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“Oh, fuck me,” I whined.

“Yeah?” Adam called out from the kitchen.

“I’m not talking to you!” I called back. I sighed and put down my razor.

I was sitting on the toilet in our bathroom, shaving my legs. I had started shaving pretty quick after I started wearing leggings. I had never had much body hair, but it still felt weird, like my leg hairs were getting tangled up in the super tight, stretchy fabric. So, I started shaving my legs, and then figured I looked kinda strange with just my legs shaved, so I ended up shaving my arms, and my pits, and then pretty much all of my body. I had felt a little nervous about shaving my private parts, but I figured no girls would want, like, a mouth full of hair if I ever convinced one to go down on me. I ended up compromising and leaving a neat little triangle of hair. Over all, I thought it looked pretty good!

It had only been a week since the last time I shaved, so I was pretty much just tidying up this morning. I had just finished making my little triangle nice and neat when I got the email from work.

REMINDER: Quarterly Employee Review Meeting, 4:00 PM today.

“Fuck me,” I groaned again.

“What’s up?” said Adam, poking his head around the door.

“EXCUSE ME!” I shrieked, leaping up off the toilet and clasping both hands over my dick and balls. Adam whipped his head back around the corner.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he called out, “I thought you had finished showering!”

“I’m shaving, you ass!” I yelled back. I grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around my waist. I was still kind of thrilled that after a couple months of diet and exercise, I actually had a waist I could wrap a towel around. I already had my hair wrapped up in another towel, after shampooing and conditioning it. “Okay, I’m covered up.”

Adam entered the bathroom sheepishly. I stood with one hand on my hip, my chest still heaving a bit from the shock of getting walked in on.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, “I was in the kitchen, I thought you said “Come hug me,” or something, and…”

“And my sweet prince just had to come and deliver the goods,” I teased.

“I can never say no to a beautiful princess in need,” he retorted. After that one morning when Adam had watched me working out, we had both kept up the pet names joke. So far, Adam hadn’t cracked, and I didn’t really feel like stopping either.

“Well don’t worry about the hug, because I was actually saying “Fuck me,” Adam,” I said. I held up my phone, “I just got an email from work. Apparently they want me to come in for an employee review.”

“I thought you worked from home?” Adam said. He leaned back against the side of the door. He was just wearing shorts and a white shirt, along with the plain black apron he always wore for cooking. He looked great, like a muscly blacksmith on the cover of a romance novel.

“I do,” I said. About a year and a half ago, I had realised that 90% of my data entry job could be done automatically with some pretty simple code. So I had done it, and then realised that sharing this information with my boss would probably result in most of my coworkers losing their jobs. I figured the safest thing to do would be to keep it to myself, but I used my secret to make myself the most efficient worker, and used my leverage to ask my boss to let me work from home. Now I let my code handle all the work while I played video games or did aerobics. Perfect. Almost.

“I forgot this meeting was coming up,” I said, “It’ll probably be totally chill, I’ll just go in, they’ll congratulate me for being so efficient, and then I can go back to slacking off for three more months.”

“So what’s the problem?” Adam asked.

I held out my arms, letting my chest jiggle freely, “What am I gonna wear? I only have, like, one set of nice work clothes, and they’re gonna be insanely baggy now.”

Adam grinned, “They totally are. Nice work bro.”

He held out his hand for a fist bump. I rolled my eyes. He kept smiling at me, so I eventually broke and fist bumped him.

“Okay, thank you,” I said, “But I guess I’m actually gonna have to leave the apartment and go shopping.”

Adam’s jaw dropped, “You haven’t left the apartment in three months!?”

“Shut up!” I laughed, “Just in the past couple of weeks. I’m always just wearing, like, a sports bra and leggings, or panties and an old t-shirt, or something. I can’t go outside like that! Besides, you make all my food, I buy new video games online, we already have every Michelle Champion DVD… what would I go outside for?”

“To hang out with people?” Adam said.

I shrugged, “I prefer talking to people online. Then they don’t have to look at me.”

Adam sighed, “Mel…”

“I know, I know,” I said, “Okay, fine. I am going to leave the apartment today, just because it’s so important to you. And because I am contractually obligated to. But after that, I’m locking myself up for the next three months.”

“So sad,” sighed Adam, “A beautiful princess şişli travesti locked away in a tower.”

