The World Turns - Clara and Oliver

"Huh... it felt like so much... I guess I shouldn't be surprised, I've never felt yours." She paused, a realisation hit her filling her with concern. "We didn't use a condom..."

Oliver's face fell. "Oh... shit."

"I... I'm just so used to not even thinking about it since I'm on the pill..."

"Yeah..."

"OK... we don't know what... your cycle is, so we have no idea if it's even possible... and we can just get a morning-after pill to make sure."

"Alright..." Oliver still looked stunned, he seemed to have gone back into that withdrawn mood he'd been in on the drive home. It made her worried about him.

"Let's get cleaned up... I'll go down to the pharmacy, it'll only take 10 minutes."

Oliver stared at his reflection. Still in female mode there was hardly anything to indicate the image wasn't just a pre-change woman. He looked at the slit between his legs. He might get pregnant. He had barely considered the possibility as real in the short time since the change before their habits had brought it starkly to him.

It was OK, they would deal with it, but he considered down the line, how did he feel about it later. They both wanted kids, would he carry one? He wasn't sure.

He brought his attention back to the here and now. He poked and prodded his body, feeling how things felt, what was different, what was the same. His arms felt a little softer, most of the muscle he had before seemed to still be there, just under a little layer of softness. Not that he was particularly muscular, he'd never really worked out, but he hadn't really noticed being weaker, as he'd expect a woman who doesn't work at being strong to be.

He moved around, stretching, bending, testing his body. His breasts swayed, bounced and jiggled, forcing him to be constantly aware of them. He seemed to be slightly more flexible, particularly in the hips. The different shape of his body forced him to move in new ways that felt strange. He stared at the woman in the mirror again. Looked down at himself. Saw his breasts, looked between them at his tummy, then back to the mirror. It was starting to really sink in that that woman in the mirror was him, those curves were his.

For some reason this made him think of his eventual wedding to Clara, and that he'd need to wear a dress. He didn't want that. It didn't feel right.

After having a quick shower Clara came back to the bedroom to find that Oliver had been staring at his reflection when she opened the door, still naked.

"I was so excited about wearing a tux."

Clara ran over and hugged him. "Honey, if you want a tux, I will move heaven and earth to get a tux that will fit you and look fantastic. We were going to buy one anyway, and they need tailoring... just now yours will need a bit more..."

Oliver looked at her. "But..."

"Ollie, nobody's going to force you into girly clothes."

There was a sound from the pile where Oliver had left his clothes, a notification on his phone. The sound was the one for a work email. He walked over to check it. Clara found herself watching, his gait had changed a little, his hips swung a little more, and he didn't seem to be doing it on purpose. She found herself admiring his curves as he walked, his new butt, like hers, was ample and round in all the right ways.

"It's from Megan. She's letting me know I can take the next two weeks off and work from home indefinitely, and a reminder that... therapy is included in our healthcare coverage."

"Ah. Are you OK? I..."

"I... don't know... I think for now I'd rather... not think about much..."

Oliver pushed the elevator call button. He was nervous; this was the first time he'd left the apartment since the change.

He waited, tugging at his clothes a little. The shirt and jeans were Clara's and were tighter than he would like around his bust, hips and butt. It wasn't that they didn't fit; he just preferred a relaxed fit, and these were a relaxed fit on Clara. It was a good thing, in the jeans at least; he couldn't wear all of Clara's clothes, because some didn't do up on him. They actually had almost the same waist measurement, but with his extra butt and hips some of her clothes just didn't fit. The shoes and socks and underwear were still all his, and he was grateful they still fit.

He shifted his weight uneasily and reached up to adjust the shoulder strap of his bra. His bra. That still felt strange. It had arrived just two days ago.

The day after the change, he had complained to Clara about how much his boobs jiggled and moved; she had suggested trying a bra, not just to cut down on distracting movement but also for the sake of his shoulders and back. It was immediately obvious it didn't fit. Loosening the band helped a lot, but the cups were just too small for his bust. They measured him and ordered online from the same place Clara bought her bras, and they fit perfectly, one band size and one cup size up from Clara, 38I or, since the bra came from the UK, 38G. Up to now, he'd been wearing one of Clara's cheap sports bras; it was stretchy and accommodated him but also didn't offer the best support. Clara said it was good for light exercise and hot days because it breathes better than a proper bra.

He sighed, he was still acutely aware of all the new sensations in his body, the slightest jiggle in his boobs, or the subtle sway as he turns slightly, his labia moving past each other as he walks, the way his hips want to swing with each step. The bra cut down on movement but was itself another thing he wasn't used to.

At least these jeans had decent pockets.

There was a ding. He desperately hoped the elevator car was empty. The door slid open and for a moment he was disappointed, before realising he was looking at his reflection in the mirror on the back wall of the elevator.

He stepped on and watched his boobs bounce a little as he did, saw the slightly strange gait he'd adopted by trying to walk the way he was used to with a bone structure that wasn't set up for it. He turned and pushed the button for the parking garage before turning back to his reflection, noticing the slight sway of his bust.

His reflection. He was starting to see that as him, not a woman in the mirror, to identify with it without first reminding himself that it was him. It felt strange. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it. Looking at himself in a mirror, seeing a very feminine figure, identifying with it as decidedly him, but he still didn't feel like a woman.

He felt the tug on his breasts as the elevator started slowing. Perhaps he would be more certain of how he felt when he got home from his first therapy session. He tugged on his shirt again and turned to the elevator door to head out.

Clara heard the apartment door open and close. She turned from her book to see Oliver kicking off his shoes.

"Hey! How was the session?" As she spoke, she stood.

"Good, I guess... He specializes in gender-related therapy, I wasn't expecting that."

"Ollie, look in the mirror and I think you'll see a pretty good reason you got a specialist."

"Yeah, yeah. Apparently, a fair bit more than half his trans patients... aren't anymore..."

"'Cause they..."

"Yeah, like me." Clara raised an eyebrow. "Before you ask, no he doesn't think I was trans."

"Was?"

"Well, now is... different. He's not sure."

"Not sure?"

"Well, he said he's surprised at how well I'm coping... he said I seem more comfortable with some... things than even he is."

"Things?"

"Well... I mean I talked about everything... so like sex, he was shocked that we... did it day-of with the new bits... and have done it again after."

"Huh. It's fun though... once you get past the weirdness."

"There is a lot of weirdness though. He's also surprised you were so comfortable with..."

"I wouldn't say comfortable... but well, it's hard to resist. Especially the way you talk sometimes... your new voice... And you can't deny you look fantastic."

Oliver smiled at her, then stepped over to her and pulled her into a kiss.