Day 14

Abigail had no idea what to expect as she rode the elevator up to Mark's place. She hadn't heard from him in about a week; well, that wasn't technically true; she'd gotten a text from him that morning. 

Need help with something. Might need makeup.

Abigail's makeover instincts had gone buck wild, so here she was, with a bulging makeup bag tucked under her arm and a gleam in her eyes. The elevator finally reached Mark's floor, and she practically skipped over to his door and knocked.

"Mark, you there?" Abigail said.

She heard shuffling from the other side of the door. "Coming!" said a voice on the other side. Abigail was surprised; it didn't sound like Mark at all; matter of fact it sounded downright feminine. There was no way he'd come that far along in two weeks, right?

The door opened, and Abigail simply said "Oh."

 

***

 

Mark had been so worried about how Abigail would react.

He had watched over the course of the last week as his muscle mass decreased, his hair began to grow past his shoulders, fat began going to his hips, and most noticeable of all his chest had gone to a at least a small A-cup. He had done the math in his head, and he figured that each day of this accelerated HRT was equivalent to about a week of normal HRT, which means he was at least two months along by now. However, he seemed to be feminizing much quicker than Daniels had anticipated. Breast growth didn't start for most normal trans people till three months in; it was like his body was taking the hormones and running with them, and most concernedly of all, Mark didn't feel fazed by these changes at all. As a matter of fact he had begun relishing the process, taking joy in each individual change, watching his body transform into something new. How many people can actually say they're getting a fresh start like he is?

But as he had changed he noticed how his old clothes were starting to feel...wrong. It wasn't just that his jeans were starting to have trouble accommodating his hips, or that his shirts looked more baggy on his body, it was that the idea of wearing 'boys clothes' was starting to feel uncomfortable; he needed clothes that complimented his new form, clothes that highlighted all the things he was starting to like about himself.

The day before he had stood at his door for an hour, building up the courage to go to the store, but then he'd realized that he would have had no idea what to look for. He was going to need a bra, too, and the thought of going out and getting one of those by himself had made him pull out his phone and text Abigail. He'd added on the part abut makeup without even thinking about it; it felt like a natural thing to suggest. His face was getting more feminine, but he was worried that if he didn't wear it someone out there would see him as some sort of impostor and get angry with him-

What if Abigail sees me like I'm a freak? A part of his brain thought. As just some weirdo who she doesn't want to put up with, what if she says no, what if she says I look ugly, that I don't look like a woman, what if--

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone knocking at his door. "Mark, you there?" Abigail said, her voice muffled.

"Coming!" Mark said. He was getting pretty good at using his girl voice, at least in his opinion. He had experimentally dropped back to his natural voice last night and felt a deep sense of disgust at the low and rumbling sound he had once used.

Mark went over to the door and opened it. Abigail was standing there in a white t-shirt and black jeans, with some sort of bag tucked under her arm. Mark, meanwhile, was just wearing a really baggy shirt and sweatpants.

"Oh." Abigail said.

He knew it, he knew it, he knew she wouldn't take it well, he knew--

"You look so cute!"

Mark looked up in surprise. Abigail was looking at him like he was a puppy or something.

"Wow, I knew that hormones have come far, but look at you!" She said. "Who knew there was a girl like you buried under all that man?"

Mark felt a blush come to his cheeks. "Oh, I mean, I don't look that feminine, my shoulders--"

"Shoulders, moulders, girlfriend, you look adorable and I am only gonna make you look better." Abigail said. "Now sit, sit, I have a lot of work to do."

Abigail started pushing him towards his couch. "Wait, I thought you said I already looked...adorable." Mark said. It felt a little embarrassing to think of himself as someone who was 'adorable' but it also felt really good for some reason. He could feel himself blushing harder.

"Yes, yes, but when I'm done you're gonna be a goddess." Abigail said. She sat him down on the couch and sat herself on his coffee table. She opened up her bag and starting pulling out various bottles and tubs of makeup. "I've been keeping on eye on you and I think I got some stuff that'll really compliment your skin tone." she said. "This is all new stuff, by the way, so you can keep it if you want."

