Playing House [Female Age Regression, Male to Female Transformation]
Today could not possibly have been more difficult.
This was what Emily Bakemeier was thinking as walked in the door of her chilly doublewide. She had no proof that this overcast Friday had spared her no difficulty, but she felt it somehow. First, her 6-month-old, Eva, had woken in the middle of the night, depriving her of any decent, uninterrupted rest, and then, her old, light blue pickup truck had broken down while her husband, Matt, was driving to work.
As she drove to pick him up, her mind had been awhirl, and there had been a somewhat heated exchange as she drove him the rest of the way to work. Money was tight, and repairing a truck wasn't cheap. "Who's going to pay for this?" she had asked him angrily. She still didn't know the answer to that question, but her anger was spent, replaced with tired resignation. It was only 11:30, but Emily already felt exhausted.
Walking into the house, she locked eyes with her neighbor, Patty, who had come as a last minute babysitter for Eva.
"How's the truck?" Patty was holding the little one in her arms, rocking her gently back and forth.
"It don't run if that's what you're asking," Emily said, not attempting to conceal her despondency. Nothing was going right today, and she didn't want to think about it anymore. At least Eva was sleeping finally, she noticed.
"Geez, I'm sorry," Patty said. She paused for a moment, then continued. "Is it fixable?"
Emily didn't even look in Patty's direction as she walked over to the kitchen counter and leaned heavily on it, her head in her hands. "I don't know. And it don't matter; we don't have the money to fix it."
"I wish I could help, but I don't have much money myself," Patty said. Emily knew this, and she knew she should tell her friend that it was fine, that things would work themselves out, that they would make it somehow. But she said nothing, and an uncomfortable silence took the place of what she should have said. Emily was feeling as if she might start crying, but she looked up suddenly when she heard Patty's footsteps crossing the kitchen towards her.
Patty was walking towards, offering the baby with her arms outstretched. "Could you hold her, darling? I need to use the bathroom." Patty handed little Eva over as gently as she could, but the baby woke despite her best efforts and began to bawl. Emily's expression barely changed as Patty walked away down the hall. She rocked the baby, thinking she might go back to sleep, but Eva was clearly hungry; Emily could tell by the way she was crying.
She settled in a large, overstuffed chair and unbuttoned her blue polo shirt. Pulling open the trap-door on her maternity bra, she offered Eva a nipple, and the baby was soon suckling happily. Emily's mind drifted as the warm milk trickled slowly out of her breast. More than anything else, she wanted her family to not only survive, but to be a safe place for her baby and her future children as well. She closed her eyes and laid her head on the back of the chair as she dreamed of a family with four children in a house with a enormous yard and crisp, green grass that her husband mowed every Saturday. She dreamed that he would come inside from the hot sun and she would greet with a glass of lemonade and a kiss on the cheek. Most of all, she dreamed of him picking her up and spinning her around
Her brow furrowed, and she opened her eyes at what she realized was a very strange thought. Her baby was fussing at her nipple making little sucking sounds, but no milk was flowing, and she squeezed and massaged her breast persistently but to no avail. Unseen to her, the milk was evaporating, starting at her nipples and slowly disappearing from her breast ducts.
She laid Eva across her lap, a little roughly and carelessly, not noticing how quiet the baby had become. Her thoughts returned to the man she had seen spinning her in circles, and she could barely remember his face. He had left her and her mother when she was very young, she knew.
Emily's nipples were lightening as they shrunk, and looking down at them, she felt rather embarrassed to be trying to feed a baby from breasts that obviously contained no milk. So she buttoned up her polo not bothering to fasten the trapdoor on her bra. It didn't matter though; the material was thinning, disappearing into nothingness.
As she buttoned her shirt, she wondered why she was even trying to remember her father. She didn't give a fuck about the douche bag, really. Who needed him? She was doing fine with her mother.
She got to her feet easily, lightly, and laid the baby on the chair. Feeling less bulky and more energetic than normal, she strode across the room to the refrigerator with the intention of getting some infant formula for the baby. Her hips were shrinking, swinging less as she walked, and much of the excess fat in her stomach, ass, and thighs was dissolving, leaving her with the smooth, toned body of a fit teenager.
