Journal Of An Enhanced Puberty free porn video

Throughout the first few years of middle school just about everyone spent a lot of time debating what choice they'd make for their Enhanced Puberty. There were about a dozen possible choices, but the majority of kids tended to stick to the big two named "Cheerleadest" and "Footballest", mostly down gender lines. (There's no restriction actually, and some kids do swap genders with Enhanced Puberty.) I couldn't decide; just about all the options had some appeal of some sort. Of course, you only get the one shot at Enhancing your Puberty (even if you are poor and can't afford it now that the Level Playing Field Act of 2032 passed), and thus far the technology that makes Enhanced Puberty possible only seems to work if taken before actual puberty starts. So the decision is made frighteningly early, and I certainly couldn't decide. Decisions, decisions. My teacher, Ms. Winkler, asked me to start this journal thinking it might help me decide, but I didn't start it quite for that reason. (I started it to privately have some place to admit the very illegal thing that I did, but we shall get to that shortly.) Most of the other kids in my class were already doing the sorts of things that is typical as the Enhanced Puberty decision nears: splitting into game teams as the Cheerleadest set pretend to do cheers and debate how hot they might look in a few weeks. The Footballest crowd takes over the school yard every chance they get and play some variation of every sport they can think to try, most of them not well. The small collection of oddballs that want more average bodies, one of the other more rare options, or are forbidden by parents and/or religion, all tend to just watch with chagrin. I would hang out with all of them. It's fun to imagine being amazing at sports or being the hot barbie doll that entices those manly athletes to victory (and/or certain types of interesting defeat). It's also easy to realize that High Schools aren't just Cheerleader practice and Football games. Not everyone that takes Cheerleadest or Footballest will go on to actually do anything with it. They just become part of the growing population of boringly hot people. That's why it's also fun to hang out with the oddballs. Originally there were plans for more than just the basic dozen Enhanced Puberty choices, but they kind of fell by the wayside when it became clear that the Cheerleadest and Footballest would dominate sales. The oddballs would play games debating what options never made it past R&D, and what sort of things might happen if you could mix and match. Those debates never failed to excite me, in ways I couldn't quite express, other than the obvious expression of the boners I would get from them. (I worked hard to hide those. It's rather embarrassing to even admit that I had those boners to this journal.) In taking so long to decide, I ended up becoming a good assistant to our teacher in charge of the Enhanced Puberty program at our tiny little public school. Because it was so small, Ms. Winkler, was extremely over- worked and performed triple duty as the school's social studies teacher, guidance counselor, and EP coordinator. I worked to learn a lot about how EP works and the laws about strictly monitoring how it is used and making sure each student gets the appropriate, required dose. Because of the Level Playing Field Act just about everyone was allowed to join the EP program, but the strange trade off was that what was once a trained Pharmaceutical job became the role of overworked teachers. I worked myself into the position of helping Ms. Winkler with the EP dosage machine. The machine itself was surprisingly a lot like your typical soda fountain, mixing whatever the raw components are into a mostly sort of drinkable sludge. The cups are pre-measured with dosage lines and once full a lid with that student's name on it is locked into place. The lids have the student's dosage choice written on it and somehow if the lid is sealed onto the wrong dosage the name fades away and a red bar takes its place. (Those mistake cups get fed back into the machine and a new lid has to be printed.) Warnings are placed all over the machine about not overfilling a dosage cup (although a trough is provided for spills, and I would assume recycles the overflows like the mistake cups), not allowing students to take more than the recommend dosage (by order of federal law), and being careful when handling the machine's product as it can have harmful side effects on adults. I'm sure that teachers try not to pay attention to that last bit. They probably don't need to worry about the misery they might have after years of filling these cups for ungrateful children. A giant container of latex gloves sits next to the machine. For the first few days of EP Week I helped Ms. Winkler carefully use the machine, filling EP dosage cups for all of the kids that had chosen weeks or months earlier. As the week progressed Ms. Winkler decided she could trust me and she needed to grade that