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Tour De Heart - Chapter 5 [TG Lesbian Romance]
🕑 Added 2024-11-23 20:00:02 +0000 UTCAnonymously Commissioned
Chapter 5
Amelie looked at himself in the mirror like he had every morning for weeks since that fateful night out. Taking on his new name had been one thing; it was easy to think of himself as Amelie. But as a she? That was taking longer. Each morning, he got up and trailed his fingers over his body, trying to get used to the new curves and bumps. Today, he had picked out a flattering and tight-fitting sports bra and matching shorts in pale purple. His hair (which he had finally mastered doing) was in a tight braid down his back, and he’d even applied a thin layer of lip gloss to protect against the wind.
There was a part of him still clinging to Ken, to his old life. He couldn’t risk getting drunk again so he coped in the only way he knew how. He threw himself into training. Where he’d been trying to avoid giving in to Amelie’s passion too much, now he fully embraced it. He took all her determination, his determination, to the test. If he was stuck in this life he was going to make damn sure he went the distance and made something of himself.
“Time to get to it.”
As the weeks passed, training began to ramp up and Amelie felt himself falling more and more into his new role. Cycling lingo came naturally to him, he suddenly knew the names of all the races, and training regimes from years past. It was oddly comforting, to fill the role so easily. Every day he trained and every day he stopped past Jean’s shop. Always thinking of an excuse, a new pair of shorts or wheels. Jean’s beautiful face seemed to light up his whole day.
His efforts didn;t go unnoticed either. Articles about Amelie Blanchet’s Gold Goal were all over the sports tabloids. Even Kerrie’s slander couldn’t keep him down. At least, not until the training really began to ramp up in the last few months before the race, when a certain quote caught his eye. It wasn’t even an article about him; but Kerrie.
‘An Interview with Last Year’s Champion!’
J: Thanks for meeting with me, Kerrie.
K: No problem, always happy to talk to the press, unlike some athlete’s I don’t think I am above it all!
J: You certainly are more approachable than some.
K: Now John, don’t name, names.
J: We all know I am thinking about your infamously reclusive rival, Miss Blanchet. Have you heard anything from her? According to reports, she’s training quite hard in the lead up!
K: Yes well, she can;t train harder than me. That’s the difference between Amelie and I. I live and breathe cycling, I don’t spend time out flirting or drinking like she does.
Amelie threw down his phone in disgust; one time! One mistake and Kerrie was never going to let anybody forget it. He hated to admit it but she did have a point. The Tour de France wasn’t that far away now, all things considered. Did he really have time to be spending goofing off with Jean?
Amelie looked up at that silver medal on the wall and felt his blood boil. That determination to win, to prove to the world that he was a champion, not some second rate cyclist who wouldn’t be remembered by anybody but sports nerds in five years time, burned hot. Why was he even sitting here waiting for Louis? He should get out there and train early.
His phone buzzed just as he was heading out the door. Jean.
‘Coffee today?’
Amelie pressed her lips together. He had blown off Jean three times in as many weeks. He felt bad but being around her was just so tempting. Her laugh, the way she curled her finger around her dark locks when she was nervous, her undying devotion to helping Amelie have fun. It was too much. If he let himself fall off there, that gold medal would always be out of reach. Once he won the Tour de France…then he could think about it. The gold came first, then love.
‘Maybe another time.’
~
Amelie gripped the handlebars, his knuckles pale from the pressure as he leaned into the steep incline, legs churning like pistons beneath him. She was leaning so far forward that her chest was crushed against the handlebars, but she didn’t care. His thighs screamed in protest, every muscle fibre burning with the strain, but he didn’t ease up.
The wind whistled past his ears, it's cold bite sharp against his flushed skin, but he barely noticed it. In a few weeks, he’d be racing in the Giro d’Italia, and after that, the Tour de France. Every moment he wasn’t riding, someone else was. Kerrie would be. Every break, every second of rest, was time someone else was getting stronger than him.
"Keep going," he muttered to himself.
