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Hormonal Imbalance(tranformation), Part One
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Hormonal Imbalance
by Leigh de Santa Fe
At breakfast his mother said, "Dennis, I think it's time to get
your hair cut."
"Mom, I got my hair cut last week."
"It couldn't have been last week, honey. It's already over
your ears."
"No way, Mom. I just got it cut."
"No arguing at the breakfast table," his father said from
behind a paper.
Dennis stomped out. In Geometry his voice cracked in the
middle of an answer which broke up the whole class including
the teacher. Dennis blushed but he recovered quickly.
Nothing happened the next day but on Wednesday as he stepped
out of the shower in the locker room, his chest felt sore. And
seemed swollen. He could actually feel loose flesh around his
nipples. He put it out of his mind but the next morning, alone
in the bathroom, he examined himself in the mirror. Not only
was his chest swollen but the nipples were larger. They looked
like small pegs. The circles around them had turned a deep,
reddish brown and were enlarged as well.
"I have cancer," he thought as beads of sweat broke out on his
brow. He became so obsessed that he didn't even notice that it
had been four days since he'd last shaved.
He buried his fears, dressed and rushed down to the breakfast
table.
"Dennis, didn't I tell you to get your hair cut on Monday," his
mother said irritated.
"I told you, mom. I went to the mall last Friday."
"Come with me right now."
She led him into the bathroom and said, "It couldn't have been
last week, honey. Look, it's way past your collar."
A lump grew in his throat but he managed to squeak out, "Okay.
Okay."
He cut gym that day and went to the library. Pouring over a
fat medical textbook he could find nothing that would account
for the swelling in his chest. "This has got to be some kind
of weird mumps," he thought.
After school he met his swim team buddy Jim in the hall.
"Aren't you going to practice?" he asked.
Dennis turned red. "No, I can't today."
"Why not?"
"I have to get a haircut."
"That's a lame excuse. Coach'll be pissed. You okay? You
don't look so hot."
"I'm fine," Dennis said, walking toward his locker.
"Gained some weight in your butt, dude," Jim called after him.
Dennis instinctively put his hands on his buttocks and Jim's
laughter echoed down the hall. Jim was right, Dennis thought,
"Everything about my body is changing." He walked home, so
engrossed in contemplation that when his girlfriend Debby
called out to him, he just kept on walking.
"Hey, didn't you hear me?"
"What, oh, Hi."
"Is something wrong Dennis?"
"No, nothing's wrong," he said, his voice cracking.
"You've been doing that a lot lately. I thought your voice
already changed."
"Look nothing's wrong, okay." Just as he reached the last
syllable it cracked again and Debby suppressed her laughter
because the look in his eye was murderous.
"Look I've got to get a haircut now. I'll see you tomorrow,"
he said trying hard not to let his voice crack again.
"Sure. Call me. Bye."
He ran off toward the mall.
When he finally got home, he raced to the bathroom and stripped
off his shirt. His hands felt his chest. The soft flesh hung
out into space about an inch. The nipples were larger and the
aureoles were now three inches across and reddish brown. He
could never go back to the swim team now. Not like this. He
stood for a moment wondering if he should tell his parents when
he noticed his hair. He'd just gotten it cut and it was over
his ears again. "It some gland thing," he thought. "I've got
tropical gland disease." Then he noticed his beard or rather he
noticed his beard hadn't grown in a week. In fact, his cheeks
were devoid of even the peach fuzz stubble that grew between
shaves. Instead they were smooth and pink. He ran to his
room.
At dinner he wore a bulky sweater to hide his swelling chest.
No one seemed to notice and afterwards he went to his room and
shut the door. Around nine his mom knocked to say goodnight.
He sat at his desk pretending to study. "Everything all right,
honey."
"Yeah, sure. Why?"
"No reason. Hey, will you promise me to get your hair cut
tomorrow?" she said as she closed the door.
The next day at school his voice cracked so many times that he
stopped talking altogether. On the way home, Debby knew
something was wrong.
"What the matter with you lately, Dennis? You're so sulky and
weird."
"Nothing's the matter, okay? I've just been studying really
hard." His voice cracked midway through the sentence and stayed
in the upper register.
"Is your voice getting higher? I thought it was supposed get
lower."
"Debby, can I tell you something?"
"Sure, Dennis. What is it?"
