Application of the Scientific Method
by fandomonymous
Notes and disclaimer: This fic is going to delve somewhat deeply into issues of gender identity. That is to say, this is not your average crossdressing fic. While of course I cannot make any claims about the real people I'm using as my characters, the story I am telling is based (very loosely) on a real one.
Many, many thanks to my small gaggle of supporters and betas, little_details and fucktasticfb for pure awesomeness, and Alice, as always (though she'd hate me for abusing the scientific method this way).
***
Their relationship starts out as an experiment.
It's the first match week of the season. Andreas is staying over at Philipp's place, as he often does - it's closer to the training grounds, so they would take the bus together at the crack of dawn tomorrow to join the team before traveling to the stadium. Philipp is pacing and fretting, clearly full of nerves, and it's enough to drive Andreas to drastic measures.
"Ugh, why can't you just relax?" Andreas whines. "We have to be up at four o'clock! You're going to feel like shit on the pitch if you can't sleep, you know."
"I can't just relax with what's ahead of us! What if we fail? What if I fail? We can't afford that."
Andreas sighs. "It's only the first match of the season, Fips, and it's not like you're about to be kicked off the team if we happen to not do well tomorrow. You know as well as I do how much the coaches adore you." The look on Philipp's face and his continued pacing tells Andreas that words alone aren't helping. "...How about I give you a massage? Would that help?"
Philipp suddenly stops pacing and looks at Andreas with an unreadable expression. "Y-yeah, I think that might." He peels off his t-shirt, then lays down on the bed, stomach down.
Andreas sits on the side of the bed and reaches down, starting with a gentle kneading of Philipp's shoulders. Philipp sighs softly, content to let Andreas dictate the flow of things. For a while, they stay like this, Andreas' hands moving to find and work through knots along the other boy's back, marveling at the smoothness and warmth of his skin.
Andreas knew - had known for a long time now, really - that his feelings about people were just a little complicated. It's not that he didn't like girls - he did, though none of his past crushes had ever worked out. It's just that unlike a lot of boys, well, Andreas sometimes liked boys.
It wasn't that he indiscriminately liked every person he met, either - it's just that some people happened to catch his eye. Sometimes, it was a girl, like the one with the short blonde hair and bright hazel eyes who sat in front of him in math class last year, who helped him when he was confused about logarithms, who he almost asked to a Carnival party but had never gotten the courage.
Sometimes, it was a boy - like right now. And it had been the same boy for years now, on and off, as much as Andreas would have denied it. The boy was smart and kind and generous, and a very talented footballer with a lot of potential. He wasn't very tall, and probably wouldn't be considered attractive by a lot of people. But to Andreas, he was extraordinarily handsome, and every time he smiled Andreas' heart would skip a beat.
And here he was, warm and soft under Andreas' hands, humming contently, eyes closed.
It was a risk, Andreas knew. Footballers weren't gay, it just didn't happen, wasn't supposed to happen. While his parents and friends might be okay with the idea, the club itself might not be. If they found out, it would be awkward at best, and they might even end up kicked out of the club if it truly went wrong.
But he had known Philipp all of his life, and trusted him deeply. If Philipp liked him back, they'd figure something out, some way to make it work without anyone knowing. And if he did not, the confession would stay in this room, at least. He had no idea what it'd do for their friendship, but he also knew sometimes you needed to take a risk.
Andreas takes a deep breath, like he does before a free kick, and takes his hands off of Philipp. "Um. Philipp?"
Philipp rolls over to face Andreas, and stretches, gently yawning. "Huh?"
"I, uh." Andreas looks to the side, unable to face Philipp. "I know this is really weird, but. Uh. I...I like you, Philipp." He braces himself for impact.
It's quiet for a moment, then Andreas feels movement - Philipp sitting up. He looks up to see Philipp biting his lip, thoughtful.
"I...I like you too, Andi," Philipp finally says, softly. "Have for a very long time." It's almost a whisper. "But I don't think we could ever..."
Andreas nods. If anyone has something to lose, it's Philipp. He's going to be captain this season, for the first time, and he's been praying and hoping for ages now that it'll be what jump starts him to finally joining the reserve team, finally going professional.
"You're right." Andreas sighs. "It probably isn't worth it. I just wish...wish we could find a way to make it anyway. Even if it's just our little secret. Even if I don't get to tell anyone."
Philipp nods and puts his arm around Andreas' shoulder. "Shall we try it, then? Our experiment. Our secret."
Andreas turns to Philipp and smiles. Philipp smiles back, warm and honest and sweet. Andreas reaches one hand to caress Philipp's jaw, then pulls him in for a kiss.
It's been a few months now since that first kiss.
They've worked very hard to present themselves as the close friends they've always been, and so far it seems to have worked. No one has batted an eye when they choose to stretch together, to pick each other when working in pairs, to sit together at Saturday lunch or at FCBII matches or on the bus. And of course, they continue to travel to and from practice together, usually to Philipp's for Andreas' parents to pick him up later that night.
They show love in small ways - sharing food more than they used to, leaving notes to each other in hidden places, letting small displays of affection slide (usually Andreas' hand resting on top of Philipp's when they sit together, or Philipp letting Andreas rest his head on his shoulder when he falls asleep on the team bus). The rare days they get without school or club obligations are spent together too, exploring the city, talking about everything and nothing.
It's not quite that simple, though. It often takes all of Andreas' strength to play in this routine without giving anything away, without holding Philipp's hand, without kissing him goodnight when they finally do part each day. To be fair, they've had a handful of opportunities to be more physical - times one person's family has been conveniently away, or when by some magic the rest of the team has left the dressing room before them - but they're few and far between. It's maddening, but to Andreas it seems like a necessary evil, something they'll never escape from as long as the situation stays as it is.
And so far, the season has been going well. Philipp has gotten even more play than usual, and the coach of FCBII has been watching as he makes excellent plays, excellent decisions. Indeed, Andreas has often being on the receiving end of those decisions on the pitch, and together they've helped make a lot of goals happen. The A-Juniors are at the top of the table, and it seems at last like all the stars are aligning for them to finally transition to playing as professionals.
When neither of them attend the school dance, their classmates assume it's just because there's early practice the next day so they can't stay out late. Their parents, however, think they're at the dance, to be with friends to relax. Neither of these are quite true, but this time they have, sitting on a bench deep in the English Garden, is one of the few chances they've had to be alone, away from everyone they know, away from prying eyes.
Andreas' hand is on Philipp's, which is gripping the edge of the bench. It's the only public display of affection Philipp will usually allow, because it's easy to pull away, and it's something people won't notice. It drives Andreas crazy, but for Philipp's sake and for his comfort he'll refrain from complaining.
Philipp leans back on the bench, looks out, seemingly past the lake. "I...I have a really weird idea. Do you promise not to mock me?"
"I promise. I'd never insult you." Andreas squeezes Philipp's hand. "What's your idea?"
"I... Iwanttobecomeagirl."
"...what was that?"
Philipp takes a deep breath in, shaky breath out. "I want to become a girl."
"Become a girl? Why?"
"I don't like being a boy. I don't like not being allowed to show my feelings. I don't understand most other boys, how they think, why they react the way they do. I've never wanted to harm anything in my life, despite every video game and movie telling me otherwise. I don't think my body even wants to be male - I still blush like a schoolgirl and I'll never be taller than 1.70 meters and my voice never quite cracked like anyone else's. I want to feel pretty. I want to have long hair and wear skirts and jewelry and makeup and nail polish." He takes another deep breath, looks around him, checking for people. "I...I also want the world to get that I love you." His voice is quavering - he wants to speak up but isn't letting himself. "I want to stop being afraid of showing that I love you. I can't do that like this."
Andreas lets go of Philipp's hand, pets Philipp's hair. "I like that you're caring and sweet. I find you very handsome, even if you're not a typical boy. The fact that you're not like the others just endears you to me, not make me want you to be something else. And, well, while it might be easier for me if I had a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend, it'll be a lot harder for you to explain suddenly changing gender." He sighs. "And what about football?"
