Changing Sam. by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

(Photo courtesy of wikipedia)

“A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, there might have been life forms so unlike ours that we wouldn’t recognise them as such. Ours is carbon based because carbon forms so many complex molecules it enables polymers to form which become what we call proteins, once these developed a way to reproduce themselves life occurred and once those proteins formed as DNA, more complex life forms could happen. There are actually only four...” the teacher droned on and on and lost increasing numbers of his class to torpor or ennui.

One of these children was a boy called Sam. He was in a strange sort of place, almost in a dream and therefore long lost to the teacher, but still awake and looking, no analysing Amanda, her hair, her clothes, her makeup, her gesture. It was almost as if he was trying to absorb her into his being, so intense was his stare. Fortunately she didn’t notice, neither did any of her friends, which was lucky for Sam because he was seen as weird by his contemporaries. He was a loner and at fourteen was still to engage with puberty–he was thus without acne or growth spurts, deep or breaking voice and facial fluff.

After what seemed like a lifetime of trying to belong and being rejected, he accepted that he was different. He didn’t like it, he was at times lonely, but as his overtures to others over the years had resulted in him being bashed or insulted, he was getting used to it. It meant he couldn’t play team games by himself but he could now game courtesy of the internet and then he could join in because he was sure many of the other geeks or nerds were loners as well.

Sam was of a laid-back disposition, so he wouldn’t one day let his resentment boil over and murder half the school, besides he hated guns and violence and had no interest in making bombs or finding out how to. Computers and electronic musical instruments were his bag and he had a keyboard and various gadgets at home. He never brought much to school, though one day because someone had really pissed him off, he jammed their mobile phone while they were texting their girlfriend, Sam then changed the text to something less romantic and nearly wet himself when the girl slapped the boy and stormed off in a huff. Sam had shown his capability but could share it with no one–his moment of triumph was uncelebrated–he was a real loner.

Sam was an only child, again not something which assists the development of relationships and he’d spend hours either on his computer, playing games, or his keyboards or trying to find stories about boys who became girls. Sam desperately wished he was a girl, and a pretty one like Amanda–although he didn’t like her, she could be spiteful and bitchy and treated him like something she’d stepped in, he was envious of her body, her hair and everything else about her.

His parents were quite generous and didn’t question too much what he did. They were both busy–his mother was an accountant and his father an engineering consultant–so money was no problem so long as he didn’t get greedy. The big things he had, his computer and keyboard were Christmas or birthday presents or he built them himself buying the components as he could afford them. The computer he had now was ten times as good as the one his parents had bought him, modified by Sam as his know-how improved and his savings to acquire the bits.

When he saw the films on youtube about using makeup or masking ones maleness to appear female he had to have a go and instead of buying computer parts ordered some makeup from ebay–he wondered with practice would he be able to copy Amanda’s look which he saw as kewl. Because his parents were out before him and back afterwards, Sam usually took delivery of things or cycled down the post office depot to collect undelivered things. He wasn’t geeky about bikes, it was means of transport only and only for another three years, then he could get a car, even if he had to work in supermarket or someplace to get the money for the driving lessons.

When he got his delivery of cosmetics, he was overjoyed then realised he had nothing to remove them with, so he had to make a trip to the local pharmacy to get some makeup remover. With his longish hair and small size, the old man behind the counter assumed he was a girl and addressed him as such which caused a little shiver to go up his spine.

For the next few weeks, at every spare moment, Sam would play with makeup trying to get as close to the look that Amanda had. He even took surreptitious photos which he’d blow up on his computer to analyse it in even greater detail. Then he’d sit playing games as his alter ego, Samantha and no one online questioned his gender as anything other than female. It made school tolerable.

He discovered Amanda painted her toenails, so he did the same with a similar colour. He began to buy lingerie online and occasionally wore it under his uniform, the risk of being discovered almost making his heart stop at times. He was disappointed that Amanda seemed to be sprouting quite a chest and hips although her waist remained small. He so wanted to do the same but how?

