Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to just be sure of yourself? To be able to look ahead at your life and think, ‘yeah, I like where this is headed’.

My name is Caleb Weaver and I should really be further ahead in life by now. I graduated college two years ago with an English degree that I’ve done absolutely nothing with. All it means is that I’m pretty good at reading and writing. But what use is that? It doesn’t translate into a career. No employers are out there clamoring for hot takes on a centuries-old Charles Dickens novel.

The only thing I’ve found even sort of enjoyable is coaching volleyball. Though I’m a mostly skill-less person, the one thing I’m surprisingly decent at is getting the most out of other people’s potential. And that’s what coaching is all about: here’s a rock, now make a diamond.

So that’s why I’m still coaching two years out of college. As a 25-year old living on his own in the sleepy town of Batavia, Illinois, it’s hard to get motivated. My family doesn’t live nearby. I don’t have a ton of friends. I don’t have a lot of prospects in the dating world being a thin, fair-skinned man with straight-ish, long blonde hair. My nickname in college was ‘Rail-Thin Thor’ and shockingly, that wasn’t something the ladies flocked to.

But despite not always loving my job, when the evenings and the weekends come, I get just a little bit of that much-needed inspiration. And that’s especially true today.

You see, I work for one of the most successful youth volleyball clubs in the nation. Yes, the nation. And that club is called Fiery Force Volleyball Club, or FFVC for short.

FFVC is an enormous, well-oiled machine. Hundreds of kids fill the rosters of more than five dozen volleyball teams ranging from ages 7 to 18. The club owns two practice facilities where they organize daily practices and host weekly tournaments and events. Each team has an adult coach who instructs, mentors and, depending on the age, babysits.

I’ve bounced around team assignments over the last few years, but currently my team is ‘Boys 12 Silver’ — meaning the max age is 12 years old, and the ‘Silver’ referring to the second best team at that age level. Now, before you get impressed, there are only two boys teams at that age group. So if you wanna be cynical about it, we’re the worst of our age.

And don’t get me wrong, I really like most of the kids as people, but they’re not good at the sport. Some of that is no fault of their own since the gender norms insist that boys at that age play every sport except volleyball. Every year, we lose our most athletic kids to basketball or football. Usually by the time they get to the 18’s age group, the number of boys still playing can barely fill a (half decent) team.

So that means it’s really the girls program that shines. Typically there are four to six teams per age group for the girls, and the Gold team is always stellar. In fact, by the time they graduate high school (and finish their 18’s year), every single Gold girl has accepted a scholarship at a nationally-ranked D1 volleyball program. Stanford, Texas, Wisconsin, Penn State, you name it. Sometimes even the Silver girls get into these programs.

But let me tell you why today of all days is uniquely motivating. Boys’ club season ends at the start of the calendar year, which means we start the girls’ club season in February, after January tryouts. The past few seasons, since I’m younger, I’ve been given coaching assignments to the 8’s, 9’s and 10’s, as well as helping run training camps (either for boys and girls who are trying to move up teams, or just trying to make a roster). But this season I’ve been assigned assistant coach for ‘Girls 16 Gold’!

YES! This team of girls is genuinely special. Last year they placed 12th at Nationals and won several local and regional tournaments.

The only problem is that the 15 Gold team last year was heavily reliant on this girl named Meredith Goro, who was unfortunately poached by another local club. So we had our work cut out for us. But maybe, just maybe, being the assistant coach of a possibly top-tier team will be the jumpstart to self-motivation and direction in my life. Things could finally be turning around!

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“Blondie!” I heard someone yell from across the gym. I arrived 30 minutes early for my first practice. Seemed like a smart idea, since clearly some people didn’t know my name.

The source turned out to be Dottie Klein. I knew her. She was one of the most senior coaches at FFVC, and with a name like ‘Dottie’, you knew she was old. In her late 60’s at least.

“Normally the girls will get the nets set up, but since you decided to show up a half hour early and beat ‘em all here, you might as well get started,” she grumbled.

“Sure,” I complied, “but just so you know, my name’s Caleb. In case you…uh…forgot.”

Dottie paused, as if she were deciding whether or not to honor my request to be called by my own name. “Caleb. Okay. Your hair’s just so shiny it was blinding me from across the gym.”

I managed to eke out a laugh, assuming she was kidding. But just to be safe, I put my past-shoulder-length, ‘shiny’ blonde hair up into a bun. I wouldn’t want to ‘blind’ anyone else…

Per Dottie’s request, I retrieved the poles, nets, and antennae and got the majority of it set up before the first few girls trickled in and took over.

