Pale Pink Packet Part 3

Watching Phoebe franticly dart around me like some kind of magical sprite is quite the spectacle. Not being gentle, she soon has me pulled clean out of my clothing.

Standing before her in just my boxers, I wanted to cry—being almost naked in front of her.

“What's wrong!?” Phoebe asks, stopping directly in front of me, holding a bra

I look away, trying to hold in my emotions.

“Aiden….?” she questions desperately, not letting it go. “You’ve gotta tell me what you’re thinking!”

“I-I’ve not been n-naked in front of anyone since…..,”

“Oh right….!” She smiles, handing me the bra. “Let's get you more comfortable.”

Seconds later, the bra is soon over my shoulders and supporting my chest. It’s super tight around my back, and they barely fit in the cups. Still, I always do appreciate being a little more covered.

“I’m gonna turn around for a second,” Phoebe states, handing me a matching pair of briefs.

I push back at her, and she promptly frowns.

“I’m not wearing those, Phoebe,” I tell her sharply. “I don’t see why I can’t wear my boxes under that dress.”

“O-kay….!” She replies, rolling her eyes. “I just thought….,”

“I’m not ready, sis,” I say, cutting her off. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be rude. I know you’re making a lot of effort with the makeup and everything.”

Phoebe gently smiles and playfully tosses the underwear over her shoulder.

“No issue!” she says, pulling a wider grin. “You can’t really wear these tights with boxers, though. Are you going to just have your legs out?”

“I guess,” I reply, pushing my long hair back over my shoulder.

“You have a nice set of legs,” Phoebe says, bending slightly to look at them. “Very long for a boy.”

My emotions begin to swirl. I feel the tears welling behind my eyes.

“Awww, Aiden!” Phoebe says softly. “I’m sorry. Did I say something I shouldn’t!”

I shake my head and look away once more. As I close my eyes, a tear rolls down my face.

“Arms up!” Phoebe says softly, pressing forward as she touches me gently on the arms.

I do as she requests, but I still can’t look at her. The room darkens, and Phoebe pulls the dress down over my head.

“Ouch,” I grumble as she forces the dress down over my body.

“Sorry!” she replies, helping me thread my arms into the sleeves.

The dress's skirt then flutters down and dances just above my knees. I can feel how it’s shaping around my body, from the tight feeling around my chest and weight to the lovely airy feel between my legs.

“Wow,” Phoebe says, zipping up the back of the dress. “I thought you’d be a little big around the chest for one of my dresses, but you actually fit.”

I pinch and pull at it around specific areas that are uncomfortable. Women's clothes are so constricting!

“It’s a little tight around my chest, to be honest, Pheebs,” I complain, feeling it all being compressed.

That’s when she stands in front of me and gawks at me like an abstract painting. I can see her talking In every detail.

“No,” she comments, coming closer and adjusting the fit. “For you’re first dress, I think it’s ok.”

“Yeah….?” I reply, looking down at my body in her dress. “I feel….weird.”

“You absolutely shouldn’t!” Phoebe grumbles, I think—telling me off. “You’re lucky to have such a great figure.”

I look at my sister, and the reason for her annoyance is apparent in my mind. She’s a little jealous.

“I’m sor…,”

“Let's start you an Instagram page!” Phoebe giggles, cutting me off. “That way, you’ll get some confidence! You’re going to get so much attention!”

“Do you actually think I look….nice?”

“Yes! And Insta will prove that!”

A few days later…..

Following mom down the street, Phoebe locks her arm around mine tight for what I guess is emotional support.

“Nearly their now girls,” mom happily remarks, pointing to a salon further down the block.

I look at Phoebe as mom talks and give her a funny look. Phoebe grins, and she shares a quiet giggle with me.

“I’m glad you decided to come with us, Aiden!” Mom continues, now power walking towards the salon

“I’m not going to turn down the chance to cut some of this mop top off,” I reply.

She quickly looks at me with a sharp look that only a mother can give, then instantly looks away.

“You trying to poke the beast?” Phoebe whispers in my ear. “You’ve never been out with mom when she gets her hair done, have you.”

I shake my head. “No…should I be worried?”

“Yes,” Phoebe giggles. “She’s paying for us to get our hair done. Don’t ruin this!”

“Sure,” I reply, smirking. “I thought we mom was struggling for money, though?”

Phoebe shrugs, “Just take what you can get!”

Reaching the salon door, I look through the window and feel so out of place.

“Aiden, honestly….,” mom says as she pulls the glass door open, allowing Phoebe to walk in first. “Your sister is wearing a dress; couldn’t you have put one on too?”

“I’m comfortable in these shorts and t-shirt, mom,” I answer, pushing past her into the store.

“Argh….....,” mom huffs, stepping in behind me. “Teenage girls…..”

I turn and spitefully glare at her. I swear she’s doing it on purpose to wind me up.

“Hello there!” A friendly lady greets us all, instantly making mom ignore my staring.

“Hiya Helen,” mom says, greeting the lady as she pushes past both me and Phoebe. “Got me and daughters booked in for appointments.”

“Daughters…?” the woman questions, turning a curious look to me.

I bashfully look away and pretend to look at my phone.

“Yes,” mom sternly answers. “I’m just in for a trim. Pheebs and Aiden want cuts and styling.

