One month had turned into two before Johnathan realised it.

Not having his father around certainly helped time to flow more easily. There was far less pressure in the house each day as a result. Especially as Johnathan’s mother was a relatively relaxed woman who liked to spoil her youngest. Well, she’d probably have spoiled Judith too if Judith had allowed it, but Johnathan’s older sister had announced that she was too old to be treated like a child at the age 12 and had begun to try to take an active role in the family business from that day until she finally got her business degree.

Though, at this point, there wasn’t much spoiling left for Tecla Preston to offer her baby-boy. Johnathan was 19, so couldn’t really be given permission to stay up late. Nor did any member of the family want for anything. So she had decided on spa days instead, Johnathan feeling that ever annoying mixture of joy and guilt at being offered such things. John J. Preston III had been firm on the lesson that men weren’t supposed to enjoy feminine activities like those: they made them too soft. But, on the other hand, a good son was supposed to make his mother happy, so surely it was fine if it was Tecla’s idea?

Plus, it was always home visits from the masseuses so there was no way to make any women uncomfortable by intruding on a feminine space. So Johnathan had just submitted to any instructions offered and enjoyed the spa experience.

Which may have been slightly too powerful, since the exfoliation, deep clean, and high quality hair care of the past week seemed to be increasing that odd effect of the last month or so where Johnathan kept swearing that was a girl in the mirror for a split second. 

Johnathan was ready to try to bring it up with Grace that afternoon, only to be caught up in another surprise from the gorgeous Australian woman.

“This marks two months since we started trainin’ together,” she said as she fished through her gym bag. “86% of clients drop out before hitting the two month mark, so I gotcha a gift.”

With that, she produced a plush shark, handing it to Johnathan. Who was left staring in confusion and slight fear.

“A... stuffed animal?”

Memories of Johnathan’s father throwing out a childhood collection of teddy bears a few years prior caused unpleasant bubblings deep in the shy teen’s gut. 

“I figured a shark is a good cool animal fer a guy, even in stuffed form?” Grace replied. “Got those sharp teeth and that streamline shape. Plus them bein’ fierce rooters.”

“That... yeah. Yeah. That makes sense,” Johnathan said, feeling relief. “Plus, if it’s a present then it’s probably extra fine.”

“Ace! Well, let’s get to the warm up.”

Caught up in her charisma, Johnathan ended up nodding and simply followed along with the workout.

---

Four more days went by without Johnathan thinking about the issue again, until Grace decided they should do some jumping jacks as part of their warm up. The constant jumping up and down led to some uncomfortable levels of motion on Johnathan’s chest. Because it had been seeming a bit flabbier lately. That had been easy to chock up to being part of bulking up, since Johnathan had heard somewhere one had to gain fat and then turn it to muscle, but... it hurt when jumping was involved.

“Is everything ok?” Grace asked, having apparently noticed the grimacing.

“Yeah, yeah. Just... y’know. Since I’m trying to build my pecs they’re a bit... jiggly right now?” Johnathan offered.

“Jiggly?”

“Yeah. I figure they’ll tone up soon, though...” 

The look on Grace’s face left Johnathan suddenly concerned that maybe this wasn’t how building muscle was supposed to go. At least until she had a flash of interest and enthusiasm wash over her expression.

“Can I see?” she asked.

“Oh, um... sure. Can we go to the changing room? I just... I’ve always been a little self conscious and that’s, well, a big window on that wall...” Johnathan mumbled.

“Uh... yeah. Sure thing,” Grace said, leading the way.

Entering the small room, that was really only meant for one person, Johnathan still felt a bit self conscious but lifted the thin and loose athletic t-shirt all the same. 

“Struth...” Grace muttered under her breath. “Comin’ along well ahead a’ schedule...”

“Pardon? That... so everything’s all good?” Johnathan asked.

“Oh ace. Extra ace,” Grace said with a grin. “Good genes onya.”

“Oh... thank you? But... what do I do about how jumping hurts?” Johnathan asked.

Blinking, Grace seemed to take a while to think the matter over. If it was such an expected thing it seemed odd that she was hitting such a rut trying to come up with a way to mitigate the issue. 

“I can get you a compression top,” she said at last. “I’ll just... hmm... I’m not sure if you’re a medium or a large... I guess I’ll get you both sizes and we’ll see what fits better.”

---

Now, Johnathan was not an expert on the subject. That had to be said. However, after having spent many, many hours studying photo references of athletic women (for art purposes), Johnathan felt reasonably familiar with the appearance of a sports bra. And. 

Well.

The object Grace had just handed over, under the supposed title of ‘compression top’ looked suspiciously similar to a sports bra.

It was comfy, though. A little hopping about revealed it nullified all the jiggling. So it was a good top to wear. Still, it left Johnathan feeling like there was something suspicious going on. Maybe it was just good luck, though? Thinking back to how often strangers had mistaken Johnathan for a girl over the years, maybe there was just some sort of underlying biological affinity towards the estrogen that made the effects stronger?