week's papers so she left me alone to continue filling the rest of the school's cups. At first I followed all the procedures and cautions that Ms. Winkler had, always wearing gloves and carefully avoiding spills. But I was also thinking about my continuing lack of decision and that silly oddball game of what would happen if you mixed the dosages... By this point I had shamefully realized that Ms. Winkler truly did trust me and wasn't going to be checking in on me and very quickly I had stopped wearing the gloves. I had begun placing a cup of my own in the machine's trough catching a cocktail of overspills. By the end of the two unsupervised days my rough calculations were that I had drank one and a half full dosages of Cheerleadest overflow and about a half dosage of a truly random cocktail of the oddball choices. I realized that it would look strange if I never printed my own dosage so I printed one for me with the Footballest that everyone kept telling me was the "safe choice" for my gender, filled that, locked the lid and waved goodbye to it, knowing I would see it the next day. ---- For most kids EP Day is a bit of an anti-climax after months of talking about EP and its big week of important sex lessons building up to EP Day, because as "Enhanced" as EP is there still aren't signs of Puberty for several days. I, of course, was not like most kids at this point having cheated on EP for two days already at this point. Downing the Footballest that had my name on it immediately gave me the hardest boner of my life. A tingly heat, like being tickled with slightly warm feathers, worked its way up from my toes through my legs, up my body and into my head. The heat then slid right back down but stopped at my crotch, not in my then tiny penis but strangely below. The heat changed into a larger and hotter itch and began to feel, of all things, wetter too. With all of the classroom debating if their changes had started or not already, I knew that it would be particularly odd to excuse myself to the restroom, so I stayed put and tried not to impatiently want to see what was going on down there. I did have a small idea of what was going on. I worked to rearrange my shorts around my boner, which at this point was not going away, and used the opportunity to gently rub where the hot itch was happening. I hoped my failed attempt to "hide" adjusting my shorts around a boner was enough to hide my actual attempt to touch that even more private spot. Particularly because I had paid attention enough in the weeks of lead up Sex Ed that what I had just brushed was probably a small (and growing?) vagina, just below my balls. I worked very hard to keep my excitement down at that growing realization. In the history of EP it has grown more common that people might slowly trade genitals during EP, but so far as I know no one has come through with both. On EP Day alone I had already achieved one of those fascinating outcomes I spent debating with the oddballs. I knew immediately I'd have to keep this secret. (Just me and you, future journal reader.) ---- This last week I lost a lot of schoolboy chub. My muscles have increased an appreciable amount. Not enough that you can tell from a distance, but if I flex the right ways there's more there than ever before. My father was rather proud that I was on the path to Footballest just like he did. (Although you'd have a hard time seeing it these days as he's lost a lot of the enhanced muscle mass in a war with his waistline. He still thinks he could lose the weight and get back into Footballest shape, but no one has the heart to tell him that it gets tougher the older you get, almost as bad as in the old days before EP.) I wasn't going to tell my father that it wasn't just Footballest and that I already had a vagina to prove that things were going to be a bit more complicated for me. Those were my secrets. I also hadn't felt the need to show off every bit of muscle growth like some of the big Footballest fans were doing. (I was particularly amused at Marcy from another class; I hadn't figured her the Footballest type, but it was wonderfully fun to watch him show off some quickly growing pecks in a bright pink dress.) What people did notice was that quickly this week I had shot up from middle of the class to being one of its tallest. One kid thought it was particularly interesting because typically with EP it is the Cheerleadest that shoot up first and fastest, but then tend to stop sooner. --- I've become glad that I hadn't shown off any Footballest interest in muscle growth competitions at school, because this week's changes would have complicated things as much at school as they did at home... I had a dream one night this week that I had superpowers and could shoot lasers out of my nipples. Each shot fired left a nice tingling sensation behind and I loved fighting crime with it. Eventually in my dream a supervillain managed to somehow bottle up my ability and I could feel all that laser energy tingling and trapped inside my chest. When I awoke that morning