She opened the refrigerator door and quickly scanned the shelves but found nothing. "Weird, I thought I just put some in here," she thought, frustrated. "Goddamnit, why's the babysitter taking so long?"
She walked back across the kitchen as her breasts bounced rhythmically, and they felt alien to her, as if they were too large. The irritating bouncing lessened as she walked, and although still large, her breasts were now shaped differently, her areola no longer part of the smooth contours of her flesh.
Eva felt lighter as Emily picked her up, and she held the baby at arm's length, studying her carefully. "She doesn't look hungry anymore," Emily thought. In fact, the baby's eyes had a glassy appearance, her eyeballs barely moving. "When Mom gets home she can feed her," she thought, looking at her watch. It was noon; thirty minutes before her mother would return from her half-day at work.
Back and forth, back and forth went the mop, across the smooth, tile floor. Matt felt like he had cleaned this drab lunch room ten thousand times, and doing it again wasn't making him feel any better about a particularly unbearable Friday. First, his truck had broken down as he was driving to work, leaving him with no choice but to call his firebrand of a wife, Emily, to pick him up in their neighbor's little Toyota. And as if to make him feel worse, she had brought up their meager finances. "Who's going to pay for this?" she had asked spitefully, and Matt still felt the scorn in her words.
Matt knew she was unhappy. She had had dreamed of a secure life with a strong man who could support her as a stay-at-home mom, and Matt's job as janitor at a local accounting firm was not paying nearly enough. Worse, it seemed as if Emily was having second thoughts about whether he was the strong man she wanted supporting her.
Matt certainly didn't feel strong, and as he mopped he felt as if he was becoming weaker. Unbeknownst to him, his muscles were losing their heft and mass, the hard bulges in his arms and legs softening. He raked the mop across the floor with greater and greater difficulty, even stopping once or twice to catch his breath.
What had gone wrong with his marriage, Matt wondered. There were very few violent outbursts like the one he had experienced this morning, but something had disappeared from the relationship. All the emotions that had once been new, suddenly felt old. Even when Emily had sex with him, it seemed like a chore for her, something done out of habit. Perhaps she didn't find him attractive anymore. Matt looked down at himself and certainly didn't feel attractive.
But as he continued mopping, he felt something trembling on his chest; first only a small shaking, but then a definite bouncing, and he realized it did make him feel attractive, sexy even. That didn't seem right to him, though. He usually thought of guys with firm muscles and toned bodies as being sexy. "That can't be right either," he thought.
Brad, suddenly very confused, went back to mopping feeling sexier and sexier as his breasts got heavier. They hung off his chest now, pulling him forward, and he could see his hard nipples as they pressed against the fabric of his shirt. He felt incredibly horny without knowing why, but he didn't want to climax. Instead, he just wanted to bask in the warmth of arousal as it washed over his body.
He couldn't remember ever feeling bisexual before, but he felt it now. But no, actually women weren't much of a turn on for him. In fact, he realized they didn't arouse him at all. He smelled his own cologne, and it aroused him. He looked down at his own erect penis, showing clearly through his pants, and it aroused him. He saw a guy down the hall bend over to pick up a pen, and it really aroused him. The man's ass looked so tight and muscular underneath his khaki's. Not at all like my ass, thought Brad. My ass is so fat.
Brad's ass wasn't fat, but he somehow knew it should be, so it was with a sense of fulfillment that he felt the extra bulky weight accumulating in his hips and thighs. He squirmed ecstatically as the fat piled up, and his pants and boxers began to cut into his midsection. He felt somewhat uncomfortable until he straightened and pulled his pants higher on his waist, noticing how tightly they fit, especially over his erection. The arousal which had washed over Brad so suddenly had not faded but in fact intensified, and he felt that he could no longer ignore it, so, in a frenzy of hormones, he dropped his mop with a clatter and headed down the hall towards the restroom.
And it was walking down that hall that Brad began to feel truly feminine with his thighs swishing together seductively. His boxers were now satin, and he could feel them rubbing against his penis which felt good but wrong. His breasts were bouncing which didn't feel good but also wrong. He cupped them to give them some support and walked more slowly. He felt his undershirt tightening and thickening over his nipples, and the fabric hardened underneath his breasts as it pushed them upward into cleavage. "Good, less chafing," he thought, and pulled his hands down.
