Grace sat glumly beside her mother in the food court, picking over the remains of the salad her mom had ordered for her. Grace had been in the mood for a bacon cheeseburger and fries, but her mother had vetoed that immediately, insisting as always that Grace needed to keep her "girlish figure". The expression always made Grace's stomach turn.
Gymnastics kept Grace's 17-year-old body firm, toned and agile, but with her flat chest and square features, she was far from girlish. She made little effort to play up her femininity, shrouding her body in a baggy striped t-shirt and knee-length shorts and keeping her straight mud-brown hair in a limp shoulder-length cut with bangs that hung down to her eyebrows. She knew there were whispers around school about her being a lesbian, which made her quietly furious because she silently pined for the muscular guys on the boys' gymnastic team, their powerful arms bulging as they did the ring exercises, their spandex uniforms straining across their firm pecs and clinging to the curves of their tight butts. But none of those hunky specimens had ever shown the slightest interest in dowdy, sulking Grace. She had actually dredged up the courage to ask one of them, Caden, to the Sadie Hawkins dance last semester. He seemed genuinely flattered and smiled his sweet smile, but told her he was going to be busy that night. Grace had spent the night of the dance alone in her room, watching her "Magic Mike" DVD. One thing she knew for sure was that she had no interest in dating a girl. She could barely stand being around her teammates, who were way too obsessed with clothes and makeup and looking pretty. Grace may be boy crazy, but she wasn't going to act all girly to attract them.
Grace glanced up from the dregs of her meal and noticed a kid staring at her from across the food court. She vaguely remembered him from school. His name was Ty and he was a couple of years younger than her. She'd never spoken to him, but she had always sensed he was sad and a bit of a loner, not unlike herself. But today, as they locked eyes across the busy room, she was spooked by the intensity of his gaze. He seemed to be studying her, like he was trying to read her mind. A knot quickly grew in her stomach and she clutched the folds of her shirt. She turned to her mother, wincing. "I gotta go to the rest room," she declared, leaping to her feet and scrambling her way through the crowd.
Her head was spinning as she reached the bathrooms. She approached a door which swung open as an older man exited. Realizing she had almost run into the men's room by mistake, Grace stepped backwards, regained her bearings and spotted the ladies' room. She dashed toward it, hoping she would make it in time...although in time for what, she didn't know. She didn't actually feel the need to go to the bathroom or throw up. She just felt an unfamiliar pressure building throughout her body, pressure that would have to be relieved...somehow.
She burst into the ladies' room, happy to discover that it was empty. She locked herself in a stall and sat down, not bothering to lower her shorts. Her problem wasn't in her bowels; it was everywhere. She wrapped her arms tightly around each other as her whole body ached, with sharp painful jolts shooting through her muscles. This was far worse than any menstrual cramps she had experienced. Grace gnashed her teeth and groaned, and a low growl rumbled from her throat.
Grace heard a strange sound reaching her ears from inside her body, a dull squeak like nails on a chalkboard which seemed to be emanating from the marrow of her bones. She felt a peculiar sensation, as if her skeletal system was being pulled like taffy, and with it came a bit of relief from the agony she had been experiencing. She could swear her shoulders were widening, and her eyes grew wide as she watched her legs splay outward, pigeon-toed, her leg bones appearing to elongate. Dismayed, her perch on the toilet seat became unsteady and she braced her hands against the walls of the stall to keep herself from falling. Her elbows buckled as her arms experienced the same dramatic growth as her legs. Grace's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.
Grace was relieved to feel the strain in her bones subsiding, but it was quickly followed by a tightness in her skin. Strength grew in her arms as they pressed against the sides of the stall. She glanced over and noticed that her hand seemed larger than usual, with the fingers getting longer and the back of the hand sporting prominent veins. Her forearm was pulsating, growing thicker, and the sleeves of her formerly loose shirt were now wrapped around her upper arm. As she tensed her arm, she could feel her bicep flex with intoxicating power. She reached over with her left hand and rolled up her right sleeve to make sure she wasn't hallucinating, and was amazed to see how pumped her arm had become. She felt a similar surge in her legs and looked down to see that her toned calf muscles were now puffed out, fully defined and striated. It all felt so real yet seemed so impossible. She wondered if someone had slipped some psychedelic drugs into that terrible salad.
A heaviness fell over Grace's chest, and she wondered if she was having a heart attack. She leaned back and felt a tension across her minimal breasts as they grew firmer beneath the sports bra she had taken to wearing at all times. Her chest was expanding beneath her striped tee, but she wasn't gaining the big boobs like her mother's which she had always feared puberty would eventually bestow on her, throwing off her center of balance for gymnastics. No, it felt to Grace like they were becoming thick masses of muscle. Curious, she pulled her shirt over her head to examine her new physique and was stunned to discover that, aside from the sports bra, she was now unmistakeably looking at the body of a fit teenage boy. She reached behind her back to undo the bra, revealing her newly masculine pecs, her nipples substantially smaller and less sensitive than they had been. She gently traced her fingers across her flat tummy which now sported a distinct six-pack. As her hand reached the waistband of her shorts, she hesitated. If the rest of her was turning into a boy, did that mean...
