(SISSY/FEMINIZATION STORY, 18 )
CJ Jackson was a college jock, a lacrosse star, and a man who thought he had life figured out-until it all came crashing down. Expelled from Westbridge University and facing jail time for breaking the law, he's given...
CJ shoved the shovel into the dirt and wiped the sweat from his brow. His hair, now longer than he could remember it ever being, clung to his forehead in damp strands. He tried brushing it back with his hand, but it only flopped down again, more annoying with every passing second.
"Hey, CJ!" one of the girls called from a few feet away. It was Harper, the blonde he'd been half-flirting with all week. She grinned, tossing her braid over her shoulder as she jogged up to him. "Your hair's getting a little... wild."
CJ groaned. "Tell me about it. It's like this stuff grew overnight."
"Want me to help?" she offered, pulling an elastic band from her wrist. "I could braid it or tie it back—keep it out of your face."
"A braid?" CJ scoffed, shaking his head. "Not happening."
Harper rolled her eyes, stepping closer. "Okay, no braid. But trust me, you'll thank me for this." Without waiting for his approval, she grabbed a comb from her pocket and started working on his hair.
"Wait, what are you—" CJ began, but her hands were quick and precise, smoothing his hair back into a neat ponytail before securing it with the band.
"There," she said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. "Much better."
CJ glanced at his reflection in the window of the barn, frowning at the way his hair now sat neatly tied at the back of his head. It looked... different. Too clean. Too tidy.
"I look like a yoga instructor," he muttered.
Harper laughed, giving him a playful nudge. "You look fine. At least now you won't be eating your hair while you work."
CJ grumbled under his breath but left the ponytail in place. As much as he hated to admit it, it was practical. And maybe—just maybe—it didn't look half bad.
CJ slammed the bag of feed onto the ground, panting. His muscles burned in a way they hadn't since his first week on the farm. Everything felt heavier, harder, like the work had suddenly doubled in intensity.
"Taking a break already?" Aiden called from a few feet away, his voice light but teasing.
CJ shot him a glare, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Shut up, man. I've been hauling these bags all morning."
Aiden, as usual, didn't look the least bit tired. His shirt clung to his chest, damp with sweat, but his movements were steady and sure as he hoisted another bag onto his shoulder. CJ's eyes followed the flex of Aiden's muscles—his broad shoulders, the curve of his biceps, the way his back tensed as he moved.
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He swallowed hard, a strange heat creeping up his neck.
What the hell am I doing? he thought, tearing his gaze away. But his mind betrayed him, replaying the image of Aiden's effortless strength. The sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair stuck to his forehead in messy strands...
CJ shook his head, the heat spreading to his chest. He forced himself to look down at his boots, pretending to check his laces.
"You good?" Aiden asked, glancing over with a faint frown.
"Yeah, yeah," CJ muttered, standing up and grabbing another bag. "Just... taking a second."
He turned away quickly, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder. His heart thudded against his ribs, and not from the work. He couldn't let himself think like that—about Aiden, of all people.
As he carried the bag toward the barn, CJ clenched his jaw, pushing the thoughts away with stubborn force. It's just the heat, he told himself. And exhaustion. That's all.
But even as he worked, he couldn't shake the lingering image of Aiden's effortless strength—or the way it had made his stomach twist in ways he didn't understand.
