----------=BigCloset Retro Classic!=----------

Changing for Gym

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Admin Note: Originally published on Bigcloset Classic on Wednesday, 04-02-2003 - 12:06 am and migrated to BigCloset TopShelf on Friday 01-19-2007 at 07:00:34 am, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers.

In addition, this story spawned a mini-universe of its own. For the benefit of those who may wish to pursue this story further, here are the additional stories within its universe in the order in which they were posted. ~Sephrena :

Changing For Gym: The Slipping Saga by Dustin Carter Changing for Gym: Fitting In by Maggie Finson Changing For Gym: A Family Affair by Karin Bishop Changing For Gym: The English Student by Sunwolf

 

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Story:

Hill Street High School was built in the early 1990's in response to the town's recent growth. Too, the old school was a remnant of the 1920's, and looked it. The town had eventually given in to the inevitable and voted in a new school.

The new building had everything. As befitted area weather, it was totally enclosed (except for the athletic fields, of course). Yet its public areas never felt claustrophobic, for it relied a great deal on glass. The cafeteria was large and clean, the library well-stocked even with fiction, and the gymnasium included an indoor pool.

Perhaps the most unusual change from old to new concerned the lockers. The architect had visited the old school and had been shocked at the students crowding into too-narrow hallways made even worse by the lockers lining each wall. They were nearly impassible, and the man vowed not to carry that over. Instead he placed larger lockers in the gym's changing rooms, and the rooms themselves were much expanded. There was a second, smaller changing room for each gender in case of overflow. Each student would use a single locker there, accessible at any time. In return the hallways would be clearer, quieter, with plenty of room on the walls for announcements, art, or displays. The architect felt the extra space needed for the expanded changing rooms was more than justified, and the students more or less agreed.

The architect put his heart and soul into the school, this community building for the good of all. The workers who built it were the same way. After all, they were a local firm; it'd be their kids going there.

All that care, all that attention, can have an effect. At Hill Street High School, it did. The place gained something of a soul of its own. It took care of the students -- the computer lab had almost no technical problems and the cafeteria food was unusually tasty. It took care of the teachers -- school supplies such as pencils and books were never in short supply and everyone's drink of choice was available in the lounge. And it took care of itself. Litter was infrequent and disappeared quickly. The same could be said of graffiti. Each of the three janitors thought another had taken care of it. Sometimes they were even right. Everything was perfect.

And the school was happy.

But nothing lasts forever. Eventually the growth stopped, then reversed. Families moved away, and the changing rooms were not as full. As chance would have it, far more girls ended up moving away than boys. The secondary girls' changing room became entirely empty. Other families moved in, but again more boys than girls enrolled. The boys' secondary changing room approached capacity. And then, one day, passed it.

And the school was not happy.

***

Jim Woodruff was not happy.

"What do you mean, my locker is in the girls' room?" he demanded.

"The boys' changing rooms are full, Jim. I'm sorry," Mr. Harris, the school principal, explained. "Even the second one. The only thing to do is to take that locker. Either that, or enroll in a private school. Take it or leave us." Mr. Harris smiled slightly, as if that were amusing.

"But I'm not a girl!" Jim protested. "Moving and starting at a new school is hard enough without everyone laughing at me!"

"If anyone laughs at you, laugh back," Mr. Harris said. When Jim didn't seem to appreciate the suggestion he added, "I'll bet none of them ever got into a girls' locker room on a regular basis, with the principal's permission!"

Jim smiled at that one, but his pique was still unsatisfied. "But it's not like there's actually going to be any girls in there!"

"Of course not. At any rate, you have an entire changing room to yourself. Anyone else in the school would kill for that. This school is still crowded, you know, though not as badly as it was. Especially for girls. And you have all that space to yourself."

"But--"

"The principal's face abruptly hardened. "Look, Jim. If you don't like the idea, don't use the locker. Just carry everything everywhere. But that certainly is the room you will use to change for Phys Ed. And that is that."

