Author's Note: Just a little something I threw together while the server was down. Let me know what you think. Thanks to djkauf for the speedy edit.

I met my best friend Sarah back in elementary school. She was trying desperately to get along with the boys in the class but we were still at the age where girls had cooties. In the end she took the consolation prize, me. I got along well enough with the other people in my class but I never really had an interest in being friends with the other boys. To me she was a godsend, saving me from being alone since none of the girls wanted to be around a ‘smelly boy.’

We spent hours back then talking. Eventually with all of our talks I began to learn more and more about her. One day I realized that she didn’t like being a girl. Not that she said that she wanted to be a boy but that she hated anything to do with girls. When her mom forced her to start wearing a training bra she immediately called me in rage at the concept of being forced into a bra. I didn’t understand what it was that was so bad about one. As I tried to calm her down describing the practicality of wearing one and how she would be growing up, that was when she said it, “God, you’re such a girl. Why don’t you just wear one?” She hung up on me without another word. I sat there with the phone still to my ear. I wasn’t mad at her for hanging up on me because I was too caught up with what she said. Did I want to wear one?

The next time the two of us got together at my house, she rushed upstairs to my bedroom and took off the bra. With all her might she flung it across the room, with it hitting the wall and falling in to my waste basket. I stood at the door to my room in awe, why would she do such a thing? I walked over to the waste basket and fished out the bra.

“I’m not putting that back on! It can stay in the trash where it belongs!”

I wasn’t about to let a perfectly good piece of clothing go in the trash so I tried to reason with her to talk with her mom about not making her wear one. I tried to give it back to her, not to wear but so that it wouldn’t go to waste. Maybe they could return it and save her parents some money. “If you’re so afraid of it going in the trash why don’t you just keep it? I’m never touching one again!” That was of course a lie. In the end I kept it, since she was so adamant about throwing it out.

A couple days later she visited again and at the end of the day I found myself with another brand new bra. This happened several more times until eventually her mom got the point that she wasn’t going to wear one. With a dozen or so bras stashed at the back of my closet I prayed that my mom wouldn’t go snooping and find them.

About a month later we were sitting going over school work when I noticed her staring at me. Eventually I had enough and demanded to know what she was interested in. “Do you ever feel like you hate being a boy?”

Her question confused me. “It’s not like there’s another option so I try not to think about it.”

We didn’t say another word to each other for a couple minutes before she decided to continue. “You know, even though you’re a boy I see you as a girl.”

I blinked dumbfounded. Why would she think that? But then I see her as more of a boy even though she’s a girl. “Um, thanks I guess. I see you more as a boy.”

A small smile played at a corner of her mouth, “You’re welcome.” We returned to our work dropping the issue.

Later that week when at her house in her room I noticed it had changed. Her pastel colored walls were now plain white, her canopy on her bed had been taken down, and the decorations in her room were all gone with nothing replacing them. She caught my interest in the décor change but merely said, “I’m redecorating now that I’m getting older.”

During a lull in our conversation she quickly stood and walked to her closet. She began pulling different clothes items I’ve never seen her wear and tossing them carelessly onto her bed. I moved to her bed to make sure they wouldn’t get wrinkled. The various dresses, tops and skirts were all beautiful but with Sarah being so much like a boy had never even taken the tag off of them. Once most of the contents of her closet sat on her bed she turned to me. She gazed into my eyes in thought then turned back to her closet and began changing. First to go was her top. She flung that over onto the pile of clothes where I picked it up and folded it. From my angle all I could see of her was her back. By looking at her top half she looked a bit like a boy, she hadn’t grown into her shoulders yet and with her short haircut she looked to fit that part. I glanced at her waist and noticed the definite curve of a girl. Her pants were next off and I saw her wide and shapely butt hidden inside boring white panties, along with her strong but slightly hairy legs.

I knew I shouldn’t be watching but this was the first time I had seen her without clothes on. This was also the first time I noticed the differences between boys and girls in body. If it hadn’t been Sarah I don’t think I would ever have analyzed the difference. My view of her was cut short as she donned a boy’s soccer t shirt and a pair of loose fitting boy’s jeans. She turned to look at me timidly. “Do you mind if I wear this?”

Even though the clothes weren’t what I was used to seeing her in they seemed to fit her as a person better. “Not at all, whatever you feel comfortable in.”

