Sixteen the Hard Way -20.3- Towels (Patreon)

I used the big towel carefully, patting myself dry more than any kind of rubbing motion. Somehow, my skin was tender and and sensitive, not just my new appendages but all over, like even the back of my neck.

I twisted the towel into a sort of dress and wiped some moisture from the big mirror on the back of the door. I still had on the pink shower cap and the towel hung out from my body, held up by my new shape.

I stared for maybe half a minute, looking at the tiny girl with the huge breasts. They looked even bigger if I turned sideways. Had they grown even more? I closed my eyes and hoped and wished as hard as I could that they would go away. “I’m a boy,” I muttered. “I’m not supposed to have big boobs like some centerfold.”

I sighed for about the fortieth time and started getting dressed. The softness of the girls’ panties was welcome on my tender skin. My boy parts hardly caused a bulge at all, but experimentally, I tried pushing my junk up inside me. The accessories went up easily, without pain or discomfort, but the longer bit of my penis popped right back out. I tried again, pulling my panties up tight.

I couldn’t see down there very well because of my new geography, I had a much closer horizon. It seemed like Things stayed out of sight for a bit but I could feel them inside me, sort of creeping toward the exit. I sighed again. What the heck was I doing, anyway? Did I want to look more like a girl?

That wasn’t exactly it. I just didn’t want to look like a boy with tits. Looking like a girl, even being a girl would be better than being something in between. Maybe.

I took my clean bra and wrapped it around me, putting it on with my arms through the straps kind of like a shirt or jacket. Then I worked to close the hooks in the front and position them between my breasts. It still amazed me how heavy the damn things were. Softer than pillows but without the support of the bra, they were already making me tired of their weight and a bit sore in the lower back.

And I had to sort of mooch them into the cups, then reach inside and pull them forward so I didn’t end up with lumps of boobage in my armpits. After a bit of a struggle, I got the beasts back into their cages and had a little shake to settle things. Damn, it felt weird when they jiggled like that.

A light knock on the door told me that Linda, for once, had been patiently waiting for me in the hall. “Joni?” she called in her sweeter voice, not the one she used for removing nails from timber. “We can’t have a fashum show without you?” she said applying a bit of subtle coercion.

“I’ll be right out,” I promised. I pulled on a pair of walking shorts that fit more or less, and an over-sized T-shirt of Dad’s that had ended up in my laundry months ago. If I were going to be putting on and taking off clothes again, might as well make it easier to do.

“Jo-oh-onie!” Linda knocked and called again, more forcefully and with her volume and pitch moving toward her natural range like a chainsaw looking for a spike.

I sighed to make it an even number and opened the door.