I grinned, “Okay, fine. Today’s Friday, right? You’re still going clubbing tonight?”

“Actually, a guy who used to work at the gym just opened up a new bar. I was gonna check it out. Maybe actually meet someone who doesn’t just want to… y’know,” Adam shrugged, but I could see by the way his cheeks reddened that this was actually a big deal for him.

“That’s awesome, dude!” I said. I punched his shoulder, “Okay, my meeting is at 4, it should only take half an hour tops. I’ll go buy TWO outfits today, then come straight back here after the meeting to change and we can go to the bar together! I’ll totally be your wingman!”

“Bro, yes!” said Adam, “I’ll be your wingman too, we can help each other get laid!”

“Haha, great,” I said. Inside I was kind of freaking out. I REALLY wasn’t comfortable in bars, and I was hoping Adam just wouldn’t mention me getting laid either. I still didn’t feel ready to talk to girls. I was getting stronger and more toned, but I had so much extra fat on my arms and legs, and my chest and butt still felt huge. When I was really in shape, then I could go for it. But there was no way I could lose my virginity looking like I did now.

But Adam didn’t need to know that, so I just smiled and nodded. Adam went back to the kitchen, and I finished shaving, then exfoliated and moisturised to make sure I didn’t get any ingrown hairs or anything. After I finished moisturising, I took my hair out of the towel. It was nearly dry, so I sprayed it with a little texturising spray and put it into a fishtail braid, so it would be nice and wavey when I undid it. Ever since Adam had complimented my hair all those weeks ago, I had been putting more effort into styling it, and apparently waves were super stylish right now, especially with longer hair like mine.

I didn’t really care that much about how good I looked for my review. But I definitely didn’t want to embarrass Adam when we went out. Poor guy really needed to end his dry spell.

So that meant I had to go shopping.


Luckily there was a department store just down the block from our apartment building. I had actually been there pretty recently, just to buy my new hygiene and styling stuff. But that time, I had been wearing a sports bra under my baggy shirt. This time, i was actually gonna have to try on clothes, and I didn’t want anyone accidentally catching a glimpse of that! So I was standing in the men’s section, with my braided hair tucked under a beanie, just wearing an oversized t-shirt and an old pair of sweatpants with the drawstring tied extra tight. Underneath I was wearing a plain black pair of sports briefs, which were oddly comforting, even with my dick still tucked back. I had just gotten used to how it felt, I guess. I was also wearing the pair of women’s sneakers I had borrowed from Adam’s box when I realised I had actually lost weight in my feet. But they looked pretty unisex, so I wasn’t worried about it.

What I was worried about was the fact that I no longer knew what size pants I wore. Obviously my old size was now way too big. But I had only been wearing women’s leggings for a while now, so men’s sizes were a little confusing. Somehow every pair of pants I tried on was either super baggy, or way too tight on my butt. Sure, there were a couple that kinda fit, but then I had to belt up the waist really tight, and the legs looked super wide. They were nowhere near as flattering as my leggings, and it was kind of disheartening.

The other problem was, after ten minutes wandering around trying on different pants, my back was starting to get sore. Without the support of a sports bra, I could really feel the weight of my chest. I sighed and put another pair of pants on the counter outside the changing room. The middle-aged lady at the counter nodded sympathetically.

“Having trouble finding the right size, love?” she asked. She had really short hair, but she had spiked it up with gel, kind of like a more punk Ellen. It looked pretty good. The nametag on her shirt said “Ashanti”, which didn’t really suit her.

“Yeah, I’ve been losing weight recently, which I thought was good, but now it seems like nothing fits,” I said.

“Ah, that bites,” she shrugged, “You should be talking to the new girl, she goes on and on about the right sort of clothes to wear for weight loss. Me, I say just wear what makes you feel good. Congratulations on getting in shape, though!”

“Oh, I’ve got a long way to go, obviously,” I said. She shrugged again and hung the pants back on the rack. “Um, you don’t happen to know if there are any styles of pants that would have, like, a narrow waist, then wide hips, and then narrow legs?”

