from before, with Andrea on my immediate right and the rest filling in around the other vacant spots, bringing a couple of new faces with them.
“Hey,” she smiled at me, draping an arm across my shoulders for a quick squeeze. It was weird. Girls don’t really touch me, and girls I don’t know certainly don’t touch me in such an intimate manner.
“So, uh, introductions. You met Shausty and Nicole earlier,” she pointed out the tall black girl and shorter white girl in turn, “and this here is Jenny and Ava. Girls, this is Kevin.”
I didn’t really get an opportunity to get a good look at her friends earlier, so I took the chance now that I could.
Shausty was, as I said, nearly as tall as Andrea, but not nearly as muscular. While definitely a serious athlete, she still looked feminine. Tight curly black hair pulled into two balls on her head like little afro pigtails. Dark brown skin, with thick lips that were quick to quirk into a grin and expressive large brown eyes. Small breasts, likely due to her height and exercise regimen. A booty that seemed almost out of place with how big it was, despite her height and exercise regimen.
Nicole looked more like she should have been head cheerleader rather than on the basketball team. Beauty queen looks and the make-up skill to emphasize them. About my height, platinum blonde hair that was only a shade or two darker than white and deep sapphire eyes. Slim, slightly curvy, everything in perfect proportions.
Jenny was a couple of inches shorter than me by my estimation, but extremely curvy. The huge swells of her volleyball sized breasts tapered in to a reasonably small waist before exploding back out to dangerously wide hips. Her curves combined with her black hair and an olive skin tone made me think of the Mediterranean. Thick black framed glasses dominated her face.
Ava, on the other hand, was almost completely different. Nearly as tall as Shausty, but straight up and down, almost no curves to speak of. Shoulder length red hair framing a face filled with sharp angles and freckles. Legs that seemed to be at least seventy percent of her body, and went all the way up.
“So, what’s your story Kevin?” Andrea asked, twisting her fork into something that vaguely looked like noodles.
I’ll be the first to admit I was flustered. Andrea kept the lion’s share of her attention on me, only really looking away to get another forkful of whatever the hell it was she was eating. While she’d removed her arm from me, she was still sitting closer than perhaps she should have. There was nothing I could really point my finger at and say, ‘There! That’s not what you do with a stranger!’, but there was still an anxious feeling that I can’t describe any better than ‘not-right’.
In a halting, stilted manner I did my best to say something. “I, uh… just moved here, and um… Yeah.”
“I like yo’ accent. Where you from?” asked Shausty, flashing me a quick smile.
Before I could even answer, she looked at Andrea and reared back a little. I chanced a quick glance up at her myself, and saw an angry glare directed not at me, but at Shausty for some reason.
Hoping to defuse whatever had caused this tension, I forced out a chuckle and said, “That’s nice of you to say, but nobody likes a North Dakota accent. Not even other North Dakotans.”
“But, like, you don’t sound like anyone in Fargo?” Nicole asked with an open and guileless face.
I rolled my eyes. “Nobody back home actually sounds like they do in that movie.” It was true enough, I hated the way that movie made everyone from home seem like an overly polite simpleton with a heavy Norwegian-American accent.
The hand that came to rest on my thigh was unexpected, but being so far out of my element my only reaction was to look down. Like the rest of her, Andrea’s hand was enormous, easily encompassing more than half of my leg. She gave me a gentle squeeze. “Well, we like it,” she smiled.
The spot where she grasped my leg felt warm for the rest of my lunch break.
******
I didn’t even see him until he was shoving me sideways into a row of lockers.
“Watch your step, fag,” he sneered.
It wasn’t a gentle shove, and I lost Betturkey Giriş my balance, tumbling to the floor. I managed to look up to see him continuing on his way. I’d never spoken to whoever it was, but judging by his build he was one of the football players.
It wasn’t like it was first time something like this had ever happened to me. What happened next was definitely new.
Asshole jock got two steps away before he was slammed face first into the same row of lockers and pressed there, his arm twisted behind his back.
“Now… I know, I know, that you didn’t just pull that hateful bullshit on my friend, Craig,” Andrea snarled into his ear.
“Let me go you crazy bitch!”