“Amelie!” Louis’s voice cut through the roar of the wind and the hum of tyres on asphalt. He rode alongside him on his motorbike, pulling closer as the steep incline slowed Amelie’s pace. “You’ve been at this for hours. It’s time for a break.”
“Not yet,” he panted. “I can go further.”
Louis frowned, pulling his bike slightly ahead to glance back at Amelie. His expression was a mix of concern and frustration.
"You're going to burn yourself out before we even get to the Giro. Come on, darling. We talked about this—pushing too hard now is only going to hurt you later.”
"One more mile.”
But Louis wasn’t letting up. He cut in front of Amelie’s path, forcing him to swerve slightly to avoid a collision. Amelie cursed, his rhythm thrown off, but Louis wasn’t backing down.
“That’s enough, Amelie!” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. “You’re going to hurt yourself. Take a damn break. The last thing you need is an injury right before the competition!”
Amelie swore, he was right. The Giro was his last chance to make a good impression and get enough sponsorship to go to The Tour de France. If he fucked up by overdoing it, that was the end, and he refused to let Kerrie get another medal over him. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath, and Louis parked his motorcycle and walked up to him.
“Amelie…”
“I know, I know.”
Louis ran a hand through his hair.
“I feel like it’s all or nothing with you.” Louis sighed. “You’re either going a hundred and ten per cent in training or completely off the deep end getting drunk.”
“That was one time!”
“One time that cost you that endorsement with Nike.”
Amelie squirmed. When she returned that day and Louis told her the news, it had only made her feel worse. But no matter how much work she put in, no news articles were written about her. After the Giro, it would be different.
“Well, make up your mind, Louis!” Amelie snapped. “You tell me to relax, then scold me like a kid and tell me to work harder. Now, when I am working harder, you’re scolding me anyway! I thought a coach was supposed to be supportive!”
“I’m trying to be!” Louis cried. “I am trying to help you find balance, Amelie!”
He ran his hands through his hair in frustration before sighing. He paced back and forth a moment before he reached out and grasped both Amelie’s shoulders firmly.
“Amelie, do you know why I decided to coach you?”
Amelie thought for a moment and thankfully, the knowledge came.
“You saw me competing in that race five years ago, I came right in the middle of the pack but you thought I could do better with a little guidance,” Amelie repeated.
“Exactly, Amelie, I saw greatness in you!” He said passionately. “And I have only gotten more and more sure of my decision the longer we’ve known each other.”
“I’ve never won gold.”
“Exactly.” Louis snapped his fingers. “Most people would be happy being second best on a world stage, but not you. You stood on that podium and refused to smile when they took pictures; you wanted to get training the very next day so that you could get gold next year!”
As Louis recounted the story, Amelie felt it fill him. He remembered the frustration, the drive to do better, and how much he wanted just to pack up and go home. It had been Louis’ idea to frame the silver medal on the wall when he wanted to throw it away. Louis had said it was better to stare at it every day, to keep him driven.
“All I want is for you to be the best.” Louis smiled. “But darling, that requires balance. I want you focused and training hard, but I also want you to have fun once in a while. When you win that gold medal, I want you to have people to celebrate with.”
Amelie hadn't considered that. What were his plans when he finally won? It had been so long since he’d had anything to be passionate about he’d let everything else, everybody else, fall by the wayside.
“We’re friends, aren’t we, coach?” He asked with a nervous laugh and Louis grinned.
“Of course, but as wonderful as I am, I can’t be your everything. Heart breaking, I know.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re an ass?”
Louis snorted.
“Come on, let’s get back to your place before I start getting sappy.”
Amelie grinned and hopped back on his bike, this time peddling slowly as they made their way back to town. When they reached his apartment Louis set about their usual post-training routine, writing notes, reviewing his performance and making sure he drank plenty of water. Amelie leaned back and half-listened before suddenly interrupting.
“Louis, what am I like?”
Louis looked up from his notes in confusion.
“What sort of a question is that?”
“I mean, like, if you were to describe me to somebody, what would you say?”
Louis bit his lip.
“Honestly?”
