Locktober Eternal - Ch. 03

Chapter 3

August 8 ^th - 84 Days Until the Halloween Party

Our thrift shopping spree had changed a lot of things.

That night when we had arrived home, Hannah and I sat down and started to really ask ourselves what this party and costume might mean for our relationship.

After a bottle of red wine with dinner, we had come to a few conclusions.

The first: part of me wanted to explore this costume and identity. As much as I may have been "playing along" with the idea of crossdressing, I would have been lying to say that all of me thought it was a joke. In truth, Hannah and I could see it clearly on my face: I liked playing dress-up.

The second: I wanted to be feminine, but it didn't mean I had to transition or stay as a woman. Our rules were simple, but stern. If I wanted to wear a dress or a skirt around the house, Hannah encouraged me to do it. While we only bought one bra at the store, Hannah said I should order some through the app so that I can rotate through them without re-wearing dirty clothes. However, she asked that I buy a few bralettes or sports bras for under my clothes at work, especially since I was alone 99% of the time.

The third: "We can always go back to step one." Hannah elaborated. "Clothes are one thing, and growing your hair out is another thing, but we could manipulate this further if we wanted to." I asked for more information. "Think about it like this: all of biology comes down to chemicals. If we reduced your testosterone levels and increased your estrogen levels, in 80 days, your figure would begin to change. Small and immeasurable, but after 80 days, we would definitely notice some changes. And again, these would revert back the moment we stopped messing with your hormone levels." Hannah grabbed her pack of birth control. "This is what I take. It helps with my estrogen levels to keep me from ovulating irregularly. We could do the same thing for you." I asked how? "Simple ways. We could change our diets to favor estrogen and reduce testosterone. Men also produce it when they get erections or are stimulated down there, so if we lower that activity, then your body won't be needing to make as much testosterone."

After doing research on my own, I agreed. Hannah was right. Especially without any prescribed hormones, the changes would be indiscernible. However, it didn't mean we could play with it.

August 11 ^th - 81 Days Until the Halloween Party

"It's here!" I shouted, "Hannah, they arrived!"

I grabbed the massive Amazon package off the front porch, and I walked into the living room.

Hannah was lounging on the couch as she watched television. I tore open the box in front of her and started to remove various packages. "This is for you!" I tossed a hair net and wig that resembled Travis's haircut to her. Equally, a set of fake mustaches came tumbling out of the box. Next, a jug of protein powders and vitamin supplements were organized on the couch. Finally, a set of heavy ankle and wrist weights fell out of the box. They slapped the ground with a thud.

"I gotta start hitting the gym," Hannah said. "It's time to bulk up!"

"Calm down Kelce," I joked.

"Show me your stuff!"

The first thing that I removed was a corset. It was black and smooth, but the metal wireframe was sturdy. Next, a bottle of progesterone pills. Finally, a horror book. Not everything needed to be about feminization. I liked to read as well!

"How does this work?" I held up the corset in front of myself.

"Take your shirt off," Hannah instructed, "I'll give you a hand."

"You think in 80 days I can start to get some serious curves with this thing?"

Hannah laughed as I took off my shirt and handed her the corset. "Honey, you'll see them in 80 seconds!" Hannah opened up the corset and slid it around my waist. Her fingers rebound the strings, and then started to clamp the back shut identically to how a bra closes. With every clamp, I felt the corset get significantly tighter. "How's that feel?"

I lied, "Not too bad!" I tried to get a full breath of air, but the corset was much tighter than I expected.

"Oh, I know it's awful. Bear with me."

After a few more moments, Hannah was done. "Damn, Daniel!" That joke never got old. "You look insane! Go take a look in the bathroom!"

I struggled to breathe, but I made it to the bathroom. Hannah wasn't lying. This corset did an insane amount of work on my body. I actually had an hourglass figure, and the small amount of fat I had on my chest was pushed up slightly to resemble some minor amount of cleavage.

"How long do I wear this for?"

Hannah shrugged. "The more you wear it, the easier it gets, and the more permanent the results will be! I'd say... Try for an hour per day to start. Add more time as you get more used to it."

We returned to the living room, and Hannah started to examine her protein. "Wanna go for a run? We need to start working out now if we want to be in shape for Halloween."