He walked into the women's restroom without really thinking about it; the action seemed natural, like he'd done it ten thousand times before. Hurriedly picking a stall, he whipped his penis out although he was tempted to jack off into the panties they felt so soft. But he didn't want to get cum all over them so, instead, he jerked off into his hand, pumping with all the force he could muster. He wasn't thinking about boobs and pussies like usual. His mind just wasn't drifting there. He was actually pretty turned on by his own penis, though, and he found himself wishing there was a way for him to stick it inside himself.
And it didn't take long for Brad to orgasm, bucking his hips and moaning. He was still incredibly turned on, and he kept jerking, but at some point, he noticed that nothing was coming out of his penis. It was contracting as if trying to pump something, but nothing came. Perhaps this didn't bother him as much as it should have, but grabbing his erect penis felt so good that all other thoughts were pushed aside. As he masturbated, he absent-mindedly noticed that he was finding less and less to hold onto, but still he jerked until he wasn't grabbing at all but stroking. And still there was no release.
He instinctively knew that he needed something inside of him, and he jabbed his fingers into his crotch. But something was in the way his testicles. His scrotum had tightened, squeezing them against his groin, but nothing was giving. "My hips," he thought, again instinctively. "They're too narrow." And he cocked his hips to the side and stretched, pushing as hard as he could. Nothing happened at first, but then, there it was. A click and he could feel his hips shifting wider. A hole began to open up in his groin, and he excitedly pushed harder. The need to feel something inside of him was overpowering now, and he could think of nothing else as he felt another click and then another.
The hole had become larger, and he tried to push his fingers in, but his testicles were still in the way. They felt smaller than usual, and Brad fingered one for a few seconds before it dawned on him. He wasn't really fingering a testicle anymore, and it needed to be inside of him. He pushed the changing organ against the small hole in between his legs, but it still wouldn't quite fit. He cocked his hips again, but this time, to the other side, and he was rewarded with more clicking and popping as an even wider space opened up between his hips. He felt one of his balls enter him, and he had never felt anything stranger. It began to burrow through his lower abdomen, hollowing him out, and the sensation only became stronger as his other testicle entered him. He knew that channels were forming inside of him, and he realized that he no longer had a penis. He rather wished he could have kept it, but what he really wanted was a penis inside of him. But he no longer possessed one, so he once again pushed his fingers up, through his empty scrotum and into the hole. His scrotum completely turned inside out, lining the walls of his new vagina, and he pushed through it, finally feeling something inside him.
He gave few tentative pumps as his vagina accepted more and more of his fingers. It didn't feel as good as he expected. "Rather normal actually," he thought. Estrogen from his ovaries was trickling into his bloodstream now, and it left him feeling more feminine but not really horny. He felt as if he had expended all of his sex drive on his marathon orgasm, leaving him exhausted. He slowly sank to the toilet seat, and felt urine trickling out of his vagina. As it widened into a full stream, he looked down at himself (herself?) curiously. "What am I?" he (she?) wondered. Of course she was a woman, she realized. She was wearing panties, a bra, and sitting to pee, of course she was a woman.
Back at home, the bathroom was calling Emily too, but she was answering a little more slowly than normal because the baby she was holding was becoming an increasing mystery to her. It felt so light, almost hollow, and it had long since ceased to move beyond the occasional finger twitch. Still holding the baby, she began to awkwardly walk down the hall towards her bathroom, bumping into the wall as she turned the corner. She staggered a few more steps, reeling as she just barely caught herself on the wall and dropped the baby in the process. It landed on the floor with a light thud. "That's alright," she thought. "It'll be fine. I'm really too old to playing with dolls."
Her center of gravity completely destroyed for the moment, Emily continued to grope her way down the hall. She leaned heavily on the wall, her seemingly enormous chest wrenching her forward, her hips banging against the wall. More fat began to melt off of her frame, and she stood up straighter as her breasts became firmer and more buoyant, once again changing underneath her shirt to a pointier, more conical shape. Her lower body too was changing shape, becoming bonier, almost skeletal. As she thinned, the padding along her upper thighs and hips disappeared and Emily once again was able to walk normally.
