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Ding-dong.


The door swung open in front of me as I rang the doorbell. I was greeted by the sight of a slim pale-skinned girl wearing a tight shiny black tank top, black jacket, baggy cargo pants, and no shoes on her feet. Her hair was dark and hung down to her bare shoulders wetly, as if she’d showered recently. She smiled and stepped forward to embrace me. “Hey, honey,” Carmen whispered into my ear, her wet hair touching my cheek. “Hey, beautiful,” I replied, taking her head in my hands and kissing her on the mouth. Grinning, she called over her shoulder into the house behind her, “Hey, brats! Michael’s here!”

A twin chorus of “Yaaaaaaaay!” came from inside the house, as two miniature versions of Carmen came racing down the hall and launched themselves at my legs.  I let out an “Oof!” and teetered from the weight of the two little girls wrapped around my legs but stopped myself from falling. My girlfriend grinned down at her two younger sisters. “I’ve told Ellie and Caitlyn all about you,” she told me.

“Uh…..thanks….I think,” I said uncertainly, looking down at them. Both were barefoot and dressed in leotards with matching scrunchies—the leo, scrunchie, and nails of the girl holding my left leg were easter-egg pink, while the one hugging my left wore baby blue. Both disengaged from my legs and beamed up at me expectantly. “Hi Michael!” they said in unison.

“I’m Ellie!” The one in pink chattered. “I’m Caitlyn!” The one in blue squealed. They both ran out past me into the yard and turned back to me. “Wanna see me do a round-off?” Ellie asked. “I just got my back handspring! Watch!” Caitlyn added. Without waiting for a response, both girls immediately began executing a series of backflips, cartwheels and crazy gymnastic moves that I couldn’t even name, let alone attempt. “Your little sisters are good,” I commented to Carmen, impressed. She allowed herself a smile of pride. “They’ve been practicing just for you. Come on in.”

She took my arm, led me into the living room and sat me down on the sofa next to her. She yawned, stretched, and shrugged off her black leather jacket to reveal that what I had mistaken for a tank top was in fact a tight-fitting black leotard that showed off her lovely curves and slim but firm muscles beautifully. She caught me staring and grinned.  “It’s my warm-up and practice leo,” she said. “I’ve gotten so used to wearing it that by now it’s like a second-skin or something. Feel it!”

She rubbed her hands up and down the smooth lycra, tracing the contours of her chest in the creased fabric. “It feels awesome,” she said to me a little shyly, blushing somewhat. “It looks awesome, too,” I said. Carmen had started gymnastics at a very young age and had taken to wearing her leotards around the house, she told me, a habit her sisters had evidently picked up. I had no personal interest in gymnastics myself, but the leotards and the girls wearing them I could appreciate. I reached out and took hold of a little creased flap of fabric, squeezing it in my hand and feeling how it fit around her chest. A little erotic moan escaped her mouth, and I felt an uncomfortable pressure building in my pants, straining against my jeans.

“It feels so smooth,” I said to her. “That’s what I like about it,” she said. I leaned closer. “You’re so smooth,” I whispered into my ear, “That’s what I like about you.” She laughed and I kissed her. “Wait here,” she said, getting up from the sofa, and padded barefoot into the kitchen, returning with two plates of food that she placed on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

The coffee table also bore a fancily engraved silver medal, (2nd Place, I noticed) and a framed photograph—Carmen posing with the rest of her gymnastics team, dressed identically in shiny purple long-sleeved leotards, medals round their necks, smiles on their faces, standing purple spandex shoulder to purple spandex shoulder. Carmen picked up the photo and smiled nostalgically.

“Our last competition, last year,” she said. “We came in second place overall, when we really should have been able to get first. I stepped out of bounds on floor like an idiot and Heather—our best girl—fell on the beam twice. We were so pumped up to try again and do better. We thought we had a shot at it. But Heather’s bitch mom got a divorce at the end of last season and moved her away. Now we’ll never get first place.” She placed the photo back sadly. I squeezed her bare shoulder and slid my fingers under one of the shoulder straps, lifting it up away from her skin.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “You’ll always be first place in my heart.” She made an “awww” noise and laid her head on my shoulder, but didn’t kiss me. I left the shoulder strap fly back into place with a lycra snap! noise that made my private parts throb and ache like they were filled with concrete.

We talked for a little while about gymnastics and girls and stuff. To my surprise, Carmen didn’t seem to mind me talking about other girls I found attractive, adding her own opinions to the matter and occasionally voicing one I hadn’t thought of. By then I really needed to go pee, and so I got up and went to the bathroom. Shutting the door, I clumsily fumbled off my pants and shirt—to keep them clean in case I had an “eruption”—and sat down butt-naked except for my shoes on the porcelain bowl. I sat there taking my “quality time” for a while, my underwear round my socks, until a small hand crept round the door and it started to swing open! Yelping, I quickly donned my boxers and stopped the door’s progress. “Um, knock knock?” I said incredulously and more than a little indignantly.