I referenced my waist. "It took me five minutes! I'm done, baby!"

Hannah turned me around and slapped my ass. "I want your ass to be fat, baby. We'll start doing yoga and some basic stretches together in the morning, but I need to go pump some iron or push my muscles if I'm going to get bigger. It's a lot harder for me to put on muscle in two months than it is for you to gain some curves."

She went to the kitchen and started to grab the materials to make a smoothie with her protein gear.

As she started to prepare her smoothie, I looked at the bottle of progesterone. I grabbed it and turned the bottle over in my hands.

I could feel Hannah watching me politely, and I turned to see her turn away from me. I looked back at the bottle. Hormonal balance for women. Helps promote pain relief, overall balance, increases estrogen levels. Consult your doctor before taking if pregnant.

"Whatcha thinking," Hannah asked as she chopped apples and bananas.

"It says I should call my doctor if I'm pregnant." I rubbed my stomach and said gently, "Babe, I have something to tell you."

"They say it's rude to ask unless you know for sure. I thought you were just hiding a watermelon under your shirt this whole time."

I brought the bottle over to the counter.

Hannah said, "Like we said when we bought the stuff a few days ago. If it goes to waste, then that's okay with me. If it sits on our bathroom shelf and collects dust, then that's okay. If you want to take it..."

"I know. It's just... I wonder what this means for me."

She waved her hand away. "Uncle Rodrick was prescribed estrogen by a doctor for eight years. Back in England, his parents had both gotten breast cancer. His father was one of the only breast cancer patients in the United Kingdom. Long story short, Uncle Rodrick took pills to reduce the chances of getting breast cancer for almost a decade. Men take these pills all the time, Daniel."

"Maybe tomorrow." I ran over to our bathroom and tucked the bottle of pills away into a cabinet. A blender started to whir in the kitchen. I returned to the living room and got ready to go on a run.

For the last few months, Hannah and I had been exercising at a reservoir near our home. Raised up over the landscape, the reservoir sat behind a few back roads, and very few people walked around the gravel trail that encompassed the water. Instead, half a dozen fishers lazily caught and released small fish for their after-work activities. They would sit there for hours while we ran the 3.5-mile trail around the reservoir.

As we drove over there, I tied my hair up with a hair clip.

"You know, we could get you some leggings or women's shorts if you wanted to wear those instead of your gym shorts."

"Yeah, and if you need to, you can try using my body for deadlifting."

Hannah flexed her bicep and kissed it as we pulled into the parking lot. We got out of the car, and Hannah strapped on her ankle and wrist weights.

"Try keep up with me," Hannah taunted as she started to run.

I took a deep breath. The summer air was still thick and heavy, but fall was coming quickly. Around us, the green grass was already beginning to fade in color. Patches of yellow and brown dirt seemed more prevalent than the lush fields next to the reservoir.

Hannah was already a few hundred feet ahead of me, so I started slow. I smiled and waved at the fishermen that were already enjoying the afternoon weather. Only one looked over, and he greeted me with a friendly wave.

After a minute of a slower walk, I took off jogging.

Halfway around the reservoir - still trailing behind Hannah - I couldn't help but wonder if the grass always died this early into August.

August 12 ^th - 80 Days Until the Halloween Party

A week ago, I would wake up for work at six-thirty, eat some cereal, and be out the door by 7:30. I would get in my work-van, drive to houses across Oklahoma and climb onto their roofs. I would inspect for hail or wind or water damages, write a check, then start driving home by five. Lunch was usually a deli sandwich and an apple, and dinner was one of our rotating meals that Hannah and I picked at random.

In one week, that schedule had drastically changed.

For breakfast, I was eating fresh peaches, soymilk to drink, and a flaxseed muffin. We had erased any traces of red meat, fish, or other foods that were high in testosterone.

Despite climbing roofs in August, I wore a thick jacket to work every day. I wore it to disguise my torso, as I sported the corset underneath.

After a few days, I wore the corset for about five hours before taking it off. Realistically, it was difficult to wear and climb roofs. I had to bend over, climb a ladder, pivot around on my hands and knees, all while being short of breath. In my self-proclaimed Dan-Van, I'd write up estimates for the damages, and then drive to a new house and repeat the process.