He blurted out all the strange changes that were taking place
in his body. "I want to see," she said. They ran to her house
and Debby pulled him up the stairs. When they were alone in
her room she said, "Well, take your shirt off."
"Promise you won't laugh," he said.
"I won't. Just take your shirt off and show me."
Dennis unbuttoned his shirt slowly and then peeled off his
T-shirt. He couldn't look at her.
She said nothing but her silence spoke volumes.
"What's wrong with me, Debby?"
Her eyes were traveling down from Dennis's chest to his waist.
"Dennis, take off your pants too."
"Why?"
"Just do it, okay."
He kicked his tennis shoes off and dropped his jeans.
Debby gasped. "Oh, my God."
"What? What is it?" he yelled.
"Your, uh, your butt."
"What about it?"
"It's bigger too," she said haltingly. "Look!" she said,
opening the door to her closet and pointing at the full length
mirror.
Dennis looked over his shoulder into the mirror and for the
first time all the puzzle pieces in place fell into place. His
jockey shorts were stretched tightly over his bottom and he
knew instantly why none of his pants seemed to fit anymore.
His waist had narrowed as well.
"You look kind of ... like a ..."
"Like a what," his voice cracked.
"Like a girl."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, your body looks ... well, rounder and softer. What
about down there?" she said, pointing to Dennis's groin.
"It's the same. If anything it's bigger," Dennis said softly.
"That's interesting," Debby said with a sly grin but he was too
distraught to respond.
"What's happening to me, Debby?" he said as he pulled his
clothes on.
"I don't know but it's really weird," she said, noticing for
the first time how tight his jeans were.
The next few days Dennis developed strategies for hiding the
changes in his body. He combed his hair straight back with gel
and he wore sweaters and his largest jeans. He put two pairs
of socks on so his daintier feet fit into his shoes and he
stopped talking except for tightly controlled monosyllabic
responses. He tried to keep his emotions in check but whenever
he was alone he wept uncontrollably. At night he'd go into the
bathroom and take off all his clothes, examining his body for
any retreat of the symptoms. There were none. His hair now
fell just past his shoulders. Tying it back in a ponytail
helped but it wasn't just longer, it was thicker. It didn't
look like a boy's ponytail at all.
His face was changing too. His beard had stopped growing but
now his features seemed to have grown softer. The jawline
seemed redrawn and his lips were fuller. Even his lashes
seemed darker, longer. He noted each alteration with
increasing fear.
His penis, on the other hand, was the only part of his
masculinity that wasn't in retreat. Instead it seemed to be a
mocking holdout against the onslaught of feminine changes,
competing with his breasts for rapid growth.
Every morning he prepared himself for school with an
increasingly sophisticated set of rituals designed to hide his
form, his figure, his face but he knew his efforts were meeting
with less and less success.
One day a substitute teacher in his English class was going
down the roster of names on a seating chart and matching them
with the students. "Denise Johnson," he said looking at
Dennis. No one even giggled and Dennis sat in silent
mortification.
He had avoided Debby for a few days now but on the way home she
caught up to him.
"Hi, Dennis."
"Hi," he said, his voice a breathy whisper.
"How've you been?"
"Okay, I guess." He was fighting back tears.
"I like your hair like that."
He was silent.
"Dennis?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe it's time you told you're parents."
"Tell them what," he lashed out. "That I'm turning into a
girl?"
"No!" she said, "Tell them that ... tell them that there's
something wrong with your glands or something. I don't know."
"It's getting worse. I can't button my pants all the way. I
cut my hair every night and in the morning it's longer and
thicker than ever. This morning I had to tape my ... breasts
so that they wouldn't show. I had to quit the swim team... "
he broke off.
Debby reached out to hold him but he pulled away. He didn't
want anybody touching him. He didn't want her to feel how soft
he'd become.
That night when he mother came in to say goodnight he looked up
from his textbook, his eyes glistening.
"Are you crying, Dennis? What's wrong, honey?"
"Mom, I'm ... uh. Mom?"
"What is it, baby?"
"Something weird is happening to my body." He broke down and
blurted out the whole incredible story. She asked him to take
his shirt off. He did and a look of panic crossed her face.
"Baby, oh, honey, everything's going to be alright. In the
morning, I'll take you Dr. Felder and we'll figure out what's
happening. Okay?"
"Don't tell Dad."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. Just don't tell him. Okay?
"Alright, honey. For now. Till we see what Dr. Felder has to
say."
The next day Dennis and his mother waited silently in the Dr.