Philipp looks aside, guiltily. "That's the thing, isn't it." He gulps. "I doubt I could continue playing if I did anything drastic. But still..." He turns to look at Andreas. "We're finding a way to make *this* work, despite football."
"That's very true." Andreas reaches down to squeeze Philipp's hand again. "I'm very grateful for it."
"Do you think you could help me, then?"
Andreas is silent for a while. "Perhaps. Will you give me some time to think things through?"
"Yeah, I can do that."
Later that week, at the match, Andreas is benched to give some other midfielders a chance to play. Philipp is starting.
While Andreas tries his hardest to watch the game as a whole, to analyze the team, to see where he would be wanted, he cannot help but stare at Philipp. Yes, Andreas finds Philipp to be physically attractive, handsome even - but that is not the only reason he is attracting his gaze. Philipp's manner with a football is, itself, breathtaking. It seems sometimes as if he has an extra sense just for knowing where the ball is and where it will go. He cannot use his size to physically block opponents like the other defenders, but he can tackle cleanly and quickly with the best of them, winning the ball with not even as much as a foul. His passes are well-strategized, always going to someone who will make the most of the given opportunity. He's not afraid to overlap to put himself in a good position, though, or to cut into the box to take a shot for himself - but he's not so foolish as to do it constantly and abandon his duties as a defender.
But if Philipp's hypothesis is correct - if he would, in fact, be happier as a woman - this would all be at risk to change.
Andreas knows that women play football, even professionally. He's watched a few games before; he followed the Women's World Cup a few years back, and managed to catch a few games of Bayern's women's team. They were good games, great games even, with great technical ability on par to many men. Certainly he would attend a clinic run by any of the players from that championship American women's team, and he'd be likely to learn a lot from them. But to be honest, he's not completely sure he remembers if they get paid, and if so how well. Certainly it's nothing like the world of men's football.
He knows Philipp is not after flashy endorsement deals or piles of money or other people worshipping at his feet. But he knows one thing - Philipp is competitive, and Philipp is driven. He has all the talent to make it in the world of men's football, at the highest level. With training, with drive, with the right team behind him - with these things, he'd be able to win the World Cup or the Champion's League, or even both if he was lucky.
Those things would be different as a woman, and the prestige would not be nearly the same.
But if Philipp is right, that means little compared to pure contentment, the sensation of being in the right skin. The sensation of finally knowing yourself and being yourself. If Philipp is right, this sensation is worth risking all of that, all of the fledgling career he's attempting to make.
Andreas can't really think of anything he'd sacrifice football for. Well, no. He would sacrifice football for Philipp, and that told him everything.
But what if he's wrong? Obviously he needs to go about this carefully, but where would he start?
Andreas is dimly aware that there are men out there who dress like women. He knows that Lilo Wanders wasn't born a woman, for instance. But they seem to all be so...flamboyant. Layer upon layer of ridiculous fabrics, thick makeup, and caked-on wigs. There has to be another way, right? A way for a man to become a woman, not a humorous trope?
Andreas decides to go explore for a while, take his bicycle around the city.
Andreas finds himself in Glockenbachviertel, which always strikes him as a strange place. It's certainly a gay neighborhood - erotic shops, gay bars, and the like - but he never found it very appealing, probably because he isn't your usual gay person. He still does like girls after all, at least to some degree, and he can't fathom being out of the closet, let alone flamboyantly out and proud like the people he'd seen at last year's Christopher Street Day parade.
Still, it is an interesting neighborhood to explore on a nice day, so he keeps on his bicycle. He's not sure what he's looking for, really, but he knows he'll find something interesting with which to pass the time.
He notices a sign - "Max & Milian," with a rainbow boa strung underneath - and peers into what looks to be a tiny bookstore. He parks his bike in front of a nearby bar. The bar is advertising a "crossdresser meetup night", but it seems dark and weird inside, so Andreas frowns and pushes on ahead towards the store.
He opens the door gently and looks around. It's packed full of books, almost floor to ceiling, in a rather cluttered and haphazard way; other piles are stocked with videos and calendars and other seemingly random artifacts about gay life. He sees a desk off to one side, and hears someone cursing about computer cables in that direction (presumably from under the desk), so he works his way there.
As he approaches, his shoulder knocks into one of the book piles and one topples off, which he catches. It's in English, so it takes him a moment to understand what it is, but he gets it soon enough - "Human Sex Change and Sex Reversal".
He blushes deeply, staring at the book, so absorbed in holding it that he doesn't notice that the person under the desk is now standing behind the desk, clearing his throat. "What brings you to Max & Milian?"
Andreas looks up to a large balding man, just barely old enough to be his father. "I--uh. Was just looking."
The man smirks. "Someone doesn't go 'just looking' around this part of town. Don't worry. Your secrets are safe here."
How did he know? Andreas wonders, and then he remembers - Glockvenbachviertel, rainbow boa on the sign, right. "I...well. Just needed to get out of the house a bit. My...my boyfriend said something weird a few days ago, and I'm trying to figure out what to do." Just the words "my boyfriend" feels strange on his tongue, but it's also a relief in a way, to finally be honest to someone, even if he is a stranger.
"What kind of weird?"
"Well..." He trails off, fiddling with the book still in his hands. "He talked about wanting to become a she."
"Ahh, transgender, eh?" The man looks thoughtful. "It's a very big jump, you know."
"I...I want him to be happy. But I worry what his future will be if he changes. I mean...I'm attracted to girls too, that part's not the problem. Heck, it'd probably be easier if I could present myself as straight. But it's him that I worry about. And I don't want to go into this lightly."
The man nods. "Well, gender's a funny thing, and it's good you're being careful. It's good you care about what things will be like for him, and his future."
"So...so what do you think I should do?"
"Well, why not just experiment? Privately, of course, no one has to see but the two of you. Snag some nice clothes from a girl the same size, a good wig, some makeup. See if he likes it. See if you like it." The man goes over to one of the piles of books, and shuffles through to find one. "How good is your English?"
"Okay, I guess. It's not the easiest thing, but I manage." Andreas frowns. "I don't really know if I can buy anything, though."
"Oh no, no, this little thing? This is nothing, really. If it'll help you, I want you to have it." He finds the book - Transformations: Crossdressers and Those Who Love Them. "Sadly, there's nothing here on men who love crossdressers, but you may like it anyway."
"Thanks." Andreas puts down the first book he was holding, and takes the new one. He'll have to find a place to hide it, but he can figure that out easy enough. There's a significant number of photographs - women and men dressed as women, interacting as friends, living normal lives. It's very different from the "ladies" with pancaked on makeup playing things for laughs or for shock value on television. "I appreciate it." He looks at his watch - it's getting late, and he doesn't want it to be too dark going across town to get back home. "I--I'd better get going, though."
"Good luck," the man says with a smile. "And let me know how you do, okay?"
"Yeah, will do."
"Why do we have to do this?" Philipp looks very, very stressed as they ride the bus together.
Andreas leans in to whisper in Philipp's ear. "Look, mom's clothing won't fit you, and you're not going to get away with stealing your sister's clothes. If it doesn't work out, we just donate the whole thing to charity, yeah?" He then sits back, coughs a bit, and speaks again. "I want to surprise my girlfriend with some nice clothes, and you're the one person who knows her almost as well as I do who won't blab to her. Besides, for a guy you've got a pretty decent sense of taste."
Philipp sighs. "I guess so." He squirms in his seat.
They get off the bus and make their way to H&M. The music is blaring, some generic pop song neither of them really care for, and the aisles are packed with people, though miraculously no one they recognize. They gingerly make their way to the women's clothes section, trying their best to act nonchalant.
Philipp bites his lip and looks around anxiously, then reaches for one of the skirts on the rack. It's pretty short, layers of black lace over nude satin, enough to make it frill outwards in an A-line.
Andreas blinks at the sight, of Philipp looking over the skirt, pondering it. His mind fills in the blanks - Philipp's legs, muscled from years of football, smooth thanks to the Bayern massage therapist's insistance, peeping out under lace and satin. It's a profoundly bizarre image in Andreas' mind, but then there is something--something *else* to it, something unexpected. He pushes that thought away, swallows hard.