“Who’s there?” Came the reply.
“Uh, Michael?”
“Oh, okay. Hi, Michael!”
“Is this Ellie or Caitlyn?”
“Both!” Two cheerful voices chorused in unison.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something here, guys….”
“We know!” There was a pause, then one of them, I think it was Ellie, said “We take our shoes off for gymnastics.”
Okay, that was random. “Who said anything about gymnastics?” I asked in confusion.
“Nobody,” the other voice replied. “Just you didn’t take your shoes off.” The other girl added, “We do gymnastics.”
“Well, I don’t,” I said a little testily, trying to communicate to them that they should leave. Apparently neither got the hint.
“You should do gymnastics,” one of them said.
“Um, no, I’m not built for it. I don’t think I’d be very good.”
“Yeah you would,” one of them said matter-of-factly. “You’d get your own leotard and be on the team with Carmen and compete on all the events and win prizes. It would be so awesome.”
“Medals, Caitlyn, not prizes,” Ellie admonished.
“I don’t think joining gymnastics is a very good idea for me,” I said.
“We do,” they replied. “You’re dumb.” Well, okay, then, if they were going to be like that…….
“If I say I’ll join, will you leave me alone?”

“Maybe,” they said dismissively. Then, to my disbelief, one of them pushed the door open a crack, snaked an arm in, grabbed my pants from where they lay on the floor, and yanked them through the doorway. I bit down a curse, quickly pulled my boxers up, and pulled the door open to grab one of them, but Caitlyn darted through the door in a blue blur, snatched my shirt as well and vanished before I could grab her! “Michael’s in his underwear, Michael’s in his underwear!” They sang as they raced down the hallway in opposite directions.
Yelling indignantly, I wrapped a towel round my waist for some decency, dashed out the bathroom and ran smack into a stunned Carmen in the hallway, dropping the towel in the process. She wore a pair of shorts-shorts and had gotten changed out of her black leo into a red-white-and-blue, long-sleeved patriotic leotard with stars and rhinestones like I’d seen the chicks in the Olympics wear. She looked down at my naked chest in disbelief and then up at me, like, “Mike, what the hell?”

“Your stupid little sisters stole my clothes!” I shouted indignantly. “We got your clooooooothes!” came the shouts from down the hallway. She looked down at my boxers—which, to my horror, I realized, were doing very little to disguise my involuntary male reaction—and up at my face. A knowing, mischievous smile crept across her lips. “I think I’ve got something that can help.”

“Oh thanks, Carmen, you’re the greatest!” I squeezed her shoulder, she let me kiss her. I followed into her room, she grasped her shorts and shimmied out of them.

Oh, maaaaaaaaan.

Now wearing only her leotard, she pulled open a drawer and started rifling through it. I stood on my tiptoes to look over her shoulder, my curiousity piqued at seeing a girl’s drawers despite my embarrassment. What did she have for me? Of course Carmen frequently wore men’s pants and jeans, that’d probably be it. I smiled to myself. My girlfriend really was the best. Getting stripped by two obnoxious little kids was worth it for the view I got of Carmen’s spandex-clad butt as she bent over the drawer. She finally turned around triumphantly and thrust a wad of slick fabric into my hands. “Here!” She said happily.
I took the wad of fabric and examined it, discovering to my shock that it was a shiny white and blue-long-sleeved leotard with a red stripe across the chest, not unlike the one she was wearing. My first thought was that she’d found me a boy’s leotard—didn’t dude gymnasts wear them as well?—but that hope was quickly dashed when I felt the long sleeves—I wasn't an expert on gymnastics, but I was pretty sure only the chicks wore long-sleeved uniforms—and saw the diagonal red stripe across the chest that drew attention to where a girl’s boobs would be.

“Carmen, I can’t wear this!” I spluttered indignantly. “It’s for girls?”
“Why not?” She pouted. “You also can’t spend the rest of the day in your boxers.”
“But….” I lacked words to communicate. “That’s different! This is a girl’s leotard!”
She smiled knowingly like I was a child. “Not it’s not. It’s yours now.”
“But…….” My embarrassment was only heightened when I felt my voice crack and rise several octaves.

“Don’t worry, no one will know. My mom won’t care, my sisters will laugh but I’ll threaten to beat them up. Nobody but us will ever find out,” She promised.
“I’ll know,” I said unhappily. She slid a spandex-clad arm around my neck and pulled me in close. “Trust me,” she whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “I’ll make it worth your while, just you see.”

I couldn’t argue with that, nor could I say no. “Alright,” I said. Reluctantly holding up the leotard to figure out how to put it on, I realized I’d have to remove my boxers first. Well, duh. “No peeking,” I told her.

“I promise!”

She turned her back as I shucked off my boxers and held the leotard out at about knee height. Pushing one bare leg into the neck-hole and then the other, I managed to squeeze my shoulders inside and push my arms in after pulling it up my chest. I twisted and wiggled my body until it clung snug and tight to my body.
At first, I felt nothing but discomfort. I hated the way it stuck to my body tightly and squeezed my private parts, and yet…..

I had never worn women’s clothing before, and it was totally alien but not entirely uncomfortable feeling. Experimentally, I walked a couple steps around the room to get used to it, flexed my arms and tried to touch my toes. My legs felt more relaxed and free to move, like no part of my clothing was getting in the way of my movement. The material seemed to expand and contract perfectly in time with my muscles, compressing my body and molding itself to it at the same time. Rubbing the material, I felt it was so slick and smooth that the division where Lycra met skin was barely noticeable. It felt like all of my body’s shapes and contours were brought out into view by the leotard, and rather than being exposed I felt flattered by it. I could see why Carmen and her sisters liked to wear leotards so much. It was as if I had become fluid and the leotard was the container into which I had been poured, and now I was free to assume whatever shape I wished. I was rapidly growing more comfortable with the feeling, and involuntarily a thought escaped my lips. “Hey, this is actually pretty nice.”