Felder's office. Finally, a nurse emerged and beckoned to
Dennis. Seeing the fear in his eyes said, "Your first exam is
always the hardest," she said reassuringly. She led him back
to another waiting room. "If you'll just take your clothes
off, Denise, and jump up here, the doctor will be in shortly."
Dennis looked at his feet.
"Could you ask my mother to come in too?" he said.
The nurse hesitated, sensed his fear and said, "Of course."
He undressed, covering his privates with his t-shirt and eased
himself up on the examination table. He tried not to notice
his bust but it was impossible. They were so large, he
thought. Why did they have to be so large? The doctor and his
mother came in.
"Now, young lady, what's the problem?"
"The problem, Dr. Felder, is that this is my son," his mother
said.
An hour later Dennis and his mother drove home in silence.
Finally she spoke.
"I've got to tell your father."
"Why?"
"Because he's got to know."
"But why, mom?"
"Because he's going to find out."
"No, he won't. I'll hide it. I've hidden it so far."
"You're not going to hide it because you can't hide anymore,
Dennis."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, that for the short term, till we figure out what's
going on, I want you to start..."
"No," he cut her off. "I won't do that! I'll never do that!"
he screamed in his unfamiliar soprano.
"Dennis, look at yourself. Your clothes don't fit. You can't
hide your . . chest. You're ... you're a 36 C cup," she
said as the tears began to fall down her cheeks as well. "And
you don't look ..."
"Like a boy?"
"Yes, you don't. Not right now. As soon as we figure this
thing out we'll go back. You'll go back. I promise."
"No, mom. I can't do that. Everybody will know."
"Honey, I know it's hard but you won't have to go right back to
school. We'll take some time. Time to adjust. Time to figure
it all out."
"But Mom, someday I'll have to go back and when I do everybody
will stare at me. They'll laugh at me."
"Honey, they're already staring."
When they car drove up the drive, Dennis jumped out and ran up
to his room and locked the door. When his father got home he
could hear the fighting. Harsh words of disbelief and then the
pounding of feet coming up the stairs.
"Dennis, I want to talk to you."
Dennis took off his shirt and laid it on the bed.
"Dennis, open the door please.
He pulled his pants down past his thighs and stepped out of
them.
"Right now, Dennis."
He took the rubber band off his hair and shook his head. Then
he unlocked the door.
"My God!"
"Dad, what's happening to me?" he cried.
His mother appeared in the doorway behind his father. She ran
to him. "Oh, my poor baby," she said, cradling him in her
arms.
Fifteen minutes later, after the tears had come and gone and
come again his father said, "Your mother has a plan. She
thinks you should ..."
"No!"
"Dennis, it's best this way. For now. For this period. As
soon as its over, we'll go back to the way things were."
"Dad, don't let me do that!"
"Dennis," his father's voice broke now too, "you've got to try
it and that's it."
"Let's go to bed now and see if you don't feel differently in
the morning."
They left him alone and after three hours of staring at the
ceiling he finally drifted into troubled sleep.
For three days Dennis stayed in his room. His mother brought
him his meals in silence and he stayed in bed and thought and
slept. At times he would drift into strange dreams and wake up
coiled in his auburn hair. His body ached from the changes and
he slept a lot. He used the bathroom only when no one was
around. An scratchy old bathrobe was the only thing he wore.
He avoided his image in mirrors.
Changes continued to transform his body. If he didn't tie it
back with a rubber band, his hair fell forward and surrounded
his face like leaves from a flourishing vine. He stopped
sleeping on his stomach because it hurt his chest and his back
ached from the new top heaviness.
At times he would lie in bed and run his hands up and down the
sides of his body, feeling its contours, the softness, the
fresh hills and valleys that had grown during the night. He
avoided touching his chest because that was too painful, both
to the touch and to his bewildered psyche. When his robe
irritated his nipples he put on a t-shirt but found that the
jiggling of his breasts beneath the taut fabric only directed
his attention to his enlarged bust. Jockey shorts were out for
similar reasons. Pants were out of the question. He went back
to wearing the robe.
At times his father or mother would drop by and try to talk to
him but he remained steadfast in his silence and after a while
they went away. It was enough that he ate. Debby came by one
day. He refused to talk to her as well so she left his
homework assignments outside the door and said she come back
the next day to pick up his homework. Dennis didn't touch it
and the next day she tried to talk to him again.