Amelie nodded.
“I’d say that you’re the most talented and passionate cyclist I know.”
“If that were true, I’d have a gold medal by now.”
“Let me finish.” Louis chided. “You're passionate but…to a fault. All you have is cycling, and the one time I convinced you to go out and have fun, you went totally overboard. Like a conservative kid getting to let loose for the first time.”
He sighed and put down the pen.
“At first, I thought your drive was commendable, but the longer I do this, the more I wonder…what will you have when cycling is done? You spend all your break time riding because it’s the only thing you know how to do.”
“What else is there?” Amelie said bitterly. His old life was gone. Not that Louis would know that. Cycling was the only thing Amelie had, so it was the only thing he had now too.
“Plenty, that lady from the bike shop, for one.”
“How do you know about Jean?”
“She stopped by a few times when you went out for extra laps around the hills.” Louis grinned. “I think she liiiiikes you.”
“Oh my God, you sound like a twelve-year-old.”
“Well, you’re acting like a twelve-year-old.” Louis bit back with a smile. “She’s cute! Why not give her a shot, try to find some balance.”
Balance? The thought made Amelie laugh bitterly.
“Come on,” Louis stood up and grasped her arm. “You’re a cyclist. You should be a balance expert!”
“If you say so.”
“I am always right, darling. You should know that by now.” Louis replied. “Would you look at that? You have a rest day coming up, and it’s a lovely night. A perfect night for a date, especially considering I won't be here early in the morning tomorrow. Just in case you wanted to say, bring somebody home.”
“...subtle.”
“Well, you don’t do so well with subtlety.”
Amelie reached down and picked up her phone, opening the almost entirely one sided conversation she’d slowly been having with Jean for weeks.
“Go on.” Louis nudged. “And…stick to two glasses of wine.”
Amelie punched him in the shoulder.
~
Amelie paced back and forth in front of the mirror. He had put on a chic black skirt that hugged his legs along with a red sweater and matching beret. He looked chic, ready for a night on the town.
And it felt wrong.
Not because he was in women’s clothing, that he’d gotten used to over the last few months. But because it was casual. A cold sweat made its way down his neck. Why the hell did he invite Jean to dinner? He should be using his rest day to practise or do a casual ride.
“Ugh, maybe Louis is right. Maybe I am too intense…”
Full of nervous energy, he rummaged around in his wardrobe, looking for something to give it a more athletic feel. His fingers brushed against something in the back, and Amelie paused before reaching in and pulling a cardboard box out. It was filled with…diaries. Some were clearly old and girly with little cheap locks. The others were more modern. Each was stamped with a year. Amelie felt his mouth part in shock as he counted back, diaries going all the way back to his girlhood.
He reached in and began to flick through them; they started predictably enough. Talking about school and girls. Some pages were even patterned with stickers or written in gel pen. The grade school ones gave way to high school and college, and even as he was flicking through, Amelie noticed something. Friends' names stopped appearing. Talks of parties, get-togethers and other social events disappeared almost entirely. After a few years, the diaries simply became workout regimens and notes on training until they finally stopped a few years back.
“Right when I hired Louis…” Amelie muttered. “Is this…is this really all Amelie’s life was?”
He had assumed it was just because he didn’t remember patches of her life, or because the parts he did felt so disconnected. Amelie had passion, drive and talent but it seemed like that was all she had. Amelie clenched his fists in fury.
“This is what that bike thought I needed? What a fucking joke!” He kicked the cardboard box and winced. “Ken was too lazy. Amelie is the opposite. I’ve just traded one for the other.”
He flopped dramatically on the bed in a huff; Ken would give up now and just fade into obscurity. Amelie would try to lose herself in training. He was torn between the person he used to be and the person he was now. Amelie pushed his palms into his eyes and groaned.
“What the hell am I supposed to do!?” He asked the air, but of course, nobody listened. “My life got decided by a fucking bike. It’s…It’s…really dumb, actually.”