Carmen turned around and a cautious smile formed on her face. “Now comes the hard part.”

What? I barely had a second to question what she meant by that before a strange tingling feeling seemed to set my skin alight. The surface of the leotard seemed to ripple and flex almost on its own, and I could swear that the material seemed to be……glowing, faintly. Sparkling in an unnatural way like it was lit from within. Before I so much as shake my head, my stomach seemed to twist and writhe sickly and I felt a great force in the chest like a sledgehammer blow. My knees wobbled, my legs buckled and I fell back towards the bed. Carmen caught me and lifted me up in arms like a baby—damn, these gymnast girls were strong—and laid me gently across the bed with my head on the pillow.

“You’ll want to be lying down for this,” Carmen said, as an intense pressure seized me by the groin and seemed to grip my entire body.

It was like I could feel my bones shrinking inside my arms, legs, and chest, retracting into themselves and growing shorter. The hairs on my arms and legs retracted back into the skin, my scalp felt as if it were stretching, and I could feel my ears tickled by hair. Wait a second—I didn’t have long hair. My chest seemed to be inflating and expanding like a balloon—I felt like it was going to explode, and my private parts felt like they were being squeezed in a vice. I was losing the feeling of my telltale bulge there down below—my privates started feeling increasingly smooth and flat. My hips seemed to stretch and curve outwards, my torso seemed to cave in on itself, and the bones of my face started becoming softer and rounder. I felt a tearing in my privates region, my chest was swelling like it was about to explode, my skin seemed to be squeezing my bones, and an involuntary shriek escaped my lips in a bizarrely high-pitched and soft voice. My whole body shuddered—once—twice—three times—and then it was over.

I sank into the bed, exhausted. It felt like I’d been made to do push-ups until I dropped, and then immediately been forced to run a marathon. Carmen slid onto the bed alongside me and turned my face towards hers. A mop of curly long blond hair fell into my eyes—I didn’t have hair long enough to reach my eyes. I tried to brush it out of my eyes, but as soon as I did so I noticed how much thinner and more delicate my hands looked. “Are you okay?” Carmen asked in a voice run through with concern and gentleness. “I’m fine, thanks,” I squeaked—my voice seemed much gentler and higher than before. What was going on?

I sat up on the bed and gestured with a weak arm at the mirror. Seeming to understand, she slid an arm behind my back to support me and stood me up to wobbly feet. We padded over to the mirror, where I stared in shock at my own reflection—but it wasn’t me.

Wide hips sloped inwards towards a fine torso lined with thin, supple muscle underneath the leotard. My shoulders and thighs were smaller but more pronounced, felt stronger, I could feel the energy coursing through them beneath the skin, and at the same time my arms and legs were shorter and more elegant. My facial features had softened, their lines less pronounced and more gently curved, and in place of my short blond hair golden strands, held back by a purple hairband, cascaded straight down over my shoulders like a princess. My groin and private parts were distinctly flat and smooth, while my chest was dominated by pronounced mounds. I reached a shaking hand up to squeeze them and confirmed that, yes, indeed, I now had boobs. An involuntary noise of surprise escaped my red, well-shaped lips.

In short, in the mirror, in place of my reflection was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.

“Carmen, what did you do to me….” I squeaked. She came up behind me and laid her chin on my shoulder.

“You’re beautiful, Michelle,” she said softly. Not Michael. Michelle. That confirmed it. I was a chick now.

I turned around and stared deep into her eyes. My throat ached and I couldn’t seem to form words. “Do you like the way I look, Michelle?” She asked me gently. My answer surprised both of us.

“Carmen, I love it,” I breathed, and melted into her embrace. She squeezed me tightly. “I had to do it, Michelle. After Heather left me, we badly needed someone to replace her—to fill the hole left in the team, and in my heart.”

I remembered how Carmen had stared at the picture of Heather with such longing. Heather had moved away at the end of last gymnastics season……and Carmen had agreed to go out with me immediately afterwards. Apparently Heather and Carmen had been more than just teammates. My girlfriend squeezed my shoulder, hard.

“Mom and I worked the magic out together, and wove into the shape of the leotard you’re wearing. I had the leotard ready to transform whoever put it on into her replacement, I just didn’t know who. And then you came along and asked me out, and you were so sweet and smart and athletic. I said yes, but I didn’t have the heart to tell you why……”
I understood now why she’d invited me over to her house. My heart sunk as the realization hit home.

“You mean you’re gay, Carmen? Up until now, was this fake? Have you been stringing me along this whole time?” My voice cracked and my eyes stung with water. Carmen surprised me by kissing me on the mouth, deeply. It had always been me before who initiated our kisses…….she had never kissed me first before, not once. I wrapped my arms around her spandex-clad body, and she around mine. We fell onto the bed, wrapped in each others’ arms, sunk deep in each others’ lips. We separated.

“No, stupid,” she said. “I like girls and guys. I just like chicks more.”

There came a knock on the door and she rolled off me. Ellie and Caitlyn cautiously peeked around the door. Carmen turned to me sheepishly.

“Sorry about recruiting them to steal your clothes so you’d be forced to put the leotard on,” she said.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “It was worth it.”

“Did the magic happen yet? Is Michael a girl?” Ellie asked, seemingly afraid the answer might be ‘no’. I gave her my biggest smile. “Call me Michelle, Ellie.”