* * *

Jim had already gotten a tour of the school. Of course, in the tour he had visited the boys' room, not the girls'. Still, he figured they were the same size. That is, big. Compared to it, this room was tiny. It was barely larger than a cloakroom and sported that odd pink that only government decorators seemed to like. There were two shower stalls and four toilets -- no urinals, of course. Every piece of wall that wasn't taken up by a door or a sink was occupied by lockers. He found his -- 562G2 -- and stuffed his schoolbooks in, along with the shorts and shirt that constituted his gym outfit. Then he sat on a bench and thought.

Having his very own locker room all to himself actually was cool, in a way. Jim had to admit that, to himself at least, even if he'd be damned if he'd say so to the principal.

***

A boy in the girls' room? No, no. This wouldn't do. Not at all.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much the school could do. It had no influence outside its grounds -- it couldn't make more boys move away. And while it could influence the records in the attendance office, that would do no good. A clerical error assigning him to a different locker would be pointless, as there were no other acceptable lockers available.

It took a full week of pondering before the school reached a decision. Then it took action.

***

Classes had been brutal today, and to make it worse he'd felt near to bursting for most of the last period. He'd been looking forward to getting to the changing room so he could let it go. It was odd, but lately he'd had to go to the bathroom mostly around gym time.

Jim sat on the john to take his leak. It still felt odd to do that, but he'd had no choice. The toilets had been fine when he started at HSHS, but not long afterwards they had started to stick and produce horrible screeches when he tried to lift the seats. Over the next few days they became more and more stuck, the sounds more and more intolerable. The janitors said the seats were fine, but he knew better. By now he didn't think he could lift one even if someone told him it wasn't physically stuck. Those screeches had just been too nasty to risk. Heck, he winced when he lifted the seat at home, for chrissakes! At this rate he'd be sitting to piss even there before long. Jim had tried standing and going through the seat's opening, but it was too small. Messy. It didn't feel right, anyway. Better to sit.

He stood and wiped himself. Boys only sat when taking a crap, and you wipe yourself after crapping. The habit was hard to break, and Jim saw no reason to try. By now, though, he had at least taught himself to wipe his front, not the rear. It felt weird, but just jiggling those last drops loose didn't feel right either, anymore.

"What the hell?" he yelled when he was finished and at his locker.

Something was wrong with his gym outfit. The shorts were smaller, not even covering his boxers. He took them off again, looking at them. The were smaller: shorter, and cut higher over the hips. It took a few seconds before he realized they were the shorts for a girl's gym uniform.

"Is this some joke? Anyone here?" There was no response.

Jim pondered what to do. If he wore them over the boxers he'd look like an idiot. He hadn't made any real friends here yet, only a few people to eat lunch with. He couldn't afford the ridicule. But he couldn't afford to skip the class, either.

The solution came suddenly, like a bolt from nowhere. Wear the shorts. Attend class. Leave the stupid boxers in the locker. He could change back after Phys Ed, nobody the wiser that he wasn't wearing underwear. Somehow, the potential for ridicule from wearing girl's shorts to gym never crossed his mind.

He stripped off the boxers, tossed them in the locker, put on the gym shorts, and jogged outside.

* * *

When he returned after gym class, he was relieved but pleased, and a little embarrassed. Nobody had said anything about it. And the shorter shorts felt kinda nice. Freer. His legs could breathe better with the reduced covering. He wondered if he should report the prank, and eventually decided to swallow his pride. Nobody'd said anything about wearing girl's shorts, so either they didn't notice or didn't care, and either way was fine by him. If he didn't bring it to their attention they couldn't tease him.

He took the shorts off and opened his locker. Freer or not, it'd still be good to wear his own stuff again. He was a bit shocked by what he found, though. His clothes were fine, all except one item. His boxers were missing. In their place were a pair of white cotton underwear. Without a pisshole. With lace. Panties.

Jim seethed. When he found out who was taking his stuff he'd... he'd... he'd figure something out! In the meantime, he put on the panties -- though not before trying his jeans without them. But that was too uncomfortable.