Saying it out loud made him giggle, and the next thing he knew, he couldn’t stop laughing. All the nervous energy burst out of him in laughter until his sides hurt. After a few moments, he finally managed to pull it together and took a deep breath.
“Okay…balance. If neither of these lives are right, maybe…maybe mixing them both is okay.”
It was such an obvious answer. He felt silly for not considering it earlier. Ken could mellow out Amelie, and Amelie could give Ken some drive. It was time that he stopped trying to do one or the other and just…did what he felt like, instead of focusing on which half wanted it and if that was ‘right’. With a confident, relaxed smile, he got to his feet and stood in front of the mirror again, taking in the outfit. It hugged his curves, showed just rough skin and most importantly, it made him feel pretty.
“Hot date here I come!”
~
The restaurant Jean had suggested was practically tailor-made for first dates. Low lighting, candles and small, intimate tables. Amelie felt nervous as he walked in, suddenly scared that Jean would stand him up. He deserved it after all the times he’d blown her off, too. But there she was, sitting at the table, looking just as excited as him when their eyes met.
“Hi.”
“Hi…”
Amelie sat and stewed in the awkward silence before they started talking at once.
“I’m sorry I was ignoring-”
“If I pushed too much I-”
They both stopped.
“You first.” They said simultaneously before laughing.
“Okay, me first.” Jean giggled. “I wanted to say I am sorry if I came on too strong. You’re a professional. I should have respected your boundaries.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Amelie sighed. “I struggle with tunnel vision, or at least I have lately. I want that medal so badly.”
“Of course you do!”
“But my coach pointed out that it wouldn't feel right to win gold…without somebody to celebrate with.”
Jean’s cheeks dusted pink.
“And…you want to celebrate with me?”
“If I win gold.”
“You will.”
She reached over and placed her hand atop Amelie’s, and he felt his body start to heat up. It had been so long since either of his lives had been on a date. Was this a date? He hadn't even really specified in the text he’d just asked her out to dinner. But she picked this restaurant, so it must be a date, right?
“Amelie?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“You’re spiralling in your head again.”
“Is it that obvious?” He blushed.
“To me at least.”
They fell into an easy conversation, Amelie barely paid attention to the meal at all. He was captivated by Jean. After so many weeks of hard training with Louis being basically his only company it was nice to be with a friend again. More than a friend really, if the butterflies in his stomach had anything to say about it.
Jean really was a cycling nerd, she talked about the last three Tour de France Femme’s and the competitors he should look out for. After all his training, Amelie was surprised he could even enjoy talking about bikes at all but Jean’s enthusiasm and passion were infectious.
“But I should probably stop. You must get sick of talking shop.” Jean bushed.
“Not really, it’s sort of all I ever talk about.”
“You must have other things you do, though, for fun?”
Amelie thought for a moment. Amelie didn’t, but as Ken…
“Old monster movies.”
“Really?” Jean blinked in surprise. “Like Godzilla and stuff?”
“More like, the creature of a thousand fathoms, I am talking really old. The more rubbery and fake-looking the monster, the better.”
It was a fragment of his old life. One where every Saturday was spent sprawled on his couch watching old movies. He’d never really been interested in the latest blockbuster, but he liked it when he could see the workmanship on screen. The miniatures, the costuming, and the newer films were all CGI. As he talked about it, Amelie felt a warm nostalgia settle over him; he hadn't watched a single film since waking up in this body. He should. Jean listened intently, occasionally chipping in with a few films she had seen.
The night seemed to pass too quickly. Entrees, mains, and dessert came and went, followed by coffee. Amelie soaked up Jean’s company, trying to make up for all the missed moments the last few weeks. Until eventually, the owner politely but firmly said they were closing and it was time to leave. Amelie looked forlornly at the quiet restaurant as the lights went out. It seemed like such a shame to end things here, but the idea of going to a club or bar after what happened last time filled him with dread. Which is how he found himself saying;
“How about we go back to my place? We could watch one of those old movies I talked about?”
“That sounds wonderful.”
