Blooming Days

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When kids bloom, they are taken out of school and more or less quarantined for a few weeks until they learn to adjust to their new selves. It prevents a lot of awkward social situations, and keeps the fresh blooms from throwing their lives off course with impulsive actions and unwanted pregnancies. The hormone avalanche of being sexed all at once is strong and oftentimes overwhelming, and can last for up to a month after. These blooming days, as they’re called, are very wet, very sticky, and entirely uncomfortable.

Case in point, I woke up that morning to a raging boner tenting the sheets. I tried to ignore it at first, tried to turn over and go back to sleep, but every movement, every shift in position, every errant touch of the fabric to my skin only served to leave me all the more hot and bothered. Eventually I sat up and threw the blankets off completely, gazing down at my swollen member with much the same disappointment a gardener would after having found a poisonous mushroom sprouting between their petunias.

And to my shock and shame, it really was a dick. My dick. Attached to me. Big and veiny and standing to attention like an angry soldier guarding the entrance to my cunt— which I also had. No balls though. And no clit either, I guess. My dick curved out of my body from the spot my clit should have been, pulling back my hood to point skyward. I gave the tip an experimental flick, and shuddered as equal parts pain and pleasure rushed up my insides. I felt myself flush, suddenly all too hot despite being naked. Fuck, but that’s sensitive.

I sighed. The erection wasn’t even my biggest problem at that moment. The more pressing issue was that I needed to pee.

The room I’d spent the night in was one I’d never seen before. I was lying on a narrow cot, surrounded by a light blue privacy curtain that had been left open a smidge. Beyond it was some kind of little hospital room, or whatever the neighborhood clinic equivalent might be. There was a standard work station across one wall, a pair of rolling chairs beside a small table— upon which my clothes and stuff had been set, thank god— and beyond that, an open door leading to a bathroom.

I got up from the bed and staggered forward, unused to the shift in weight and balance of my new form. Everything was so heavy and bouncy now. And I still didn’t really know what I looked like yet. I must have blacked out shortly after blooming, because my memories thereafter were fuzzy at best.

I made my way to the toilet and just about sat down when it hit me— I can’t pee like this. I stood back up and turned to face the bowl, fully uncertain as my boner stood tall in its defiance. Very gently, I placed a palm over the base of my shaft. Maybe I could just— you know— guide it… down. Tentatively, I gave it a solid press— and then immediately stopped as the muscles in my groin screamed.

“Ow fuck,” I hissed. How did guys do this?!

With some maneuvering I managed it eventually, but only after very awkwardly placing a hand on the wall above the toilet and more or less planking myself over the bowl. With that out of the way, I stepped into the shower stall and tried to banish my shame with some cold water. It didn’t work, of course, and the erection persisted, but at the very least I was able to scrub away the flaky crust of last night’s filth.

I toweled off and took the moment to study my new self in the mirror.

It was… really strange, to say the least. In general my face still looked like me, but... softer somehow, more overtly feminine, and fuller for sure. I’d been something of a dehydrated skeleton before, but now I was practically glowing. My cheeks had filled in, and my lips too. My hair was unchanged, still shaggy and with wispy ends coiling around my collar bone, but that’s where the similarities ended. From the neck down I was unrecognizable.

To say that I was well-endowed would be an understatement. I cupped my breasts, testing their weight with hands that could hardly contain them. They bounced back upon release, and my nipples perked as they grazed past my fingers. I huffed in exasperation. Not only was everything heavy and bouncy, but sensitive too.

And I wasn’t just top heavy either, my bottom had also filled out, round and pert behind wide hips made wider beneath my narrow waistline. It would have been the ideal female form, if not for the other endowment between my legs.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I muttered. Well, I could think of a few things, I guess, but not anything realistic or helpful. And such were my thoughts when I opened the door back into the overnight room, where Dr. Vahn was now sitting at the workstation, one long, panty-hosed leg crossed over the other.

I froze in place as she looked up from her clipboard.

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