The practice was held in our ‘North Facility’ in Naperville, Illinois. It’s 20 minutes from where I live, and a lot more vibrant and interesting suburb than Batavia – one of the many reasons I found it invigorating to work here.

Within 10 minutes, almost every team had arrived. Each of the eight courts filled with coaches, players, and the incessant sound of bouncing volleyballs. Dottie blew her whistle and called in the girls and myself to start practice.

“Good to see you girls again,” she said, lightening her tone almost immediately with them. “Remember what I said at registration? How do I want to start every practice?”

Dottie pointed at the first girl, Macy, who spoke immediately. “Uhh…hmmm… today I learned about y=mx+b slope-intercept form in Algebra class.”

“You stole mine!!” shouted Kelsey, the girl next to her. The two girls laughed and shoved each other.

“Two of you can have the same thing, but no more,” Dottie shouted over the mess.

“Yes!” Kelsey fist pumped. “Then I also learned y=mx+b.”

This was totally unlike anything I would’ve expected from a Gold team. They were kicking things off by talking about what they learned in school? No hard drilling or anything like that right from the beginning? Especially with Dottie’s personality…

They continued around the circle, with a few hiccups, but eventually got through the school recap. It was a refreshing way to get introduced to the girls. Strangely, Dottie saved her introduction of me until after the school talk.

“And Gold,” she began. Dottie often referred to them collectively as ‘Gold’. “This is Coach Caleb. He’s going to be our assistant coach for the season.”

“Hi guys,” I said with a confident wave.

I was returned with a sampling of half-interested ‘Hi’s’ and ‘Hey’s’. Cold shoulder much? But there wasn’t time to further introduce myself, apparently, because Dottie got right into practice.

A typical warmup of tossing, hitting, then ‘pepper’ (essentially two-person volleyball), hitting lines, and a ladder drill took up most of the first 45 minutes. As assistant coach, my job was to be an extra set of hands, though I’d critique and correct form and strategy when needed.

But my notes weren’t immediately welcomed. Though the girls didn’t have a significant prior relationship with Dottie (as she didn’t coach them last year), they respected and worked hard for her. I suppose that’s understandable. Maybe I just needed to earn their respect.

Regardless, it was a tricky first day. I didn’t love not being immediately welcomed by Dottie or the girls. Was it because I was young? Or because I’m a man? Or maybe… I’m just so unqualified and unworthy to coach such a top-tier team. Was this all such a waste of time?

Dottie called in a final meeting before ending practice, recapping our drills and encouraging the girls to stick to it. “Good first practice. Great first practice. You all worked hard,” Dottie complimented. “ Listen, I understand the dynamic has shifted from last season. Meredith leaving is… tough. She was a rockstar and a great girl, and I’m she’ll do well with her new squad. But hey, without her leaving we wouldn’t have the addition of the wonderful Remi Leung.”

Dottie gestured to Remi, a tall brunette girl that plays Middle Blocker. I guess she’s got big shoes to fill with this Meredith girl gone… as well as fitting in with the new team.

I wasn’t expecting Dottie to reference me or ask for my opinion in the breakdown. So, while she was still talking to the girl, I took my hair out of my bun to re-tie it.

…and to my absolute shock, I got the attention I never thought I’d get. All eight girls whipped their heads around to me and stared at my head in awe.

“No way!” Harley said.

“So pretty!” Meghan jumped in.

It felt like a bombardment of compliments as the girls noticed the length and maintenance of my blonde hair for the first time.

Dottie smirked. “You girls like that? Coach Caleb’s hair nearly blinded me walking in today.”

I laughed quietly in agreement at each of the statements. “Well, uh, what can I say? I take good care of my hair.”

“It’s gorgeous! And so full!” Macy exclaimed. “What salon do you go to? I have to try it.”

“Oh, nowhere special. I just… well, I use oils and conditioners is all…”

I couldn’t believe the attention this was getting. Yeah, I have a unique appearance. It’s not like nobody’s pointed it out to me before. I’m a thin, 5’10” guy with long blonde hair usually seen on women.

Though I’d be lying if I said nobody’s ever pointed out my, umm… feminine qualities before. In college I used to get roasted for having a nighttime skincare routine. Same for shaving my underarms… a habit I kept up after doing a year of swim team in high school. And sometimes guys would give me shit for having a ‘girly butt’. But that was only because my workouts heavily featured squats, needed for jumping in volleyball.

After a few more questions about my hair, Dottie put a stop to the distractions and officially ended practice. But it was an undoubtedly odd way to wrap up my first day. Zero attention due to merit… all due to my hair.