Some guys got gynecomastia by pure good luck, but Johnathan could accept getting there through a little doping.

Though, something would probably have to be done about it if the goal of dating Grace was ever to be reached... that could be a problem to worry about on another day, though. Especially when Johnathan’s father would be coming back that evening. It was best to minimize stress for the time being. And to just get back to working out with Grace, assuring her the ‘compression shirt’ did its job.

---

The family was sat in the living room, waiting for John J Preston III to return home. Judith had already gotten back a few days earlier, having less negotiating power with the customers in Washington who had wanted to make some plans while John III was dealing with the Pentagon. Who those customers were had remained a mystery to Johnathan, however. 

Knowing how the elder Preston did business, however, Johnathan would probably find out soon. There’d be a house party, because there always was. 

John III arrived just as Johnathan was thinking about that, marching through the door like a force of nature. “Everyone needs new outfits. We’ll be hosting the Emir of Qalhat in three weeks and everyone needs to be presentable.”

“An Emir? Oh my,” Tecla said, sounding excited.

“Conservative tailoring it is,” Judith muttered.

“I suppose that is true,” Tecla replied, her excitement deflating somewhat. “Still, a new dress is a new dress.”

“My suit probably still fits?” Johnathan offered, not really wanting to go through another measuring session. 

The tailor over in LA kept his place just so furiously... testosterone-y. And the suits were always tailored to emphasize shoulders, despite Johnathan’s shoulders feeling too wide to begin with.

“Nonsense, Johnathan. You’ve been working out. I can see the muscle mass you’ve gained,” John III said, before pausing and staring at Johnathan with a slightly odd expression. He shook his head a moment later, however. “You also need a haircut, but you’ll definitely need a suit tailored for your build.”

Johnathan let out a small sigh, but knew better than to argue. At least it was nice to hear all the working out was paying off, even if a haircut didn’t sound very thrilling.

“You should get a whole wardrobe do-over, Johnny,” Tecla said. “We should send you to Carlos’ first thing.”

“Wait,” John III said, a realisation hitting him. “I just remembered... I think the calendar said Ramadan starts tomorrow. That’s a full month, isn’t it? God, when will sunset be on the 27th? We’ll have to plan everything around that...”

“Do the mountains affect that?” Tecla asked, staring out the window at the honestly as breathtaking as always view.

“Something else to look up...” John muttered.

---

Security had been paranoid when Grace arrived the next day. The guards were practicing for hosting the Emir, and so were sticking to the new official procedures as quickly and closely as possible. Doing pat downs this far ahead seemed excessive, but Johnathan supposed they needed practice. Though the poor man apparently wasn’t ready for the growl Grace would produce when he patted to close to anywhere questionable.

Johnathan also wasn’t prepared for that growl, but the effect was very different compared to what it did to the poor security guard.

“S-sorry ma’am,” the man muttered, hurrying back. “We’ll... I’ll ask Mr. Preston about hiring some female security personnel.”

“You’d better. Any guy who touches me there is gonna cark it,” Grace hissed, before turning to Johnathan with a softer expression. “I can’t imagine what it’s like living with this nonsense... what’s got a stick up all their behinds anyhow?”

“Uh... the Emir of Qalhat is coming at the end of the month,” Johnathan explained. “He’ll be sending over extra security, probably, but they don’t want to cause any issues with a key foreign ally.”

Mention of the Emir caused Grace to narrow her eyes for a moment, which Johnathan guessed was her trying to remember where Qalhat was. It wasn’t exactly a big name country after all. Johnathan had personally needed to double check a map to remember which one it was.

“It’s an island country a bit off the coast of Oman,” Johnathan said. “There’s a big naval base there, so it’s important to keep the Emir happy.”

Grace took a moment to process that as they headed downstairs. “Uh, right. Yeah. I think I vaguely recognised it... there was a war there or something a while back, right?”

“Yeah. A civil war back around when I was born. Selling weapons to the Emir was one of my dad’s first major deals when he was taking over the company... I was too young to follow all the politics.”

“Oh, same,” Grace said. “Much too young... Well, that’s not what we’re here for anyway. Let’s get to stretching.”

As they were getting set up again in the gym, however, Johnathan noticed something odd.

“Where’s your water bottle? I can get one of the maids to grab you a glass if you forgot yours?”

“Oh, uh... no. No need. I’m... I’m training for... uh... a movie role. Just a small thing, with some friends and a local production,” Grace said, though she was once more doing the thing where she sounded vaguely suspicious despite no logical reason to be up to anything. “You look more toned when you’re less hydrated. That’s how all the Hollywood stars do it. Need to build up my endurance for that before I’m on camera.”

“Ah... ok...” Johnathan replied, not sure that was healthy but sure Grace knew better. 