By now Philipp is staring at him, skirt in hand. "I think Pia will like this one," he says matter-of-factly.
Pia? Andreas wonders vaguely. He hadn't been aware that Philipp had a name in mind, or even that a name would be necessary. Is it just Philipp being smart and making up details for their little story as they go along?
Or is it Philipp himself, articulating his desire to transform by detailing the kind of girl he wants to become?
Andreas nods mutely and takes the skirt. He follows Philipp as he grabs a beige knit turtleneck sweater. They move to accessories, Philipp picking out a coral orange flowery hair clip, a thick gold-toned bangle, and matching clip-on earrings. Andreas moves towards the checkout line, but Philipp shakes his head and makes his way over to the intimates section.
"H-here, too?" Andreas asks, clearly uncomfortable. Unlike the rest of the place with white walls and the generic music playing, this area - practically its own room, really - is painted black, and speakers inside are playing a different tune, darker, more sensual. Is it really necessary to wear girls' underwear, too?
Philipp says nothing, merely picking up a pair of black satin panties. They look a little small, but Andreas says nothing - he only hopes Philipp knows what he's doing. He also picks up a pair of black tights. Then they move to the other side of the "room", and Philipp looks up and down at the bras, frowning. "Looks like they don't have any," he murmurs. He turns to Andreas and pouts. "There's something I think she'll like, something that will help her be more confident, but they don't sell any here," he explains. "I'll be doing some shopping by myself later, if you don't mind."
Andreas nods, trying to suppress any desire to ask questions, at least not in public. He wonders what it could be, what would help with "confidence". Indeed, this entire shopping trip has been a bit surreal - he's fairly sure Philipp has never done this before, or never to this extent, but he's been so sure of what he wants. It's perhaps not the same determination as he shows on the pitch, but there's a similar sureness of purpose. Is he just excited to finally be able to play out his fantasy? Or is this really where he feels confident and belongs, amongst beautiful fabrics and trendy accessories?
The two of them attract a lot of stares while at checkout - hard not to, two young men and an armful of ladies' clothes. Philipp spends the time stroking the skirt's edges, fiddling with them idly, studying the textures between long fingers. Andreas spends the time watching Philipp, wondering what is happening in his head, wondering what that extra piece is - and wondering how Philipp will look in what he's picked out, turtleneck and thick wool hiding his Adam's apple and wide shoulders, skirt flaring over ass and legs, smooth tights hiding bruises and stubble. Maybe she'd wear heels, really look like a model; or boots, in an attempt at practicality despite the ridiculousness; or flats, because she's tired of people claiming she's short.
She?
After paying for the clothes, Philipp stuffs a note into Andreas' hands before going off to get...whatever that was. The note is a list - a shopping list, with meticulous detail. It's awkward for sure, but nothing worse than whatever Philipp is getting, so Andreas shrugs and goes into the drugstore.
He wanders into the makeup aisle, hoping no one is staring. It's bright and colorful and highly confusing, stack after stack of creams and gels and powders. He begins at a large display of liquid foundation and squints. So many colors, so close to each other yet so far apart. Philipp's list names a color, but it appears to be sold out. He squints at the display - it has little cards on it to display the shades offered. He grabs a bottle from another brand and compares to the card Philipp named - nope, too pink. The next shade he grabs is weirdly orange. He finds the third shade close, but it's a little light; it'll have to do.
He grabs more things nearby - concealer in a similar shade (somehow the concealer Philipp specifies is in stock but not the foundation, how odd), a palette of neutral-toned eye shadows, a tube of mascara, a strange metal device meant to curl eyelashes, pressed powders of bronzer and blush, and pink lipstick and clear lip gloss - Philipp didn't specify a shade on the last one, so he hopes he chose something appropriate. Philipp doesn't mention anything else - not the remover solutions, nor any special brushes, so he moves on.
The rest of the list is pretty normal - sunscreen and aloe for practice, and the Kinder chocolate hippos they sneak in despite the strictness of the diet at the academy (hazelnut filling for Andreas, milk for Philipp). Time for checkout.
He approaches an empty register and puts his basket on the counter, saying nothing. The cashier is a young woman, probably not much older than Andreas. She is wearing thick-framed glasses and a tightly-pulled bun.
She runs each item in silence, looking down in concentration, ringing up each item then placing it in a bag in front of her. She only looks up to tell him the price - and her face is clearly shocked to see a man, not a woman.
Andreas says nothing and hands her some cash, just a little over exact change. He doesn't feel like justifying himself. While he's sure he could say something about running an errand for his girlfriend, he'll refrain.
She counts out the change and passes it back. He stuffs the coins into his pocket, and he can feel her eyes burning into the back of his head all the way across the pharmacy and out the door.
They had decided on a weekend when Andreas' parents were visiting extended family elsewhere in Bavaria, but the team had a game the next morning so Andreas couldn't join in. It was convenient really, almost excessively so, but it wasn't like they were going to have any other opportunity.
Philipp had, indeed, done his "separate shopping" - Andreas doesn't really want to know where he had found the corset, but it wasn't a bad one, skin-toned and simple. The wig was easier to explain, at least; it was almost Carnival, and even Andreas' uncles participated in "male ballet" now and then. Still, for a Carnival wig it was quite well-made and natural-looking, other than the texture which wasn't quite that of human hair (but didn't feel like plastic either).
He lays out every piece - panties, corset, improvised forms (dress socks with flour in them, made late at night after Andi's parents went to bed), sweater, skirt, tights, makeup, wig cap, wig - in order on the bed, checking and double checking for neatness. It's not until everything is in place that he notices he has been holding his breath, that his heart is pounding. He sits down at his desk chair, away from the door to the bathroom. "Fips? It's ready."
Philipp comes out, freshly showered, in his underwear. It's nothing Andreas hasn't seen before, dozens if not hundreds of times by now, but somehow it feels different - more vulnerable, more delicate. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes," Andreas replies. "I - I don't think I'll ever really understand it. But I want to. And I want to know...to know her as well as I know you, if she's really there. Because she's a part of you, if you're right."
Philipp smiles at that. It is that familiar, wide, honest smile - with a tinge of something else, of another emotion.
"Are you scared?"
"T - that's not quite it." Philipp takes a deep breath. Andreas starts getting up to approach Philipp, to comfort Philipp, but Philipp shakes his head. "I'll be okay. I just need to calm down a bit."
Andreas grips the armrests of his chair, trying to calm himself, get his heart rate back to normal. He's not sure why he's so nervous, so tense. They've been preparing for this moment for so long, yet it feels awfully intense, like he's going to explode. And well, it's not like he's the one dressing up like a girl. He can only imagine how it is for Philipp right now.
The underwear is on the floor now, and the panties are in shaking hands. Andreas can see Philipp is half hard already, and knows Philipp is trying to calm down, trying not to get so excited that he can't even continue. It's aggravating not being able to help.
After a few agonizing minutes, the panties are finally on. He exhales sharply, apparently relishing the sensation, then moves to tuck things into place, using their small size to hold everything together. The image of Philipp being completely normal except without that telltale bulge seems strange to Andreas, but it also signifies that things are really starting to happen.
After that is done, it goes more quickly, still in awkward, aching silence. Opaque tights go over legs with stubble and bruises from practice. Then the skirt gets pulled up, its layers doing an admirable job at creating the illusion of curves that aren't really there.
Andreas' heart is still pounding, but he realizes it's not about stress, it's not about tension. It's that same sensation that had Andreas choke up before when they were buying the clothes and he was just fantasizing, but now it's real, playing out before him. It's becoming about attraction, about wanting to touch, wanting to feel, wanting more. Despite his longing, he stays still, not allowing himself to speak, not allowing himself to move. Still, he aches in the silence, longing to help.
Slender arms slide into corset straps, shaking hands fasten it from bottom to top. Andreas hears the sharp intake of breath to make everything fit. The forms slide into place next, filling in curves that weren't there before. The sweater's pulled on, draping over new breasts and masking wide shoulders. The wig cap is stretched over short hair, smoothing things out.