"Dennis, it's me."
Dennis leaned against the door. His heart was pounding.
"Dennis, let me in. I just want to talk."
"Please go away," he said softly. It was the first words he'd
spoken in 72 hours. His voice had crept up another octave and
he bit his lip in shame.
"Dennis, you can't stay in there forever. Let me in. Please."
"Come back tomorrow. Okay?" Dennis said.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Okay. See you tomorrow. Bye." He listened to her footfalls
down the stairs and then walked to the edge of window and
watched her leave the yard. When she reached the gate she
turned and looked up. He darted back into the shadows.
The next day she came back.
"Dennis, can I come in?"
"The door's not locked."
Debby opened the door slowly. Dennis had his back turned to
her and was looking out the window. He wore the bathrobe
tightly wrapped around his body. His hair was pulled back in a
ponytail that fell to the middle of his back.
"Dennis."
He turned around and studied her face as she tried to contain
her surprise.
"I haven't looked in a mirror in 5 days. Have I changed a
lot?"
"Well ..." she swallowed, "yes, since I last saw you but that
was a long time ago," she added hastily.
"A week."
"Yeah, I guess so." Her eyes fell from his chest to his hips
and then to the walls of his room. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine. I'm great. Another week and I'll be ready for
my deb ball."
Debby walked to the bed and sat down.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. What would you do? What can I do?"
"Well, your mother ..."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing! She just thought that, for now anyhow, you could..."
"Could what?"
"I don't know!"
"Debby, I can't do that!"
"Why not?"
"Because ... I'm a boy. I'm a boy. I'm a boy," his voice
cracked and he fell on the bed sobbing. She reached out to
comfort him but his robe had fallen open and she stopped for a
moment to stare at his bosom. His breasts were now bigger than
hers.
"Dennis, show me. Show me your body."
"No."
She held him close. "Come on now. I'm your ... friend. You
can show me."
He sat up next to her. His hair had come undone and framed his
face with disheveled curls. He drew his robe together tightly.
"Look, I'll show you mine and you can show me yours. Okay?"
Before he could answer she stood up and pulled off her sweater.
She was wearing a black bra.
"I can't do this."
"Come on. I showed you mine," she said, pulling up off the
bed.
"I'm naked."
"Okay. Okay. Here." She unhooked the bra in front and slipped
it off.
"Now you," she said, tugging at the robe. He let it fall to
the floor.
"Oh God, Dennis," she said as her eyes quickly took in his
widened hips, his narrowed waist and the breasts which bounced
only inches from hers. She looked into his eyes. They were
filling with tears. She hugged him.
The door opened and his mother appeared in doorway. Debby
pulled away quickly. Dennis drew his arms up over his chest.
"That's okay, Debby." His mother looked at Dennis. "We're all
girls here now."
"Mom!"
"Oh baby, I'm sorry but you've got to face facts. Look at
yourself, honey. Something has happened."
Dennis turned away.
"Just try it for a little while. Here in your room. You don't
have to go out. Debby can help you. I'll go away. Just try
.."
"Try what?" he said.
His mother bit her lip.
"Try being a girl," Debby said. "You might even like it."
"Oh, God! Now you're both against me."
"Dennis, Debby wants to help you and so do I."
"Help me what?"
"Adjust."
Debby put her arm around his waist. "It's not that bad. I'll
help you."
"I don't know," he moaned. "What do you want me to do?"
His mother approached him tentatively and put her arm around
him too.
"Just ... just try some clothes on. That's all. Here. In
your room. You don't have to go out. No one will see you but
us."
"No one. Not even Dad?"
"Not even Dad."
"What clothes?"
Dennis's mother glanced at Debby and smiled. "Whatever you
want, honey. You can start with jeans and a ... blouse."
"I think you should start with a bra," Debby blurted out. "A
bra that fits."
His mother's face lit up. "I'll see if I can find something."
She dashed out of the room and came back immediately.
"Where'd you get this?" Dennis said. "It still has the tag on
it."
"Well, I just thought ..."
"You bought this for me, didn't you?"
"Just try it on," Debby said, putting his arms through the
straps. "It's hooks in front. Try hooking it yourself."
"You bought this for me," he said as his hands fumbled for a
moment and then his breasts were captive in the lacy white
cups.
"It's perfect," Debby said.
He looked down at his chest and saw the deep crack of cleavage.