Relieved she smiled. We spent the rest of the evening as two boys playing, even if one was named Sarah.

A couple days later she asked me if I could call her Steve and use boy pronouns when she was dressed as a boy. I merely shrugged, after all I already saw her as a boy. The change of name and pronouns came easily I found, it was when I had to switch back during school or when she wasn’t dressed like a boy that I started to have trouble. I never outed him but I almost said the wrong thing several times a day. When Steve finally talked with his parents they were surprisingly receptive. Whenever he wasn’t in school he could dress like a boy but in school was always a girl. The assigned uniforms for school only seemed to make it worse for him in classes. Girls were to wear skirts or dress pants with a blouse and a cardigan or jacket. Sarah would push the limits of the dress code tolerance. Her pants were boy’s dress pants, she wore a blouse and a jacket that made her look like she had shoulders. Strangers or substitutes were getting confused with pronouns but whenever they said ‘he’ Steve would beam, but when they said ‘she’ there was an almost imperceptible change in the eyes.

With all the changes going on in Steve’s life I started to examine my own life to figure out what I would do if the opposite happened to me. When I realized I wouldn’t mind if it did I started freaking out. I had seen firsthand that people could switch genders, even if only when outside of school. I noticed that in school Sarah was making friends with boys and girls other than me now but was still my best friend and would get together almost every day.

One night, I had a dream about Sarah and me being in a more than friend’s relationship. While we were kissing I pulled back to find Sarah had switched to Steve. I looked down between us, both wearing boys’ clothes. He pulled me in for another kiss that made me feel wonderful. As he pulled back I noticed that he was a bit taller than me now. He had developed into a man with facial hair and Adam’s apple. I looked down at myself wondering what I would look like. I found a rather unexpected sight, I was a girl. Complete with boobs and a flat front. I was wearing the girl’s uniform from school that managed to showcase my assets. Steve pulled me in for another kiss that pulled me to my toes as I tried to reach further. As the kissing ended I felt him spin me and pull me into a comforting back hug. I felt something poke me in my backside that sent wonderful chills through my body. He leaned close to my ear and said, “You’re the best girlfriend ever!”

I awoke with a start and basked in the left over good feeling the dream had left me with. The good feeling began to trickle away being replaced with fear, sadness, and a general discomfort. I cycled through my mind thinking. I wanted that dream to come true, but did I want to be the girl?

During school I didn’t speak to Sarah much. As we were on the bus to go home she demanded to know what was eating at me. I shrugged and played it off as nothing. The look she gave told me I hadn’t heard the last of this discussion.

During the walk home she told me she wanted to show me something in her room. I knew my parents wouldn’t mind my going to her house before going home I agreed. She darted up to her room while I followed slowly behind. I expected to see her already changing when I made it to her room but she was sitting straddling a desk chair. I slowly walked in and plopped down on her bed. Her walls were now covered with pictures of girls, cars, and sports teams. I could feel the walls closing in around me trying to eat me. “So what’s wrong?”

I chanced a glance at her before shifting my vision to the door. “Nothing, don’t you want to get changed?”

She followed my vision to the door before looking back at me and speaking carefully. “It can wait. I want to know what’s wrong first.”

We sat there, her waiting for me to say something while I adamantly refused to talk about it. “Are you upset because of something I did?”

I sat there stumped for a moment, “Well yes… and no.”

She pursued her lips. “Is this about me being a boy?”

“No!” I answered quickly so she wouldn’t think I had a problem with it. “But at the same time yes.”

She sat in thought for a moment weighing my words. “Let’s play a game.” Curious I look up from my spot on the floor into her eyes. “We’re always boys playing with each other so why don’t we do something different. Let’s play as a boy and a girl again.”

“Okay.” I say more to get her to leave me alone. If she thinks her playing with me as a girl today will help then why not. She smiles a bit before moving to her closet and digs through. I focus on my spot on the ground ignoring her. A piece of silky cloth smacks me in the face pulling me out of my head. I see Steve dressed in his usual tee shirt and boy jeans. I don’t understand why he asked to play as a boy and girl again when he was going to change until I look at the item in my lap. “Oh no!” I toss the blouse onto the ground and back away across the bed.

