Jeff awoke to the sound of his phone’s alarm the next morning, sunlight peeking in through his bedroom window. Sluggishly, he grabbed the device and turned it off, glancing at the time: 6:30 AM. He sighed, recalling that it was a Monday, one of the few times during the week he was willing to wake early. The memories of yesterday came flooding back into Jeff’s brain slowly but surely as he woke up, the sheer bliss he had experienced after finally urinating putting a smile on his face. It blocked out all the negativity of the park and hike, even the most painful and infuriating aspects. The experience had been so impactful, he barely remembered anything after that. He had flushed the toilet, got dressed (making sure to grab the bra cup as well), washed his hands, and joined his family for dinner. While he briefly recalled his mom giving a tedious lecture to him about “improper behavior in public” or something similar as they ate at the dining table, much of it had flown in one ear and out the other. The whole wrap-up of the otherwise miserable experience had put in him in far too good - and disoriented - a mood to care.
Knowing the answer, but wanting to make sure, he lifted the covers, and saw a lump pressing up and making a mound in his boxer shorts. Yep, the breast was still there. A thought came to mind, and Jeff got out of bed to check the Chronivac.
Booting it up, the timer blinked to life: 27 Hours, 58 Minutes, 34 Seconds…
The three days was just about two thirds through, and once it was done, Jeff could reclaim his lost manhood. He longed for the usual feeling of having his testicles sandwiched between his legs as opposed to the rotund blob he was currently dealing with. His shaft pressed against proper underwear was more preferable, he thought, than the dull poke of the nipple inside the fabric of his bra cup.
But, there was a small part of him that would miss the… No! No, he couldn’t be thinking like that. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. Okay, admittedly, the peeing yesterday had been pretty great, but this was no way for a teenager like himself to live. Nobody should have a breast for a crotch, and that was final!
Wait! Today was Monday, and Monday was the start of the school week!
Getting up out of his chair and turning his attention to getting dressed, Jeff made an effort to choose a new outfit that would keep attention off him while simultaneously allowing the breast maximum comfort and room. He slipped the bra cup into place, finding it sat considerably better than yesterday, though it was still by no means a perfect fit. After sliding on a pair of loose dress pants, knowing full well his mother wouldn’t let him go to school in sweatpants, Jeff then pulled a decently clean T-shirt over his head, followed by a tan waxed cotton jacket.
Following a quick breakfast, Jeff arrived at school, wandering inside the large brick building with his backpack slung over one shoulder. Dozens upon dozens of other students roughly his age were walking past him without so much as a second glance. For a change, Jeff was relieved that he was insignificant in the eyes of the student body; just one of those guys you could have seen a hundred times and still not recognize. The walk through the crowded school was trickier than entering, as Jeff had to continuously make an effort not to accidentally brush his crotch against anyone in the cramped hallways. No matter how well packed away he thought it was, he wasn’t going to chance anyone taking notice of it in any way, shape or form.
Upon getting to his locker, Jeff pulled his schedule out of the front pocket of his backpack, unable to recall at the moment what period he had first. Was it chemistry? No, that was Tuesdays. Wood-shop? No, that was last period on Mondays and Fridays. Was it-?
Oh. Oh, no. Not today.
8:15 to 9:30: Gym with Coach Carr.
Jeff silently rued that he had chosen to take gym this semester, even though it was either that or calculus, as he stuffed his backpack away and headed towards the gymnasium on the second floor. He calmed himself, recalling that last week and the week before had been about the dangers of performance-enhancing drugs. Both times, they had just sat in the bleachers, reading from pamphlets and watching videos on a projector. He figured that would be the case again this week, as they had to stop the lesson short last class due to a fire alarm. There was no way gym today would be anything involving tight uniforms, nor physical exertion for him and the secret hidden away in his pants.
But, as luck would have it…
“Okay, everyone. We’re going to be catching up on physical exercises today. Teams of four, five stations: the rope, sit-ups, jumping jacks, weights, and laps around the gym. Team one, Gillespie, Rees, Cooke…”
As he stood among his nineteen other classmates in the center of the gym, emblazoned with the school’s mascot, Jeff felt a twinge of utmost dread that was unlike anything he had experienced before. Sure, he had to worry about being caught with the breast before this, but surrounded by his peers? If he wasn’t careful, his already subpar reputation as an ‘unknown’ at this school would devolve into ‘freak’ amongst his more heartless classmates, beyond the stigma of having headgear, like Spencer Hudson in sophomore year.
Once the teams were finished being called, Jeff and the others trotted off to get their exercise uniforms from the locker rooms. Despondent, he wondered what he was going to do. He had worn that stupid gym outfit enough times to know there was no way he’d be able to hide the breast in its airtight shorts; it would be like placing an orange underneath a tissue and trying to make it look flat. It just wasn’t possible!
While the other boys opened their lockers and switched from their school clothes into their physical education clothes, Jeff played with the combination on his locker, acting as though he had forgotten what it was. In reality, he wanted to have as few others in the locker room as possible, so he could safely strip down to his makeshift underwear. After three minutes, only two others were left, and both were too preoccupied with finishing and joining the rest of the class, to pay him any mind. Once again, Jeff was grateful nobody knew him. However, it was a matter of time. He had to get changed and go back to gym. If he didn’t, he’d get a phone call sent home, and Lord only knew what his mom would do if she found out he had “misbehaved” at school.
