TG Fiction — Crying For Ogre, Part 3

Wednesday, September 10, 1986

Andrew woke up early — 4 a.m. — so he could shower alone. He couldn’t help but run his hands all over his new curves, especially his breasts. Oh God they felt so good!

At nine, he called the hospital near home.

“I think I had a reaction to some, um, steroids I tried” Andrew said into the telephone.

The nurse at the hospital replied “Can you describe it?”

Andrew sat idly playing with his long dirty blond hair as he spoke. “Um, swelling, hair growth…”

“We can’t fit you in until Monday at 10 a.m. unless you want to try the Emergency room.”

“I’ll be there Monday at 10! Thanks!”

Andrew went to class in sweats. His breasts were restrained by two Ace bandages (and it hurt!) and he again hid his hair under his Yankees cap. He made it to class with few looks.

Cheryl walked under the rows of elms at the center of campus. Nearby, she saw the gazebo next to the Student center lawn. Many summer nights she and Ogre sat there talking and kissing one night they even… No be strong, girl. He…isn’t…worth…

Her eyes welled up before she could get control and tears ran down her cheeks.

As he walked between classes, Andrew felt the sweats tighten. He looked down and saw that the gray sweatpants were now stylish acid-washed designer jeans. His sweatshirt was now a fashionable off-the shoulder sweater. The Ace bandages? Instead of flattening his breasts, they now lifted and supported them as an underwire bra. He felt his hair around his shoulders — he couldn’t see that the cap was now a pretty white headband. His oversized sneakers were now perfectly sized gray suede ankle boots with a two inch heel.

“Oh my God! How?” he thought, stunned for a moment. He then ran into the closest building, heels clacking on the sidewalk. Under his arm he carried his gray leather purse, which had up until seconds ago been his book bag.

He found a men’s room and thanked God it was empty. He ducked into the only stall, and looked himself over. The jeans were tight and showed off his amazing ass. His breasts stuck out proudly from the sweater, and his nails had grown back, painted a very feminine pink.

“Oh shit! Why…”

“Hey you gonna be in there long?” a gruff voice asked. “I gotta go bad.”

Oh no!

Andrew gathered his nerve and opened the door.

“Sorry, wrong room,” he whispered as he ducked past. The gruff guy laughed to himself. Stupid chick can’t even read a door.

Andrew went to the shops off campus and bought more oversized sweaters and sweatpants. As he pulled the money from his new purse, the attendant said “thank you, Miss.” Andrew cringed. “Oh my God! My face! Has that changed?” he thought. This was a nightmare!

He still couldn’t comprehend what happened. He wouldn’t believe it if he hadn’t seen it. How do clothes change from sweats to women’s clothes? How do bandages become a bra? Was he going crazy? Steroids don’t change clothing!

He took his new purchases and went back to the House, his clacking heels and bouncing breasts reminding him the whole way of his situation. He again sneaked into the back door and quietly upstairs to his room, dropped the bags and his purse, then quietly crept to Grover’s room.

The person in the mirror didn’t look male. Andrew recognized his face, but that was all. His now blonde hair had grown again, at least four inches, and there was a cute wave to it. The white plastic headband looked wonderful. His tight jeans showed off his devastating curves and amazing ass. His breasts looked so big and round despite the loose sweater. His bare feminine shoulder was sure to attract… wait! What was he thinking? He didn’t want to be a guy, I mean a girl!

Suddenly he heard footsteps in the hall, and panicked. Hide! Where? He quickly rolled under the bed, and lay on his stomach. He felt his firm breasts beneath him as he breathed quietly.

“Eww! It’s so dusty!” he thought as Grover came in. Grover dropped his books on the chair and flopped on the bed, almost causing Andrew to yelp.

Within twenty minutes, Andrew heard Grover snoring softly. Andrew slowly pulled himself out from under the bed, covered with dust. He tiptoed out of the room, then hurried back to his own, and locked the door.

Downstairs a dozen or so brothers were in the dining room eating lunch. Brother “Smurf” came through the front door, into the dining room, and plopped down his book bag on a convenient chair.

“Y’know I just saw the damnedest thing downtown,” he said. “I could’ve sworn I saw Ogre go into “The Family Clothesline” dressed like a chick.”

“What?”

“No way!”

“Yer shittin’ me!”

“No shit!” Smurf said. “It was his face, but with blond hair and tits and shit.”

“He looked kinda weird at dinner last night,” Brother “Cheese” said.

Yeah, but he ain’t no muthafuckin’ fag cross dresser! Shit he gets all the tail he wants!” “King” said.

“Just tellin’ you what I saw,” Smurf said,

“Is he here?” Cheese said.

“Dunno.”

A few guys stood up to go check Ogre’s room. They found the door locked, so they pounded on it.

“Yo Ogre! You in there?”

“Yeah. I’m sick as a fucking dog! Just got back from the Health Center,” Andrew said, weakly. Inside he was down to his bra and boxers, changing into his new sweats.

“You ok?” Cheese said.

“No I need sleep,” Andrew said. “Shit! I need more Ace bandages!” he thought as he looked at his bigger breasts naked for the first time.

His brothers looked at each other.

“Ok, let us know if you need anything. Want us to save you a lunch?” King said.

“No, not hungry, thanks!” Andrew said as he caressed his new tits. They felt so different- so… good.

The brothers shrugged and headed back to the stairs. Smurf looked back at the door. He wasn’t convinced- he knew what he saw.

He’d be watching.

Thursday, September 11, 1986

Once again Andrew woke very early to shower and get out of the house. He wandered around campus for a while, then, as soon as it opened, he went to a new hairdresser in town (instead of his usual barber.)

“Clip it off! High and tight,” he said.

“Aww but honey, this style fits you so well,” said the hairdresser.

“No thanks. Get rid of it,” he replied.

And so she did. Andrew watched the large amounts of dirty blond curls hitting the floor and he was happy. That was one less thing to worry about.

He then went to his first class, dressed in loose navy blue sweats with his breasts bound again. His last pair of sneakers were tied extra tight to stay on.

Andrew made it to all his classes that day, and then he went to the library. As he walked up the wide marble steps, who should show up but Cheryl coming out the front doors.

“Oh shit! I don’t need this!” he thought.

But all she did was glare at him and keep walking.

Her heart was in her throat. “Be brave be brave!” she thought. A tear rolled down her cheek, but that was all. He wasn’t worth it.

As Andrew found a place to sit, he felt his hands tingle. He looked at them. They were now delicate, smooth and feminine. The calluses and blisters were gone. His beautiful nails were re-grown a half inch past his finger tips. These were no longer the hands of someone called Ogre. They were the hands of a model.

“Hey Ogre!” one of his rugby teammates said quietly as he passed where Andrew was seated. Andrew hid his hands and smiled. “Good seeing you!”

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” He packed up his new book bag and left the library. It seemed a little heavier than when he walked in. He felt his breasts jiggle a little under the now slightly loosened bandages as he bounded down the library steps.

He made it back to his room, locked the door and quickly clipped off his nails. Sigh —  but they were so cute!

“What am I thinking?”

To be Continued…

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Category: Fiction