I had a legitimate pair of boobs, larger than than the training bra sizes that many of the Cheerleadest had begun comparing at school. My waist was slimmer and face skinnier with more prominent cheekbones. My mother took one look at me in my usual school clothes and hugged me, "Oh honey, why didn't you just tell your father you had picked Cheerleadist rather than get your father's hopes up?" She then proceeded to call in sick to work and call me in sick to school as she said I looked way too cute to go to school in boring boy's clothes. (Also that if I didn't wear an appropriate bra I'd regret it immediately because they would get in the way very easily without one. Who was I to argue, I'd only had them for a few hours at that point.) It was kind of surreal and surprisingly fun trying out new clothes with my mom. I don't think we'd ever been closer. She kept doing the typical Cheerleadist mom thing of reminding me as I tried on some of the tighter clothes not to be embarrassed, because my bulge would go away soon and be replaced with the usual vagina as the EP took its course. Of course, I didn't tell her my secret that I already had one and so my bulge probably (hopefully) wouldn't go away. My father was unusually angry when we got home that night. He yelled at my mother for dressing me like a "tramp" and wanted to yell at me for deserting "team sports dude" but couldn't get past his tears when he saw my boobs the first time he tried and my mother managed to turn the arguments back on herself with each following attempt. I was deeply worried my parents would divorce over this, but my father seems to have calmed down a lot in the days since. At school a lot of the girls are wonderfully jealous at my cleavage and lot of the guys have taken their own interest in it. I've had to start using the women's facilities and join the women's PE program. The guy that had mocked my fast height growth the week before apologized to my boobs. I wasn't sure if it was just awkward guy thing or simply because at our height disparity his eye level was straight at my boobs. Most of the other girls height growth seems to have slowed already (and some of the guys have just started), but mine still seems to be going strong. I'm leaving the week somewhere around 5'11" and excited and hopeful I'll keep going. ---- I had the laser dream again over the weekend. I awoke to find my breasts had grown another couple of cup sizes over night, settling out into a small D cup, I'd find out. As if jealous of the attention my tits had been getting, this time I found that my penis and balls had now grown to nearly triple their previous size. I realized that it was going to be a lot harder to hide my bulge now, and also that it was going to be very clear to anyone that noticed now that I was not on the traditional Cheerleadest path. It was clear to me as well that I certainly had the body of a very mature adult woman now (with a bonus adult male package), particularly compared to pre-EP eras. (Which is of course part of why Sex Education is even more important in the Enhanced Puberty world.) As with most other EP kids, my face still was very young appearing, particularly now that my blonde hair was shaggy enough I could tie it into a couple of cute little pigtails. My mother again insisted on bra shopping to celebrate my increased bust size. I worked overtime to keep her from trying to buy me bottoms and try them on, as I certainly knew that I had no way of explaining to her the secrets of what was going on with my crotch. If I tried on anything at all tight it would be clear to her that my bulge had only grown since the last shopping trip. I promised her that me and some of the Cheerleadest girls had been doing a regular mall trip and that week I'd been asked to tag along and shop with them, and that I'd get new bottoms then. My father stopped speaking to me entirely and couldn't even bear to look at me. It was harsh, but I wasn't going to push anything because he and mom were at least on good terms again. I'm not sure how much of my father's silence was lingering disappointment I hadn't gone Footballest proper, the fact that there was another adult-looking woman in the house now (albeit with a kid's face and pigtails), or that I now had slightly bigger breasts than mom. (I also think I've got a bigger dick than he has now, but I'm hoping with baggy pants, skirts, and dresses he won't notice that.) Something we'd seen several times already, and tend to expect in the month after EP is that girls hit their first period in synchronized groups. (A class tried to explain why EP kids tend to be super synchronized with their menstruation cycles, but I honestly was not paying attention then. Kind of wish I had now.) Four of us hit at the same time when showering off after gym class, which was somewhat convenient timing. My new "period pals" and I dutifully headed to the school nurse for our official induction into womanhood. We were given the next school block off to hang out and cope with the initial cramps and pain. The