---

Grace hadn’t brought a water bottle the next day either. Worse, her stomach growled several times through the workout, and she claimed she’d just forgotten to grab lunch. Despite that, she insisted she couldn’t impose when Johnathan offered to get her something, insisting she’d eat when she got home.

Something was up, but Johnathan had no idea what.

Hopefully she wasn’t sick or anything?

---

Next Wednesday proved the day that Johnathan was finally off to see Carlos. Which meant missing a training session with Grace, since Carlos was in LA, so a good chunk of the day was spent travelling. There was the drive to the airport, the flight on the family jet over to LA, and then a drive from Van Nuys airport to West Hollywood that took far longer than it should have. LA traffic...

All the time wasted was more time away from the ever increasing stress levels that staying in the Preston home meant, however. So Johnathan wasn’t about to complain. Even the maids were on edge because John III had decided that training them to pat down female guests was likely to go over better with the Emir’s entourage than the presence of female security personnel. 

Why an invitation only event held miles from the nearest city, where every guest and staff member had been given a background check, needed people being pat down, Johnathan couldn’t say, but... oh well. That was dear papa’s issue. 

The limo pulled up to Carlos’ modest, yet well maintained and decorated, home in a quiet part of West Hollywood. A sign that a new sort of stress would be upon Johnathan. 

Stepping out of the limo, Carlos was already waiting, all salt-and-pepper hair, perfectly tanned skin, and smiles. Plus, his outfit was amazing. Even Johnathan could tell that, despite knowing almost nothing about fashion.

“Johnny! You look excellent. Have you been moisturizing?” Carlos asked, his over-the-top personality on full display.

“Uh... not really?” Johnathan replied, following Carlos into his home, past Greek-style statues of the masculine form.

“Oh, well whatever you’re doing has been wonderful to your skin. I was so worried what you’d look like after all the sweating and working out you’ve apparently been doing... which also seemed to be working out for you. Those arms of yours,” Carlos said, motioning towards Johnathan’s bicep. “A beautiful young man with some nice beef... if the girls aren’t falling all over you I know some boys about your age who’d love to.”

“Uhh... no thank you,” Johnathan replied, perhaps a little too sharply.

It was just that there was something about being identified with the unavoidable masculinity of gay male relationships that was off putting to Johnathan. Despite efforts to not be judgemental.

“I’m just joking. In part because I doubt your father would ever forgive me... he wants that family name of yours passed on,” Carlos said, before shaking his hand to dismiss the whole topic. “Now, come on, into the fitting room and let’s get those baggy things you call clothing off so I can actually measure you.”

Grumbling weakly, Johnathan complied, only to get a dramatic stare from Carlos once shirtless.

“Now, I’m no expert,” Carlos said, “but those look somewhat... breast-like.”

“Uh, well, I’ve been trying to work out and the fat comes before the muscle? That’s how bulking up works?” Johnathan replied.

“I have seen many men at various stages of bulking up and that is not--you’re not doping, are you?” Carlos asked.

“Er, well, with safer stuff. It’s high quality alien steroids, so it’s safer... then I’m on a little estrogen to balance out any unwanted side effects,” Johnathan offered, while deciding to cover the chest that was apparently so controversial.

Had it always been so cold in Carlos’ fitting room?

“You’re on estrogen, dear?” Carlos asked.

Johnathan offered a small nod. In response, Carlos tapped his lips with one finger for a few moments, before a spark of an idea seemed to hit him.

“There’s a sparkle in your eyes now, though... I’d always thought you were just a moody teen... You don’t need to worry. I won’t tell your father. The safety of the closet in an important place,” Carlos said.

“Closet?” Johnathan asked slowly, glancing towards the various racks of clothing around.

“Yes, the--dear, you’re on estrogen, you’re showing the effects of hormone replacement therapy, and... well, you look the happiest and most alive I’ve ever seen you. It’s not hard to put two and two together and understand you’re a trans girl,” Carlos replied.

“What? That--I’m not. Grace wouldn’t want--I’m a guy who’s moving towards dating a gorgeous woman,” Johnathan protested.

“Grace?” Carlos asked.

“My personal trainer. Grace Xanthopolous. A smoking hot redhead... 6ft2, muscular, all sorts of cool tattoos, always so stylishly dressed... and she likes me back, even if she’s worried about breaching client-trainer professional conduct standards,” Johnathan replied, perhaps getting a little distracted in describing her.

“Grace Xanth--I have a former student who’s working in Flagstaff now and the woman you just described sounds like the stunning butch who rolled into town a few months back and apparently slept with half the lesbians in Flagstaff. Only to suddenly drop off of everyone’s radar... with poor Fernanda being one of the few single lesbians in town who had missed her whirlwind tour.”

“What? You’re... my Grace... you think Grace is a lesbian? But she... but... but...” Johnathan muttered, before swearing she heard something crack.