Forcing myself into motion, I grabbed a towel from the closet in the hall and made my way to the bathroom. I closed the door behind me with a quiet click.
The counter was cluttered with makeup products and hair clips, a pink electric toothbrush sitting in its charger.
“Oh God,” I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of having to undress this teenage girl’s body.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly peeled the tight pink tank top away from my chest, fumbling a little as it caught on the straps of my bra. Then, her leggings. I stood there in her underwear, a strange mix of mortification and curiosity washing over me.
I peered cautiously down at her chest …my chest. Quite different from my adult male body.
I swallowed hard and looked at myself in the mirror. This was it. Me. A young girl. Just seeing the reflection sent me into a momentary panic.
An unblinking girl fixed her eyes on mine as I shakily reached for the edge of the sports bra. I squeezed my eyes shut as I inched the bra over my head before opening them again.
There they were. Breast. Boobs. A pair of them, right there on my chest.
The sight was as startling as a slap in the face, a jolt of undeniable reality that left me too stunned to even move at first. I could hardly believe it, yet I couldn’t peel my eyes away.
Forcing my gaze away from the mirror, I focused on the faucet, turning on the shower with shaky hands.
“Come on, Tom. Just wash up,” I whispered to myself, clenching my jaw as I turned on the shower.
I moved the soap in tentative circles, feeling the wet slipperiness against her body. Soapy water flowed over my skin, over her curves, her breasts, her butt. I slid my hand down to her hips, then to her legs.
I was really showering as a girl.
Did this make me a creep? What would Mary think if she saw me now? Would she understand? Or if my mom or my sister knew about this? I could only imagine they’d keel over.
I was one of them now.
It seemed impossible for me to accept, yet I had to. I had been an adult man this morning, fully grown, fully male. But now, here, in the steam-filled bathroom? I was a teenage girl. The intense shock of it all was wearing off, leaving me with a peculiar sense of confused ownership over this new body.
It was mine now.
I grabbed the towel and wrapped myself in it, the fabric catching on my hips in a way I wasn't used to. I caught sight of myself again, wrapped in a white towel.
This was about to be the first time I’d really get dressed as Grace. This morning, I was a grown man. A husband. Now, I was in a teenage girl’s room, staring down a pile of her clothes.
Shit, why were literally all of her bras padded …and so colorful? My hand hovered over a bright pink bra before I yanked it out of the drawer.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to do it. The bra went on easier than I expected, although it felt strange and constricting around my chest. I looped the straps over my shoulders and gave the fabric an experimental tug.
It stayed in place.
“Next,” I sighed, supposed at how quickly I was adapting to this new reality.
The underwear came next, then the shorts. As I pulled them up over my hips —her hips— a small shiver ran through me. How did girls wear these so short?
I tried not to think too hard about it as I pulled on the tank top and gave myself one final look in the mirror.
The white tank top clung to her curves, accentuating her toned arms and flat stomach. The bright pink bra peeked out from under the fabric teasingly, adding a pop of color to the outfit.
Damn. She was …hot. For her age, of course.
I couldn’t help but imagine what her peers thought of her, how they saw her. Just from looking, it seemed almost certain she was one of the popular girls.
I had never been very popular, never the type to stand out in school or catch anyone’s attention. I was studious, a bit awkward, and definitely not the kind to date girls like this.
She would have been out of my league. Maybe that was why this felt so bizarre, so dreamlike. I was this teenage dream girl now, popular and attractive like I never was. I tried imagining myself, my old self, asking Grace out on a date. I couldn't even picture it. I would have been too shy to even approach her.
God, this whole situation was just... wrong. A grown man in a teenage girl’s body. Being Grace. I felt like a total pedo.
“Grace! Dinner’s ready!”
Jim's voice was full, echoing through the hall.
“I’ll be right down!” I shouted, surprised at how much I sounded like a teenage girl.
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