For the first week at this, I started to realize how rough the job was on my body.

Climbing on roofs wasn't awful, but I wasn't climbing on pristine, brand-new roofs. I was climbing on older and deteriorated shingles. The small granules would break off from the shingle and embed themselves into my skin. My hands, wrists, and arms would be covered in the granules as I crawled around. The chalk I used to write on shingles was drying out my skin. The sun was cooking me in the jacket, and I was starting to sweat off literal pounds of water weight by the end of a few days.

By Friday, I started to leave the jacket in the car. I was still wearing the corset under my uniform. I kept my hair up in a clip. I started wearing thicker gloves to keep my skin protected. In my Dan-Van, I kept a stache of moisturizers and lotions.

In between houses, sometimes I would drive for an hour or two in any direction. I was left with ample time to entertain myself. For example, as I drove down the road, I used to listen to podcasts, movie reviews, or the same four albums on repeat. Now, I was giving Taylor Swift's discography a full listen to. Hannah was a Swiftie, so I had casually listened to Taylor's music before, but now I was dedicating time to actively listening to her music. Folklore and Evermore were passionately constructed albums about poetic romances and exhausting love affairs. Midnights was my favorite, as it was this dark pop/rock album about a failing relationship. By the end of the week, I could sing a few songs word-for-word.

I was also still wearing the chastity cage every day, but I realized that I could wear the silicone pussy (the nickname was still being workshopped. Hannah said Silicock was her favorite.) over the cage and it fit perfectly. For bathroom breaks, I would sit to pee, and the devices worked perfectly.

It had taken me two days to get used to my "lack of" genitals. My bladder seemed half as small, as the Silipussy (to me, that sounded like silly pussy, so that nickname didn't work!) put a lot of pressure onto my bladder. I was taking bathroom breaks nearly every hour now.

Equally, my pants seemed to fit differently now. On Wednesday, I stopped by an Old Navy in between houses and went to buy a new set of khakis. As I tried on my size in the dressing room, I realized that a combination of differences had changed my pant size. For starters, the corset had shrunken my waist and pronounced my hips. As a result, my normal men's pants weren't visually fitting right. They hugged my hips, but they sagged awkwardly at my waist. Equally, there was so much room at the crotch, that they looked baggy if I wore them at the normal men's level, or they looked strange at the top if I pulled them up to my belly button. I went to the women's section, and I grabbed a pair of khakis that were high-waisted and seemed to resemble my pants. It took a moment to figure out what my size was, but on the third pair of pants, I had found a perfect fit. I bought a set in black, khaki, and dark blue. I didn't notice it until I got back in the Dan-Van to change pants, but my belt was to big for the loops on the khakis. I walked back in the store in the new pants and grabbed a few belts.

As I got to the Dan-Van, I looked at myself in the reflection of the mirror.

My figure had transformed unmistakably into a more feminine physique. My hips were curvier, my waist sinched inward, and my women's pants cemented that frame on my lower half. My hair was still pulled up, but as I pulled out the clip and let if fall, I almost gasped. The silhouette was a woman, but I was Daniel.

At night, I would return home and crash on the couch from exhaustion. Hannah was home by four usually, but depending on how far I had to drive, I was home by six or seven most nights. Usually, we'd eat dinner and watch an episode of television on the couch. After, we'd retreat to our own corners of the house. I was usually playing video games, and Hannah would read a book or scroll on TikTok.

But yet again, that changed this week. I was still tired from work, but now I was more motivated to be active with Hannah. We alternated between walks at the reservoir, or we would go play tennis at a nearby court - either option found Hannah wearing her weights. If we went to the reservoir, Hannah took of running, and she was already improving her times and speeds. If we went to tennis, I found that I was more fluid than before. In a way, it seemed like I had never stretched before a workout. Something inside me was changing, and I felt like I was more athletic, accurate, and faster. Hannah was stronger though. Her serves used to be fast, but they were light enough to return without too much of a problem. Now, her striking serves sent the tennis ball flying into my racket, and nearly knocking it out of my hand!

In one week, we were both already changing, and I wondered how much of it might be placebo. Maybe we didn't pay this much attention to these details normally! Maybe, Hannah and I were just having more fun now.

Either way, the final change in the first week was intoxicating.