It was a revelation. Much more shocking that a simple mirror
reflection, he could now see and feel his girlhood in three
dimensions. The juxtaposition of his pliant flesh and the
female garment met at more than simple juncture of skin and
fabric. They were joined now in some synapse in his brain. A
mindset was incubating.
"I want to see," Dennis said, heading for the bathroom. His
mother stopped him.
"Not yet. Put these on first," she said, handing him a pair of
beige cotton panties. He turned away and stepped into them.
The fabric stretched over his buttocks like a second skin. But
in front his cock struggled against containment. Debby and his
mother looked askance as he bounded past them to the bathroom,
the final strands of hair unraveling from the make-shift
ponytail.
When his mother and Debby caught up with him he was turning to
examine his profile in the mirror. Tears streaked his face.
Debby started to speak but Dennis's mother stopped her.
"I'm so big. I'm so big," he gasped, his fingers grazing the
surface of his bra cups. "You're not big. You're perfect."
"But I'm so ... " He looked at his body. It was so different.
So womanly. He had cleavage. Clouds of auburn hair unfurled
around his face and fell past the cups of his brassiere.
He turned to the women. "I am a girl now, aren't I?" he said
in a frightened whisper.
"Almost," Debby said.
Every day for the rest of the week Debby arrived at the Johnson
house at four o'clock with clothes for Dennis. She began with
old jeans and sweaters which he would try on. One day she
brought in large shopping bag.
"Now don't freak out, okay?"
"Have I freaked out yet?" Dennis said petulantly. He sat on
the bed, legs crossed in a distinctly unmasculine way and
wearing only his bra and panties. His hair was pulled back in
the familiar pony tail but a careful observer could see that
his bangs were ever so slightly teased.
"Okay, but this is different," she said as she pulled a baby
blue taffeta prom dress out of the bag.
"What's that?"
"A prom dress."
"Oh, God," he said, falling back on the bed in excited giggles.
"You promised."
"I can't wear that."
"Why not?"
"It's too ... too much."
Debby put the dress up against her body and strutted around as
though she just arrived at the ball. Then she turned to
Dennis, "Aren't you curious to see what a real dress feels
like?"
"Yes, but I'm scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Scared that I'll like it too much."
"Well, you're supposed to like it."
"But what if tomorrow my breasts go away and everything changes
back?"
Debby rolled her eyes. "Come on, get up. I want to see how it
fits you." Dennis obliged and she held the dress up to his
body. "You'll have to wear a different bra. The straps'll
show. Here," she said, pulling a strapless longline bra out of
the bag.
"Oh, I'll never get this on," Dennis said, looking at all the
hooks in back."
"I'll help you. Now, take off your bra and put this on."
Dennis gave her a withering look and slid off his old brassiere
and Debby helped him hook the eyes on the longline.
"Ooo la la," Debby said when he turned around to face her. The
bra pushed his breasts up and squeezed them together creating
generous cleavage. Dennis blushed.
Debby now pulled a powder blue tricot half slip out of the bag
and said, "Now, put this on."
Dennis pulled the slip on and swooned a little as the
deliciously cool fabric grazed his naked thighs. His mouth
went dry as he anticipated wearing his first dress.
"Are you ready, Cinderella?"
Dennis's dainty foot trembled as he stepped into the rustling
heap of blue. A moment later he was twirling around the room,
the enormous hoop of his skirts floating out from his body like
a swinging bell. Shoulder-framing gathers of soft taffeta met
at his decolletage in swirl of baby blue that looked like a
cinnamon role.
"Don't you want to see yourself?" Debby said, rushing him
toward the door.
"Yes, but ..." His father had still not seen wearing a bra and
panties, let alone a dress. The last thing Dennis wanted was
to surprise him in this big, poufy prom gown that displayed his
gorgeous bosom unashamedly. And yet, he was terribly curious
about how he looked. Debby's face waited expectantly for his
nod and even the sound of the rustling taffeta seemed to urge
him on. He relented. "Okay, let's go, but watch the stair."
Debby opened the door and looked both ways while Dennis picked
up his cascading skirt.
The reflection literally took his breath away. He was lovely
and so demure. He loved the way the shoulders tapered to frame
his decolletage. A new emotion was stirring down deep inside,
an emotion that confused and frightened him. He was almost
proud.
As he turned this way and that to view his profile Debby also
noticed the first signs of a feminine vanity creeping into his
demeanor. She was dying to undo his ponytail and brush his
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