Steve looks at me as I continue to stare at the blouse now sitting balled up in a way that would wrinkle it. “It’s just for fun, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Just because I wear guy clothes and want to live as a boy doesn’t me that if you wear girl clothes you’ll start wanting to be a girl. If that could happen then how did I end up a boy after all the dresses my mom’s made me we wear.”

His logic makes sense but I couldn’t help but feel afraid. What if I liked it? What if I hated wearing it, then my funk would have been for nothing. I knew immediately that hating it wouldn’t happen. In fact I knew in such a way that I could guarantee I would love it, and that was what worried me most of all. Steve could sense I was warming to the idea, “Besides you already agreed and you wouldn’t be so mean as to make me be a girl after all I’ve put up with at school.”

I looked away and knew he had me. I slowly crossed the room and Steve bent and picked up the blouse, handing it to me. I held it up to me to see if it would fit, “God, you’re such a girl.”

I stuck my tongue out at him since I knew I was going to try it on even if he decided to stop me now. He rolled his eyes at me and delved back into his closet producing the pleated and never been worn school uniform skirt. He looks at me expectantly but I simply stand there holding the white school blouse. “Aren’t you going to change?”

I look at him questioningly, “underwear?”

Sheepishly he heads to his chest of drawers and digs to the bottom. There he manages to find a left over pair of panties. He then goes into another drawer where he digs through until he finds an actual bra, not a training bra. “Since when did you get a bra?”

“I saved a couple in case a situation arose that they would be needed… like now.” I glare at him in disbelief, he looks guilty under my gaze but sticks with his story.

I snatch the items from his hand and head for the bathroom. “You can change here if you want, I won’t look.” I weigh his words so he pushes, “I’ll even turn around so I can’t look.” He turns in place.

I start changing out of my boy’s uniform for school. First off is the oxford which I replace with the bra and blouse. Next my pants and boxers go and the panties and skirt are added. I look up into the mirror in his room and examine myself. The clothes don’t fit perfectly but they aren’t far off. A faint trace of a male figure peeks through but otherwise I don’t look too bad. During my lack of sound Steve has turned around. Without a word he merely nods.

“Do I look okay?” I say weakly.

“Not bad, if your hair was a little longer I’d say you were really a girl.”

At the mention of my hair I reached up and subconsciously ran my fingers over it. Steve didn’t give me the opportunity to dwell on it before he launched into conversation after conversation without a single lull. I had never seen him talk so much but he was forcing me to engage in the conversation. After a couple minutes I realized he wasn’t giving me the time to feel self conscious so the clothes had become merely clothes.

When it was time to go home I changed back into my boy’s uniform, thanked him, then ran home. I hated to admit to myself but wearing the girl’s clothes hadn’t been too bad. In the end, I was even beginning to enjoy the feel and freedom associated with them. I could act however I wanted without worrying Steve would think me girly or weird. It was when I got dressed to come home that solidified the thoughts in my mind. Wearing the boy’s clothes wasn’t good enough anymore.

After school the next day Sarah asked if we could get together over at my house since we were at hers yesterday. I didn’t know how to respond, I found myself wanting to go to her house so I could get changed. I reluctantly agreed to let her come over. Once in the safety of my room we started on homework with Sarah still dressed as Sarah. When we finished the first assignment and were about to start on our writing assignments she brought up the clothing situation. “Can I put on something of yours? I’m tired of these clothes.”

I simply say sure and began pulling off my blazer and tie. I hand them to her while she starts peeling off her own layers. Once all our clothes are swapped we both look like boys since she always wears masculine clothing even as a girl. I was deep in thought on a problem when I hear Steve shout, “Kara!”

“Who’s Kara?” I question.

“You, I was asking what you got for number four but you were in your own little world.”

“Steve, I’m wearing your clothes and most of them are guy’s clothes anyway. Why are you calling me Kara?”

“Sorry, you seemed okay with me thinking of you as a girl, I guess the blouse and that made me think girl.”

However strange I manage to understand. “But why call me Kara?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, it was just the name that came out. You aren’t mad are you?”

Was I mad? I didn’t seem to be, only curious as to what caused him to act as he had. “No, not at all. I kind of like it.”