Nobody would notice the panties, anyway. Not under his jeans.

***

Things were going well, as far as the school was concerned. The boy was reasoning himself through the changes imposed on him, with the help of a strategically placed mental nudge or two. A few suggestions into other students' heads kept them off his back. The main problem would be the parents, though. They might pose a problem as things continued.

Thank goodness for parent-teacher conferences.

***

"I hate these conferences."

Mary tried to console her husband. "I do too, Simon. But something must be very wrong for them to need us both here."

Simon Woodruff shook his head. "I know, I know. Why do you think I hate them so much? Why don't they ever call parents in to say their kid is wonderful?"

Mary shrugged and said nothing. They'd been sitting in the main office for nearly an hour, and she was getting bored. Her mind began to wander, and her gaze drifted back out to the hallway. A girl with an outrageous hairdo and skimpy clothing was talking animatedly with some friends. It must be nice to be so independent, she thought. Not worrying if anyone really minds what you look like, what you wear. I wish Jim was more like that.

Simon's voice broke into her thoughts. "Times like this that I wish we had a daughter."

Mary looked at him. He was looking at the same gaggle of girls in the hall, a wistful look on his face. She was surprised; he'd always been proud to have a son. "You mean that?"

"Sure."

Mary smiled slyly. "You want to try making that wish come true tonight?"

Simon smiled back. "I wouldn't mind the attempt! But no, I'm too old for a new kid, boy or girl. I was just thinking if Jim had been a girl, maybe we wouldn't be here now."

"Or maybe we would," Mary pointed out.

"True enough."

But his words had set a new train of thought rolling about her head. Yes, another girl in the house would be nice, wouldn't it?

After another half hour of talking and thinking -- sometimes their own thoughts, sometimes not -- it was determined by the office staff that none of Jim's teachers had called for a conference. It must have been a clerical error, so sorry for wasting your time.

***

The school watched them leave. That went well. The parents shouldn't be an obstacle now.

If any poets were to describe the waving of the flag outside the school that afternoon, they might have used the word, "satisfied."

***

Jim gave up on his underwear. Every time he left it in the locker he'd return to find a pair of panties. The style varied. Sometimes they were lacy, sometimes subdued. They were white, black, powder blue and rose pink and sometimes other colors. Once he'd found a thong waiting for him. That one was uncomfortable. He vowed to himself he'd go without any underwear at all before wearing one of those again. Luckily, it never happened after that.

But no boxers. Never boxers.

He wondered what his mom thought about her son coming home with pair after pair of girl's underwear. Like the other students, she hadn't said anything, not even when he put them in the laundry hamper. But he thought he'd caught her looking at him speculatively a couple of times. Lord only knows what was going through her head.

He never stood to pee anymore. He barely even thought about it, either.

The prankster was getting more blatant in his attacks. Jim's usual deodorant was replaced with something smelling very, very floral. The same had happened to his soap and shampoo. "Bring hair body out to the max!" the bottle read, showing a beautiful woman with long golden hair. "Adds a beautiful, lustrous shine!" Jim had to admit it worked. His hair had never looked so pretty.

That is, good. Yes, good.

Whatever.

This, though, was a little much! "A bra?" he said, holding the lacy black number up before him. It matched the panties he's slipped on that morning. Coincidence? Or did someone catch a peek and put this in there?

He shrugged. It didn't matter, really. That's a bra. An entirely female garment, no need for a male to wear one. Jim started to toss it back into the locker, but something made him stop. He looked at it again curiously. Why not wear it? It might be fun, for a minute or two. Just to see what it was like. There wasn't anyone else here to see him make an ass of himself, after all. So why not?

The hooks gave him some trouble. He'd seen a woman hook it behind her back in a movie somewhere, and he tried that himself. It was harder than it looked. He eventually gave up and hooked it in front, twisting it around afterwards so the cups were over his chest.

"I'll get it right with practice," he said to the empty room, not even realizing what that implied.

