Becoming Stevie

I never thought my life would change forever on the day I turned twenty-one. The day began like so many others since high school graduation. I had worked an 8 hour shift at the bookstore. Late afternoon on June 3 saw me arriving home to find my parents and sisters Michelle and Melissa waiting at the patio table.

I joined them and my parents Alicia and Zach there.

"Happy birthday Steven," said Melissa.

I'm the youngest of three. My sisters are twins born twenty-two months before I came into the world.

I had been enjoying the birthday celebration for about fifteen minutes before Missy handed me the first gift, a box such as would contain a shirt. Though not wrapped, it did have a red bow.

I have never felt the need to transition. I'm not trapped in the wrong body. I happen to be gay but that's not the same as transgender.

I lifted the lid to find a blue floral v-neck 3/4 sleeves buttoned blouse.

REALLY?

I looked at my sisters then at my parents. The silence was defening.

Michelle handed me a similar box, this one also having a bow but not wrapped.

I lifed the lid and the paper to find jeans. Looking more closely I realized that they are cut for a female figure.

"WHAT's GOING ON HERE?"

"Nothing," Melissa replied, feigning innocence.

My parents Alicia and Zach remained silent for a couple of seconds until I confronted them.

"You let them give me clothes cut for a girl?"

"Well Yah," my dad replied.

"I'm outta here."

Having run 5 miles, I came home in need of a shower. As I was undressing in the bathroom my body felt and looked strange. There was unfamiliar soreness around my nipples, smaller and more delicate hands, softer upper arms.

Suddenly I could see what happened to my body. HOLY SHIT, I HAVE BOOBS.

"Where the fuck did these come from?"

The voice is surprisingly high-pitched.

I saw a girl reflected in the mirror. She was HOT but for the first time I did feel trapped in the wrong body.

Stevie spent several minutes in the shower exploring the new body even as the water cascaded off her skin washing away sweat and lather.

Did my sisters think to replace my clothes and underwear?

Inside my dresser top left hand draw I found colored bras. Pearl, Sandshell, Latte Lift. The tag on one said 32 C.

They're probably all the same size.

Do these even fit? How would my sisters even know my size?

Anyway I put my arms through the straps of the Pearl garment and fastened the band. Strangely enough, it felt good wrapped around my chest.

It seems to fit OK. I grabbed a pair of color matched high-leg panties from the middle draw and looked them over before getting into them. I don't want to put them on backwards.

Still in my undies I sat on the side of my bed to contemplate my new life. At least I can still work my same job. Would I need to reaply? If so, as Stevie or Stephanie?

This is a whole other life for me. What about the guys I hung out with? I need to make new friends.

Darkness fell. The moon was full. I removed the bra and put on a pale blue chemise before getting into bed.

On Sunday Mornng at 9 I sauntered out to the kitchen. My sisters were waiting for me.

"How did this happen?"

"How did what happen," Melissa asked.

"This," I replied, gesturing to my new and strange body.

Do my sisters have magical power? Did God play some cruel trick?

I poured a coffee and brought it to the porch where our parents were chatting over coffee. They both gave me a look as I crossed the threshold. The chemise showed ample cleavage and some bare flesh inside its lace cups.

"I never wanted this."

"Never wanted what," my mother challenged.

I didn't reply.

Ken Long had been my best friend since highschool. I never made an unwanted sexual advance toward him, nor did I even admit to being gay. He knew me as just one of the guys on the baseball team.

I found myself imagining him lying on top of me, not the first time for that. He's a hunk. His light brown hair, his toned physique, his blue eyes, his bow-shaped lips had made me want him in my previous life. That desire hasn't gone away. It just grew stronger.

"Stevie," said Melissa.

"Hang out with us some night."

I had met my sister's friends Jo and Beth but never really got to know them well.

"Where are you guys going?"

"No place special," Michelle replied.

Missy then mentioned a possibility that I hadn't considered.

"You might meet someone."

My sisters knew quite a few guys from their college days and their high school days. I had never met any of them.

It's not like either of my sisters hang out with them.

The mannequin was wearing the prettiest blouse I ever saw. I had to own it. I looked at my mom as though seeking advice.

"Buy it," she encouraged.

The light blue floral graphic top with v-neck and short flutter-sleeves would make this girl's wardrobe.

The bookstore hired me a few days later not realizing who I used to be in my former life. Jacqueline Tench, the woman for whom I used to work, now came to know me as Stevie Grace. I was no longer Steven Grande.

During a slow period in my first shift, assistant manager Caroline James made an interesting remark.

"You remind me of a boy who used to work here."

"I do?"

"I understand he died suddenly."

"That's not good."

"I love that blouse. It is so pretty."

I really need to find another blouse like this one.

Brief periods saw a few customers in line at each cash register. Much of the night, however, saw me serving a lone customer every several or few minutes.

I chatted briefly with coworker Sally Nile, a 29 year old redhead who remembered Steven Grande (my former life). Of course I pretended not to know her. Our chat was just girl talk.

As the days passed I developed a love of romance movies and novels. I became engrosed in the series "Virgin River".

The slowly developing relationship between "Melinda Monroe" and "Jack Sheridan" awakened my libido.

Having watched three episodes of the series, I retired for the night. Naked, I pulled the blanket almost to my breasts hiding the hand that rubbed my clitoris. A muted "mmmmmmm" escaped my throat as the organ swelled. The other hand cupped a breast squeezing it gently then slid to its twin. I wanted to be "Mel Monroe". Ken Long can be my "Jack Sheridan".