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The entire 23 chapter story is live on Kindle! Super excited about this one. Hope you guys like it! :)

Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BTMNTTGK

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In Rotation: A Gradual Feminization Story (Chapter 2)

Author:

Mysterious Stranger

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Novel Chapter

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

College / Twenties

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Hair Salon / Long Hair / Wigs / Rollers

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

**FYI, this is the second of two teaser chapters.

CHAPTER TWO

The 16 Gold team practices four days a week — every weekday except Wednesdays. That gives the girls an opportunity to still expand their personal horizons and try other clubs and activities in the evenings, in addition to homework. It’s a healthy, important thing for anyone at any age to do.

My own free time was often spent exercising, reading, or playing video games. Not that I was completely without friends, but having practices in the evenings and tournaments on the weekends, it wasn’t ideal for a social schedule. So I mostly kept to myself.

The first week of practice was going…fine. Sure, I was mostly ignored and sometimes felt like a pack mule doing all the physical parts of running drills, hitting down-balls, and anything else Dottie needed for the team. The money, fortunately, was good. And with the low cost of living way outside of the Chicago area, I didn’t need to get a second job (just sometimes picking up extra shifts for training camps, working the concessions at our tournaments, and whatnot).

Socially, I’d somewhat befriended a handful of coaches, but now that I was coaching the girls instead of the boys, my sphere of familiarity was different. Sure, some coaches had teams of both genders, but most picked one and stuck there.

A full week of running girls' practices was starting to remind me how outnumbered I was as a man in this gym. 8 to 10 girls per team, each with a female head coach (and sometimes an assistant for the top teams, but also always female). Outside of the maintenance staff that came in, I was the only guy in the entire facility.

The one person I’d known a little bit from coaching boys was the 15 Bronze coach, Maddie Russell. She was a few years older than me with a sharp wit, fun personality, and incredibly beautiful. Maddie was one of those people who was so bubbly it was impossible not to like her. I was extremely thankful that her team practiced the same night and time slot as mine.

“Having fun so far?” Maddie ran up to me before Friday’s practice.

“It’s okay. Super different. It’s just been a hell of a week.”

“Yeah, the girls' practices are a lot more intense than the boys’, huh?” Maddie chuckled. “I always feel like a babysitter for the boys – even the high school ones.”

“Totally. But they both have perks. I’m just having some trouble getting these girls to like me.”

Maddie waved her hand, dismissively. “Ohhh they’ll come around. And as their coach, you don’t need them to like you. It’s not like you have to be friends with them. They just need to respect you as a mentor. Like a kind of big sister. Or for you, big brother.”

Maddie had a good point. It’s not like I was trying to enter a 16 year-old girl friend group. I didn’t need to be up to date on their slang and interests. After all, I’m nine years older and at a completely different stage of my life.

Dottie blew her whistle and called the girls in for the pre-practice meeting. They went through the school recap routine, had a few laughs, and practice began.

Soraya (the best of two setters on the team, just barely beating out her twin sister, Eshal) kept asking Dottie if we’d be scrimmaging after practice. “But it’s Friday! Can we please?”

“Depends on what 16 Silver wants. They’re their own team, so if they feel ready to scrimmage, we’ll be ready.”

Dottie’s response was good enough to keep the girls focused on a Friday evening. We wouldn’t start doing weekend tournaments for a few more weeks anyway, so it’s not like we needed Friday to chill.

But unfortunately for Gold, Silver was not ready to scrimmage. Their coach, a woman named Rebecca, was not pleased with the practice they had and therefore were not prepared to scrimmage.

“Noooo! So we’re just running drills for the last half hour?” Meghan whined.

Dottie sighed. I could tell she wanted to scrimmage Silver, and wasn’t in the mood to run drills for another half hour either. “We can play Fours,” she declared.

The girls cheered, celebrating that they got to do a 4v4 self-scrimmage instead of getting further critiqued on their hitting form.

Eve looked side to side and quickly realized an issue. “Coach Dottie, Kelsey’s not here though. So we can’t do Fours. We only have seven.”

“Well, maybe Coach Caleb can join in. Caleb?” Dottie looked over at me. Frankly, I was shocked to be addressed at all, much less by name.

“Oh, uh, well, I would. But…” I gestured to what I had on. Usually what I wore to practice was some sort of light athletic jacket and athletic pants. But today for some reason, I wore these inflexible jeans. I regretted it the second I got to the facility and though it didn’t affect my ability to coach, it’d severely hinder my ability to play.

The girls knew this, and immediately got bummed knowing it’d be uneven teams for the remainder of practice.