He looked in the mirror over the sinks. He'd long since gotten used to his image wearing panties. The bra added another touch of femininity to his narrow frame. It was kind of an odd look, faintly androgynous. But it was surprisingly comfortable.

Jim was reaching behind himself to unhook the thing when the bell rang. Just seconds later Dan Hanson was pounding on the door. He was the only friend Jim had made in the nearly two months he'd been at HSHS. He was called "The Hand" by girls he'd dated. Dan "the Hand" Hanson. Ha. Jim envied his friend and wondered how he did it.

"C'mon, Jim! You know how much Mrs. Grant hates it when we're late!"

"One sec!" Jim called back through the door. His fingers tugged frantically at the bra hooks. He got one off, but the other two were bent tight. They didn't want to unhook! He could hear the foot traffic outside growing louder as the minutes between classes passed. With a curse he threw a shirt over the lingerie, slammed the locker and ran out.

After that he forgot about the bra until he went to bed and discovered he was still wearing it. It took some doing, but he managed to get it off. He draped it over a chair and went to sleep.

***

Things were going according to plan. Making the bell ring early had been a nice touch. The school congratulated itself. If it'd had a back it would have patted itself on it.

The bra was a test, of sorts. Nothing replaced, only added. Yet he had still accepted it. It meant that perhaps he could be made to accept more drastic changes. Perhaps it could move a little faster, do a little more.

Yes.

***

Jim was disturbed.

He hadn't been sleeping that well lately. He kept getting tangled in his pajamas. The only way to get a good night's sleep was to sleep in his underwear. What disturbed him was that more and more he'd found himself thinking of "underwear" as a two-piece concept. Top and bottom. Panties and bra.

Also, he wore a bra to school now, most days. He wasn't sure why. Those few times lately when he'd tried to go without one he'd felt like a slut. Like everyone could see his chest, his nipples. But what was wrong with that? He was a boy, wasn't he?

Wasn't he?

Someone continued to break into his locker. Figured out the combo, maybe, or got it from a girl who used it a year or two ago. His underwear drawer at home was full of panties and bras. The gym outfit had long ago been substituted out, the shirt a more pastel blue than the one he'd brought in, and a bit loose in the chest to boot. A few of his tees looked the same -- same colors, same pictures and logos -- but they were also loose in the chest.

This was different, though. This time when he came back from gym class, his shirt had acquired a set of buttons and a floral pattern. It rested, for now, on a bench. Jim scratched his chest beneath a bra cup as he contemplated it. (His chest itched a lot lately. That was another reason he didn't sleep well.) He couldn't wear the gym shirt to regular classes -- nobody did that. So he had no choice. It was either wear it or don't, and if he didn't wear it he'd be walking around showing off his bra for all and sundry. The thought of removing the lingerie and walking out bare-chested never occurred to him. He might as well be naked as expose his breasts!

Chest.

Whatever.

Over the next few days every shirt he wore to school was changed. Women's tees and blouses were all he ever found in his locker. Then his jeans changed, becoming a short denim skirt. He thought he looked good in it, actually, although he was a bit embarrassed to think so. Then he felt ashamed of being embarrassed, and a surge of pride ran along his spine. If he looked good, it was nothing to be embarrassed about! Hell, she -- er, he -- would make a good catch!

Jim walked out of the auxiliary girls' changing room with a sexy swing to his hips. He wondered why that cutie Dan the Hand wasn't waiting for him.

Her.

Whatever.

***

"Are you sure you want that one, dear?" Sara asked.

Jim nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, that's it. Cut it like that."

The beautician shrugged. "Okay, honey. You're the boss." She thought it was more than a bit odd for the teen to be getting such a feminine style. But heck, she told herself, at first you weren't sure it was a he! The kid in the chair was wearing mostly girl's clothes, after all.

Well, entirely girl's clothes, actually -- she hadn't noticed at first that the jeans were not a man's cut. And the face was fairly androgynous, too. Very clean shaven; the boy had less of a mustache than she did, and that was saying something! He'd even done a good job on the breasts. Large enough to be noticed but not overbearing. Just right. They even felt right, as she discovered when she "accidentally" brushed against one with an arm. Sara wondered what he used for the padding. Her sister was as flat as a board and could use a good set of falsies.