school provided a starter kit of feminine hygiene products, and I was grateful for that as I still wasn't ready to tell my parents what was going on with my crotch and I'm sure my mom would notice if I borrowed some of her hygiene products. There was a quiet lounge for us to hang out in during that block. We treated it a bit like a sleepover and traded stories and secrets. Our wombs had made us instant best friends, Period Pals For Life. I actually had a blast as we went from only really knowing each other from Gym to getting to know the real us. Of course one of the secrets that came up, in more ways than one, was the fact that as Gym friends and now Period Pals the other three all clearly knew that I definitely had both a vagina and a penis. I felt like I could trust them to protect my secret, just as I learned a few of theirs. We pinky swore on our secrets and being the best of Period Pals, as corny as that is to write down such a terrible movie cliche. I'm not sure a single free block and three good new friends are entirely a good trade off for a surprising amount of monthly agony, cramping, and pain, but I'm sure some guys will be jealous of our new bonds as much as they won't understand it. I also had to admit to my Period Pals that I probably was the most frightened at the sudden onslaught cramp and the most glad for friends to help normalize it. Until this point, given that I still had a penis too, it had never occurred to me that I'd menstruate. I knew EP did that for boys that went Cheerleadest, but I guess I assumed wrong that I was going to be different. Finally I am worried about my crazy decision to play with fire and mix EP dosages. On a lighter note, my height growth does appear to be slowing down, and a couple of the guys almost seem possible to catch up, but I'm leaving the week a solid 6'5" and am thrilled by that. ---- Every day this week I've woken up more muscular than when I went to bed. I've been ravenously eating about all the protein I can find in our house and on the school menu. I'm so thrilled that now I don't just have the body of a grown woman: I'm a statuesque amazon, a baby-faced goddess. I love the reactions I've been getting from onlookers now: the hilarious gamut from disgust to immediate turn on and very clearly instant horny. It is kind of sweet how jealous my mother has been acting. "If Cheerleadest had made me that athletic maybe I'd have won that scholarship..." I heard her murmur at one point when she thought I wasn't listening. There were also two strange changes that came soon after the muscles. First of all, my voice actually jumped up a half pitch and I was starting to sound like a ditzy young girl that wears pigtails. I guess this was appropriate, but it was kind of surprising. Secondly, I was very quickly growing a very full blonde beard. At the first sign of stubble I was going to ask my father to borrow some shaving equipment, but then I remembered my father wasn't speaking to me. I also was surprised to find that I rather liked the beard. I thought it went really cute with the pigtails that now dangled almost as far as the bottom of my ears. It's weird to describe a beard as feminine and sexy, but well, I was an amazon goddess and the beard was very quickly helping to de-emphasize the baby face and strangely bring out the highlight colors in my lipstick and my eyes. The muscles and beard were the last straws for my father and he was suddenly back to irate. "What have they done to my son? What have those bastards at the school fucked up so hard to create such an abomination?" I tried to calm him down, "But I like this new body, daddy!" He looked like he'd been slapped, hearing the cutesy voice coming out of my mouth. I knew then that my days of hiding my experiment were potentially coming to an end, and I was worried about how much I had upset my father. Would he try to fight me if I told him the truth? I was now taller and much more muscular than my father and worried that I could hurt him if he tried to get physical. At school, Gym this week became my big favorite class. It was my chance to team up with my Period Pals against the rest of the class and show off my growing physique. A lot of the flexing and showing off that the Footballest did first thing off the bat, but I had refrained from: now I had reason to do all that. I think I also reached my final height at a lovely 7'1". One of the Footballest guys had just squeaked past to 7'2", but I still had an advantage in heels. (My Period Pals had talked me into starting to wear heels to school because they really made my calves pop and sparkle, and also because I clearly had a thing for height and being the tallest person in a room.) ---- I had the laser superhero dream once more, but this time the villain was ahead of me and managed to bottle me up as soon I got to the scene of the crime. Desperate to stop the evildoer I found myself shooting lasers from places I've not shot lasers before. Upon awaking I went straight to the bathroom's full length mirror, curious to what