He read loads online about hormones but where would he get them without a prescription. They were potentially dangerous drugs but he so badly wanted tits that he was prepared to take some risks. His first risk was in stealing his mother’s contraceptive pills. She was rather casual with them and he managed to snaffle a couple of month’s worth. He was sure at the end his nipples were bigger and more sensitive. To protect them from his shirts and potential jogger’s nipple, he would stick plasters or tape over them. It also meant he wouldn’t get noticed in school.

He didn’t do games or gym, the school having a policy of pupils opting out and doing extra lessons in something else–he did physics and maths.

The pills coupled with his strict diet did in fact mean he lost weight around his waist, so much so, his trousers used to slip down to his hips which gave a real danger to showing his panties or if he was wearing them, tights. He even went down a size in boy’s trousers to try and get something that fitted, but they didn’t–or only in places.

Another month of pills, meant his chest also began to pucker round the nipples and he began to grow little booblets. He was so proud of them, yet he could show them to no one. He began to wear baggy clothes on his top–arguably his school clothes were already baggy he’d lost both weight and muscle mass. He also discovered Pilates and bought himself a mat and practised on his own at home, trying to maintain the suppleness he thought a girl of his age should enjoy.

He developed one or two contacts on the web and one of them gave him the address of a reliable pharmacy suppliers–he bought a whole year’s supply of oestrogen and his life was about to change forever, although he seemed oblivious of it.

Sam continued popping the pills–just one a day seemed to do all he wanted and he carried on wearing baggy tops to school although he now had to bind his chest or wear a tight sports bra to stop his outgrowths bouncing round. According to the chart from the lingerie company he was fast heading for a B cup and he was delighted with his dusky areolae and nipples which had also grown somewhat.

He refused to cut his hair, which he kept tied back in a ponytail though he knew it needed styling. His parents nagged him about it and finally he agreed to get it trimmed but not by much. His mother accepted that it was better than nothing and gave him some money to do it.

Sam’s alternative wardrobe was burgeoning. He now wore girl’s trousers to school because boy’s ones didn’t fit anymore. Under these he only wore panties and if cold, tights or sometimes hold up stockings, under which he had painted toenails. If it was cold he would sometimes wear a bra and camisole under his blazer and pullover, and his armpits and legs were always shaved or depilated. When he took his uniform off, he looked like a girl with a tiny bulge in her panties. He bought a tight elastic gaff to avoid that.

He offered to do the laundry for his mother who he saw was ‘always so busy’. She thought he was being helpful and increased his pocket money by another fiver a week which enabled Sam to up his wardrobe quicker. The purpose of doing the laundry was to enable him to wash his own stuff without being discovered.

His parents left him mostly alone in the house, either working on their own stuff or chilling out. He did stay with them for dinner each night, and began to take over cooking that once or twice a week–he believed as girl, he should know how to cook.

This caused his mother to remark, “Sam, I love that you’re helping with chores around the house, it’s like the daughter we never had, and I do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, and if he doesn’t get his hair cut soon, he’ll look more like one too,” was his father’s observation.

“I’ll get it cut tomorrow, I promise,” he said on the Friday evening, which was true, he had an appointment at a salon for a trim as Samantha. He’d spent all week deciding what to wear, once he heard his parents were both working in the morning–in fact his dad was away all weekend–supervising a project up north somewhere, so he could be away for days.

Sam had also decided to have his ears pierced, just with studs for now, but it was another step on the ladder. On the day, as soon as he heard the front door slam he was out of bed and stripped off his nightdress–well what else? Then into the shower and he washed himself and his hair, removed any body hair, checked his eyebrows and then dried and moisturised himself–he’d noticed his skin had become drier with the pills–and he always moisturised his boobs, partly because he enjoyed touching them, and sometimes he wished he knew someone who’d like to touch them, though he didn’t know if that should be a boy or a girl–possibly he didn’t care as long as they didn’t stop until he was fed up. Fat chance.