Before I know it, I’m sitting in a chair next to my sister, staring into the face I barely recognized anymore as mine. I quickly look over at Phoebe as we wait for our stylists to appear.

“Be brave,” Phoebe mouths to me with a comforting smile.

As I nod, a young blonde woman stands behind me and smiles at me in the mirror. I’d guess she’s a similar age to me.

“Hiya,” she says, running her fingers through my long black hair. “You must be Aiden. My name is Ivy.”

“Hello,” I reply as she steps in directly before me and plays with my bangs.

“You’ve got a lot of gorgeous hair, Aiden,” she says, smiling. “Have you thought about how much you want off?”

I shake my head. No one had told me I had to give this some thought!? Surely I just come, and they cut….what else do I need to say?

“Errrr……,” I mumble, turning to Phoebe for help

“You wanted it cut to around shoulder length, didn’t you, Aiden?” Phoebe pipes up to rescue me. “Front layered…..with curtain bangs?”

Ivy looks at me and waits for me to agree. I quickly look at Phoebe and then back at Ivy’s expectant face.

“Yeah…….,” I say, not knowing what any of that really means. “What my sister said.”

“Right!” Ivy says, giving me a wry smile. “Are you sure?”

I shrug. “Yeah…..?”

“Right, right right,” She says, grabbing a black hairdresser's grown. “Shall we go to the sinks and wash your hair?”

Nodding, I stand and look around the room. Am I getting my hair washed? Usually, I don’t get that service!

“Are…you ok?” Ivy gently laughs, pointing to the back of the salon. “Just in the back, and please, don’t look so worried, Aiden.”

“Yeah…,” I reply, pointing in the same direction. “Thanks.”

“y’know,” Ivy says as she guides me over. “You kinda…remind me of my little brother for some reason. I’m not sure why!”

“I do!?”

“Sit down in the seat, lean back, and yeah. I think it’s how you walk.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask, getting comfortable.

“Nope, he’s cute… I promise,” she answers, turning on the shower head.

A week later….

The doctor's office was quieter than usual, which didn’t really help with the tension between mom and me.

We’d barely said anything to each other since we left the house. We’d had another disagreement about what I’m wearing. The woman is obsessed and needs to understand that I’m currently more comfortable in pants!

“Quiet here today,” She comments, crossing her leg and sipping her latte.

“I don’t mind that,” I reply abruptly. “Fewer people staring at me.”

Mom scoffs between taking a few sips of her coffee.

“Aiden, honey,” she chuckles. “Pheebs told me about that Instagram account that you set up. I’d say you’re enjoying it.”

I fold my arms tight and sigh. “What are you even doing here, mom? I’m just getting test results—I can do this myself.””

“I feel like I need to be here,” she quickly answers me in an uptight fashion.

“Why!?” I complain, throwing out my arms. “What do you think’s going to happen? The Doctors are going to accidentally transform my body back to normal!?”

“Aiden,” mom snaps angrily. “Just stop it before you make one of us cry again.”

I huff and slump down into my seat and open my legs wide. That’s when mom gives me an even more disapproving look.

“Knees together,” she commands, pushing my right knee inwards. “What have I told you—act like a lady in public.”

I huff again and reluctantly bring my knees together. Mom has no idea how uncomfortable sitting like this is in these tight jeans.

“Just like you’re father,” mom whines, sipping her latte. “At least one good thing’s happened with all these changes; you’re beginning to look more like me—than him.”

I sit forward and give my mom the dirtiest look.

“Aiden O’Brian?” the nurse calls out, interrupting what would have been, no doubt—a heated argument. I repress my rage, swallow my anger, and look at the nurse.

Mom follows behind me; we are ushered into the doctor's office, and he’s sitting at the desk.

“Ah, Aiden,” Dr. Matthews says, greeting us with a smile. “Please do sit.”

Getting comfortable, I feel my body tremble with hope for good news.

“Seems your leg has healed very well,” The Dr says with a big smile as he looks up from his charts. “Bad news on the…… other fronts, however.”

“What do you mean?” mom asks, leaning forward. “Do we know what's causing his transition yet? Are you able to pinpoint it?”

“Mrs. O’Brian,” The Dr nervously chuckles with his hands up.

“Miss,” she corrects.

The Dr sits back in his chair and clears his throat. Looking directly at me, she shakes his head.

“Sorry, son,” he says, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “We just can’t figure out how hormones get into your system.”

“Oh,” I say in a disappointed mumble.

“I know I’ve already asked you this,” the doctor continues. “Do you take any extra supplements or any sort of medicine?”

“No, he doesn’t!” mom rudely interrupts. “We’ve told you this already. I don’t know why we must go around in circles.”

Doctor Matthews then lets out a long breath, and his chair creaks as he leans back.

“We can’t refer any real treatment options until we’ve established a cause,” he says. “Have you been attending the counseling I arranged, Aiden? I see you’ve had your hair cut, and it’s very nice.”

“No,” I mumble in answer. “I haven’t gone.”

“Look,” The Doctor says softly. “I will arrange more blood work next week, and in the meantime, you both need to be precisely recording what Aiden is doing throughout the week. There has to be an external reason for this.”

“OK, Doctor,” mom says in agreement. “I will take personal responsibility to ensure it’s correct.”

“Thank you,” he replies. “We will get to the bottom of this. We both know you’re not Bearded Dragon Aiden—there has to be an explanation.”