Jean reached out and took his hand, causing warmth to spread though his entire body. They walked together under the moonlight, and Amelie couldn't stop noticing just how beautiful she was. The dress she had on showed just a hint of cleavage, enough to tease him. He felt hyper aware of his own body in a way he hadn't since the change first happened; every step pressed his increasingly wet pussy lips together and it was all he could do to keep from moaning with want as they slowly approached his home. They strolled hand in hand, their fingers intertwined as they returned to Amelie's apartment. Amelie gently guided Jean towards the bedroom as they entered the dimly lit apartment, their hearts racing excitedly. Amelie's heart pounded in his chest as he turned to face Jean, blue eyes sparkling with desire.
“We’re not going to watch a movie, are we?” Jean grinned.
“Did you ever think we were?”
“Not for a second,” she whispered, her voice husky with anticipation.
Her dark eyes twinkled with mischief as she backed towards the bed, pulling Amelie along with her. Amelie's breath quickened as Jean's hands roamed over his athletic frame, tracing the curves of his body through the sweater. Jean reached up and gently tugged his ponytail free, letting the long blonde hair fall around his flushed face. He bit his lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped his lips as Jean's touch sent shivers down his spine.
"You're so beautiful, Amelie," Jean murmured, "I can't wait to see all of you."
Their hands roamed, gently lifting at hems and giggling playfully between kisses as they undressed. Soon, Amelie found himself clad only in a lacy black bra and panty set. Jean's gaze burned into him, making Amelie's skin tingle with pleasure.
"You knew where tonight was going," Amelie breathed.
“I hoped.”
“Me too.”
Jean's dress joined Amelie's clothing on the floor, revealing her curvaceous figure in a matching red lace ensemble. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, contrasting against the vibrant fabric. They tumbled back into the sheets full of breathy laughter. Amelie's eyes traced the contours of Jean's body, his breath catching at the sight of her full breasts and the hint of her round ass. Where he was toned and muscular, Jean was soft. They were a match made in Heaven. His hands cupped Jean's breasts, feeling the weight of them in his palms. Jean arched into the touch, her nipples hardening under the lace.
A moment later, Amelie's fingers slid effortlessly into Jean's panties, finding her already dripping wet. He gently pushed two fingers inside, eliciting a gasp from Jean.
"Oh, Amelie, yes, right there," she panted, her head thrown back in pleasure.
Amelie obliged, adding a third finger, stretching Jean's tight pussy as he thrust slowly, building up a rhythm. Jean's moans filled the room, each one spurring Amelie on. He wanted to give Jean the most incredible orgasm, to show her just how much pleasure he could bring. His own pussy was rapidly growing hot; it had been so long since his last orgasm, months now, and his body was desperate. But not so desperate that he rushed. He nipped at Jean's neck, sucking gently, leaving a mark of possession.
Jean's hands roamed over Amelie's body, exploring every curve and dip. She unhooked Amelie's bra, freeing his firm breasts, and took a rosy nipple into her mouth, sucking and teasing it with her tongue. Amelie's back arched off the bed, his hands tangling in Jean's hair, urging her on.
"Oh my god, Jean, don't stop," Amelie begged, his fingers thrusting in time with Jean’s sucks. He continued his relentless assault on Jean's pussy, adding a fourth finger, stretching her wide as her juices coated his hand. Jean was trembling, her body clearly on the edge of ecstasy.
Amelie pumped his fingers in and out with increasing speed, his thumb working Jean's clit in circles as she switched to the other breast. Their bodies were curled around each other, pulled taught like bow strings as they neared release. Amelie couldn’t believe the pleasure his new female body was capable of, his pussy burned, still untouched, and yet he could feel the orgasm building regardless, all thanks to his tits. The ecstasy built and built until, finally, his fingers began to tremble inside Jean’s pussy. They came together, bodies pressed close as they shuddered against one another.
“Oh Gods…” Jean breathed, “That was…you really are the most amazing woman, Amelie.”
Amelie ran a finger down Jean’s back. For the first time, the word woman being applied didn't feel wrong. In fact, it felt very, very right.
Comments
Blaze
Awwww cuuuuuute