“Yaaaay!” Both girls chorused in unison. And inside, yay, I agreed.
Find the original image here. Original image:

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hrlyquinnx Featured By Owner Mar 24, 2017
Very cute and fun story!
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:iconmovealongmovealong:
MoveAlongMoveAlong Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2016
Ding-dong.


The door swung open in front of me as I rang the doorbell. I was greeted by the sight of a slim pale-skinned girl wearing a tight shiny black tank top, black jacket, baggy cargo pants, and no shoes on her feet. Her hair was dark and hung down to her bare shoulders wetly, as if she’d showered recently. She smiled and stepped forward to embrace me. “Hey, honey,” Carmen whispered into my ear, her wet hair touching my cheek. “Hey, beautiful,” I replied, taking her head in my hands and kissing her on the mouth. Grinning, she called over her shoulder into the house behind her, “Hey, brats! Michael’s here!”

A twin chorus of “Yaaaaaaaay!” came from inside the house, as two miniature versions of Carmen came racing down the hall and launched themselves at my legs.  I let out an “Oof!” and teetered from the weight of the two little girls wrapped around my legs but stopped myself from falling. My girlfriend grinned down at her two younger sisters. “I’ve told Ellie and Caitlyn all about you,” she told me.

“Uh…..thanks….I think,” I said uncertainly, looking down at them. Both were barefoot and dressed in leotards with matching scrunchies—the leo, scrunchie, and nails of the girl holding my left leg were easter-egg pink, while the one hugging my left wore baby blue. Both disengaged from my legs and beamed up at me expectantly. “Hi Michael!” they said in unison.

“I’m Ellie!” The one in pink chattered. “I’m Caitlyn!” The one in blue squealed. They both ran out past me into the yard and turned back to me. “Wanna see me do a round-off?” Ellie asked. “I just got my back handspring! Watch!” Caitlyn added. Without waiting for a response, both girls immediately began executing a series of backflips, cartwheels and crazy gymnastic moves that I couldn’t even name, let alone attempt. “Your little sisters are good,” I commented to Carmen, impressed. She allowed herself a smile of pride. “They’ve been practicing just for you. Come on in.”

She took my arm, led me into the living room and sat me down on the sofa next to her. She yawned, stretched, and shrugged off her black leather jacket to reveal that what I had mistaken for a tank top was in fact a tight-fitting black leotard that showed off her lovely curves and slim but firm muscles beautifully. She caught me staring and grinned.  “It’s my warm-up and practice leo,” she said. “I’ve gotten so used to wearing it that by now it’s like a second-skin or something. Feel it!”

She rubbed her hands up and down the smooth lycra, tracing the contours of her chest in the creased fabric. “It feels awesome,” she said to me a little shyly, blushing somewhat. “It looks awesome, too,” I said. Carmen had started gymnastics at a very young age and had taken to wearing her leotards around the house, she told me, a habit her sisters had evidently picked up. I had no personal interest in gymnastics myself, but the leotards and the girls wearing them I could appreciate. I reached out and took hold of a little creased flap of fabric, squeezing it in my hand and feeling how it fit around her chest. A little erotic moan escaped her mouth, and I felt an uncomfortable pressure building in my pants, straining against my jeans.

“It feels so smooth,” I said to her. “That’s what I like about it,” she said. I leaned closer. “You’re so smooth,” I whispered into my ear, “That’s what I like about you.” She laughed and I kissed her. “Wait here,” she said, getting up from the sofa, and padded barefoot into the kitchen, returning with two plates of food that she placed on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

The coffee table also bore a fancily engraved silver medal, (2nd Place, I noticed) and a framed photograph—Carmen posing with the rest of her gymnastics team, dressed identically in shiny purple long-sleeved leotards, medals round their necks, smiles on their faces, standing purple spandex shoulder to purple spandex shoulder. Carmen picked up the photo and smiled nostalgically.

“Our last competition, last year,” she said. “We came in second place overall, when we really should have been able to get first. I stepped out of bounds on floor like an idiot and Heather—our best girl—fell on the beam twice. We were so pumped up to try again and do better. We thought we had a shot at it. But Heather’s bitch mom got a divorce at the end of last season and moved her away. Now we’ll never get first place.” She placed the photo back sadly. I squeezed her bare shoulder and slid my fingers under one of the shoulder straps, lifting it up away from her skin.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “You’ll always be first place in my heart.” She made an “awww” noise and laid her head on my shoulder, but didn’t kiss me. I left the shoulder strap fly back into place with a lycra snap! noise that made my private parts throb and ache like they were filled with concrete.

We talked for a little while about gymnastics and girls and stuff. To my surprise, Carmen didn’t seem to mind me talking about other girls I found attractive, adding her own opinions to the matter and occasionally voicing one I hadn’t thought of. By then I really needed to go pee, and so I got up and went to the bathroom. Shutting the door, I clumsily fumbled off my pants and shirt—to keep them clean in case I had an “eruption”—and sat down butt-naked except for my shoes on the porcelain bowl. I sat there taking my “quality time” for a while, my underwear round my socks, until a small hand crept round the door and it started to swing open! Yelping, I quickly donned my boxers and stopped the door’s progress. “Um, knock knock?” I said incredulously and more than a little indignantly.