"Oh, I don't think that-"

"Now, here's what I'm gonna do." Abigail said.

"Wait, wait, Abby," Mark said, "This isn't what I called you for."

Abigail paused. "Then what did you need?"

Mark squirmed in his seat. "Well, I was thinking about going out to get some clothes, and I thought maybe makeup would help me look more...you know, but if you think-"

Abigail put her hands on his shoulders.

"Mark." Abigail said, her voice heavy with solemnity, "if we're giving you a makeover, we're going all the way. Understand?"

Mark nodded.

"Now, I'm gonna put on some primer and then some foundation to make your skin look clearer. Then I'll use some concealer to cover up those eye bags of yours, and that beard shadow, and then I'll use just a bit of mascara to make you eyelashes look bigger. We can get more fancy with it if you want, but I find it's usually best to develop a 'natural' look first before you start trying really stylish stuff. Plus, it'll be better suited for going out and trying on some dresses and stuff."

Mark swore his whole face turned red at the mention of wearing a dress.

"Hey, need you to calm down, buddy." Abigail said.

"Right, right, sorry." Mark said. He took some deep breaths and felt his face returning to its normal temperature. With that, Abigail got started.

The whole process was a whole lot less tedious than Mark was anticipating. Abigail even showed him some tricks like mixing in a little moisturizer with the cream foundation so that the makeup would be easier on his skin. She used a sponge to coat his whole face in a layer of foundation, then she used concealer to touch up some 'problem areas' as she called them. Then she used an eyelash curler (which was the only part of the process that really made Mark nervous) and used mascara on his lashes. She didn't allow him to look at himself during the whole process, insisting that he 'shouldn't see a masterpiece before it's complete'. Then she misted his face with a setting spray to keep everything in place and dabbed his face with a cotton pad.

"Aaaaaannnnnd done." Abigail said. "Now go, gaze upon thy hot self."

Mark got up and headed for his bathroom. "Abby, I appreciate this, but there's no way that-"

He stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw himself in the mirror.

If he'd looked kinda femme before, now he was actually pretty.  It was like Abigail had refined him from a lump of coal into a diamond. The makeup had given him a glow, a real feminine glow.

Abigail appeared behind him. "So, how you feeling?"

Mark was just staring at himself. Could he have always looked like this if he wanted? Why hadn't he done this before?

"Mark, you there?"

Mark kept looking at himself, looking for any flaw in the illusion. His womanly face contrasted heavily with his baggy clothes. He felt like he could pass for a pretty tomboy, but he didn't want to be a tomboy.

"Abigail." Mark said.

"Yeah?"

Mark smiled. "Let's go shopping."

 

***

Mark was fidgeting in his seat as they pulled up to the Target. Abigail turned off the engine and looked at him.

"You ready?" She asked.

Mark nodded. Abigail went to get out of the car, but stopped herself.

"Hey, do you want me to like, call you a she while we're in here?" she asked. "Like, I think at this point it'd be more awkward to treat you like a guy."

The question took Mark aback, but it made sense. He did look more like a girl now. Still...the idea of changing pronouns...and he hadn't even picked out a girl name yet!

"Um, let's just hold off on that for now." Mark said. "I'm sure no one is gonna ask too many questions."

Abigail nodded and got out of the car. Mark followed her into the store. They walked through the clean modern interior of the store until they reached the clothing section. Mark was disoriented by the number of options on display. Who knew there were so many different types of blouses and pants and dresses?

And furthermore, why did men's fashion suck so much in comparison?

"Alright," Abigail said, "first fashion rule: dark top with  a light bottom or dark bottom with a light top; works every time." She walked over to some skinny jeans and pulled out a few light blue ones. "You'll need to try on a lot since women's sizes aren't consistent like men's, but you'll figure out the range that works for you. Now-"

"Wait, Abby." Mark said. "I mean, I'm gonna be...growing quite a bit in the next few months, so are jeans the smartest investment?"

