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Aunt Rose Change Me Into Girl (Again) - Part 2
🕑 Added 2025-08-08 13:53:00 +0000 UTCThe morning started like any other: eucalyptus oil on my feet, ginger-flavored tea, and Pilates on the balcony. I wore a pale blue linen tunic with embroidered cuffs, the one Aunt Rose said brought out my "peaceful vibe."
I didn't argue, I actually loved it! But inside, my stomach was doing little flips because today was college acceptance day. My SAT scores and applications were coming out online, and I'd barely touched my chia pudding at breakfast.
"Nervous?" Aunt Rose asked, watching me stir my spoon endlessly.
"A little," I admitted, my palms already feeling a bit clammy.
She calmly sipped her tea. "You did the work, the result just shows your effort, it doesn't say anything about your worth." Easy for her to say!
I finally opened my laptop, fingers shaking a bit as I typed in my application ID. The screen loaded slower than usual—almost like it knew I wasn't ready. And then the acceptance letter popped up: "Congratulations, Rome Lopez, you've been admitted to the School of Hospitality Management at DePaul University!" I just stared at the screen, blinking.
Not a rejection! But a solid acceptance to a top program! My best essay was on sustainable food practices. Funny thing, my lowest was in math, but even that was a pass. I didn't even realize I'd gasped until Aunt Rose walked over and gently put a hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at her.
"Well done," she said. "Now, tell me. Do you believe you were a mistake?"
Those words hit deep. My parents had always said that, kind of jokingly, that I was born by accident. I'd told myself that so many times, I forgot it might not actually be true. I looked back at the screen. DePaul University, after everything. She squeezed my shoulder once, then let go. "Good, now that your mind is calm." It was just starting!
The congratulatory texts started flooding in soon after the results were out. "Dude, DePaul?! Whattt!"
"Party tonight! Lincoln Park, 5 PM. You coming?"
"You better not ditch this, genius." It was my old crew—Leo, Noah, Ethan, all the guys I used to hang out with after school, chilling at arcades, eating deep-dish pizza, and just having fun. I hadn't seen them in months.
My thumb hovered over the reply button. My heart, which had been bursting with pride just an hour ago, now started to twist with a little bit of pleasant unease. What would they say when they saw me?
Back then, I was "the lazy guy in baggy hoodies and flip-flops." But now? I looked down at myself. Smooth, glowing skin, fingernails neat and shiny. My arms were wrapped in a soft lilac cotton tunic with slits on the sides.
My pants tapered neatly at the ankle, with embroidery Aunt Rose had called "subtle but grounding." Even my eyebrows had been gently threaded by Aunt Rose just a week ago during a wonderful "grooming detox." I didn't look like them anymore.
I stood in front of the mirror, biting my lower lip. If I showed up like this, they'd stare. Whisper, laugh, maybe worse. I slowly opened my closet, and it was full of light fabrics, pastels, and straight cuts, not a single hoodie anywhere. Panic surged, just a tiny bit.
I walked into the hall. Aunt Rose was tenderly watering the succulent plant on the balcony. She turned as I stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Your friends?"
I nodded. "They're meeting at Lincoln Park. I don't know if I should go. I don't even know what to wear."
She paused, set the watering can down gently, and looked at me—not with pity or pressure, but with steady patience. "You're scared they'll see you," she said.
"Yeah," I whispered.
She walked over, took both my hands, and looked into my eyes. "They will see you. The real question is—will you see yourself? You can hide in old clothes, or you can show them who you're becoming."
"If it helps," she said with a gentle smile, "pick something neutral, blend in, but don't erase yourself. I'll help you choose." A few minutes later, we decided on a light dove-grey cotton tunic, tailored straight, no embroidery. Paired with soft black tapered pants and simple low-heeled loafers.
The sun was starting to set as I slid into the back seat of the yellow taxi waiting near Aunt Rose's building. My heart pounded with a steady mix of nerves and exciting uncertainty. I was dressed in the dove-grey tunic and black tapered pants we had carefully picked out. It wasn't flashy. It wasn't loud. Just clean, well-fitting, and wonderfully soft.