“Who’s there?” Came the reply.
“Uh, Michael?”
“Oh, okay. Hi, Michael!”
“Is this Ellie or Caitlyn?”
“Both!” Two cheerful voices chorused in unison.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something here, guys….”
“We know!” There was a pause, then one of them, I think it was Ellie, said “We take our shoes off for gymnastics.”
Okay, that was random. “Who said anything about gymnastics?” I asked in confusion.
“Nobody,” the other voice replied. “Just you didn’t take your shoes off.” The other girl added, “We do gymnastics.”
“Well, I don’t,” I said a little testily, trying to communicate to them that they should leave. Apparently neither got the hint.
“You should do gymnastics,” one of them said.
“Um, no, I’m not built for it. I don’t think I’d be very good.”
“Yeah you would,” one of them said matter-of-factly. “You’d get your own leotard and be on the team with Carmen and compete on all the events and win prizes. It would be so awesome.”
“Medals, Caitlyn, not prizes,” Ellie admonished.
“I don’t think joining gymnastics is a very good idea for me,” I said.
“We do,” they replied. “You’re dumb.” Well, okay, then, if they were going to be like that…….
“If I say I’ll join, will you leave me alone?”

“Maybe,” they said dismissively. Then, to my disbelief, one of them pushed the door open a crack, snaked an arm in, grabbed my pants from where they lay on the floor, and yanked them through the doorway. I bit down a curse, quickly pulled my boxers up, and pulled the door open to grab one of them, but Caitlyn darted through the door in a blue blur, snatched my shirt as well and vanished before I could grab her! “Michael’s in his underwear, Michael’s in his underwear!” They sang as they raced down the hallway in opposite directions.
Yelling indignantly, I wrapped a towel round my waist for some decency, dashed out the bathroom and ran smack into a stunned Carmen in the hallway, dropping the towel in the process. She wore a pair of shorts-shorts and had gotten changed out of her black leo into a red-white-and-blue, long-sleeved patriotic leotard with stars and rhinestones like I’d seen the chicks in the Olympics wear. She looked down at my naked chest in disbelief and then up at me, like, “Mike, what the hell?”

“Your stupid little sisters stole my clothes!” I shouted indignantly. “We got your clooooooothes!” came the shouts from down the hallway. She looked down at my boxers—which, to my horror, I realized, were doing very little to disguise my involuntary male reaction—and up at my face. A knowing, mischievous smile crept across her lips. “I think I’ve got something that can help.”

“Oh thanks, Carmen, you’re the greatest!” I squeezed her shoulder, she let me kiss her. I followed into her room, she grasped her shorts and shimmied out of them.

Oh, maaaaaaaaan.

Now wearing only her leotard, she pulled open a drawer and started rifling through it. I stood on my tiptoes to look over her shoulder, my curiousity piqued at seeing a girl’s drawers despite my embarrassment. What did she have for me? Of course Carmen frequently wore men’s pants and jeans, that’d probably be it. I smiled to myself. My girlfriend really was the best. Getting stripped by two obnoxious little kids was worth it for the view I got of Carmen’s spandex-clad butt as she bent over the drawer. She finally turned around triumphantly and thrust a wad of slick fabric into my hands. “Here!” She said happily.
I took the wad of fabric and examined it, discovering to my shock that it was a shiny white and blue-long-sleeved leotard with a red stripe across the chest, not unlike the one she was wearing. My first thought was that she’d found me a boy’s leotard—didn’t dude gymnasts wear them as well?—but that hope was quickly dashed when I felt the long sleeves—I wasn't an expert on gymnastics, but I was pretty sure only the chicks wore long-sleeved uniforms—and saw the diagonal red stripe across the chest that drew attention to where a girl’s boobs would be.

“Carmen, I can’t wear this!” I spluttered indignantly. “It’s for girls?”
“Why not?” She pouted. “You also can’t spend the rest of the day in your boxers.”
“But….” I lacked words to communicate. “That’s different! This is a girl’s leotard!”
She smiled knowingly like I was a child. “Not it’s not. It’s yours now.”
“But…….” My embarrassment was only heightened when I felt my voice crack and rise several octaves.

“Don’t worry, no one will know. My mom won’t care, my sisters will laugh but I’ll threaten to beat them up. Nobody but us will ever find out,” She promised.
“I’ll know,” I said unhappily. She slid a spandex-clad arm around my neck and pulled me in close. “Trust me,” she whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “I’ll make it worth your while, just you see.”

I couldn’t argue with that, nor could I say no. “Alright,” I said. Reluctantly holding up the leotard to figure out how to put it on, I realized I’d have to remove my boxers first. Well, duh. “No peeking,” I told her.

“I promise!”

She turned her back as I shucked off my boxers and held the leotard out at about knee height. Pushing one bare leg into the neck-hole and then the other, I managed to squeeze my shoulders inside and push my arms in after pulling it up my chest. I twisted and wiggled my body until it clung snug and tight to my body.
At first, I felt nothing but discomfort. I hated the way it stuck to my body tightly and squeezed my private parts, and yet…..

I had never worn women’s clothing before, and it was totally alien but not entirely uncomfortable feeling. Experimentally, I walked a couple steps around the room to get used to it, flexed my arms and tried to touch my toes. My legs felt more relaxed and free to move, like no part of my clothing was getting in the way of my movement. The material seemed to expand and contract perfectly in time with my muscles, compressing my body and molding itself to it at the same time. Rubbing the material, I felt it was so slick and smooth that the division where Lycra met skin was barely noticeable. It felt like all of my body’s shapes and contours were brought out into view by the leotard, and rather than being exposed I felt flattered by it. I could see why Carmen and her sisters liked to wear leotards so much. It was as if I had become fluid and the leotard was the container into which I had been poured, and now I was free to assume whatever shape I wished. I was rapidly growing more comfortable with the feeling, and involuntarily a thought escaped my lips. “Hey, this is actually pretty nice.”