Now walking faster, she reached the bathroom door quickly but paused as she noticed it was closed. She recalled how Patty had excused herself to the restroom some time ago, and looking at her gold watch, she realized it had been almost fifteen minutes. "What could be taking her so long?" she wondered. "Patty?" she inquired, leaning towards the door to hear the response.
"Yeah?" an unexpectedly young voice replied from the other side of the door
Emily furrowed her brow. "Are you alright in there?" she asked. There was a pause.
Finally, the youthful voice responded, "Yeah, don't worry about it. I got a text is all."
Emily was relieved that Patty's voice seemed normal again. But still something didn't seem right. "You're sposed to be out here," Emily said. Her voice was rising in pitch like a siren as she spoke.
"Why?" Patty asked, sounding somewhat perturbed.
Emily couldn't remember, but she really needed to pee, and Patty was taking forever! "You've been in thea for a weally," Emily stopped to correct herself, "really long time." She started hopping and down, holding her crotch as she began to get shorter.
"It's been, like, five minutes. Go back and play with your dolls, please."
Emily's boobs were bouncing, and they felt funny, so she took one hand from between her legs and used it to hold them up. Squishing them smaller they were very squishy she tried to remember how long her babysitter had actually been in the potty. It seemed much longer. She even looked at her watch because she thought that might help. It was white and plastic with little pink hands, and Emily liked it although she wasn't quite sure how it worked.
Her breasts were jiggling less as they dissolved into her chest. No longer feeling the need to hold them, she pulled her hand away from her tiny, quivering mounds and puffy areola. "I weally need to goooa!" she wailed in desperation, but she was already feeling less worried as her panties slowly began to thicken underneath her pants.
When Patty left Emily alone with her baby and her thoughts, she did so for more than one reason. Yes, she needed to use the restroom, but she also needed to be alone, and perhaps more importantly, she knew that Emily needed to be alone. Sorrow was all she saw as she walked down that dark, twisted hallway to the bathroom. Emily had grown up with her, and she had always been a good friend despite being three years younger. Neither of them had planned to raise children in this backwards town, but the currents of life had swept them here without regard for their wants and dreams.
Crossing the cold tile floor to the toilet, Patty recalled the day she had left high-school for good so she could help raise her little brothers. It was her senior year, and she was planning on attending a community college after she graduated when her mother told her that she would need to drop out and get a job to help pay rent.
Patty hadn't been particularly close to Emily then but remembered telling her and a group of friends the sad news as they sat eating lunch in the cafeteria. Everyone had been sympathetic; after all, many of their families were in similar situations, and next month, it could be them leaving school. But Emily had been strangely aloof. She would never drop out of high school, she said. She would attend college and become an accountant. Patty sighed as sat down on the toilet bowl. It had all gone so wrong.
"Sometimes, I wish we could go back."
The words were barely a thought, tucked away in some dark corner of her mind, but a sort of electricity fizzled through her as the thought became fully formed. Her large, child-bearing hips began to decrease in size, flattening a like tire and dropping her lower on the toilet seat.
Pondering what might have been, she remembered the day that Emily, too, had been forced to drop out of high-school. Although she had been pregnant for three months already, she had apparently finally come to the realization that college was no longer an option. Patty remembered the phone call well, attempting to console Emily as she described the situation with tears in her voice.
That had been the start of a bond which had only strengthened with time. They helped each other out whenever possible, and often talked long into the night. Every time she needed a babysitter, Patty was the one she called. Patty's body began to tighten reflexively; first her pecs, then her stomach, and finally even her arms and legs began to tense up as they shed fat, and she was about try to relax them when she heard a voice from outside the bathroom.
"Patty?" inquired an unexpectedly youthful voice. "Could that be Emily?" she wondered to herself. Her body continued to change as her vagina contracted into pre-childbirth proportions.
"Yeah?" she replied as she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Reaching down to where her pants clung loosely to her ankles, she grabbed her phone and flipped it open. It was a text from Teresa Bakemeier, and it read:
"Ill be 15min late I have an appointment at 1:00. Can u stay?"