Still, I couldn't stop fixing my sleeves. I kept checking my reflection in the car window, wondering if my skin was glowing too much, if my eyebrows were too neat, if the faint rose smell from my moisturizer would seem weird.
The driver was an older guy, maybe in his mid-fifties, with tired eyes and an old blues song playing softly on the radio. We were halfway to Lincoln Park when he looked at me in the rearview mirror and casually asked, "Ma'am, should I drop you near the fountain, or by the zoo entrance?"
Ma'am. I froze. I didn't correct him. I couldn't, my throat locked up. He hadn't meant anything by it; it was just my voice, the clothes, my smooth face. And in that one word—said so casually—I felt the ground under my feet wonderfully shift.
"Fountain is fine, thanks," I managed to say, my voice low, flat, neutral. He nodded. But I happily shrank into the seat, my fingers tightening on my phone. Was this what people saw when they looked at me now? And if so... was it wrong? Not at all!
I stepped out of the taxi as he pulled up to the fountain. I paid in silence, adjusting my tunic as I turned toward the park's sprawling green. The cool breeze hit me, and it was wonderfully calming.
Inside, I spotted them—Leo, Noah, and Ethan, standing near the statue, already cracking up about something.
Same as always in cargo shorts and sports tees, holding soda cups and bags of chips. I straightened up, took a breath. I walked slowly toward them. As I was almost there, I saw their eyes pass over me once and then again, but they didn't quite get it. I cleared my throat. "Hey." They all turned. And blinked.
"Uh... sorry, do we—?" Noah started, then squinted. "Wait... Rome?!"
A moment of silence. Then a mix of happy shock and confused laughter. "No way, dude. That's not you. What the hell happened?" Leo said, half-joking, half-staring like I was some wonderful new prank.
I smiled awkwardly. "Yeah, it's me."
Ethan tilted his head, looking me up and down. "Bro, you look like someone's older sister who just left a wellness retreat. You glowing or something?"
Noah leaned closer, still not sure. "Is this, like... a thing now? Are you—" He lowered his voice a little. "Are you... transitioning or whatever?" The question hit me like a gentle tap. I didn't even know if he meant to be rude, but it made me think. Was I? I wanted to say no instantly. But I didn't. Because I didn't know what this was. I didn't have a label.
"I don't know," I finally said, my voice quiet but clear. "Maybe I'm just figuring things out."
They all went quiet. Leo was the first to shrug. "Well, okay, whatever, man. You still got into DePaul, so clearly something's working!"
Noah chuckled, a little awkwardly. "You do look... kind of healthy, like, expensive skincare healthy!"
That broke the tension. I laughed too. "You have no idea!"
At the park's food truck area, we grabbed a picnic table. They didn't bring it up again, not directly, but they looked at me differently now, with a new kind of friendly curiosity. After the initial shock wore off and our hot dogs were totally gone, the boys decided to catch a movie.
Something loud, full of explosions and jokes, which I probably would've found hilarious two months ago. I agreed, more because I was just happily going with the flow than because I was interested in the movie.
As we walked into the multiplex lobby, past the popcorn stand and digital movie posters, I noticed a small promo counter set up under a light pink banner. A smiling young woman stood behind it, dressed in a super chic floral jumpsuit and platform heels, waving tiny bottles of nail polish like they were perfume samples.
"CALL ME OVER—Quick-Dry Matte Nail Lacquer! Try a FREE shade that matches your energy!"
I smiled at the pun, just as her eyes met mine; her face instantly lit up. "Oh, hi! You'd look so good in this nude mocha shade!" she chirped, stepping toward me with easy confidence.
"Come—it just takes a minute!" Before I could even respond, she reached for my hand, already uncapping a slim bottle of matte brown polish. I froze, but in a wonderfully surprised way. She thought I was a girl!
My hair, which now fell just below my shoulder in soft, oil-nourished waves, had been clipped back that day with a tortoiseshell pin Aunt Rose had casually handed me last week. My nails were clean and neatly shaped from my Aunt Rose's constant grooming sessions.