As Grace slipped her fingertips into her shorts to explore, she was first surprised to encounter a thick elastic strip instead of the usual flimsy waistband of her panties. She unbuttoned her shorts and discovered that she was now wearing a boy's pair of tighty-whities which were being strained by a hefty bulge. Grace peeled down the underwear and was startled as a semi-hard penis flipped upward. Grace gasped. She had never seen a penis in real life, and now she actually had one. It looked to be about five inches long with a slight arch to the left, and she immediately wondered how that compared to other boys.
Her brain came to a sudden stop. "Other boys?" The events of the past few minutes had been so unbelievable, it had been hard to imagine they were actually happening, but now as the rush was subsiding, Grace had to concede that this was all very, very real. Somehow, her body was now that of a boy. She ran her hands up and down her torso, brushing past the curls of hair that were slowly unfurling across her chest and creeping around her navel. A light coating of fine hair had also appeared on her legs. She wrapped her fingers lightly around her cock and it lurched to life in her grip, stretching slightly longer and sending a delighted surge through her system. Grace instantly understood why other boys were so obsessed with jerking off. She was tempted to stroke herself further, but she froze when whe heard the restroom door opening and two pairs of feet shuffling in, a mother and her young daughter. Grace lifted her legs and braced them against the stall door, afraid of being discovered, and pushed back when the mother attempted to open the apparently empty stall.
As she waited for the others to do their business in the next stall, Grace clutched her head, wondering how she would ever explain these changes to her mother...or, really, to anyone. But she was distracted by a new realization. Instead of brushing against her usual long, stringy hair, her hands were pressed against short, tight bristles. She slid her palm across the nap of her buzzcut and grinned. It seemed impossible, but no more impossible than everything else she had experienced.
Grace listened impatiently as the mother and daughter dutifully washed their hands and figured out how the air-dryer worked. Grace thought, "Christ, girls take forever in the can." When the others finally exited, Grace waited a full three seconds before unlatching the door and standing up, wobbling unsteadily as she rose to her new height. She had grown four inches, but was still a compact five-foot-eight. She walked cautiously toward the mirror, her toes feeling pinched and bunched-up inside her purple Skechers. She closed her eyes and took a position in front of the mirror, then opened them nervously.
Staring back at Grace was a shirtless 17-year-old boy with a brown buzzcut, handsome features and the defined physique of a male gymnast. Grace couldn't resist lifting her arms and bending them at the elbows to check out her new guns, and the sight of her awesome bod caused her dick to harden in her briefs. A crooked, cocky grin spread across her baby-smooth face, and she noticed the killer dimples in her cheeks. Grace no longer felt undateable, but filled with self-confidence.
Grace was so enthralled by her reflection that she didn't hear the bathroom door swinging open, but she was brought back to reality by the shriek of an elderly woman, startled to find a nearly naked teenage boy posing in the ladies' room mirror. "Get out of here," the woman screamed. Grace frantically grabbed the striped tank top crumpled on the floor of the stall and rushed out of the bathroom.
In the hallway outside, the newly minted boy leaned against the wall and laughed a low chuckle as he caught his breath. He had really spooked that old lady. He pulled the tank top over his head, stretching the lycra across his impressive torso, oblivious that his loose blue shorts had become snug khaki board shorts wrapped tight around his bulging thighs or that his purple Skechers had been transformed into black Chuck Taylors.
"Grayson!" His mother's sharp voice echoed down the hallway, her exasperation obvious. "What took you so long? I thought you'd fallen in."
"Jeez, ma, get off my back," Grayson moaned back, annoyed that his mother would call him Grayson in public. His dad had been a big Batman fan and had named him after Robin's real last name. He hadn't minded the name when he was a kid, and the fact that Dick Grayson had been an acrobat was kinda cool, but he was embarrassed when he had started doing gymnastics and the other kids had nicknamed him "the boy wonder". He was relieved when the rest of the team had accepted him as one of the guys and started referring to him as "Gray" instead. Nowadays, nbody ever called him Grayson except his mom...and his boyfriend Caden, but only when they were in private. Gray and Caden weren't officially "out" out yet, but he was sure the other guys on the team had figured it out and they all seemed cool with it. It helped that Gray and Caden were by far the most ripped guys on the squad. Nobody was gonna fuck with them (even if Gray secretly wished some of them would).
"Okay, fine, dawdle as much as you want," said Gray's mother wearily. "I'm not the one who's going to be late for gymnastics practice." She sometimes wondered whether it would be easier to be raising a teenage girl instead, but all in all, she had to admit that Grayson was a pretty decent boy.
"Sorry, ma," Gray said, giving his mother a light affectionate tap on the shoulder with his fist. It felt momentarily odd to be taller than his mom, but he shrugged it off. He vaguely remembered having a recent growth spurt, but had no idea how recent it had been.
As they cut through the food court, Gray noticed that kid Ty staring at him with a weird smile. Gray wondered if the boy was checking him out. He subtly tightened his fist and made his biceps flex. Why not give Ty a little thrill? For some reason, Gray thought he deserved it.