Patty paused briefly, weighing the costs and benefits of this new arrangement. Her plain dark-green t-shirt lightened into a pink Hollister tee and her blue jeans tightened around her shrinking legs and waist.
Patty realized Emily was talking again. "Are you alright in there?" she asked. Patty decided that spending a little longer with Emily was worth whatever money Mrs. Backemeier might give her, and she began to text back. "Yeah, don't worry about it. I got a text is all," she told Emily.
Teresa Bakemeier had just received a text from her babysitter confirming her availability and was walking towards her office when she heard someone call her name. It was her boss, Jerry, asking about a spreadsheet. She had almost finished it, she tried to say, but the words caught in her throat and came out as a tight cough. She tried again but still only a cough, but it was tighter and higher pitched. Jerry was looking at her with concern, and once more she tried to speak and once more only coughing, worse this time. She doubled over, each cough higher than the last until she found her voice and told Jerry what he wanted to hear. He asked if she was alright.
"I'm fine," she said, mumbling something about a cold. Turning away, she brusquely made her way back to her office, thankful that the day was almost over. As she walked, the soles of her shoes thickened, and the top of her dress shoe dissolved. Her heels were being forced up, and her gait changed as her calf muscles tightened. Blissfully unaware, she walked into her office and sat down to finish the rest of the report.
And as she typed her nails lengthened and began clicking on her keyboard. Her shaggy hair straightened and fell down her neck. She found herself working the keypad more quickly, and in no time, she was out the door and flying down the highway towards home.
"I need you to obey, Emily. I'll be out soon, and then I can change your diaper.
Emily was about to tell her in a panicky voice that she wasn't wearing diapers, but she stopped when she noticed the way her panties were rubbing against her thighs. When she reached down to give the garments a pinch, they felt thick, but not thick enough; like they wouldn't hold all her pee if she had to go. Her blue jeans and polo began fuse together, and they turned a pinkish hue as her panties continued to bulge, crinkling slightly as they thickened.
The toilet flushed inside the bathroom, and relief flooded over Emily, only to be replaced by the nagging feeling that she was standing in front of the bathroom door for no reason. She wasn't really sure what someone with a diaper on would do with a toilet anyway.
Emily began to walk away from the bathroom to play with her doll although she still felt the need to pee. The diaper was holding her legs apart, forcing her to move more slowly, but she was too busy thinking about her new doll to notice. Inside of her, her bladder was shrinking, and her pubic hair, horribly unnatural in a diaper, was thinning. First sparse, then patchy, it soon had completely disappeared into her vulva.
By the time Emily reached her doll, it seemed like she had just taken a long walk; she was exhausted. Her diaper cushioned her rear end as she plopped onto the floor just as her shrinking bladder reached its bursting point. The feeling of pee gushing into her diaper made Emily feel warm and comfy, and she began to pretend she was a mommy with her doll.
"I'll pretend to feed her," Emily thought, and she held the baby up to her diminishing breasts. The last of remnants of her once-dark areola lightened as they shrank back into the bumps on her chest. Pushing the baby against her tiny, developing breasts, she noticed how hard its face felt, and it actually hurt pushing against her sensitive buds until they too squished away into her chest.
Patty was walking down the hall towards her smiling at Emily pretending to feed her baby.
"She's hungry!" Emily said. Her teeth were shrinking, disappearing into her gums.
"Okay sweetie, we can get her bottle upstairs, we can't be here in the hall." Patty wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell of urine as she gently took Emily's hand and helped her up. "You need a diaper change, huh?" she stated more than asked. Emily nodded. At first, Emily surged ahead of Patty, in a rush to get her soggy, wet diaper changed, but as they walked, her legs slowly became shorter, and she was soon struggling to keep up.
She found herself reaching farther and farther above her head to hold Patty's hand, and still she shrunk smaller. By the time the pair reached the stairs, Emily could barely put one short, stubby leg in front of the other. She had no idea how she would make it to the top of the stairs, but Patty picked her up and carried her when she got too tired. "You're a big girl now," Patty said as she hoisted her up with some difficulty, and Emily just grinned because she was so big she didn't know she was still shrinking.