She clucked her tongue, “I could maybe help you out if it was women’s clothes, but menswear isn’t really my specialty I’m afraid. Hey, look, I was thinking of ducking out for a smoke, do bakırköy travesti you mind if I just leave you unattended for a few? You seem trustworthy.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” I laughed. I reached back to rub my aching back for a moment as I watched Punky-Ellen-Ashanti sneak out the Employee’s Only door. The way she mentioned women’s clothes kind of gave me an idea. I mean, I knew my size in leggings, was it really crazy to just buy a couple pairs of women’s pants? Slacks and jeans were really just the same for either gender, anyway. It was just, like, the difference between skinny jeans and normal ones.

With my mind made up I quickly crossed into the women’s section, grabbed a couple pairs of totally normal looking pants, and after a brief hesitation, a plain white work blouse as well. And a plain black t-shirt for the bar. Surprise, surprise, they totally fit. I had just changed back into my sweats and folded up my new clothes for the self check out, when I stepped out of the changing room and came face to face with another saleswoman.

“Hey! Are you buying those? Do you need help checking out? Do you want any other style options?” she gushed. Instinctively I jerked backwards, clutching my new clothes to my chest. She followed me back into the stall, “You didn’t leave anything here did you? The changing rooms aren’t meant to be unattended. Was Lucy at the counter? She always sneaks off. Are you looking for fall outfits? With your complexion I would definitely recommend navy or grey. Or you could go with lighter colours in the red and orange family to bring out your peachy undertones. Do you live in the area? I haven’t seen you here much. Is this your first time?”

She looked at me expectantly, as if I was supposed to know that after eight questions was obviously the natural point in the conversation for me to start talking.

“Uh, I’m actually good, thank you…” my eyes flickered down. She wasn’t wearing a nametag, but she was holding one in her hand, “…Lucy.”

“Oh, this isn’t mine,” she said, waving the nametag around. She had her long black hair back in a ponytail, with shorter bangs at the front. The ponytail swung around as she gestured wildly, “I swear to god, this place is run like a freaking madhouse. I want to organise the clothes by trends. It would make it so much easier to coordinate. People in this area just don’t know how to dress, I swear. No offense. But people need help. I wish I could just pick out someone’s whole wardrobe. Ugh. Give me half a chance! Is your back okay?”

I was leaning against the side of the stall, just… breathless. I honestly hadn’t caught a single word of what she was saying.

“No, yeah, I’m totally fine,” I said, “I actually have a really urgent meeting to get to. So I’m gonna…”

“Yeah of course,” she said, “The checkouts are that way. Did you bring a bag? I can-“

“Okay bye!” I waved and scuttled away as fast as socially acceptable. Wow. I was actually feeling light-headed after that conversation. But the important thing was that I had clothes. As I was heading towards the self checkout, I passed through the women’s underwear section. I noticed, somehow (okay, maybe it was because of my aching back) that one of the nude bras on display was the same band size as the sports bras I had been wearing. On a whim, I grabbed it, and quickly paid and headed to my car so I could change and head to work.

I didn’t need to try the bra on. It had the same number, so it should fit fine, right?


“Fuck me!’ I groaned. I dumped my bag on the ground and collapsed on the futon. I lay there face down, letting the waves of shame and frustration roll over my body. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I heard a clatter, and heavy footsteps, and turned my head to see Adam with his shirt half buttoned up and a bottle of vodka in his had. I groaned and buried my face back into the futon.

“You definitely didn’t say “Come hug me” this time, did you?” said Adam. I laughed bitterly into the cushion.

I heard Adam put the vodka down, then felt his strong hands gently rubbing my shoulder. I sighed and sat up. He sat down on the futon beside me. I shrank away from him.

“I can’t come to the bar tonight, dude,” I said, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh crap,” he said, “Is everything okay? Was work alright?”

“I don’t think so,” I sighed. I screwed up my face, not feeling like I could even look at my so-much-more-successful roommate.

“What happened?” he asked softly, reaching out to rub my shoulder again. I tensed up.

“I don’t know,” I said, “I was feeling so confident before. I got these great new pants and this top that fits really well, but… my chest was really hurting, because it didn’t have support, and so I got this new bra and… and…”

I stood up, unbuttoned the first few buttons on my blouse, and pulled it open, “Fucking LOOK at that.”

Adam gasped, “Whoa, bro. I almost feel like I shouldn’t. It kinda looks like you have… cleavage?”

I istanbul travestileri laughed, “No, dummy. I know that, it just happens when my chest gets pushed up. But look at the edges of the cups.”