had changed, knowing clearly something had. My boobs were roughly the same size, only now my nipples on them were even bigger, puffier, and more sensitive. Those weren't the nipples that worried me as I thoughtfully stroked my beard in worry: my lovely washboard abs now had a 6-pack of nipples across the 6-pack. They were small and "guy-like" unlike the now puffier girls above, but in brushing one they were also surprisingly nearly as sensitive and of course as soon as one went erect, all of them did. Arousing my nipples revealed one equally crazy final change (I was definitely getting the impression my EP experiment was coming to an end with this final laser battle). I became twice as wet in anticipation as I had only recently sort of kind of grown used to. I found that my vagina had split in two, now forming a strange sort of triangle with my balls. I was definitely hoping that I hadn't grown a second womb to go with the extra vagina. I can only imagine the pain consequences if a Womb Number Two becomes a fifth member at our next Period Pals Monthly Meeting... It was also making me sad I kept the first one a secret from my mother because now I really wanted to talk to her about having two now and about the sisterly bond with my Period Pals. It was very tough for me to find tops that wouldn't make it quite so obvious I had six extra, easy to erect nipples. I realized that at this point that if the beard wasn't giving the game away, then that would and decided to just happily own my new endowments. I put on my tightest tank top and yoga pants. I had bought the tank top to stretch firmly across my washboard abs the previous week, outlining every muscle. It was very clear how much that material was working to stretch across the new extra nipples. The yoga pants I hadn't worn in weeks and as I stretched them nearly to the breaking point they were closer to yoga shorts now. They fought to contain my muscular thighs and large crotch bulge and I was certain with an erection they would rip. I then went to my mom to admit to everything. She was amazingly understanding and following my large reveal of all my secrets, she let me in on one of her own: "Your teacher warned me you might do something stupid like mix dosages and asked my permission first. Don't tell your dad, but as disappointed as I am that you did something so potentially life-threatening and dangerous, I am also really glad that you seem to be happy with what's happened." My father on the other hand couldn't be slowed down in his anger. He raised enough of a stink that it made its way up to the school board. Ms. Winkler and I didn't need any meeting to both have our stories match: we both told the board that she supervised the whole time, we followed all the safety procedures, and that mine was the last one poured. We both told the investigators that we assumed what was happening to me was a fluke or environmental. ---- Federal investigators showed up to school. They told me that they knew my official story to the school board was "bunk" and that the science made it clear the results I got was the illegal use of multiple doses. They also told me that as much as they'd like to see me spend the maximum sentence of jail time for the crime, they had bigger fish to fry than a mixed up kid. They offered me a bargain that if I stuck to my official story and did a few small tasks that they'd drop the charges, because they wanted to get Congress' attention to revise the Level Playing Field Act. The biggest task I had to do for them was a photo shoot. It seemed an easy choice over jail. They just wanted a single photo really, standing me in front of one of those wall charts with feet written up the side. They had me wear only a bra and a very tight pair of shorts that outlined my cock, balls, and both of my vulva. By that point I had highlighted the end of my pigtails a cute bright pink and even lightly dusted the highlight into the beard hairs on my cheek, which was a fun alternative to blush that I realized I could get away with. Of course my six pack and its extra nipples were also on full display. They told me that they'd be using the photo as a scare tactic and I imagined them adding in a scary poster font, "Look what could happen to your sons!" It kind of amused me, having grown used to some of my own father's over-reactions lately. I certainly don't feel like a monster... I like being this pretty and amazingly endowed amazonian lady-guy. ---- *Epilogue the First: Notes from the Other Side of High School* I found this journal again digging through some old stuff on my way off to college. I figured it deserved a bit of a wrap up. It took a few years for me to piece together the political consequences of my little experiment. A lot of this was simply because I was pretty busy in High School with sports, friends (including my Period Pals), and even school work. Politics was certainly not something on my mind. My father did eventually forgive me. Some of that was playing some sports together on weekends. Some of that was him