She wrapped a hand around his throat and pulled his arm higher, bringing him up on his toes. “I think you owe Kevin an apology, Shithead.”
Whatever she did, I couldn’t see. He did start yelling though. “Ow, OW! Okay! I’m SORRY! I’m sorry, okay? Let me go!”
“I’m gonna tell you this once. You stay away from him. He’s walking down the hall? You move to the other side. I see you even look sideways at him, and I’ll break your arms and stuff you in a locker, got me? Now beat it.”
She turned him, shoved, and the guy went sprawling. He painfully rose to his feet, and tried to stare Andrea down.
“Try it, little man. See what happens,” Andrea glared.
“You freaks fuckin’ deserve each other,” Craig spat, obviously trying to save face before stalking away.
Andrea stalked over to me, still visibly angry, and I shrank away a bit. Andrea McCloud in full fury was not something a sane person would want directed at them. I watched as she struggled to reign in her temper.
“You alright?” she asked.
I shrugged, “I guess so. Uh, thanks? For, you know…”
“Fucking Craig Thompson. Thinks he’s a man’s man. In reality, he’s an asshole’s asshole. He gives you any more trouble, you let me know, yeah?”
I blew out a breath. “Sure thing.”
******
Weeks went by, and it seemed every time I turned around, there she was. Andrea sat with me every lunch period and her friends just followed along in her wake. She would find me between classes for short chats. The few times someone would try and start something she would swoop down out of nowhere and get in their face. It didn’t seem to matter if they were a dude or a chick, all six foot five of Amazonian woman would be between me and any perceived threat, snarling and threatening.
It was completely unexpected. I was still expecting some big prank at my expense being built up to, yet here was this woman going out of her way to protect me. I probably should have been upset at her doing it. I should have felt emasculated. Instead I was just grateful. I don’t like confrontation, and I had spent years being on the wrong end of that kind of thing.
Then, Spirit Week happened.
******
“So, like, what are you going to do for Spirit Week Kev?” Nicole was like, totally a valley girl in her speech. Point guard for the championship team. Beautiful. Athletic.
She was also a walking, talking stereotype of a dumb, gullible blonde. On the other hand, she was also one of the kindest people I had ever met so I had warmed to her almost immediately despite myself.
“What, exactly, is a Spirit Week?” I asked.
“You know, like, school spirit week? All the classes compete against each other in contests. Like, theme days and, and… athletic events, and Homecoming, and all that? It’s next week!”
I stared at her for a moment before looking around the table. Satisfied she was on the level, I answered her, “Doesn’t really sound like my kind of thing, Nicole. Think I’m gonna pass.”
“Ain’t gonna work, honey. Participation is man-da-tory.” I looked back at Shausty in horror. “S’true. Gotta participate in at least one thing. Andrea an’ me? We’re gonna be in most all o’ the athletics.”
“Oooh! I know – I know! You should like totally be the Senior class rep on gender bender day! You’ll crush it!” Nicole injected.
“I’m afraid to ask.” Truthfully, I was terrified to find out.
“It’s like this, check it out.” Nicole began. “So, like, every day is themed, right? Like Friday is wear school colors day, and Wednesday is dress like the 1950s? Thursday is dress as the opposite gender day! And every class gets points based on how many participate, and the best boy and girl represent the class for even more points and you would totally win it!”
“How is this even a thing?” I asked the table at large.
“I’unno,” Ava mumbled around a mouthful of food. “Promotes tolerance of diverse lifestyles or some shit.”
“Or… I could dress like a greaser on Wednesday,” I flatly told Nicole.
“No-no-no-no… no. You wouldn’t win that for us. Gender day? In the bag.”
I looked to Andrea for some support, but she was looking at me with an odd glint in her eyes. “I’ll do it if you will,” she challenged.
“OHMIGOD!” Nicole squealed, “with Betturkey Güncel Giriş both of you, there isn’t even a chance of losing! I’ll totally help you with it Kev, don’t you worry about a thing!”
I looked around the table again, and seeing absolutely nothing but enthusiasm over the idea, I let my head drop into my hands to muffle my scream.
I almost managed to muffle it. It was close.