I undid the rest of the buttons on my blouse and leaned forwards, pushing my chest up further towards Adam so he could see. Yeah, in the middle there was kind of a deep valley of cleavage, from the two round globes of my chest getting squeezed together. That was just natural, I saw it every day when I was adjusted my sports bra. But on the edges you could see how my bra was way too tight, and was digging into the flesh of my chest, so it spilled out over the sides.

“It’s just as bad on my back,” I said, “I could feel it the whole drive to work. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it, how fat and gross and pathetic I am. And I felt like everybody else was just staring at me. They kept saying stuff about my appearance. Like, about my hair, and my skin and stuff. And then they were talking about my “work ethic” and everything and I just… I didn’t even know what to do. I just kind of zoned out and gave one word answers. And then they said they needed to make a decision but they would call later tonight. So I guess I have to sit here and wait for them to fire me!”

Adam dragged his eyes up from my pathetic, flabby chest to my face. For some reason he looked a little flushed, “That’s awful, dude. Are you sure they’re going to fire you? Maybe you were just in a bad headspace because you felt self-conscious?”

“I doubt it,” I sniffed. I flomped down on the futon next to Adam.

“What kind of stuff were they saying, bro? About, like, your hair and stuff?”

“I dunno, like, “Wow, it’s so long,” or “It looks like you live by the beach!” You know, like, saying I was lazy or something? And about my skin, like, one of my bosses shook my hand and was like “Your skin is so soft”, like she was calling me a wimp.”

Adam shook his head, “No way, bro. Those all sound like genuine compliments. Did they say anything about your chest?”

“No, thank fuck. I don’t think they noticed. They just said they were really impressed by how much weight I lost. I just said something about, like, eating healthy and daily aerobics. And then I felt weird about not talking about work, so I said maybe they could start offering like a health and fitness program at the office. So dumb.”

“No way,” Adam said. He shuffled closer and put an arm around my shoulders. Reluctantly, I relaxed into it and leaned against his strong, supportive body. “Did they say anything about work?”

“Just stuff about, like, I was so “independent” and a really “out-of-the-box thinker”, and stuff,” I whined, “I think they meant that I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m not part of the team.”

“Mel, bro,” Adam sighed. He wrapped his other arm around me and pulled me close. I sniffled and pulled my leg up, turning so I could straddle his lap and rest my head on his shoulder. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around my waist, and hugged me tightly. His strong arms felt so comforting and nice around my body. He must give the best bro hugs at the gym. “I swear, all these things sound really positive,” Adam continued, “I really think you were just in a negative mindset because of the bra.”

I sniffed again, “You really think so?”

“Definitely,” said Adam, smiling at me.

I smiled back weakly, “Could you help take it off for me, please? It’s really uncomfortable.”

“Of course, dude,” said Adam. I let my open blouse fall to the floor, then he reached up, gently moving my long, wavy hair out of the way, and started fiddling with my bra. I expected him to have some trouble after his years without practice, but he unhooked it easily. I shrugged it off and he chucked it across the apartment.

“There,” he said, “Now my beautiful princess is free.”

I groaned and buried my head in his shoulder.

“Whoa, is everything okay, dude?” he said, “I can stop calling you that, if it’s getting annoying, or…”

“No, I know it’s just a joke,” I sighed, “The sad thing is, it actually feels nice being complimented. Even though it’s just a joke.”

Adam pulled back from the hug and looked me in the eye, “Well, the princess part might be a joke, but you know what, bro? You ARE beautiful. You’re a beautiful person. You’re funny, and smart, and you’re really thoughtful, and you’re always there for me. And you have beautiful hair, and your skin is really soft and smooth and nice, and you have really great legs, and your ass is amazing.”

I giggled with surprise, blushing hard, “You like my ass?”

“Oh, uh,” Adam stuttered. His grip loosened on my waist, “Sorry, that, that came out super weird. I meant, uh, meant like, one guy to another, like, the squats are paying off, and it’s strong. It’s, it’s a strong ass.”

“Oh my god,” I giggled, “You are such a dork.”

Adam looked offended for a second, then his face broke into a wide grin, “It’s a strong ass!”

“Well, thank you,” I smiled, “I work hard on my ass. I just wish my chest was progressing as much. That stupid bra had, like, no support. My chest and back really ache right now.”

Adam’s eyes lit up, “Dude! I can totally give you a massage! I’ve been learning how for work, you would be perfect practice!”

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