"Come, sit here." Andreas gestures to a spot on the bed. He pulls the desk chair across the room to sit in front of his lover, and reaches for the makeup.
The foundation isn't quite the right shade - Philipp has gotten a lot of sun during practice, more than Andreas would have originally figured, but overall it seems okay, and it's not horribly off. It does help immensely to conceal peach fuzz, though freckles are sacrificed in the process. Some dots of concealer over the beginnings of a moustache and between the brows help too, brightening the face as a whole. It's not something Andreas would have noticed before now, but now that he has it changes the whole look of the face before him - softer and brighter than before. The eyeshadow and eyeliner adds a sheen to already beautiful eyes. Inexperienced hands fumble with the eyelash curler and mascara, but once it's on, it looks surprisingly natural. The lipstick makes lips look even more kissable and plump, though the shade is a little light. Andreas ignores the blush entirely, partially out of nervous forgetfulness and partially because even with the foundation there is a beautiful natural glow underneath - but he does his best to dust on some bronzer to create shadows down the jaw and below the cheekbones, to make things more natural, more feminine.
Finally, the wig goes on - the texture is weird, but it's otherwise quite nice, a brown fairly close to Philipp's natural shade, heavy bangs softening the sight of thick eyebrows, soft waves that land at the shoulders.
Andreas looks at Pia, and he knows he loves her.
This would be a real possibility, this would be a real thing. He would be proud to introduce her to his parents, to his friends, to his teammates. He would look to the stands to find her after scoring goals, would dedicate celebrations to her, blow kisses upwards. When the team go to Oktoberfest together, he could bring her along, smile as others stare at her in the finest dirndl he could buy her.
She's putting on the finishing touches now, the hair clip and bangle and earrings, then goes towards the full-length mirror on Andreas' closet door.
"I..." She still sounds like Philipp, of course, but it works, in its own way. "What do you think?" She nervously tucks her hair behind her ears, staring into the mirror, trying to decide how she feels.
"I think you look beautiful," Andreas says. He gets up, wraps his arms around her waist from behind, and leans his head on her shoulder. "Really, breathtaking," he whispers in her ear, sending a shiver up her spine.
"You really think I could pass?"
"I think so," he says, fervently. She's not the most typical girl - certainly those thick brows are rather unique, and her jaw is strong and her shoulders are wide - but it doesn't make her any less beautiful.
She's pouting into the mirror, unsure. "I don't know..." She sighs. "I don't think I could go outside like this."
"Don't worry, then," Andreas murmurs. "We can stay here. You'll be safe here." His hands move to her shoulders, kneading them. They feel tense even through the thick wool, and his mind wanders to his first time with Philipp, to similar levels of fear and tension - and strikingly similar levels of lust and desire.
Of course, this time he knows Pia shares his feelings. Underneath the layers, underneath the new identity, Pia is still Philipp - still the person Andreas fell in love with, the one who leaves small love notes and Kinder hippos inside Andi's locker, who showed him how to feed ducks in the English Garden lake, who taught him how to aim better at snooker, who strategizes at Pokemon almost as well as he does on the football pitch.
He kisses right behind her earlobe, then licks - it's a spot he knows well, and she shudders in his grip.
"Pia, do you want...?" He trails off, unsure of how to word himself. He knows despite her look the parts underneath are still male, and he doesn't want to push her into anything. Still, he wants her, to a level that surprises even himself, and it's taking him a lot of effort not to just ravage her.
She turns to face him, then leans up, kissing him gently. He cradles her head in his hands, rubs his thumb against her cheekbones. He feels the stickiness of lip gloss on his lips when she pulls away.
They move together to the bed, knocking aside the various bottles and palettes (thankfully all closed shut) to the carpeted floor. She lays underneath him, hair splayed out, legs spread, mascara already starting to smear. He kisses her again, deeper and more passionate, letting some of his weight rest on her, noting the strange firmness of her breasts against him.
"Beautiful," he whispers, looking over her body.
She's blushing, so much it's obvious even through the makeup, and her breaths are shallow. "I, uh." She gestures downwards with a bit of a wince. "Give me a second." She reaches down, under the skirt. He sees her hands shifting things around under there - undoing the tuck, he realizes. He hadn't even thought about that, about how uncomfortable that was for her.
Satisfied, she moves her hands back out of the way, then smiles again. Andreas smiles back, moving down to kiss her again, over and over, lips and cheek and jaw, letting one hand tangle in the wig and the other trail downwards. He's not sure how much of it she can feel, with the sweater and corset and all, but he can't help but want to touch her.
He kneels between her legs, taking another moment to just look at her spread before him, beautiful and overwhelmingly feminine despite his brain telling him the contrary. He wants to savor her, to take it slow, to tease every possible reaction from her while peeling her clothes off, layer by layer - but there goes his brain again, reminding him that taking off her top will destroy the illusion, and he doesn't want that.
So he moves down, gently stroking strong muscled calves, still somehow slender and elegant in the black tights. The texture in his hands is strange, slippery-smooth thanks to the spandex, unfamiliar and irresistable. She's squirming a bit - he's probably stradding the line between "erotic" and "ticklish", but he doesn't really mind, not when she looks so perfect and sweet and lovely and his.
He dips his head down, placing a small kiss on the side of her right knee, then moves upwards, slowly, peppering the inside of her thigh with kisses. His hand is following on the other side, tracing patterns on sensitive skin through the tights. She's breathing harder now, and out of the corner of his eye he can see her gripping the sheets tight at her sides - the first sign, he knows, of her starting to lose control.
Before he reaches the edge of her skirt, he moves his hands again, this time grabbing both ass cheeks and giving a firm squeeze, grinning. She squeals this time, something Philipp never did, which makes him chuckle.
"Like that, huh?" He flips the skirt up and out of the way, then peels the tights down to her knees. She's visibly hard under the panties, straining through the satin. He flutters kisses up and down the crease where her thigh and groin meet, and she whimpers. He steadies his hands on her hips, the fabric cool and soft under his hands, in contrast to Pia's warm skin.
He licks up her cock through the panties and she moans, loud, hands reaching to his scalp, gripping with long fingers. He obliges her, pulling the panties down just enough, then gently taking the tip in his mouth.
Some distant part of Andreas' brain is perfectly aware of how strange this is - sucking the cock of his girlfriend, taking one hand to play with her balls, pleasing her through masculine parts.
The rest is focused, heady, in the moment. She's moaning and whimpering in equal measure, lost in pleasure. Her hips thrust up to meet his mouth, and the skirt flies up with her movements, surrounding him in a billow of lace and satin. Her fingers continue to tangle in his hair. He can't see it from here, but he can imagine her face, makeup smeared, long hair tangled and askew, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.
He takes his hand off of her balls and pushes further, pressing firmly on that taut muscle behind. Her hips snap up, her legs close tight around his ears, and she moans so loudly it's close to a scream as she comes, hard. Andreas does what he can to swallow, lapping at her cock as she softens, cleaning as best as he can. She collapses in the aftermath, flopping onto the bed with a hard thud.
He gently pulls her panties and tights back in place, then moves up to kiss her lazily. She's clearly exhausted from the effort, and he doesn't blame her. She curls on her side and he takes his place behind her, letting her head rest on his arm.
"Hey, Andi?"
"Mm?"
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"Everything. Letting me try this. Loving me."
He chuckles. "I can't help but love you, Pia." He brushes aside some of her hair to kiss the back of her neck. He can't see it, but he knows she's smiling.
As they drift off to sleep, Andreas finds himself looking ahead to the future.
He has no idea what'll happen next. Will he ever get the opportunity to meet Pia again? Will she get the courage to go out in public, go out on a date together? Indeed, will she find this so exhilarating she'll seriously consider being female full time? Or will this all get brushed under the rug as Philipp ascends? What if he gets his professional contract at the end of the year? Where will Pia's dreams end and Philipp's begin, and where will Andreas fit in the middle of that?