Carmen turned around and a cautious smile formed on her face. “Now comes the hard part.”

What? I barely had a second to question what she meant by that before a strange tingling feeling seemed to set my skin alight. The surface of the leotard seemed to ripple and flex almost on its own, and I could swear that the material seemed to be……glowing, faintly. Sparkling in an unnatural way like it was lit from within. Before I so much as shake my head, my stomach seemed to twist and writhe sickly and I felt a great force in the chest like a sledgehammer blow. My knees wobbled, my legs buckled and I fell back towards the bed. Carmen caught me and lifted me up in arms like a baby—damn, these gymnast girls were strong—and laid me gently across the bed with my head on the pillow.

“You’ll want to be lying down for this,” Carmen said, as an intense pressure seized me by the groin and seemed to grip my entire body.

It was like I could feel my bones shrinking inside my arms, legs, and chest, retracting into themselves and growing shorter. The hairs on my arms and legs retracted back into the skin, my scalp felt as if it were stretching, and I could feel my ears tickled by hair. Wait a second—I didn’t have long hair. My chest seemed to be inflating and expanding like a balloon—I felt like it was going to explode, and my private parts felt like they were being squeezed in a vice. I was losing the feeling of my telltale bulge there down below—my privates started feeling increasingly smooth and flat. My hips seemed to stretch and curve outwards, my torso seemed to cave in on itself, and the bones of my face started becoming softer and rounder. I felt a tearing in my privates region, my chest was swelling like it was about to explode, my skin seemed to be squeezing my bones, and an involuntary shriek escaped my lips in a bizarrely high-pitched and soft voice. My whole body shuddered—once—twice—three times—and then it was over.

I sank into the bed, exhausted. It felt like I’d been made to do push-ups until I dropped, and then immediately been forced to run a marathon. Carmen slid onto the bed alongside me and turned my face towards hers. A mop of curly long blond hair fell into my eyes—I didn’t have hair long enough to reach my eyes. I tried to brush it out of my eyes, but as soon as I did so I noticed how much thinner and more delicate my hands looked. “Are you okay?” Carmen asked in a voice run through with concern and gentleness. “I’m fine, thanks,” I squeaked—my voice seemed much gentler and higher than before. What was going on?

I sat up on the bed and gestured with a weak arm at the mirror. Seeming to understand, she slid an arm behind my back to support me and stood me up to wobbly feet. We padded over to the mirror, where I stared in shock at my own reflection—but it wasn’t me.

Wide hips sloped inwards towards a fine torso lined with thin, supple muscle underneath the leotard. My shoulders and thighs were smaller but more pronounced, felt stronger, I could feel the energy coursing through them beneath the skin, and at the same time my arms and legs were shorter and more elegant. My facial features had softened, their lines less pronounced and more gently curved, and in place of my short blond hair golden strands, held back by a purple hairband, cascaded straight down over my shoulders like a princess. My groin and private parts were distinctly flat and smooth, while my chest was dominated by pronounced mounds. I reached a shaking hand up to squeeze them and confirmed that, yes, indeed, I now had boobs. An involuntary noise of surprise escaped my red, well-shaped lips.

In short, in the mirror, in place of my reflection was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.

“Carmen, what did you do to me….” I squeaked. She came up behind me and laid her chin on my shoulder.

“You’re beautiful, Michelle,” she said softly. Not Michael. Michelle. That confirmed it. I was a chick now.

I turned around and stared deep into her eyes. My throat ached and I couldn’t seem to form words. “Do you like the way I look, Michelle?” She asked me gently. My answer surprised both of us.

“Carmen, I love it,” I breathed, and melted into her embrace. She squeezed me tightly. “I had to do it, Michelle. After Heather left me, we badly needed someone to replace her—to fill the hole left in the team, and in my heart.”

I remembered how Carmen had stared at the picture of Heather with such longing. Heather had moved away at the end of last gymnastics season……and Carmen had agreed to go out with me immediately afterwards. Apparently Heather and Carmen had been more than just teammates. My girlfriend squeezed my shoulder, hard.

“Mom and I worked the magic out together, and wove into the shape of the leotard you’re wearing. I had the leotard ready to transform whoever put it on into her replacement, I just didn’t know who. And then you came along and asked me out, and you were so sweet and smart and athletic. I said yes, but I didn’t have the heart to tell you why……”
I understood now why she’d invited me over to her house. My heart sunk as the realization hit home.

“You mean you’re gay, Carmen? Up until now, was this fake? Have you been stringing me along this whole time?” My voice cracked and my eyes stung with water. Carmen surprised me by kissing me on the mouth, deeply. It had always been me before who initiated our kisses…….she had never kissed me first before, not once. I wrapped my arms around her spandex-clad body, and she around mine. We fell onto the bed, wrapped in each others’ arms, sunk deep in each others’ lips. We separated.

“No, stupid,” she said. “I like girls and guys. I just like chicks more.”

There came a knock on the door and she rolled off me. Ellie and Caitlyn cautiously peeked around the door. Carmen turned to me sheepishly.