My tunic was flowing, and my wrists were delicate. And in that moment, to this girl, I was just... another girl. I should have corrected her, but a part of me didn't want to. I should've just laughed it off, pulled my hand away, and said, "Sorry, I'm not who you think."
But I didn't. I just stood there, watching as she expertly brushed the smooth matte brown across each of my fingernails, chatting happily the whole time.
"You've got gorgeous fingers, by the way, like, so slender. You should try our coral shade sometime!"
"Thanks," I said softly; my voice sounded wonderfully new to me. The polish dried almost instantly, and my fingers looked so elegant.
"Oh my god," Noah muttered, half-laughing. "Dude, did you just get a free manicure?" I turned to look at them. Ethan shook his head, but he was smiling. "Only you would walk into a mall and leave with better nails than my girlfriend!"
Tension and realization—we walked into the movie theater after that, lights dimmed. But I barely watched the movie. I was too busy happily staring at my nails.
Halfway through the movie, I whispered that I needed to use the washroom. Noah leaned over and pointed toward the lobby. "Go quick before the movie starts.
You'll miss the good explosions!" I nodded and slipped out quietly, arms crossed in front of me, wonderfully aware. Just outside the theater, as I looked around for the restroom signs, Leo suddenly showed up behind me. "Hey—wait," he said, hesitating a bit. "You're not seriously going into the men's, are you?"
I blinked. "Why not?"
He scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, just saying... you're kinda dressed like..." He gestured vaguely at me, eyes flicking toward the long tunic, the slim pants, and the neatly painted matte brown nails.
"You'd probably get fewer weird looks in the gender-neutral one." I looked at him, trying to tell if he was messing with me; he wasn't. He was trying to help, in his own awkward, limited, but sweet way. I nodded slowly. "Yeah. Okay."
I turned and headed toward the accessible washroom; my loafers clicked softly on the tile floor. I stood at the door for a moment before going in, my reflection in the brushed metal panel catching my eye.
My long hair was clipped neatly to the side. I didn't look like the boy I used to be. I washed my hands slowly, watching the water run over my fingers, streaking through the mocha polish, which I didn't wipe off.
The movie was over, but none of us were in a hurry to leave. We wandered through the mall, laughing, teasing each other, slipping back into the comfy vibe like old times. Back in high school, we'd made a pact: after graduation, we'd meet up, watch a movie, and swap gifts.
Nothing expensive—just thoughtful, fun stuff within our student budgets. Somehow, even after all that time apart and everything that had changed, we had all remembered.
We split up for a bit to go shopping, each of us pretending we didn't see the others ducking into different stores.
The rules were simple—buy something small and meaningful. I found a deep red polo shirt for Ethan. He'd always been into bright colors, and the shirt just screamed "sports!" I pictured him wearing it to one of those casual college matches, sleeves rolled up, yelling at the umpire like old times.
Noah came back with a sleek navy blue college backpack for Leo, practical and stylish. Ethan got Noah a black digital watch, classic and minimal, something he'd totally forget to wear but still keep.
Then it was my turn. We met near the atrium fountain, glowing softly under the skylight. Everyone passed around their small gifts, laughing. And then Leo pulled something out of his shopping bag, walked over to me, and handed me a flat, neatly wrapped box.
"Here," he said, his voice light but careful. "It's... just something I saw; I thought it'd suit you."
I blinked. "Me?" I unwrapped it slowly. Inside was a sky-blue cotton dress—simple, sleeveless, with a soft A-line shape and tiny white embroidery along the edges. It was totally girly and utterly beautiful. For a second, I just stared at it, not sure if I was supposed to laugh or cry, but I felt a warmth spread through me.
"I mean," Ethan said, trying to act cool, "it's kinda bold, but... I don't know."
Leo added, "You don't have to wear it or anything."
I ran my fingers over the fabric. It was silkier than anything I'd ever bought for myself. I looked at them—all of them. I looked back down at the dress and smiled. "Thank you," I said softly. "It's... beautiful."
