This is a second person FtM story, I've been kinda intrigued with the idea of writing something in second person for a while. This is a heads up that this story is basically about the reader being turned into a boy and I figure that could be triggering to some people, especially trans women. There's no abuse, but just be careful and maybe give this one a miss if you think that might upset you. Otherwise, enjoy!

It's early September, the tail end of summer is turning into autumn, and you decide it's time to update your wardrobe. You head into town and spend the morning browsing the shops. After a few hours, you've filled a couple of bags with new clothes, new underwear, a new pair of flats, and a cute jacket that was on sale. You're satisfied with the day's shopping and decide to head home. As you walk down the high street you pass a barber shop that you've never seen before. You've been walking down this street for months and don't remember any shops closing, let alone this one opening. You stop, and stand transfixed, subconsciously reaching up and touching your long hair. The shop is empty, no customers waiting, and no barbers inside, but the lights are on, and a small TV in the corner of the shop is showing a football match. Your eyes are drawn to a sign in the window: "Back to school haircuts: £7.50". Why are you so intruiged? You finished school years ago, and besides, barbershops are for men. You try to keep walking home, but your legs only carry you closer to the shop, and before you know it, your hand is on the door.

A bell rings as you open the door, but there's no response from the back room. What's the harm in looking around? You've never been in a barbershop before, and the chairs look very comfortable, so you walk towards one and sit down. You were right, it is comfortable, and as you are settling in, a man comes in from the back room and approaches you in the chair. You try to apologise and leave, but you can't form the words, so all you do is smile as he covers you in a big black nylon cape. He doesn't say anything as he starts to comb your hair with long strokes. He gathers up your hair, holding it in a ponytail with one hand, and cutting it off with the other. The barber drops the foot or so of hair he just cut off into your lap. You should be concerned, but instead you feel content, this is how it should be.

He works quickly, using a spray bottle to wet your hair, then roughly cuts it to about three inches all over, as your skirt meets in the middle, becoming a pair of shorts. You hear a click then a hum, and feel a soothing vibration on the back of your neck as the barber runs clippers up your head, buzzing the hair there down to fuzz. As he makes the first pass you feel cool air on your legs as your tights recede into simple black socks. The clippers make a second run up the back of your head, at the same time you feel dark hairs spreading up your legs. The back of your head is done, and the barber folds down your ear to clip around it. Something other than hair hits the cape, and you look down to see one of your earrings has been pushed out by your body, the hole completely sealed up. The same happens on your other ear. He starts on the top, using his fingers as a guide, he snips off another inch or so. Thr first chunk of hair lands on your chest, ripples passing through your body, and you feel your breasts shrink a little. The next cut does the same, and by the time the top of your hair is finished, your chest is flat and your bra is gone. The barber adds the finishing touches, blending and sharpening up the edges. With each adjustment you feel your vision getting blurrier until he stops and puts down his tools. He squirts a little gel into his hands and rubs it into the top of your hair, achieving the perfect deliberate messy look.

The barber hands you a pair of glasses and you reflexively put them on and look in the mirror for the first time. You see yourself: a teenage boy with short dark hair. You smile and nod, and the barber removes the cape, allowing all the cut off hair to drop to the floor, as the last wave of changes rush through your body, there is a shifting in your underwear as it changes to a pair of boxer shorts, then fills out. You stand up and pay the barber; he disappears into the back room, and you stay there for a while, gently rubbing the fuzz on the back of your head.

You leave the barbershop and head home, appreciating the cool breeze on your neck as you walk. When you arrive, you show your parents the clothes you bought: new trainers, a cool hoodie, but you're too embarrassed to show them the underwear. They approve, and you head upstairs to your room to play video games with your friends, then have an early night ready for school tomorrow.