He pulled on his bra and panties set, then a tight cotton top which showed a little cleavage, he pulled on some opaque tights and some short shorts in denim, on his feet he drew on a pair of ankle boots in black leather with two inch heels.

His heart was beating nineteen to the dozen when with slightly shaky hands he did his makeup, exactly the same as Amanda’s, down to the colour of the lipgloss, which he’d managed to see in her bag. He dried his hair and wore it down, brushing it until it shone, though he could see split ends and they needed cutting. His hair was down to his shoulders and beyond. He grabbed his handbag and gave himself a squirt of some eau de toilette, then walked down through the house with his hooded duffle jacket. He checked he had his money and his key and with a deep breath stepped out of the door and closed it behind him with a bang.

He walked to the bus stop and realised for the first time that he would be on view here but it was slightly too far to walk in heels. He had been practicing but on a limited basis. Once the bus arrived he recognised he had gone beyond the point of no return, so he got on and paid his fare. So far no one had paid him much interest except one or two teenage boys sitting on the back seat who whistled and passed the usual remarks. Sam blushed but sat down and gazed out the window.

Had he chosen a seat on the other side of the bus he’d have seen his mother’s car return to the drive because she forgot some files shed been working on. She entered the house and smelt the unusual perfume. She called his name and on receiving no answer went to see if he was on his computer. He wasn’t–perhaps he had a girlfriend? As she turned to leave his large bedroom, she spotted his nightdress and some makeup on the tallboy. Had the little bugger had a girl there? She wondered how she might ask him. He was fourteen and lots of kids were doing it at that age–however, it was below the legal age of consent and if he got some girl up the spout it could wreck two or even three lives. She’d better speak to him about it, she decided and then decided she needed a coffee and a think, called her office and cancelled her meeting. Secretly she was delighted, her oddball son had a girlfriend–wait till she told Ben, her husband. He’d be pleased too.

With this in mind she put her car in the garage and decided to work at home, hiding her car, in case Sam brought the girl home again. If he saw the car she knew he wouldn’t. Two can be sneaky, she smirked to herself as she drank the coffee.

While this was happening at her home, Samantha was in the salon being advised on matters trichological. The stylist cut her hair to remove the split ends sold her some shampoo and conditioner at exorbitant cost and then got one of the other girls to pierce her ears.

“We have a special offer on this week, get two piercings done for the price of one.” Sam misunderstood and thought she meant one in each ear, she didn’t she meant two in each ear and five minutes later an embarrassed Samantha escaped the salon with four pink crystal ear studs inserted in her ear lobes. Part of her loved it, but would anyone notice in school?

Rationalising, she realised if she only used two ear studs, the others would close up very quickly and if her ponytail was a bit looser, no one would notice anyway–and who ever looked at her. If she hadn’t been so self-absorbed, she’d have noticed lots of boys and some girls were checking her out for she made quite an attractive girl–the pills had done their job well.

This was the first time she’d been able to go shopping for real, and she was loving it. She bought several sets of ear studs, now she could use them, a pair of high heeled court shoes which she actually tried on and walked about in the shop–the bored teenage girl assistant, paying her not a wit of notice other than to take her money.

Finally at one o’clock she set off for home and felt sad, she’d have to change back before her mother came home or face the inquisition. As her mother did some forensic accountancy for the police and courts, she could certainly ask some questions.

Still, she had to look on the bright side, she’d gone out as herself and no one had noticed one more pretty teen girl on the prowl round the shops. She was sad that most of the others were with gangs of other girls and occasional boy, while she was on her own. But it was a first and Samantha now existed, people had interacted with her in the flesh–she’d had her hair cut and her ears pierced. She had some new shoes and skirt she’d actually tried on in the shop–that was like, so much fun even if she had almost died of fright–it was nice fright.

She felt really good as she put her key in the door and walked into the house, only for her mother to ask loudly, “Who the hell are you?”