Leo gave a slight shrug, a happy little smile on his face. The soft blue cotton of the dress rested in my hands like it weighed more than it should, but in the best way.
And then Noah laughed—not nicely, not playfully, but with that sharp edge of discomfort. "Dude... what? A dress? Really?" I looked up, startled, as Ethan leaned over to see inside the box and snorted. “Leo, what are you doing, man? He’s not a girl.”
“I know that,” Leo replied, sounding more defensive now. “I just saw it and thought—”
“Thought what?” Noah cut in. “That he’d wear this to college? Or what?”
Ethan folded his arms. “Look, we’ve been cool about the... new look. The face creams, the soft clothes, the tunic vibes. Whatever. But this?” He nodded toward the dress in my hands. “This is taking it too far.”
The silence after that was loud. Leo opened his mouth, then closed it again. No one looked at me. I swallowed hard. And they didn’t know what to do with that.
“I didn’t ask for the dress,” I said finally, quietly. “But I like it.”
Noah gave a quiet scoff. “You like it?”
I looked up at them, no longer trying to shrink. “Yeah. I like how it feels.”
Leo looked between us all and muttered, “Forget it, man. You guys are making it a bigger deal than it is.”
I held the box close to my chest. Ethan and Noah didn’t say another word. They just exchanged glances. The laughter was gone. The comfort of old friendships suddenly felt far away. The mood was different as we walked toward the mall exit. The earlier buzz of friendship had faded, replaced with an awkward silence.
Ethan and Noah walked a little ahead, not talking much, both stealing occasional glances back at me. At the glass doors, just before stepping out into the warm Chicago night, Ethan turned and muttered, “Just be a man, dude.”
Noah added, more like a joke but not really, “Yeah. Before this goes too far.”
I didn’t respond because what could I say to that? That I didn’t know what being a man meant anymore? They didn’t wait for answers; they just nodded their goodbyes and disappeared into the crowd. Only Leo stayed behind. He stood next to me quietly as I opened my phone to book a ride-share.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded. “Not really, but I will be.”
He looked at the dress box still tucked under my arm, then back at me. “You don’t owe them anything, you know. Just... give them time. Or don’t.”
I gave him a small smile. “Why’d you stay?”
He shrugged. “Because you looked like someone who shouldn’t have to leave alone tonight.”
My phone buzzed, and the Uber was two minutes away. We stood in silence until the black sedan pulled up to the curb. I opened the door, paused, and looked back at him. “Thanks,” I said.
He gave a small nod, hands in his pockets. “You’ll look good in it, if you ever decide to wear it.”
And as I sat in the back seat of the Uber, the city lights flickered past the windows. The ride home was quiet, but my thoughts were loud and wonderfully full. The box rested on my lap the whole way. I kept replaying their voices—“Be a man”—but strangely, it wasn’t anger I felt.
Just as I stepped out onto the sidewalk outside our Wicker Park brownstone, my phone buzzed.
Leo Hey. Are you home safe?
I typed back: Just reached. Thanks for waiting.
I walked quietly into the loft. Aunt Rose was in the kitchen, placing her glass water bottle in the fridge. She glanced at me and said nothing at first—just gave me that calm, knowing look she always did when she sensed something wonderful had happened.
“You’re late,” she said gently, wiping her hands.
I nodded. “Can I… show you something?”
Without waiting for her answer, I walked to my room. I closed the door, opened the box slowly, and pulled out the dress. When I stepped into the hallway, Aunt Rose was already waiting. She looked up and smiled. Proud, as if she’d seen this version of me long before I had.
She retrieved her phone from the side table, adjusted the sheer curtains for better light, and raised her camera. “Look at me.” I posed awkwardly at first, unsure. But her encouragement made me smile, then laugh. Soon, I was twirling—just a little—watching the hem of the dress flutter beautifully around my knees. She took half a dozen amazing pictures.
Comments
Alexandra Shiach
Didn't see it this way I thought Aunt Rose would have been more involved in the transformation into dresses and such
My Freeze
Finding him self.