He smiled like I had given the right answer. From then on any time we traded clothes or I wore his school girl uniform I was Kara. I realized that I still looked like a guy because Steve wore mostly guy things but it didn’t seem to matter. He called me by the name I was increasingly beginning to think of as mine.

My parents never spent much time at home so our bouts never were discovered by my parents. Steve’s parents seemed more than happy to play along and call me Kara, even when I was wearing my own clothes. I don’t know how they heard my name but apparently they knew nonetheless. On one visit to their house Steve’s mom offered me his old girl clothes. An offer I was more than happy to take. He was a little bigger than me so his clothes from only six months ago proved to be more my size. I snuck them home and stashed them in my closet.

With all the extra clothes I found myself swapping out items from my own uniform with girl items instead of buying replacements. Steve caught on to my switching and our uniform swapping stopped becoming a temporary thing. He would get more and more male uniform items from me while his remaining girl items were given to me. Together Sarah and I made quite the pair, her dressed fully as a boy but still being called a girl and me wearing almost completely girl clothes but still being called a boy.

The school’s faculty took our swapping in stride so long as we abided by the dress code. Nowhere in the rule book did it say a boy HAD to wear a boy uniform, only that boys SHOULD wear this and girls SHOULD wear that. Sarah was never picked on as most of the boys seemed to think of her as one of the guys. I was a different story. People started making snide comments about what I was wearing. I grinned and bore most of them, any that were going to set me off I immediately got lost so they wouldn’t beat me up. Once they made the mistake of saying one around Sarah and she flat out punched the guy in the stomach. From then on, everyone knew that I was Sarah’s friend so they didn’t pick on me.

When Steve started talking about taking hormones I knew that Sarah would be leaving permanently soon. I also learned that there were options. I had always thought that puberty was inevitable, we could enjoy dressing now but eventually our bodies would force the issue. When I heard a psychiatrist would be required I asked my parents if I could go to one who knew transgendered issues since Sarah was becoming Steve.

I met Dr. Powl and knew immediately I was going to like her. I found her really easy to talk to and she was able to keep up with my whirlwind style brain. On one visit she asked why I chose to come to a person who focuses on transgender individuals. I tried to play it off as wanting to understand Steve better but she was too smart for me. She managed to fish out that I like to wear girl’s clothes, not that she couldn’t already tell by my basically female attire. When asked about Steve’s HRT I grew quiet and she knew she had hit a sensitive point. We talked indirectly about hormones, like what I had heard about them, did I know the kinds and what they could do to a body. After she finished describing to me the male hormones she asked if they were the kind of effects I would be okay with in puberty. I wanted to say ‘yes’ but I couldn’t, it would have been a lie so I went with ‘no.’ When she asked why I said that Steve may want that for his body but I didn’t want any of the effects she described.

She didn’t seem to be bothered by my response. Instead she asked if I had effects that I did want in puberty. The dream I had of Steve and I kissing came to the forefront before I pushed it away. When I didn’t answer her she began to describe female hormone effects. When she asked if those interested me at all I was only able to nod, too embarrassed to say anything.

After extensive talking with Dr. Powl I knew I was going to have to come out to my parents. If I was serious about avoiding becoming a man then I had to get my parents help to get on hormones. My mom seemed to be excited at the prospect of having a daughter instead of a feminine son. My dad didn’t take it well at first but later came and apologized to me and since has become one of the best supporters I could have ever asked for.

I started exploring everyday girl clothes when off from school and when Steve and I got together we would go out as a girl and boy, with me as the girl. I found more and more of my clothes being replaced with girls while my old baggy clothes turned into nice fitting Steve clothes. I even bought some makeup and nail polish on one of our excursions, much to the chagrin of Steve.

The only place I wasn’t out had become school, and even there I was everything but out. After talking to my parents we decided that if I really wanted to do this then I could go to school as Kara when we switched to the upper school. When I told Steve he smiled at me and told me congratulations. I got the feeling he was glad to see me live my life but at the same time feeling sad he wasn’t going to be doing the same.

On the walk home on the next day he told me that he had talked with his parents and they agreed to let him go full time when he switched to the upper grades as well. As we graduated from the lower grades I found my excitement building. By now my hair was past my shoulders and well kept and I was proficient in makeup and nail polish. When out with Steve people always called me a girl while always calling him a boy. The feeling was spectacular! When I was told by the Dr that I could get my blood hormone levels checked I was over the moon.