She was feeling sleepy now, and she laid her head on Patty's shoulder as they reached the play room. She barely noticed as Patty changed her stinky diaper, wiped her, powdered her, and put her back in her pink snappie, and though she wanted to thank her, she couldn't think of the right words so she just smiled and giggled.
Sitting on the floor playing with her dolls, Emily played house, pretending she was the mommy. The concept of a mommy was getting fuzzier to her, though, and pretty soon, she just wanted her own mommy.
Almost home! "What a day," Teresa thought, trying to remember what she'd done at work. She knew it had been tiring, whatever it was. She also knew she had an appointment soon, but she couldn't quite remember what it was either. "What a day," she thought again as she pulled into the driveway. She sat there with the engine running, trying to remember what she had scheduled for 1:00. She put her face in her hands, and her nose shortened as she pressed. Her teeth were forced together as her jaw involuntarily clenched and softened into a smaller, less-defined version of itself. And she suddenly remembered.
A date! She had a date! She couldn't believe she had forgotten because she had been looking forward to it all day. Makeup began to layer itself across her face as she rushed out of the car. She rubbed her lips together and lipstick appeared. She blinked particularly hard, and eyeliner and mascara formed around her eyes. Teresa glanced at her watch. Only 15 minutes to change and then she had to be out the door. She half-walked half-ran into the house noticing that Patty, the babysitter, had left her purse in the middle of the floor.
She hurried up the stairs and down the hall, but she paused at her daughter's bedroom. I should see how my little girl is doing, she thought, and poked her head into the room. Emily was on the floor playing with dolls while Patty read quietly in the corner.
"Hi sweetie!" Teresa said. She felt warmth in her chest at the sight of her beautiful child, and milk surged into her breasts as they began to sag lower in her bra. Her nipples thickened, growing darker with each second as pressure built up behind them.
Emily looked up from her doll and, seeing her mother, began to coo and clap happily, her arms shortening and accumulatin fat. As Teresa walked across the room, the toddler's hair began to thin, and although she was still giggling excitedly, her voice was now pitched higher.
Teresa's bra straps widened as she bent down to pick up her baby girl, and soon she was wearing a nursing bra. "How's my baby doing?" she cooed. Emily wanted to tell her she was happy with words, but her tongue just sort of lolled around uselessly and all that came out was a "Dah!" Teresa knew that Emily was happy though, so she was happy. "Thanks for taking care of her, Patty. I know this was short notice," she said to the teenage girl who was smiling at the happy pair.
"No problem," Patty replied.
"I don't have time to feed her, there's some infant formula in the refrigerator. I should be back around three." Teresa set Emily down and began to walk away but stopped. "Wish me luck on my date!" she said.
Patty's eyes widened and her lips pursed. "A date! Good luck!"
"Thanks." Teresa smiled as she walked out of the room. She had a good feeling about this guy.
This content is intended for mature audiences.
or, enter your birth date.*
Please enter a valid date format (mm-dd-yyyy)
Please confirm you have reviewed DeviantArt's Terms of Service below.
* We do not retain your date-of-birth information.
This was supposed to be way shorter. Hopefully it's not too confusing.
Crispety Christ this was damn good!!!
I really liked the story but you changed Matt's name to Brad like right in the middle and I was like "Wait.... What?" XD
This story hits all the right spots. Love the emphasis give to hips and thighs, as well as the gradual mental erosion of your characters. Well done!
Thanks so much for the comment! Your stories are my favorite TG fiction, so I'm very pleased that you enjoyed one of mine. I'm working on a few more, and I can only hope that you're doing the same
the best part about this one is the laborate timings of the transformations. well done!
I really like your story. It's nice that you focus on the regression itself, and not the end result. You take your time, regressing the characters one step at a time. That's something I like most about AR stories. I hope you find the time and inspiraion to write more stories in the future.
Wait, I'm confused, whos Theresa?
It was supposed to be the female version of Matt. I think I'm going to rewrite this whole thing at some point to hopefully make it less confusing.
This is one of my favorite stories in awhile!
so good!! I usually don't read deviant art short stories because a lot of this stuff is bad quality. Read yours on a whim and loved it! My favorite transformations and great writing qualities. Keep it up!!