Abby snapped her fingers. "Good call. We should get something that stretches. OH, I know!"

She ran off towards some unseen aisle, leaving Mark by himself. He absentmindedly combed through a rack of shirts, trying to find something he liked.

His fingers stopped on a black long sleeved blouse. The hem had this wave pattern that caught his eye. He held it up to his chest. It looked like it would fit. And the fabric was so soft...

"Oh, that'll go great with what I found!"

Mark turned around to see Abigail holding up a white pleated skirt with a stretchy waistband.

"Abigail Summers, I can't wear that!" Mark said. "It's for--"

"Before you say what I know what you're going to say, just take a look at yourself right now. Because right now you don't just look like a girl, you look like a girl that can totally pull off this look. But if you insist on being boring," she said while grabbing a pair of nearby fitness shorts, "you can try these on too."

Mark shuffled his feet. "Well, um, there's something more practical that I need first..."

Abigail grinned. "And what might that be?"

Mark looked down. "A bra." he whispered.

"Sorry, what was that, I couldn't hear you." Abigail said, leaning in while holding a hand up to her ear.

"A bra, I need a bra, ok?" Mark said.

"Well I don't think you got a whole lot there quite yet--"

"Abby, I am literally constantly feeling my shirt against my nipples."

Abigail started laughing like a maniac, attracting a few stares form the other women in the clothing section.

"Ok, ok, sorry, I was just teasing." Abigail said. "We should probably get you fitted-"

Mark shook his head no.

"-but since you don't seem comfortable with that we can just grab something to tide you over." She walked over to the bras and picked out a few. "You're probably a small A-cup, so just try on a few of these." She also grabbed a sports bra. "And you can probably wear this for a while, but not too much; these things will mess up your growth if you wear them too much. Heck of a lot cheaper, though."

She piled the clothes into Mark's hands. "Now, go into thy chamber and be born anew!" She said while pushing him towards the fitting room. She practically shoved him into the room and closed the door behind him, leaving him alone with his thoughts and some actual women's clothing.

He set the clothes down on the bench inside the room, keep this gaze away from the full size mirror on one of the walls. He wasn't sure if he wanted to look at his tomboy self right now.

He considered his options. He knew he would need the bra eventually, so might as well get it out of the way. He held up the sports bra, trying to comprehend what he was about to do. He'd talked on his show about men wearing women's underwear and stuff in a purely negative light, as a activity to be mocked. Now here he was, actually about to do it himself.

It's for the documentary, Mark, you're doing this for a good reason, remember that. he thought as he slipped the bra on.

To his surprise he didn't feel a rush of revulsion once he had it on. It fit, and best of all it didn't feel bad on his chest. He slipped on the t-shirt he'd been wearing before and found that it was no longer agitating to wear. Within seconds the bra had begun to feel as natural to wear as any other underwear. The bra was a little big for him at the moment and didn't hug his chest all that much, but he counted that as a positive since he had a lot of growing to do. He took off the bra and considered the more traditional ones that Abigail had grabbed. He held one up and examined the clasps. To his embarrassment, he had never had to unhook a girl's bra for any reasons, and so he felt a little lost.

"Hey Abby, how do I--"

"Put it on backwards, do the clasp, then turn it around and put on the straps."

"Oh, uh, thanks."

Mark followed Abigail's instructions, although it took him a minute to figure out how to clasp and unclasp the bra. Once he had that down he turned the bra around and adjusted it until his boobs--chest, Mark, your chest-- felt nice and comfy. The bra was surprisingly snug; it looked like Abigail got lucky when guessing his size.

He didn't really feel like undoing the clasps at the moment, so he decided to move on to the other clothes. He picked up the black blouse, and not wanting to hesitate anymore, he slipped it on. He was surprised by how soft the fabric was on his skin, and once again grateful that he no longer had to feel the fabric rubbing up against his boo--chest, his chest. The wavy hem looked cute, and oh my god did he just actually call something he was wearing cute?