Watching each other sweat, workout, eat healthier... It drove us crazy.

Our sexual drives were increased ten-fold, even if I was still locked up. Rather than getting to fuck her with my cock, I opted to wear the strap-on and fuck her with the dildo.

For me, Hannah had always seemed smaller, even though we were the same height. Now, Hannah was getting stronger. I loved wrestling with her in the bedroom under the sheets, taking turns on top or on bottom. My hands would grab her back, and I could feel the hard, firm muscles that outlined her body. She would grab my wrists and force them to my sides as she rode the dildo. I would take off the silicone cock-coffin (that name wasn't great either), but I kept the corset on as much as possible. Feeling Hannah's hands on my rounded hips and waist drove me crazy.

For Hannah, it seemed like two things had changed.

The first: perhaps it was to cater to my exploration of my identity, but Hannah had assumed the boyfriend role, and I had assumed the girlfriend role. Maybe I was hyper-analyzing everything. Maybe nothing had changed, but I just was focusing on the meanings behind little interactions. Hannah held the door open for me when we went anywhere. She started driving everywhere - I normally did. Hannah plate our food for me and serve me dinner. Normally, we both plated our food together. At night, Hannah would fall asleep in seconds, but her behavior at night had changed. While I read a book under the soft glow of the lamp, Hannah used to sleep on her side, curled into a ball. Now, she laid on her back, arms folded over herself like a mummy. Then, once she was in a deeper sleep, she started to move her hands over to me. They would rest on my thigh, and her hand would press down on my skin, just firmly enough to let me know that she was holding me. It was like she was shielding me from her the battles in her dreams.

The second: Hannah started to take more notice of my feelings. As a couple, we texted all day, and we talked at the house a lot. However, our talks were more focused now. Hannah would check in on my emotional state. She wanted to know how I was feeling, if work was stressing me out, how the preparations for the costumes were going... I wondered if she was compiling data on me, filling up files on her computer about my mental state. Sometimes, words come out like muscle memory. We speak to one another without thinking about the words. Now, our words carried the weight of mountains. When she asked how I was, she desperately wanted to know. When I said I was exhausted, she wanted me to specify: "work, or the transformation?"

In one week, a lot had changed, but maybe it was all for the better.

I kept reminding myself that everything was temporary, and we could revert back to our old habits with the snap of a finger. But, did I want to go back?

August 17 ^th - 75 Days Until Halloween

For our Friday night out, Hannah had found a new taco place that had opened up inside of an old, renovated and flipped home. We Ubered to the restaurant, very aware that we were drinking tonight.

The Taco Casita was gaining a lot of buzz on social media, but not because of their tacos. "Cinco Saturdays" advertised five margaritas for five dollars, but only once the fifth was purchased and finished. If you didn't finish all five margaritas, they were suddenly five dollars per drink. Hannah and I had foolishly ordered a Cinco Saturday deal for each of us, because after the first glass, we realized that there was a lethal amount of tequila in these margs.

We sat at a table in the former living room wedged in between a few card tables dressed in plastic fiesta table skirts. Soft white lights illuminated our faux home. Another couple shared our living room, but we didn't hear any other patrons in the house. Heavy bass slammed through the walls, and the small picture frames that were tacked to the walls bounced with each thud of the music.

Hannah wore one of her smaller summer dresses. Previously, we had called it small because of how short it was in length, but after only one week of continuously working out, her shoulders had started to grow out of the top. Her brown hair was curled, and her makeup was done up just enough to have the Oklahoma sweat begin to smear it as the sun was setting. On her chest, small beads of sweat ran down into her cleavage, right below the dangling key. She was stunning.

I dipped a chip in salsa then asked, "How was your week? Were the kids good?"

Hannah took a gulp from her margarita, and she winced with the tequila. "The kids were bad this week. Turns out, fire safety week is probably more dangerous than an actual fire!"

"What happened?"

"On Wednesday, the firefighters came in to give a talk about dialing 9-1-1. They played pretend with the kids and practiced the conversations and told them what to say. Well, five minutes into the conversation, one of my kindergarteners pulled out their iPhone and called 911 for real. It took ten minutes of communications between the stations and these firefighters to convince them that it was just one of our kiddos."