There's only one way to find out - and it's by trying.
Notes and disclaimer: This fic is going to delve somewhat deeply into issues of gender identity. That is to say, this is not your average crossdressing fic. While of course I cannot make any claims about the real people I'm using as my characters, the story I am telling is based (very loosely) on a real one.
Many, many thanks to my small gaggle of supporters and betas, little_details and fucktasticfb for pure awesomeness, and Alice, as always (though she'd hate me for abusing the scientific method this way).
***
Their relationship starts out as an experiment.
It's the first match week of the season. Andreas is staying over at Philipp's place, as he often does - it's closer to the training grounds, so they would take the bus together at the crack of dawn tomorrow to join the team before traveling to the stadium. Philipp is pacing and fretting, clearly full of nerves, and it's enough to drive Andreas to drastic measures.
"Ugh, why can't you just relax?" Andreas whines. "We have to be up at four o'clock! You're going to feel like shit on the pitch if you can't sleep, you know."
"I can't just relax with what's ahead of us! What if we fail? What if I fail? We can't afford that."
Andreas sighs. "It's only the first match of the season, Fips, and it's not like you're about to be kicked off the team if we happen to not do well tomorrow. You know as well as I do how much the coaches adore you." The look on Philipp's face and his continued pacing tells Andreas that words alone aren't helping. "...How about I give you a massage? Would that help?"
Philipp suddenly stops pacing and looks at Andreas with an unreadable expression. "Y-yeah, I think that might." He peels off his t-shirt, then lays down on the bed, stomach down.
Andreas sits on the side of the bed and reaches down, starting with a gentle kneading of Philipp's shoulders. Philipp sighs softly, content to let Andreas dictate the flow of things. For a while, they stay like this, Andreas' hands moving to find and work through knots along the other boy's back, marveling at the smoothness and warmth of his skin.
Andreas knew - had known for a long time now, really - that his feelings about people were just a little complicated. It's not that he didn't like girls - he did, though none of his past crushes had ever worked out. It's just that unlike a lot of boys, well, Andreas sometimes liked boys.
It wasn't that he indiscriminately liked every person he met, either - it's just that some people happened to catch his eye. Sometimes, it was a girl, like the one with the short blonde hair and bright hazel eyes who sat in front of him in math class last year, who helped him when he was confused about logarithms, who he almost asked to a Carnival party but had never gotten the courage.
Sometimes, it was a boy - like right now. And it had been the same boy for years now, on and off, as much as Andreas would have denied it. The boy was smart and kind and generous, and a very talented footballer with a lot of potential. He wasn't very tall, and probably wouldn't be considered attractive by a lot of people. But to Andreas, he was extraordinarily handsome, and every time he smiled Andreas' heart would skip a beat.
And here he was, warm and soft under Andreas' hands, humming contently, eyes closed.
It was a risk, Andreas knew. Footballers weren't gay, it just didn't happen, wasn't supposed to happen. While his parents and friends might be okay with the idea, the club itself might not be. If they found out, it would be awkward at best, and they might even end up kicked out of the club if it truly went wrong.
But he had known Philipp all of his life, and trusted him deeply. If Philipp liked him back, they'd figure something out, some way to make it work without anyone knowing. And if he did not, the confession would stay in this room, at least. He had no idea what it'd do for their friendship, but he also knew sometimes you needed to take a risk.
Andreas takes a deep breath, like he does before a free kick, and takes his hands off of Philipp. "Um. Philipp?"
Philipp rolls over to face Andreas, and stretches, gently yawning. "Huh?"
"I, uh." Andreas looks to the side, unable to face Philipp. "I know this is really weird, but. Uh. I...I like you, Philipp." He braces himself for impact.
It's quiet for a moment, then Andreas feels movement - Philipp sitting up. He looks up to see Philipp biting his lip, thoughtful.
"I...I like you too, Andi," Philipp finally says, softly. "Have for a very long time." It's almost a whisper. "But I don't think we could ever..."
Andreas nods. If anyone has something to lose, it's Philipp. He's going to be captain this season, for the first time, and he's been praying and hoping for ages now that it'll be what jump starts him to finally joining the reserve team, finally going professional.
"You're right." Andreas sighs. "It probably isn't worth it. I just wish...wish we could find a way to make it anyway. Even if it's just our little secret. Even if I don't get to tell anyone."
Philipp nods and puts his arm around Andreas' shoulder. "Shall we try it, then? Our experiment. Our secret."
Andreas turns to Philipp and smiles. Philipp smiles back, warm and honest and sweet. Andreas reaches one hand to caress Philipp's jaw, then pulls him in for a kiss.
It's been a few months now since that first kiss.
They've worked very hard to present themselves as the close friends they've always been, and so far it seems to have worked. No one has batted an eye when they choose to stretch together, to pick each other when working in pairs, to sit together at Saturday lunch or at FCBII matches or on the bus. And of course, they continue to travel to and from practice together, usually to Philipp's for Andreas' parents to pick him up later that night.
They show love in small ways - sharing food more than they used to, leaving notes to each other in hidden places, letting small displays of affection slide (usually Andreas' hand resting on top of Philipp's when they sit together, or Philipp letting Andreas rest his head on his shoulder when he falls asleep on the team bus). The rare days they get without school or club obligations are spent together too, exploring the city, talking about everything and nothing.
It's not quite that simple, though. It often takes all of Andreas' strength to play in this routine without giving anything away, without holding Philipp's hand, without kissing him goodnight when they finally do part each day. To be fair, they've had a handful of opportunities to be more physical - times one person's family has been conveniently away, or when by some magic the rest of the team has left the dressing room before them - but they're few and far between. It's maddening, but to Andreas it seems like a necessary evil, something they'll never escape from as long as the situation stays as it is.
And so far, the season has been going well. Philipp has gotten even more play than usual, and the coach of FCBII has been watching as he makes excellent plays, excellent decisions. Indeed, Andreas has often being on the receiving end of those decisions on the pitch, and together they've helped make a lot of goals happen. The A-Juniors are at the top of the table, and it seems at last like all the stars are aligning for them to finally transition to playing as professionals.
When neither of them attend the school dance, their classmates assume it's just because there's early practice the next day so they can't stay out late. Their parents, however, think they're at the dance, to be with friends to relax. Neither of these are quite true, but this time they have, sitting on a bench deep in the English Garden, is one of the few chances they've had to be alone, away from everyone they know, away from prying eyes.
Andreas' hand is on Philipp's, which is gripping the edge of the bench. It's the only public display of affection Philipp will usually allow, because it's easy to pull away, and it's something people won't notice. It drives Andreas crazy, but for Philipp's sake and for his comfort he'll refrain from complaining.
Philipp leans back on the bench, looks out, seemingly past the lake. "I...I have a really weird idea. Do you promise not to mock me?"
"I promise. I'd never insult you." Andreas squeezes Philipp's hand. "What's your idea?"
"I... Iwanttobecomeagirl."
"...what was that?"
Philipp takes a deep breath in, shaky breath out. "I want to become a girl."
"Become a girl? Why?"
"I don't like being a boy. I don't like not being allowed to show my feelings. I don't understand most other boys, how they think, why they react the way they do. I've never wanted to harm anything in my life, despite every video game and movie telling me otherwise. I don't think my body even wants to be male - I still blush like a schoolgirl and I'll never be taller than 1.70 meters and my voice never quite cracked like anyone else's. I want to feel pretty. I want to have long hair and wear skirts and jewelry and makeup and nail polish." He takes another deep breath, looks around him, checking for people. "I...I also want the world to get that I love you." His voice is quavering - he wants to speak up but isn't letting himself. "I want to stop being afraid of showing that I love you. I can't do that like this."
Andreas lets go of Philipp's hand, pets Philipp's hair. "I like that you're caring and sweet. I find you very handsome, even if you're not a typical boy. The fact that you're not like the others just endears you to me, not make me want you to be something else. And, well, while it might be easier for me if I had a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend, it'll be a lot harder for you to explain suddenly changing gender." He sighs. "And what about football?"