Well, it's not like I'm wrong about that. he thought. It's certainly not handsome or dashing. It's cute. It's cute...

He found himself liking how he could use that word to describe himself now.

He found himself getting excited. He lightly bounced on the balls of his feet. He was really doing this; he'll walk out of this dressing room with none the wiser as to how he had looked a few weeks ago. He was becoming someone new, someone unrecognizable and he was really starting to like it.

He didn't even reach for the fitness shorts. He went straight for the white skirt. He stepped into it and pulled it up till the waistband was snug against his narrowing waist. He decided not to tuck the shirt in, he liked the wavy pattern and wanted to show it off. He couldn't help himself; he did a little spin and watched the skirt flare out before he came to a stop. He giggled, he actually giggled, and God, when was the last time he cared this much about what he was wearing?

Never, he realized.

He froze up. What if he turned around and he saw nothing but an ugly man in women's clothing? What if Abigail was just being nice, and the hormones hadn't actually changed him that much? What if all those changes he'd noticed were just in his head?

He took a deep breath and a moment to center himself. Abigail had been nothing but encouraging this whole time. He'd seen her handiwork in the mirror back home; he knew that he looked like any other woman. He could face the mirror.

He closed his eyes and slowly turned around until he was facing the mirror.

"Ok, you can do this." he said to himself. "One...two...three!"

He opened his eyes and saw a girl.

A pretty girl wearing a cute blouse and a white skirt that stopped just above her knees. Her makeup enhanced her best features, and her black hair elegantly framed her face. She looked ready for a day spent at the mall with her friends, or for a date at some kind-of-fancy restaurant. The bra made her chest look just a bit bigger than it actually was, and when she turned to see her profile she saw that it gave her curves, real curves; she had a feminine silhouette, and she knew that it'd get only more feminine and curvy, that she would get more feminine and curvy, and she couldn't stop herself from grinning ear to ear. She felt reborn, like a phoenix that had finally risen from the ashes. 

She realized she had exclusively been thinking of herself in she/her pronouns in the last few minutes, and she didn't feel like stopping that anytime soon. The pronouns fit her like a glove, but she needed a name, a real one, not the pseudonym she'd been using for the last few days. She considered her options carefully as she continued to look at herself in the mirror, admiring how the skirt swung back and forth when she moved her hips.

"M---, you ok in there?" Abigail said.

She winced. She knew Abigail didn't mean anything by it, heck, she hadn't even picked out a name for herself yet, but already hearing that name stung. If she was going to do this, to really become a woman, she needed a name that fit. And suddenly, one of the options she'd been considering floated up to the top of her consciousness, and it became the obvious choice, the only choice.

"Madison." she said.

"What was that?" Abigail said.

Madison opened the door to the fitting room, revealing herself in all her glory. She giggled as she saw Abigail's eyes go as wide as saucers.

"My name's Madison." she said. "It's nice to meet you."

 

***

The girls ended up walking out of the store with a week's worth of clothes for Madison; ten or so blouses in various colors, three skirts, three pairs of skinny jeans (the process of finding them took her quite a bit of time as she navigating the confusing world of how different brands sized their pants), some leggings, some nighties, two regular underwire bras and two sport bras, some scrunchies and hair products for Madison's rapidly growing locks, and a cute bracelet that Abigail had spotted while passing the jewelry section. Madison had charged everything to her personal debit card, since she had a fortune saved up in her checking account, and she wasn't too sure how comfortable Mr.Stone would be if she used the company credit card for something like this.

The girls stuffed their bags in the back of Abigail's car, giggling over how they were acting like teenagers with too much money, and then they both got into the car and took a second to recuperate.

"Wow," Abigail said, "I'm really starting to like you, Madison."

Madison grinned. "I'm starting to like me, too."

"But you know," Abigail said, "you've only gone through two of the three Rites of Womanhood."

Madison cocked her head.

"Number one, the makeover." Abigail said. "Number two, the shopping spree, and number three..."

Abigail smiled.

"The slumber party."