“Yeah, I’m sorry guys. Really.” I tried to apologize, but there was no quickness to forgive. I turned to Dottie. “Wait, let me just borrow some shorts from the supply closet.”

“They wouldn’t be in there. The boys are out of season, so they’ve boxed up all the extra uniforms and are packed away at South Facility.”

I was losing the girls. And I was clearly annoying Dottie. Everybody wanted a fun, 4v4 scrimmage to close out the week and I was letting them down.

“Unless…” I began. “Do we have any extra spandex shorts?”

Dottie did a double take, then whispered as if I accidentally said that out loud. “Spandex shorts? As in the women’s ones? You totally don’t need to do that.”

I couldn’t believe I was actually offering to wear tight, form-fitting women’s volleyball shorts, just to participate in a half hour scrimmage game. But here I was.

“Ha! No way! Coach Caleb’s gonna wear girls shorts?” Macy exclaimed.

“Ah! You totally should Coach Caleb!” Meghan joined in. Though the girls thought it was silly, they seemed to agree it was the best way to go.

“Hey, I’ve got nothing to lose. I want you girls to scrimmage, so spandex it is for me!”

I ran off to the storage closet to find my size and change into the tight, women’s spandex shorts. The closet itself was quite organized (I’d know, I helped organize it last year), so I knew exactly where to find the shorts in my size. You’d think that it’d be impossible for a 5’10” man to find a pair of women’s shorts in his size, but you’d be wrong. Remember, even the female volleyball players are tall — many taller than me!

Fortunately, I exclusively wear tighter-fitting briefs underwear, so the spandex shorts actually fit quite comfortably. I took off my jacket and kept my athletic t-shirt on. I’d never worn spandex before, so it was unreal how much of a difference these made on my legs. I already had slender, hairless legs, of which I was suddenly revealing a lot more of. If someone took a picture of only my legs, there’s a strong possibility you’d never know they belonged to a man.

Where the illusion definitely broke was with my bulge in the front. My t-shirt was on the longer side, so it mostly hid it, but that would be jarring to anyone watching a slow pan bottom-to-top of my body.

I ran back to practice to ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from the girls. They couldn’t get enough of my new look. We were all laughing together, and it wasn’t in ridicule. We all just recognized the silliness of the situation: a male coach willingly changed into girls’ practice spandex.

“Gotta say, Coach Caleb, your butt looks pretty good too,” Dottie even chimed in. The girls giggled at that comment and when I whipped around to take a look, she was absolutely right. I had a serious dump truck going on.

I turned bright red with embarrassment, and Dottie quickly apologized for saying that in front of the girls. She whispered to me “next time, I’ll keep those thoughts to myself, Blondie.” Next time?

“Coach Caleb should also wear his hair in a ponytail to match us!” Macy suggested.

I had no issue with that, so I let my long hair down from the bun and retied it into a high ponytail to match the girls. They got a big kick out of it.

Finally, we split into teams and scrimmaged for the remainder of practice. Dottie kept score and made adjustments to both teams’ form, technique, and strategy. I did the same for the girls on my own team. But despite being a 25-year old man, I wasn’t that much better a player than these girls. Remember, they’re the best of the best in the country for their age group. By the time they’re 18, I’m sure they’ll be kicking my butt.

We had a productive, fun match, and notably the team of myself, Eshal, Harley, and the new girl, Remi, took the win! Running, jumping, and diving all over the floor felt so different in my spandex shorts. There’s a much greater chance for floor burn when your shorts only go as low as your butt.

Practice wrapped and Eshal, our team captain, led the outgoing cheer. As the girls packed up their things and disassembled the nets, Dottie wanted to speak with me.

“You made nice strides today with the girls,” she said, practicing her classic no-eye-contact conversation. Nevertheless, I appreciate the compliment.

“Thank you. That means a lot.” I replied, thinking that’d be the end of it.

“You’ll come to know this year… but these girls are already stellar. Sure, there’s room to improve, new techniques to learn, yada yada. And that’s one reason why we’re here.”

I nodded along as she looked off at the sea of eager players across the giant, converted warehouse.

“But coaching teenagers, especially at this high level, is a lot less about the actual instruction, and more about the trust and motivation you can inspire in them. Keep that in mind, Caleb.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving me alone in my spandex shorts, t-shirt, and high ponytail. I released the high ponytail and retied my bun.

Despite this peculiar, feminine episode, today seemed like a step in the right direction.

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The entire 23 chapter story is live on Kindle! Thank you for all the support so far, and I'm hard at work on both my next novel and my serialized A Feminine Look story! :)

Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BTMNTTGK

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