******
“Kev, c’mon buddy. Up and at ’em. Time to get pretty.”
“Urgh… What time is it?”
“4:30.”
“There’s a 4:30 now?”
I managed to drag myself into a mostly upright position, before Nicole whipped the covers back, pulled me to my feet and started shoving me towards the shower, my sleep pants whispering against each other as I shuffled and yawned.
“Quick as a bunny, chop-chop. And use the body lotion and moisturizer after your shower!” she called out before shutting the door.
The water felt weird running down my body without any of my body hair in the way. The plan, Nicole’s plan, called for me to chemically remove all my hair below my eyebrows the night before with some kind of growth inhibiting cream and paint my nails, then crash in her guest room so she could get me ready before school.
Now my plan was to conveniently forget about it and blow the whole thing off. And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for those meddling kids.
I was shanghaied directly after school and barely allowed to text my mom that I was staying at a friend’s place before Hurricane Nicole swept me up, talking a mile a minute and dragging me to her car.
Expensive girly shampoo and conditioner. Girly body wash. Girly scented lotion. Girly deodorant. Ultra-girly moisturizer worked into my face. Regular old toothpaste.
Then came the really double plus un-fun stuff. A nude colored thing I didn’t even know existed that hid Little Richard and his backup singers to the point that my crotch looked like a feminine mound. It was also the single most uncomfortable article of clothing I had ever encountered. To put it on, I had to shove my balls up into this abdominal cavity that I didn’t even know was there, with my dick pulled back and flattened down to keep them from falling back down. Once it was all in place, over half of Little Richard was pulled between my ass cheeks with these straps that went up and over my hips to where they attached to the front. It was like a thong a la the Marquis de Sade. I had to go to some pretty sketchy websites just to figure out how to use the stupid thing.
Once I had that in place Nicole took over. Had I been even a little more awake I probably would have died of mortification.
Two adhesive bra cups that when glued to my chest nearly under my armpits and then latched together somehow created three dimensional cleavage. A strapless black pushup bra with jiggly fake breast inserts completed the illusion of authentic b cups.
Lineless nude waist cincher. Black Garter belt. Black thigh high stockings. Black thong panties. Then the crowning achievement, this tight dark red glittery floor-length dress with a slit halfway up the side. It was also bare above the boobs all the way around so my shoulders, upper chest and upper back were naked and the illusion of cleavage was showing.
That dress was held in place with hope and a prayer.
It was the plucking of my eyebrows that finally snapped me out of my sleepy fugue.
“What the hell?” I jerked away from her. “What are you doing?”
“Relax Kev, I’m not shaping your brows, just cleaning them up a little.”
“Nothing permanent, Nicole. That was the deal.”
She rolled her eyes as only a teenage girl could. “Just the strays, promise.”
As she went back to work, the discomfort of all the undergarments I was wearing caused an odd thought to form. It wasn’t until she started working on my hair that I could put any words to it.
“Hey Nicole? Where did all this stuff come from, anyway?” I gestured down my body as best I could from my seated position with her hovering over me, doing something to my hair with a curling iron and a half gallon of hair gel.
“The dress? I wore that to Junior prom. All the rest of it?” She shrugged, “I bought it, but Andrea bankrolled it.”
Well that made me even more uncomfortable. I squirmed a bit in the chair. “Wasn’t this, I dunno, kinda expensive?”
She shrugged again, “Andrea’s like, totally loaded, so I wouldn’t worry about it. Now no more talking, I gotta start your make-up.”
Different shades of liquid foundation. Blending. Eyebrow pencil. Different shades of eye shadow. Blending that. Eye liner. Eyelash curling. Mascara. Powder foundation. Blush. Lipstick. Lip liner. Some kind of clear lip gloss thing over that. Sounds very simple when I list it all-out like that, but that ignores the massive amount of skill involved.
I was half-convinced that any successful make-up job required the talent of a renaissance painter.
Finally, she was done, and took a step back to inspect the finished product.
“Holy shit.”
“What?”
She shook her head, never taking her wide eyes from me. “I was all concentrating on your make-up in parts, ya know? Didn’t see what was actually happening until now, but damn! Just… damn.”