Philipp looks aside, guiltily. "That's the thing, isn't it." He gulps. "I doubt I could continue playing if I did anything drastic. But still..." He turns to look at Andreas. "We're finding a way to make *this* work, despite football."
"That's very true." Andreas reaches down to squeeze Philipp's hand again. "I'm very grateful for it."
"Do you think you could help me, then?"
Andreas is silent for a while. "Perhaps. Will you give me some time to think things through?"
"Yeah, I can do that."
Later that week, at the match, Andreas is benched to give some other midfielders a chance to play. Philipp is starting.
While Andreas tries his hardest to watch the game as a whole, to analyze the team, to see where he would be wanted, he cannot help but stare at Philipp. Yes, Andreas finds Philipp to be physically attractive, handsome even - but that is not the only reason he is attracting his gaze. Philipp's manner with a football is, itself, breathtaking. It seems sometimes as if he has an extra sense just for knowing where the ball is and where it will go. He cannot use his size to physically block opponents like the other defenders, but he can tackle cleanly and quickly with the best of them, winning the ball with not even as much as a foul. His passes are well-strategized, always going to someone who will make the most of the given opportunity. He's not afraid to overlap to put himself in a good position, though, or to cut into the box to take a shot for himself - but he's not so foolish as to do it constantly and abandon his duties as a defender.
But if Philipp's hypothesis is correct - if he would, in fact, be happier as a woman - this would all be at risk to change.
Andreas knows that women play football, even professionally. He's watched a few games before; he followed the Women's World Cup a few years back, and managed to catch a few games of Bayern's women's team. They were good games, great games even, with great technical ability on par to many men. Certainly he would attend a clinic run by any of the players from that championship American women's team, and he'd be likely to learn a lot from them. But to be honest, he's not completely sure he remembers if they get paid, and if so how well. Certainly it's nothing like the world of men's football.
He knows Philipp is not after flashy endorsement deals or piles of money or other people worshipping at his feet. But he knows one thing - Philipp is competitive, and Philipp is driven. He has all the talent to make it in the world of men's football, at the highest level. With training, with drive, with the right team behind him - with these things, he'd be able to win the World Cup or the Champion's League, or even both if he was lucky.
Those things would be different as a woman, and the prestige would not be nearly the same.
But if Philipp is right, that means little compared to pure contentment, the sensation of being in the right skin. The sensation of finally knowing yourself and being yourself. If Philipp is right, this sensation is worth risking all of that, all of the fledgling career he's attempting to make.
Andreas can't really think of anything he'd sacrifice football for. Well, no. He would sacrifice football for Philipp, and that told him everything.
But what if he's wrong? Obviously he needs to go about this carefully, but where would he start?
Andreas is dimly aware that there are men out there who dress like women. He knows that Lilo Wanders wasn't born a woman, for instance. But they seem to all be so...flamboyant. Layer upon layer of ridiculous fabrics, thick makeup, and caked-on wigs. There has to be another way, right? A way for a man to become a woman, not a humorous trope?
Andreas decides to go explore for a while, take his bicycle around the city.
Andreas finds himself in Glockenbachviertel, which always strikes him as a strange place. It's certainly a gay neighborhood - erotic shops, gay bars, and the like - but he never found it very appealing, probably because he isn't your usual gay person. He still does like girls after all, at least to some degree, and he can't fathom being out of the closet, let alone flamboyantly out and proud like the people he'd seen at last year's Christopher Street Day parade.
Still, it is an interesting neighborhood to explore on a nice day, so he keeps on his bicycle. He's not sure what he's looking for, really, but he knows he'll find something interesting with which to pass the time.
He notices a sign - "Max & Milian," with a rainbow boa strung underneath - and peers into what looks to be a tiny bookstore. He parks his bike in front of a nearby bar. The bar is advertising a "crossdresser meetup night", but it seems dark and weird inside, so Andreas frowns and pushes on ahead towards the store.
He opens the door gently and looks around. It's packed full of books, almost floor to ceiling, in a rather cluttered and haphazard way; other piles are stocked with videos and calendars and other seemingly random artifacts about gay life. He sees a desk off to one side, and hears someone cursing about computer cables in that direction (presumably from under the desk), so he works his way there.
As he approaches, his shoulder knocks into one of the book piles and one topples off, which he catches. It's in English, so it takes him a moment to understand what it is, but he gets it soon enough - "Human Sex Change and Sex Reversal".
He blushes deeply, staring at the book, so absorbed in holding it that he doesn't notice that the person under the desk is now standing behind the desk, clearing his throat. "What brings you to Max & Milian?"
Andreas looks up to a large balding man, just barely old enough to be his father. "I--uh. Was just looking."
The man smirks. "Someone doesn't go 'just looking' around this part of town. Don't worry. Your secrets are safe here."
How did he know? Andreas wonders, and then he remembers - Glockvenbachviertel, rainbow boa on the sign, right. "I...well. Just needed to get out of the house a bit. My...my boyfriend said something weird a few days ago, and I'm trying to figure out what to do." Just the words "my boyfriend" feels strange on his tongue, but it's also a relief in a way, to finally be honest to someone, even if he is a stranger.
"What kind of weird?"
"Well..." He trails off, fiddling with the book still in his hands. "He talked about wanting to become a she."
"Ahh, transgender, eh?" The man looks thoughtful. "It's a very big jump, you know."
"I...I want him to be happy. But I worry what his future will be if he changes. I mean...I'm attracted to girls too, that part's not the problem. Heck, it'd probably be easier if I could present myself as straight. But it's him that I worry about. And I don't want to go into this lightly."
The man nods. "Well, gender's a funny thing, and it's good you're being careful. It's good you care about what things will be like for him, and his future."
"So...so what do you think I should do?"
"Well, why not just experiment? Privately, of course, no one has to see but the two of you. Snag some nice clothes from a girl the same size, a good wig, some makeup. See if he likes it. See if you like it." The man goes over to one of the piles of books, and shuffles through to find one. "How good is your English?"
"Okay, I guess. It's not the easiest thing, but I manage." Andreas frowns. "I don't really know if I can buy anything, though."
"Oh no, no, this little thing? This is nothing, really. If it'll help you, I want you to have it." He finds the book - Transformations: Crossdressers and Those Who Love Them. "Sadly, there's nothing here on men who love crossdressers, but you may like it anyway."
"Thanks." Andreas puts down the first book he was holding, and takes the new one. He'll have to find a place to hide it, but he can figure that out easy enough. There's a significant number of photographs - women and men dressed as women, interacting as friends, living normal lives. It's very different from the "ladies" with pancaked on makeup playing things for laughs or for shock value on television. "I appreciate it." He looks at his watch - it's getting late, and he doesn't want it to be too dark going across town to get back home. "I--I'd better get going, though."
"Good luck," the man says with a smile. "And let me know how you do, okay?"
"Yeah, will do."
"Why do we have to do this?" Philipp looks very, very stressed as they ride the bus together.
Andreas leans in to whisper in Philipp's ear. "Look, mom's clothing won't fit you, and you're not going to get away with stealing your sister's clothes. If it doesn't work out, we just donate the whole thing to charity, yeah?" He then sits back, coughs a bit, and speaks again. "I want to surprise my girlfriend with some nice clothes, and you're the one person who knows her almost as well as I do who won't blab to her. Besides, for a guy you've got a pretty decent sense of taste."
Philipp sighs. "I guess so." He squirms in his seat.
They get off the bus and make their way to H&M. The music is blaring, some generic pop song neither of them really care for, and the aisles are packed with people, though miraculously no one they recognize. They gingerly make their way to the women's clothes section, trying their best to act nonchalant.
Philipp bites his lip and looks around anxiously, then reaches for one of the skirts on the rack. It's pretty short, layers of black lace over nude satin, enough to make it frill outwards in an A-line.
Andreas blinks at the sight, of Philipp looking over the skirt, pondering it. His mind fills in the blanks - Philipp's legs, muscled from years of football, smooth thanks to the Bayern massage therapist's insistance, peeping out under lace and satin. It's a profoundly bizarre image in Andreas' mind, but then there is something--something *else* to it, something unexpected. He pushes that thought away, swallows hard.