Then, just as the two boys left, a solution came to Jeff, who began frantically opening his locker to make up for lost time.
Entering the gym twenty seconds later than everyone else, Jeff faked a slight limp, made easy by the weight of the breast. He had gotten more used to moving with it, but not to the point that it was the same as walking like a regular boy with a penis attached. Shuffling over to Coach Carr, he apologized, and motioned to his still-worn sweatpants. “Hey, sorry, Coach. I put the shirt and shoes on, but… I went on a nature hike yesterday and I got a pretty bad bruise on my leg. I just, want to keep it covered, it’s… I just feel like it would be distracting to everyone else…”
Jeff felt slightly better knowing he technically wasn’t lying about having the sweatpants cover something wholly attention grabbing. Coach Carr, rubbing his chin, shrugged, and pointed with his thumb over to Jeff’s team at the rope. “Okay. I guess you have the essentials on; just don’t make a habit out of this or overexert yourself.” Jeff nodded, briefly elevating Coach Carr to the status of his best friend in the world.
He made his way over to the rope, where Jacob Harper was halfway done making his way up to the cowbell dangling from the ceiling. Jeff’s other two teammates didn’t pay him any mind, which worked out just fine for him. He figured that, with his breast concealed and nobody interested in his presence, gym would be a breeze, right? He knew it would.
He just had to tempt fate, didn’t he?
When it came to Jeff’s turn, the climb up was unspeakably difficult. Not because Jeff lacked any upper arm strength nor because the rope burned his hands, but because wrapping his legs around the damn thing was like pressing a very large piece of dental floss against the breast. The hemp string rubbed vigorously against his pants, and while not painful, it was terribly itchy, causing a taut burning in his nethers that rivaled the chlorine rash from the pool party.
After Coach Carr blew his whistle, Jeff's team rotated over to the sit ups station. This task proved far easier, as all it took was him keeping his legs together, the backs of his feet against the breast to hide the bulge, while he lifted himself up and down, up and down. When he got to twenty, he started to feel a bit winded and sweaty, but had no physical issues with the mass built into his pelvis. That was, until he looked around.
Being a hot-blooded and very hormonal teenager, Jeff’s eyes almost instinctively locked on to the girls in the class as they jogged about and jumped jacks. The tightness of their shirts, the shortness of the gym shorts, the fact that their breasts and buttocks were bouncing ever so slightly with each move…
Before he could calm himself down, Jeff felt his lower nipple stiffening, the equivalent for him of getting an erection. He blushed, embarrassed to be experiencing the sensation in public, but realization dawned. Aside from the slight hardening and the gentle pulsation of the breast, nothing else happened. It hadn’t grown by much, and it wasn’t pitching an obvious tent like his penis would have. As he counted to twenty-five, Jeff pondered this for a moment. Maybe there really, truly, actually were some perks to this thing instead of his-
He wasn’t given time to dwell on that for long, as Coach Carr blew the whistle once more. Next station: jumping jacks.
Unlike the sit ups and more akin to the rope, this one supplied Jeff with ample physical frustrations. While his legs opened and closed too quickly for anyone to see any outline of the breast, the constant bouncing jostled the body part wildly, not unlike a large testicle bobbing in his pants. The main problem? The breast was, metaphorically speaking, a LARGE testicle, and wasn’t shy of letting its owner know it didn’t care for being slapped about like some sort of yo-yo. The bra cup dug more and more into its sides, with sweat building up from the extensive working out adding to the discomfort and irritability. If Jeff could have wished for one thing in the world right then… it would been to have his dick back. But if not that? Definitely an ice pack on the below-boob.
The whistle blew once more. Weights was up next.
It was like some sort of weird pattern so far. The odd numbered stations had been excruciatingly annoying for Jeff, while the even numbered ones were far more preferential. There was little issue between the weights, two eight-pound dumbbells in each hand, and the breast. If Jeff had to nitpick, it would be that the breast added slightly more friction to his bottom than he was used to, make the lifting of the weights only a little more difficult. But, as far as he was concerned, if that’s all he had to put up with from it when doing this exercise? He’d gladly be lifting eighty-pounds with each arm.
Then, the whistle blew for the fifth time. Laps.
Oh, dear Christ, laps.
It was easily the most miserable experience of the quintet, as the extensive use of his legs in rapid succession floundered the breast around like some sort of… well, breast. Jeff was too preoccupied with his current situation to think of anything clever to relate it to. While by no means anything like the rippling thunder that each footstep had caused yesterday, Jeff felt every smack of his sneakers against the waxed gym floor like a shockwave, which in turn shook and yanked the breast about like some sort of sick, twisted fairground ride. Speaking of twisted, Jeff could have sworn the bra cup was sliding about and getting lodged disproportionately against its cargo. Sweaty and itchy, itchy and sweaty. So annoying. So uncomfortable. Please… just blow… the damn-
Whistle.
Jeff came to a stop, breathing heavily, exhausted as much mentally as he was physically. He resisted the compelling urge to dive his hands down his pants and readjust his crotch-breast; he had made it this far, he wasn’t going to pull the trigger on his social standing yet. He smiled, relieved that he had gotten through what was no doubt the hardest class he’d have to be dealing with today. He almost started chuckling, when he heard Coach Carr utter those fateful words:
“Okay, everyone. Hit the showers.”