It was a good illusion. Only the voice had given it away. Not girlish at all.

"Do you want it dyed or anything?" she asked as she got out the plastic cloth to lay across his lap.

Jim thought. His lips pursed into a pretty little frown without him trying. Or noticing. Those expressions were becoming more and more natural. "No," he decided. "Not this time."

The beautician chatted as she worked. She always did. Oddly, though, while this kid was doing his very best to look and act like a girl he still talked pro baseball and skateboard stars. When she was done, she stepped back and admired her work. It was good, made him look very cute. She assumed that was the goal.

"Oh, I like it! Thank you!" Jim gushed when he looked in the mirror. His face turned red. "I'm sorry. That was a little more... enthusiastic than I normally am."

"No problem," Sara replied, amused. Gotta learn acting somehow! "Not for the hair, either. It helps that you've been taking care of it." She paused, considering. Maybe... "Do you want anything else?"

Jim looked back, confused. He'd only come for a haircut. That's all he'd ever gotten at a stylist's. "What else is there?"

"Oh, I don't know. Lipstick? Nail polish? Something for those lovely eyes?" She hoped the flattery wouldn't be too obvious, but he looked nervous. "It'd really help, you know. Make you very pretty."

"Pretty?" A little shiver ran along Jim's body as he said the word. "All right," he said, barely above a whisper.

It took a while for Sara to teach him how to use the makeup properly. Jim kept getting reluctant, looking at the exit. Then another little shiver would come and he'd go at the powders with a will. Then he'd slowly get reluctant again, and then another shiver...

In the end, though, Jim walked out of the shop, a bag of cosmetics in one hand and thoughts of how to use them running through his head. He did look very pretty, now.

A beautician doesn't really have all that many fun anecdotes to tell about the workplace. She made sure to remember this one in its entirety. It was something to tell her sister when she got home. She'd love to hear this one.

***

Jim gulped. This was the day he'd been dreading.

Swim class.

Everyone had to take a few weeks of swim class. He couldn't skip out, not without a doctor's note, and he didn't have that. And he couldn't wear his bathing suit; it only covered the bottom.

But when he pulled open his locker, he found his swim trunks he'd put in there that morning had been replaced by a sleek white one-piece that would cover his entire torso! Nobody would notice anything wrong if he was in that! The pink flower blossoms over his swelled chest and nipples were a nice touch. Very pretty.

He put it on happily, but then paused. Part of this class was speed swimming. He looked down at his body. His breasts were smoothed out a bit by the suit, and the rest of his body was smooth enough, like it should be. But his legs... not smooth at all. It didn't seem very hydrodynamic to him. Besides... it suddenly occurred to him that hairy legs weren't attractive. Not on him. Dan's hairy legs were, but not Jim's. No ma'am.

Jim found a razor in his locker, a small pink thing. There was some gel in there too. Shaving his legs felt like a relief. On impulse, he did his arms and pits as well. A boy can't be too smooth in the water!

When he arrived at the pool Dan slid over to her. (Her? Jim blinked. That wasn't right, was it?) "You certainly look nice in that," the boy commented.

Jim smiled, inhaling deeply. Dan even smelled nice. She hoped -- that is, he hoped -- the smell wouldn't wash away in the pool. She -- he! -- liked just to be near him. Jim blushed in response to his statement. "Thanks. It's just a little something I found."

Dan smiled and put an arm around his waist. (Her waist! Damn it, why did her thoughts keep going opposite like that?) Jim squealed when Dan pinched her, right on the bottom edge of the suit. It hadn't hurt, just surprised her. Kind of fun, actually.

"All right, break it up, you two," Mr. Frant, the gym teacher said. Dan -- reluctantly, it seemed -- took his hand away. "I need a baseline speed so I can judge improvement later. You can all swim, right? Good. Boys over in those two lanes on the right, then. Girls in the other two. Miss Gucci and I will time you."