By now Philipp is staring at him, skirt in hand. "I think Pia will like this one," he says matter-of-factly.
Pia? Andreas wonders vaguely. He hadn't been aware that Philipp had a name in mind, or even that a name would be necessary. Is it just Philipp being smart and making up details for their little story as they go along?
Or is it Philipp himself, articulating his desire to transform by detailing the kind of girl he wants to become?
Andreas nods mutely and takes the skirt. He follows Philipp as he grabs a beige knit turtleneck sweater. They move to accessories, Philipp picking out a coral orange flowery hair clip, a thick gold-toned bangle, and matching clip-on earrings. Andreas moves towards the checkout line, but Philipp shakes his head and makes his way over to the intimates section.
"H-here, too?" Andreas asks, clearly uncomfortable. Unlike the rest of the place with white walls and the generic music playing, this area - practically its own room, really - is painted black, and speakers inside are playing a different tune, darker, more sensual. Is it really necessary to wear girls' underwear, too?
Philipp says nothing, merely picking up a pair of black satin panties. They look a little small, but Andreas says nothing - he only hopes Philipp knows what he's doing. He also picks up a pair of black tights. Then they move to the other side of the "room", and Philipp looks up and down at the bras, frowning. "Looks like they don't have any," he murmurs. He turns to Andreas and pouts. "There's something I think she'll like, something that will help her be more confident, but they don't sell any here," he explains. "I'll be doing some shopping by myself later, if you don't mind."
Andreas nods, trying to suppress any desire to ask questions, at least not in public. He wonders what it could be, what would help with "confidence". Indeed, this entire shopping trip has been a bit surreal - he's fairly sure Philipp has never done this before, or never to this extent, but he's been so sure of what he wants. It's perhaps not the same determination as he shows on the pitch, but there's a similar sureness of purpose. Is he just excited to finally be able to play out his fantasy? Or is this really where he feels confident and belongs, amongst beautiful fabrics and trendy accessories?
The two of them attract a lot of stares while at checkout - hard not to, two young men and an armful of ladies' clothes. Philipp spends the time stroking the skirt's edges, fiddling with them idly, studying the textures between long fingers. Andreas spends the time watching Philipp, wondering what is happening in his head, wondering what that extra piece is - and wondering how Philipp will look in what he's picked out, turtleneck and thick wool hiding his Adam's apple and wide shoulders, skirt flaring over ass and legs, smooth tights hiding bruises and stubble. Maybe she'd wear heels, really look like a model; or boots, in an attempt at practicality despite the ridiculousness; or flats, because she's tired of people claiming she's short.
She?
After paying for the clothes, Philipp stuffs a note into Andreas' hands before going off to get...whatever that was. The note is a list - a shopping list, with meticulous detail. It's awkward for sure, but nothing worse than whatever Philipp is getting, so Andreas shrugs and goes into the drugstore.
He wanders into the makeup aisle, hoping no one is staring. It's bright and colorful and highly confusing, stack after stack of creams and gels and powders. He begins at a large display of liquid foundation and squints. So many colors, so close to each other yet so far apart. Philipp's list names a color, but it appears to be sold out. He squints at the display - it has little cards on it to display the shades offered. He grabs a bottle from another brand and compares to the card Philipp named - nope, too pink. The next shade he grabs is weirdly orange. He finds the third shade close, but it's a little light; it'll have to do.
He grabs more things nearby - concealer in a similar shade (somehow the concealer Philipp specifies is in stock but not the foundation, how odd), a palette of neutral-toned eye shadows, a tube of mascara, a strange metal device meant to curl eyelashes, pressed powders of bronzer and blush, and pink lipstick and clear lip gloss - Philipp didn't specify a shade on the last one, so he hopes he chose something appropriate. Philipp doesn't mention anything else - not the remover solutions, nor any special brushes, so he moves on.
The rest of the list is pretty normal - sunscreen and aloe for practice, and the Kinder chocolate hippos they sneak in despite the strictness of the diet at the academy (hazelnut filling for Andreas, milk for Philipp). Time for checkout.
He approaches an empty register and puts his basket on the counter, saying nothing. The cashier is a young woman, probably not much older than Andreas. She is wearing thick-framed glasses and a tightly-pulled bun.
She runs each item in silence, looking down in concentration, ringing up each item then placing it in a bag in front of her. She only looks up to tell him the price - and her face is clearly shocked to see a man, not a woman.
Andreas says nothing and hands her some cash, just a little over exact change. He doesn't feel like justifying himself. While he's sure he could say something about running an errand for his girlfriend, he'll refrain.
She counts out the change and passes it back. He stuffs the coins into his pocket, and he can feel her eyes burning into the back of his head all the way across the pharmacy and out the door.
They had decided on a weekend when Andreas' parents were visiting extended family elsewhere in Bavaria, but the team had a game the next morning so Andreas couldn't join in. It was convenient really, almost excessively so, but it wasn't like they were going to have any other opportunity.
Philipp had, indeed, done his "separate shopping" - Andreas doesn't really want to know where he had found the corset, but it wasn't a bad one, skin-toned and simple. The wig was easier to explain, at least; it was almost Carnival, and even Andreas' uncles participated in "male ballet" now and then. Still, for a Carnival wig it was quite well-made and natural-looking, other than the texture which wasn't quite that of human hair (but didn't feel like plastic either).
He lays out every piece - panties, corset, improvised forms (dress socks with flour in them, made late at night after Andi's parents went to bed), sweater, skirt, tights, makeup, wig cap, wig - in order on the bed, checking and double checking for neatness. It's not until everything is in place that he notices he has been holding his breath, that his heart is pounding. He sits down at his desk chair, away from the door to the bathroom. "Fips? It's ready."
Philipp comes out, freshly showered, in his underwear. It's nothing Andreas hasn't seen before, dozens if not hundreds of times by now, but somehow it feels different - more vulnerable, more delicate. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes," Andreas replies. "I - I don't think I'll ever really understand it. But I want to. And I want to know...to know her as well as I know you, if she's really there. Because she's a part of you, if you're right."
Philipp smiles at that. It is that familiar, wide, honest smile - with a tinge of something else, of another emotion.
"Are you scared?"
"T - that's not quite it." Philipp takes a deep breath. Andreas starts getting up to approach Philipp, to comfort Philipp, but Philipp shakes his head. "I'll be okay. I just need to calm down a bit."
Andreas grips the armrests of his chair, trying to calm himself, get his heart rate back to normal. He's not sure why he's so nervous, so tense. They've been preparing for this moment for so long, yet it feels awfully intense, like he's going to explode. And well, it's not like he's the one dressing up like a girl. He can only imagine how it is for Philipp right now.
The underwear is on the floor now, and the panties are in shaking hands. Andreas can see Philipp is half hard already, and knows Philipp is trying to calm down, trying not to get so excited that he can't even continue. It's aggravating not being able to help.
After a few agonizing minutes, the panties are finally on. He exhales sharply, apparently relishing the sensation, then moves to tuck things into place, using their small size to hold everything together. The image of Philipp being completely normal except without that telltale bulge seems strange to Andreas, but it also signifies that things are really starting to happen.
After that is done, it goes more quickly, still in awkward, aching silence. Opaque tights go over legs with stubble and bruises from practice. Then the skirt gets pulled up, its layers doing an admirable job at creating the illusion of curves that aren't really there.
Andreas' heart is still pounding, but he realizes it's not about stress, it's not about tension. It's that same sensation that had Andreas choke up before when they were buying the clothes and he was just fantasizing, but now it's real, playing out before him. It's becoming about attraction, about wanting to touch, wanting to feel, wanting more. Despite his longing, he stays still, not allowing himself to speak, not allowing himself to move. Still, he aches in the silence, longing to help.
Slender arms slide into corset straps, shaking hands fasten it from bottom to top. Andreas hears the sharp intake of breath to make everything fit. The forms slide into place next, filling in curves that weren't there before. The sweater's pulled on, draping over new breasts and masking wide shoulders. The wig cap is stretched over short hair, smoothing things out.
