Guilty Pleasure
He had come to live with his aunt a few months ago, embarrassed that he had no other options but to live under her strict rules. School hadn’t worked out, and it wasn’t like he had any job prospects lined up. She had put him up in the guest bedroom, an embarrassingly feminine room. Something she had later let slip was meant for her daughter, if she’d ever have one. The stay was contingent on two rules: One, he was to help her with her work, and Two, he was to never disobey a request. Her work, as it turned out, was genetic research. She was a scientist pioneering a new type of gene therapy to push the body towards its genetic potential, something she was eager to move past clinical trials.
He had started taking the pills a week into his stay. It was a relatively easy ask, he thought, especially compared to fending for himself. That lasted until the pills’ actual effects started setting in: His body was progressing nicely towards its peak potential, just not its peak male potential. He had already lost six inches of height by the time his aunt broke the news to him: his last blood test had been flagged as a female sample. The pills had only been tested on female subjects before him, and the genetic alterations they carried out were apparently inextricably linked to genomes only found in women. Not finding any of those in his body, they had found an alternate path by creating those genes themselves.
He had almost thrown up when he heard the news. His body was slowly becoming a woman’s from the inside out, and while the process could be stopped, it would take years of research before they could be reversed. It took hours for his aunt to talk him out of pulling the plug on the whole deal, a feat she only managed to pull off by doubling down on her deal as long as he rode the treatment out to the end. In exchange for his continued participation, she’d gift him a sizable payout and leverage her connections to get him new documents to match his new life. Faced with the prospect of either staying half a man or becoming a rich woman, he reluctantly accepted.
Six weeks later, he glanced at the bra he found waiting for him in the closet and paused for a moment, fixating on the tiny tag printed on one of the straps: 34F. Bigger than the last one’s number, smaller than the next one’s, always. The number pounded in his head, physical proof that his body was changing by the day. He slipped the bra on, deftly closing the clasp behind his back. The motion was almost unconscious now, the muscle memory of a girl who had done the same act countless times. The fabric of the bra enveloped his new breasts, their weight filling out the oversized cups perfectly. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting the bra until his cleavage sat perfectly.
He stepped back, admiring his work for a moment before stopping himself.
There it was again, he thought, that strange sense of excitement he now felt at the sight of his body each morning. Every day the pills made his body a little more female, stealing away what little traces of his old self he had left, When he had first noticed his body changing, it had felt like a pit in his stomach that never left. Now, that same fear was starting to give way to anticipation. As emasculating as it felt, a mix of lust and pride now appeared in the back of his mind whenever he looked at his body now, his eyes tracing the soft curves that had replaced his male form. A growing part of him wanted to see just how much more he would grow, to fully submit to his new femininity. A part of him that begged him to stop pretending the girly clothes and feminine mannerisms he was adopting didn’t just turn him on even more.
He swept his hair back, freeing a few stray strands that had gotten caught under his bra strap. Another muscle memory, blurring the line between his new body and his old self. He wondered just how much of himself was left at this point - The girl he saw in the mirror each morning moved less and less like the man he once was by the day.
Pulling his eyes away from the soft curves of his reflection, he went back to the closet for the next morning ritual: Seeing what clothes his aunt had laid out for him today. She had taken it upon herself to do his laundry each week, a favor he had thought nothing of until he began noticing the changes she was making to his wardrobe. Pieces he didn’t remember buying slowly started to replace his usual choices, They had started off simple, unisex. Mostly clothes like his own from before. That didn’t last long. By the time he had found the first bra in his closet, more of a tank top than a true bra, he realized now, his options had become decidedly more feminine. The clothes waiting for him in the closet now reminded him more of a teenage girl’s outfits than anything he’d pick out for himself. Even the T-shirts he had chosen the past few days had been women’s styles, the soft fabric clearly cut to accommodate his thin waist and growing bust. Looking at today’s options, it was clear those would be an option anymore.
He picked up the shirt first, a thin, tan crop top, and slipped it over his head. the fabric only went down to his stomach this time, revealing a thin stripe of creamy skin at his midriff. It was tighter than he expected, the top clinging to his every curve as it struggled to stretch over his new breasts. He had tried to avoid opening up the zipper down the front of the shirt out of embarrassment, but as he felt the material push back with every breath, the thought of a little extra breathing room was starting to sound more appealing. He fingered the zipper nervously for a moment before drawing it down his chest, breathing a sigh of relief as the shirt stretched to accommodate his cleavage. Up next was the bottom, a flowy skirt that set his heart racing when he realized just how much of his legs he’d be showing when he wore it.
Smoothing out his outfit for the day and turning back to the mirror, he let out a slight gasp as he saw the full effect the clothes had on his body. the unzipped top was significantly more revealing than he anticipated, leaving nothing to the imagination with how full his cleavage had become. The skirt too showed off more than he expected: His soft, hairless legs, the way it draped over the curve of his ass, stopping just short of revealing it. Seeing his body in underwear was one thing, something private he could rationalize away and hide under his clothes. Something he no longer had the option of doing. This outfit offered his body up for public consumption, put his most feminine assets out on display.
He felt a quiver coming from his new pussy as he imagined being seen out like this. What kind of attention would he get? More importantly, would he welcome the attention now? He had been a man before, he knew exactly what thoughts would run through their minds if they saw him like this. The thought of it only turned him on more, imagining their eyes roaming his body just like he’d done to himself in private. He blushed as he imagined what a man could do to his new body, the guilty pleasure of the thought heightened by mix of anticipation and fear of how far he’d be willing to go if he was given the chance. God, he could almost taste it, he thought, a now familiar wetness beginning to form in his panties. Was this a part of him that was always inside, waiting to be let out? Or were the pills going even further than he’d thought, altering his mind just like it had done to his body? He didn’t know which option scared him more, but what scared him the most was the fact that he knew it didn’t matter. Tomorrow morning he’d wake up and take the same pill again, fretting about the size of his tits or how different his lips felt now, all while trying to keep from thinking the one thought he was trying to avoid. As emasculating as it was, he wasn’t taking the pills because of any deal he had made anymore: He was taking them because his heart raced every time he saw his new body in the mirror, and he was tired of pretending it didn’t. He was slowly becoming more feminine by the day, and as much as he tried to deny himself, secretly his only wish was that it would go faster.
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