Jim headed towards the left lanes. Nobody stopped her.

***

"Oh, damn it!"

Liz Baker looked around guiltily. You shouldn't curse in a school, makes for problems later. Luckily there was nobody else in the main office to chastise her. Or fire her, heavens forbid.

She looked at the filing cabinet with an expression of distaste. What had possessed her, that she put her coffee cup there? Precariously balanced on other files, it had been a disaster waiting to happen. And it happened. Liz shook her head ruefully. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Drops of coffee were everywhere, and a few of the records were liberally splashed. She took out a handful of the worst and returned to her desk. (Without coffee!) She got out the appropriate forms and began to fill them out. Best to repair the damage and rewrite them now, rather than be yelled at for attempting to ignore an obvious and fixable problem that she herself had caused.

Liz worked diligently for over an hour making up new entries for the stained ones. Luckily, school policy dictated that everyone use waterproof pens. It was more to protect paperwork from rain than from stupid office workers, but it worked equally well in such cases anyway. She could read almost everything without too much trouble.

But almost is almost. Liz suppressed a growl when she found one record was badly smudged. She hated non-regulation pens. Actually, this one wasn't as... coffee'd as some others, but what had been hit was absolutely illegible. "J-- Woodruff." Who was that? Nothing else on the page gave any hints.

Liz looked across the room. By now the other secretary had returned from wherever she'd been. "Hey, Betty. Do you know of any students named Woodruff?"

The other secretary looked up, her face thoughtful. "No... I don't think so. What's the first name?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Liz confessed. "I just have a first initial, a J."

"Ah! Wait, I know. Jessica. She came to me yesterday, all upset. She'd just had her first period, can you believe it? She's a junior, you know! I had to coach her all through it."

Liz tsked. "That's the mother's job!"

Betty nodded. "I know. Shameful, just leaving them to fend for themselves like that. There is such a thing as too much independence!" Now it was Liz's turn to nod agreeably. Betty continued with barely a pause: "You want to know what else about her mother? She named Jessica for Amelia Earhart. But she can't spell for beans! She spelled it 'Imelia!' With an 'I'! An 'I'!"

The pair had a good laugh over that. Liz was still chuckling when she got back to filling in the paperwork, making unclear areas legible again.

Name: Jessica Imelia Woodruff. Gender: Female

***

A good feeling permeated the building. People felt pleased for no reason they could discern, though a few people attributed it to the formal dance coming up at the end of the week, or the long weekend that would follow it. Few thought the school itself, the very building, was happy, and those few kept such ideas to themselves lest they be called insane. (One boy didn't keep it to himself, but he genuinely was insane and nobody listened.)

But it was, indeed, because the school itself was pleased. And why not? Order had been restored, even if it had taken a while. Boys in the boys' room. Girls in the girls' room. Everything where it should be. The school had even managed the feat of taming Dan the Hand, keeping him to a single girlfriend. They were quite the couple, now. He was going to take Jessica to the dance with him; she in a beautiful gown she'd picked herself, with no help from the school. She kept it in her locker, but the school hadn't done anything to it. It was perfect as it was.

Yes, everything was perfect. Dan was happy. Jessica was happy, if a little confused every now and then. The students and teachers were as happy as students and teachers get while inside a school. And, of course, the school itself was happy.

Perfect.

Except...

That girls' secondary changing room was awfully empty, wasn't it? The student body would do better with a more even balance of girls and boys. Right? Maybe the school should do something about that.

Hmmm...

Something to ponder.

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I don't plan to write a sequel. -- However, if people want to write similar stories, or think of ways to make a sequel more than a repeat of this one with the characters' names changed, then I invite them to write a sequel of their own. I'd be as glad to see them as anyone else. Not only would I get more TG fiction of a type I know I like (after all, I set the transformation template, so I'd better!) but I'd get the joy of knowing I started a new universe. Never done that before! ~Xoop

Notes:

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