"Come, sit here." Andreas gestures to a spot on the bed. He pulls the desk chair across the room to sit in front of his lover, and reaches for the makeup.
The foundation isn't quite the right shade - Philipp has gotten a lot of sun during practice, more than Andreas would have originally figured, but overall it seems okay, and it's not horribly off. It does help immensely to conceal peach fuzz, though freckles are sacrificed in the process. Some dots of concealer over the beginnings of a moustache and between the brows help too, brightening the face as a whole. It's not something Andreas would have noticed before now, but now that he has it changes the whole look of the face before him - softer and brighter than before. The eyeshadow and eyeliner adds a sheen to already beautiful eyes. Inexperienced hands fumble with the eyelash curler and mascara, but once it's on, it looks surprisingly natural. The lipstick makes lips look even more kissable and plump, though the shade is a little light. Andreas ignores the blush entirely, partially out of nervous forgetfulness and partially because even with the foundation there is a beautiful natural glow underneath - but he does his best to dust on some bronzer to create shadows down the jaw and below the cheekbones, to make things more natural, more feminine.
Finally, the wig goes on - the texture is weird, but it's otherwise quite nice, a brown fairly close to Philipp's natural shade, heavy bangs softening the sight of thick eyebrows, soft waves that land at the shoulders.
Andreas looks at Pia, and he knows he loves her.
This would be a real possibility, this would be a real thing. He would be proud to introduce her to his parents, to his friends, to his teammates. He would look to the stands to find her after scoring goals, would dedicate celebrations to her, blow kisses upwards. When the team go to Oktoberfest together, he could bring her along, smile as others stare at her in the finest dirndl he could buy her.
She's putting on the finishing touches now, the hair clip and bangle and earrings, then goes towards the full-length mirror on Andreas' closet door.
"I..." She still sounds like Philipp, of course, but it works, in its own way. "What do you think?" She nervously tucks her hair behind her ears, staring into the mirror, trying to decide how she feels.
"I think you look beautiful," Andreas says. He gets up, wraps his arms around her waist from behind, and leans his head on her shoulder. "Really, breathtaking," he whispers in her ear, sending a shiver up her spine.
"You really think I could pass?"
"I think so," he says, fervently. She's not the most typical girl - certainly those thick brows are rather unique, and her jaw is strong and her shoulders are wide - but it doesn't make her any less beautiful.
She's pouting into the mirror, unsure. "I don't know..." She sighs. "I don't think I could go outside like this."
"Don't worry, then," Andreas murmurs. "We can stay here. You'll be safe here." His hands move to her shoulders, kneading them. They feel tense even through the thick wool, and his mind wanders to his first time with Philipp, to similar levels of fear and tension - and strikingly similar levels of lust and desire.
Of course, this time he knows Pia shares his feelings. Underneath the layers, underneath the new identity, Pia is still Philipp - still the person Andreas fell in love with, the one who leaves small love notes and Kinder hippos inside Andi's locker, who showed him how to feed ducks in the English Garden lake, who taught him how to aim better at snooker, who strategizes at Pokemon almost as well as he does on the football pitch.
He kisses right behind her earlobe, then licks - it's a spot he knows well, and she shudders in his grip.
"Pia, do you want...?" He trails off, unsure of how to word himself. He knows despite her look the parts underneath are still male, and he doesn't want to push her into anything. Still, he wants her, to a level that surprises even himself, and it's taking him a lot of effort not to just ravage her.
She turns to face him, then leans up, kissing him gently. He cradles her head in his hands, rubs his thumb against her cheekbones. He feels the stickiness of lip gloss on his lips when she pulls away.
They move together to the bed, knocking aside the various bottles and palettes (thankfully all closed shut) to the carpeted floor. She lays underneath him, hair splayed out, legs spread, mascara already starting to smear. He kisses her again, deeper and more passionate, letting some of his weight rest on her, noting the strange firmness of her breasts against him.
"Beautiful," he whispers, looking over her body.
She's blushing, so much it's obvious even through the makeup, and her breaths are shallow. "I, uh." She gestures downwards with a bit of a wince. "Give me a second." She reaches down, under the skirt. He sees her hands shifting things around under there - undoing the tuck, he realizes. He hadn't even thought about that, about how uncomfortable that was for her.
Satisfied, she moves her hands back out of the way, then smiles again. Andreas smiles back, moving down to kiss her again, over and over, lips and cheek and jaw, letting one hand tangle in the wig and the other trail downwards. He's not sure how much of it she can feel, with the sweater and corset and all, but he can't help but want to touch her.
He kneels between her legs, taking another moment to just look at her spread before him, beautiful and overwhelmingly feminine despite his brain telling him the contrary. He wants to savor her, to take it slow, to tease every possible reaction from her while peeling her clothes off, layer by layer - but there goes his brain again, reminding him that taking off her top will destroy the illusion, and he doesn't want that.
So he moves down, gently stroking strong muscled calves, still somehow slender and elegant in the black tights. The texture in his hands is strange, slippery-smooth thanks to the spandex, unfamiliar and irresistable. She's squirming a bit - he's probably stradding the line between "erotic" and "ticklish", but he doesn't really mind, not when she looks so perfect and sweet and lovely and his.
He dips his head down, placing a small kiss on the side of her right knee, then moves upwards, slowly, peppering the inside of her thigh with kisses. His hand is following on the other side, tracing patterns on sensitive skin through the tights. She's breathing harder now, and out of the corner of his eye he can see her gripping the sheets tight at her sides - the first sign, he knows, of her starting to lose control.
Before he reaches the edge of her skirt, he moves his hands again, this time grabbing both ass cheeks and giving a firm squeeze, grinning. She squeals this time, something Philipp never did, which makes him chuckle.
"Like that, huh?" He flips the skirt up and out of the way, then peels the tights down to her knees. She's visibly hard under the panties, straining through the satin. He flutters kisses up and down the crease where her thigh and groin meet, and she whimpers. He steadies his hands on her hips, the fabric cool and soft under his hands, in contrast to Pia's warm skin.
He licks up her cock through the panties and she moans, loud, hands reaching to his scalp, gripping with long fingers. He obliges her, pulling the panties down just enough, then gently taking the tip in his mouth.
Some distant part of Andreas' brain is perfectly aware of how strange this is - sucking the cock of his girlfriend, taking one hand to play with her balls, pleasing her through masculine parts.
The rest is focused, heady, in the moment. She's moaning and whimpering in equal measure, lost in pleasure. Her hips thrust up to meet his mouth, and the skirt flies up with her movements, surrounding him in a billow of lace and satin. Her fingers continue to tangle in his hair. He can't see it from here, but he can imagine her face, makeup smeared, long hair tangled and askew, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.
He takes his hand off of her balls and pushes further, pressing firmly on that taut muscle behind. Her hips snap up, her legs close tight around his ears, and she moans so loudly it's close to a scream as she comes, hard. Andreas does what he can to swallow, lapping at her cock as she softens, cleaning as best as he can. She collapses in the aftermath, flopping onto the bed with a hard thud.
He gently pulls her panties and tights back in place, then moves up to kiss her lazily. She's clearly exhausted from the effort, and he doesn't blame her. She curls on her side and he takes his place behind her, letting her head rest on his arm.
"Hey, Andi?"
"Mm?"
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"Everything. Letting me try this. Loving me."
He chuckles. "I can't help but love you, Pia." He brushes aside some of her hair to kiss the back of her neck. He can't see it, but he knows she's smiling.
As they drift off to sleep, Andreas finds himself looking ahead to the future.
He has no idea what'll happen next. Will he ever get the opportunity to meet Pia again? Will she get the courage to go out in public, go out on a date together? Indeed, will she find this so exhilarating she'll seriously consider being female full time? Or will this all get brushed under the rug as Philipp ascends? What if he gets his professional contract at the end of the year? Where will Pia's dreams end and Philipp's begin, and where will Andreas fit in the middle of that?
There's only one way to find out - and it's by trying.