“Sorry about recruiting them to steal your clothes so you’d be forced to put the leotard on,” she said.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “It was worth it.”

“Did the magic happen yet? Is Michael a girl?” Ellie asked, seemingly afraid the answer might be ‘no’. I gave her my biggest smile. “Call me Michelle, Ellie.”

“Yaaaay!” Both girls chorused in unison. And inside, yay, I agreed.
Reply
:iconthebountyhunterii:
TheBountyHunterII Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2016
Good story! I wonder how every one who knew him (her?) is going to react to this sudden change...
Reply
:iconjerkwad-ultima:
JERKWAD-ULTIMA Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2015
“You’re beautiful, Michelle.”  YEAH, GOOD ENOUGH TO SCREW
Reply
:iconorangeglasses2:
orangeglasses2 Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2015
It's a pretty damn good story.
Touching, too.
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:iconhaegun:
Haegun Featured By Owner Jun 10, 2015
The little sisters were adorable.  I am not usually into the magical transformation thing, but you pulled this off rather well.  (My own TG fiction tends to be more reality-based, although I sometimes go towards the macabre side.) 

Mike/Michelle's initial reaction seems right on.  Have you been stringing me along this whole time?” My voice cracked and my eyes stung with water.
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:iconsolidsamurai:
SolidSamurai Featured By Owner Edited Feb 8, 2015
LOL, guys don't ever have to remove their clothes in case of an eruption.

Dicks are really useful.  xD

As for the 'immediately liking guys' thing that happens in most of this type of fiction... in realistic terms, the guy turned girl would be very confused about their shifted sexuality.  I believe that different characters would come to terms with it in different ways... probably similar to how gay people cope, but with the addition of shifted hormones and the mental differences between men and women. 
Reply
:iconturtleblanket666:
turtleblanket666 Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
This is very well written! I am an actual trans girl who likes girls, so this story was a nice thing to see. There's this kind of weird and gross cliche in TG fiction where once a character has transformed into a girl, she just suddenly starts liking guys. It implies that being a girl and liking boys is a package deal, and I don't like that at all. That doesn't happen here, so this was a nice thing to see. And, again, the writing was of above average quality, so I enjoyed it.
Reply
:iconmovealongmovealong:
MoveAlongMoveAlong Featured By Owner Aug 23, 2016
Reply
:icon00x7:
00X7 Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
That was… surprisingly really well written. It told a good story. It was well put together. The words were right. It read good. I've read stories where the the persons gender changes, but I've never been really deeply invested into it. I was in this one though. You have a talent.
Reply
:iconalexis-amanda:
alexis-amanda Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2014
Very nice story. 
Reply
:iconmelycra2you:
melycra2you Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Loved the story, hope to see more. Thank you for posting it, big leotard and spandex fan myself
Reply
:iconyuni:
Yuni Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2014
This story is so charming!! It really captured my whole attention, not only because it's well written but also because it touches the life aspects that really captivate me. The transformation was simply magical and fascinating, and I really enjoyed the fact that he was made to wear the leotard before the transformation began, so we got to enjoy both a boy and a girl wearing the leotard.

The way you described the feeling of the body inside the leotard made me bite my lip in envy because it's so well written and inspirational! I can only hope that one day my stories about contortion and waist cinching would be anywhere as interesting to read as that part - my dream is to learn how to write about it in such a way that the reader would also get to see what I love about stretching and tight belting, so far I fail at finding nice expressions for that, so I usually get the feeling that I write my stories "just for myself".

Here you achieve a complelely opposite effect: I think anybody who even wasn't a leotard lover would be very fascinated by leotards after reading that part. Not only by leotards but by the TG theme too, for example I wasn't into TG at all but after reading this story and the other story in your gallery with a girl's photo in it, I suddenly find myself really in love with the theme.

Oh I don't know if this is interesting for you but I suddenly thought about the opposite transition from a girl to a guy, I don't know many examples of this but there's one example that's pretty much enough for me, it's the belly dancer called Draconis who I think is one of the most beautiful human beings ever: www.youtube.com/user/draconisd… - such a unique and divine body that you'd never see anywhere else I think.

But back to leotards, I really dig the idea of a boy who's so captivated by the beauty of girls' gymnastics and leotards that he grows so pissed about the fact he was born as a boy and that fact eventually simply has to change this way or another! Oh I think I might actually want to draw a character's transformation in a "before and after" style! Any suggestions?
Reply
:iconinsaneandsexy:
InsaneandSexy Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Somehow that story was oddly touching...I don't know why.
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:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Sep 13, 2014
D'aww, thank you. :love: I'm glad you liked it.

I don't know why you would find it touching either, I'm an atrocious writer. :P

But yeah, it's good to hear you thought it was touching. It was somewhat meant to be. There's a general lack of actual feeling in most TG stories, and I tried to avoid that by injecting some actual emotion into my story.
Reply
:iconfriedcheese22:
friedcheese22 Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014
My girlfriend, Rose, better not pull this kind of stuff on me.
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:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Sep 21, 2014
Oh, really? Is she a gymnast as well?
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:iconfriedcheese22:
friedcheese22 Featured By Owner Sep 21, 2014
No, but she does know a little bit of magic.
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:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Sep 21, 2014
Well, if neither of you are gymnasts, perhaps she could use her magic to help you two take lessons together. ;)