After about a week we received the results. It said that my puberty was starting, but not the puberty I wanted. I cried right there in the office. According to my doctor I wouldn’t be able to take anything until I had been full time for a year and had reached sixteen. I was horrified. If I had to wait until I was sixteen then my body would already have been tainted by the foul boy hormones.

In my room later that evening I continued to bawl. Nothing anyone said managed to rein in the doom I felt. Even when Steve came by and cuddled with me I continued on and on. It was only when he produced a small vial of birth control pills that my tears of horror ended and were replaced with tears of happiness and love for my caring Steve.

He had gone to every girl he knew from school and asked if he could have some. Most were willing to give a few days out of their supply. I immediately popped one in my mouth. I knew it was a reckless thing to do but so did Steve and he understood the pain I was in.

When that month’s supply started to dwindle a new month’s supply showed up. I knew I had to get prescribed hormones but for now the birth control would do. After being told no on hormones we got in touch with another doctor, one that Dr. Powl recommended. He did his blood test and found my levels were induced by birth control. I was told that I was to stop them immediately because improperly monitored levels are dangerous. When I told him I would rather die than go through a boy’s puberty he smiled and said that I wouldn’t be going through a boy’s while I was taking the drugs he was prescribing.

I popped the first in my mouth before I made it home. No more birth control, hello normal hormones.

Steve and I celebrated by going out to eat. He was already on his hormones but he hadn’t told me because he was afraid it would upset me. The dinner I realized was more like a date than two friends. We sat opposite each other in the ambient lit restaurant and even shared our food. When we departed he had dropped me at my door to continue to his own. There was no goodbye kiss sadly.

The summer months passed and Steve was starting to look different while I was waiting to see some change in my own appearance. School started back up and we ended up with different schedules so our time together was limited to after school. When Steve’s voice dropped I was thankful I would never experience that ordeal, but was happy to congratulate him on a mile stone. Steve got on well with the other guys while I had formed a few friendships with girls in my classes.

Steve and I started to pull away from each other. With each of us having people of our own gender to be around, the interest in spending time with someone else didn’t appeal as much. The only thing that seemed to remain of our friendship was our transition. We started out spending only days apart but the days turned into a week, then a month and finally I didn’t ever see him. We might pass in the hall but we would only wave or he would do a head nod. His facial hair came in and he started to fill out in all the right ways, I was finding him interesting in a more than friend’s way. Sadly he never seemed to notice.

It wasn’t until a few months after my hormones were upped to full levels that he seemed to take a notice of me again. My boobs had officially come in, filling out a full B. My butt had seemed to change shape over night and I found myself bumping into things or losing balance in positions I used to be able to do. It was in one of those missed balance moments where he looked over at me and laughed. He walked up to me while I blushed in embarrassment. “Hips coming in huh?”

I giggled, “Must be because I keep losing balance, I’m such a klutz.”

He laughed while his eyes drifted down to my chest. His eyes stayed in that position for a moment before catching himself. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I like looking at them too from time to time. Hard to believe I used to be flat-chested.”

He smiled and rubbed a hand up the side of his face. “Hard to believe I didn’t have hair on my face.” We paused in an awkward moment looking at each other but not knowing what to say. “Hey listen, do you want to go out sometime and catch up?”

My heart soared but I had to be sure. “Like on a date?”

Timidly he responded, “Yeah.”

I smiled, “I would love to, text me the time and place.”

As we departed for our classes the dream I had a long time ago floated through my mind. Neither of us had had surgery but it’s always good to have something to aim for.

Epilogue:

“And that Lily is how I caught your father.”

“Tell it again mommy tell it again!” Lily shouts.

“Yeah Aunt Kara tell it again!” my niece Stacy begs.

As they continue to plead I see Steve poke his head in the door and wiggle his eyebrows suggestively before speaking up. “Sorry kiddo but not tonight. Stacy needs to get going home.”

I hear a collected awe in discouragement before Stacy grabs her purse to walk home. We both tuck Lily in before heading to downstairs to watch TV.

As I’m on my way out my bathroom door Steve pulls me to him and gives me a passionate kiss from behind. I feel his bulge hitting me in the backside while one of his hands traces down to my flat front. Dreams really can come true.