attending my games at school. A lot of that was just good old fashioned family love. Early on he would sarcastically call me his "little" girl, and then eventually that transformed into a very serious, winking protectiveness of his "little girl". He told me that he knew I had the muscles *and* the smarts to protect myself from trouble, but that maybe next time I should listen to him and get some help in protecting myself from my own crazy ideas. High School was a blur, really. I might save some of the juicy stuff for a memoir of sorts some day. Some of the surprising highlights, though: I was amazed and surprised when Junior year my High School managed to vote for me as Prom Queen. Our school policies forbid repeat winners, so I was even more surprised when a technicality became a joke and spiralled into me winning Prom King for my Senior Year. I blame my friends for that, but it was a huge amount of fun. I got to show off a beautiful ball gown I helped make one year and then thrust into the spotlight in a tuxedo the following year. I'm hoping that maybe that back to back challenge will be harder for the next hermaphrodite that comes along. I shall cherish the novelty. As far as the political consequences go, if the Federal investigators were truthful with what they told me about their plan, then it must have backfired. Rather than stricter regulations on EP and/or a return to it being strictly a commercial operation, Congress ended up passing a form of deregulation, including decriminalizing things like what I did. They continued to mandate that all students have access to the basic recipes, but they began to open up sales of additional and/or custom dosages with signed waivers acknowledging that results could vary and may include death. On the death front, I think that my crazy experiment helped reopen a lot of the science of EP. It did turn out that the threat of death had been over-exaggerated, because people are more resilient than the original study allowed. Also, I think that probabilities that resulted in things like hermaphroditism had been thrown out of the original studies, possibly to help sell EP in the first place. I guess I'm a harbinger of a new generation. Some new companies have entered the field and are exploring the science of EP, now with some governmental blessing. From what I've heard my particular results are nigh unreproducible using the existing recipes, so maybe my official story wasn't too far from the truth and it was a fluke/environmental. I've heard that new recipes are in the works and there's even rumor one of the companies is on the path to a breakthrough for a "Second Puberty" system that works later in life... That photo of me the Feds took declassified on my eighteenth birthday and leaked in an FoIA request very shortly after. I was not amused to get a couple of death threats from crazy anti-EP folks. I was a bit more amused to get several offers to do porn and even one very nice and polite phone call from an elegant sounding "International Madame to the Stars" (presuming celebrities rather than aliens, but aliens would be hilarious). I politely refused those as I was still contemplating college choices, but I can't say the offers weren't tempting. I've received a few athletic scholarship offers already and even an academic scholarship, which made me proud. I joked with admissions boards that I would accept the first school that would offer me a scholarship for both Women's Volleyball and Men's Football. That would be a lot of fun to try, even if it would be a lot of work due to the slight overlap in schedules... I've got a lot of good possibilities for the future and I'm rather pleased with this body and this life. It sounds like there will be more crazy Enhanced Puberty experimenters to come, and I hope I will set a good example. ---- *Epilogue the Second: Gym Class Misery* On the exact one month anniversary of our first "meeting", my Period Pals and I were debating if we'd have the same group period kick-off in the locker room after gym. In the middle of this conversation I groaned out in pain and crumpled to the floor. Just as the other girls were starting to wonder if I was pranking them I broke out into huge sobs. They inquired what the matter was and I managed to point and in between sobs tell them, "I... have... two... now." It took them a second to notice what I was pointing at, but when they did notice all three of them went to hug me through my crying. I very much appreciated that. It was indeed a strange feeling. I'm sure it was about twice the overall cramping and seemed like three times the pain. Eventually, I managed to get the sobs down, thanks in large part to the sisterly group hug. "I guess I'm doing twice the work now making up for all the guys that will never experience this fun," I told them, trying to make it sound like a joke more than a curse. Stacy, the silliest of us Period Pals, patted my penis like a small dog and answered with, "Good boy, good boy." We all had a huge laugh at that. I was glad I had such friends.