Gymnastics is pretty much essentially magic, after all.
Reply
:iconfriedcheese22:
friedcheese22 Featured By Owner Sep 21, 2014
*i just stare at you for a moment* AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THAT IS THE FUNNIEST JOKE I HAVE EVER HEARD!!!!!!!
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:icongymnastixjenny:
Who knows? You might find it suprisingly to your liking, especially if she uses a little bit of her magic to help persuade you. ;P
Let's just hope that, for your sake, that she never gets an interest in gymnastics..................;)
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:iconfriedcheese22:
friedcheese22 Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2014
Yeah, I remember when she liked to make tea a lot. But she isn't TGing me again.
Reply
:iconmellissalynn:
MellissaLynn Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Nicely written!  I enjoyed reading this from start to finish.  What's next?  :)
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:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Aug 29, 2014
Don't know! What would you like me to write next? ;)
Reply
:iconmellissalynn:
MellissaLynn Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Hm...I think you need to write The Great American Novel that will be considered greater than classics like Moby Dick and War And Peace, but be much shorter and more enjoyable to read than either...

Not that I'm challenging you or anything...!  :giggle:  :)
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:iconshadowhawkone:
ShadowhawkOne Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I loved the story. It was nice to see that you used the clothing to initiate the change instead of the clothing changing with the person being changed. I look forward to seeing more when you get a chance to write them.
Reply
:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Aug 17, 2014
Thanks, I pride myself on trying to write TG stories that, instead of existing solely to fuel a fetish, are actually distinctive and good-ish stories. :P
Reply
:iconsolidsamurai:
SolidSamurai Featured By Owner Edited Feb 8, 2015
Even though I'm not into these kinds of stories, that's pretty admirable given the rarity.

Though I am into gymnastics girls (probably how I came across this).  :)
Reply
:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2015
Well, I am a girl and into gymnastics, so......yeah. :D Thanks for the appreciation ;P
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:iconsolidsamurai:
SolidSamurai Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2015
It's alright.
Reply
:icondaviswtg:
DavisWTG Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Well, this actually isn't too bad. I didn't expect much at first seeing how most TG writings here are mediocre at best, but I was pleasantly surprised by this story. Nice work there, I'd say.
Reply
:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014
Yeah, the writing in most TG stories is pretty bad and the grammar is usually even worse. I'm trying to rectify that a little bit, even if my stories are poorly written, at least they're grammatically correct for the most part.
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But you actually liked it? Did you actually think it was well-written?
If you're interested, I've got a new TG caption pic up on my profile, maybe you'd be interested in checking it out, perhaps?
Reply
:icondaviswtg:
DavisWTG Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
That's pretty much it. Not only a problem on dA though - a lot of TG stories on other sites sadly share that problem.

Well, it was fun reading through it, so I guess yeah, I did like it. I mean, I'm fairly certain the concept, or at least something similar enough was already used rather often, but I don't mind that as long as it's well-executed.
And who knows whether I'll read through it. I admit that I've read captions rather often until a few months ago, though I sort of stopped reading them for some reason a while ago. Might give that one a shot if I'm feeling like it.
Reply
:icondrmadison:
DrMadison Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Yaaaaaas!!!! Anna squee 

Recruit him unto the ranks of women's Gymnastics!!!!! 
Reply
:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Jul 10, 2014
Glad you liked it. :)
As for recruiting him, I might do that if I can come up with some good ideas for the sequel.
Say...you've got your own fictional gymnastics team, don't you?
Reply
:icondrmadison:
DrMadison Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
I DO!
They're my babies!
I've written a ton of stories with them on Paper, but when ever I think of putting it on DA it just never seems good enough.
Reply
:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2014
Well, maybe I'll think about writing a sequel to this story and maybe you could try putting some of your gymnast stories on DeviantArt. The problem with writing a sequel to this story is that, since Michael's now a girl, the TG element of a story taking place after this one would be lost and the experience would be no different from any other female gymnast's experience.

Actually, have you ever thought about incorporating any TG or LGBT elements into your gymnast artworks?
Reply
:icondrmadison:
DrMadison Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Yes... but not that I've put up on DA.
Of my main 8 Gymnast girls only half of them
are straight heterosexual, and even those four are VASTLY different
in what "turns them on".
There's quite an 'Adult' or in some cases 'Dark' side to my characters
that I'm not sure if I want to even put up on DA until their fan base gets bigger.

Your story is quite motivating though... I need to get some penmanship under my belt. 
Reply
:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2014
Well, since most of your gymnasts are holiday-themed, maybe you could introduce a TG gymnast for International Transgender Day of Visibility (March 31st)?
You could introduce her as a born a boy who had always idolized female gymnasts and traditionally "girly" sports, and wanted to become a girl so he could compete in women's gymnastics. She could have a rainbow leotard to tie in with the LGBT theme..........

That wouldn't be too dark/adult, would it?
Reply
:icondrmadison:
DrMadison Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
No... actually it's a pretty good Idea.
I'd also have to figure out a race to base her features on.
My Holiday/Season girls and boys all have different backgrounds racially, unless they're related.
The race has nothing to do with the season or day that they represent, but I'd like to keep it diverse.
Reply
:icongymnastixjenny:
GymnastixJenny Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2014
Yeah, I sorta noticed that a little with the 4th of July girl, Ling-Ling. I thought it was a nicely unique touch of diversity that you made the gymnast in the patriotic leotard, for the "classically American" holiday, an Asian-American.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As for other potential ethnicities, hmmm.............I don't know. Which ones haven't you done yet? Have you done a Mexican-American or mixed race gymnast before?
Reply
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