It was nearly eleven-thirty at night when Christina stumbled through the door of her apartment. Her legs burned after ascending the six long flights of stairs. She let her suitcases drop; her arms feeling dull and stretched. The humidity in the dark apartment was oppressive, the hot air encasing Christina's skin, causing every inch of her body to sweat. Feeling the energy seep out of her muscles, she dropped onto her hard bed. She kicked of her shoes and socks then shimmied out of her tight jeans. Christina leaned back and turned on the fan mounted in the window over her bed. It did little more than cycle the hot air, but that was better than nothing.

        Opening her purse, she searched among the change, tissues, cosmetics, and other items for her phone. She couldn't quite summon the strength to sit up and look through the bag properly. Feeling around, her fingers found the familiar shape of the cell phone and slid it out of the purse. Flipping it open, she pressed the first speed dial number. She listened to the rings as she pressed the phone to her moist cheek.

        Alek answered sleepily, "Hello?"

        "Hi Uncle Alek," Christina yawned, "I just got home."

        "Just now?" he asked with disapproval in his voice. "I do not approve of you traveling so late."

        "I know," Christina responded lazily.

        "You should not have walked through the city alone at this hour."

        "I know, Uncle Alek. I took the late bus so I could spend more time with you and everyone else."

        "I cherish the time you spend with us Tina, but I forbid you to travel this late at night again. It is not safe."

        Christina was in no mood to argue and conceded, "Yes sir."

        "Did you rest on the trip back?"

        "I tried," Christina explained, "But I didn't really get any sleep."

        "You must be exhausted!" Alek exclaimed.

        "I'm okay," Christina's yawn betrayed her true condition.

        "You are to go to bed at once. If you are still tired in the morning, you are to stay home."

        Christina again answered, "Yes sir."

        After Christina and her uncle said their goodnights, Christina sat up in bed. She desperately wanted to lay back down and drift away to sleep, but she had work to do. Rising uneasily to her feet, she stumbled to the bathroom and leaned against the sink. As she removed her makeup, it became apparent that even without makeup, she still looked the part of a pretty girl.

        Once finished with her face, Christina peeled off every stitch of clothing, dumping them in a pile where she stood. She stepped into the shower and turned on the water.

        The water hit Christina like dozens of cold needles. It shocked her to her senses, allowing her to focus on the task at hand. She stood under the shower head and let the water saturate her body. The cool mist kept the hot summer air at bay.

        Chris reached down between her legs and gingerly pried her fake sex from betwixt her legs. It slid off easily in the water. Her penis fell forward limply from its feminine prison. The easy part completed, Chris slid her hand slowly from her left hip up to her chest, struggling to find the seam of her breast. She placed her fingernails in the crease and held the skin of her chest flat with her other hand. Afraid of tearing her skin, she pulled slowly and steadily. The breast came off, leaving on only the adhesive pad underneath. She used the same technique to remove the strip from her chest. With more confidence, Chris used the same procedure on her other side with deliberate care. She slid open the flimsy plastic shower curtain and gingerly placed her female parts on the toilet seat, then returned to her shower and soaped her chest.

        Chris held onto the shower rod for support. Her flat chest felt unnatural and unbalanced. She had worn her breasts for several days and had mentally accepted them as part of her body. To feel the weight suddenly removed was extremely disorienting. Her chest was pink where the breasts had been. The parts were not raw, though they felt sensitive as Chris massaged them.

        Her chest attended to, Chris moved down between her legs. Her penis had fared much better than her chest. It wasn't red, though her thighs felt some strain. Chris ran the soap from the tip of her penis to the base of her anus. Every part was still baby smooth. Even though she was tired, she felt a pulsing in her groin that developed into a painful erection. Chris found that she could not banish the image of Steph from her mind. She pictured her in her outfit from the fireworks and recalled the way she'd flirted with Andrei. She could picture the tops of Steph's breasts showing through her shirt. She could almost wrap her hands around Steph's curvy waist and run her hands down to the girl's ass. She fantasized that Steph was flirting with her, not her cousin. With very little stimulation, Chris reached an intense orgasm that made her legs go weak. She felt her muscles and anus twitch, ejaculating so strongly that she sprayed the wall of her shower. Christina clutched her member in one hand and the shower rod in the other. She had to hold on for balance until the dizziness left her head.

        Relaxed and glowing, Chris stepped out of the shower and dried off. She picked her panties and top off the ground and slipped them on. There was more to do, but that could wait until tomorrow. She stepped daintily on the balls of her feet out of the bathroom and returned to bed.

 

        The next day, Chris pushed nervously through the crowd at the train station. He'd overslept and missed his regular morning train again. That, however, wasn't the cause of his anxiety. After over a month of wearing waist cinchers, Chris had retained his new hourglass figure. The cincher he'd purchased at the Transformations Boutique had compressed his waist much more severely than his first one. Between that and his diet, he must have lost at least two pant sizes. He'd had to bore a new hole in his belt just to hold his baggy pants up, and he wore an oversized shirt to disguise his new curves. It felt as though he were swimming in a pile of his old clothes. His male underwear scratched and assaulted his baby soft rear end as he rushed to check the train schedule on the wall.

        Scanning the schedule for the next train, Chris realized he was in for a forty-minute wait. He pulled his sunglasses down and looked at his face in the reflection of the glass case that held the schedules. With no makeup and his long hair pulled back, he looked more like a tomboy version of Christina than his old self. He could clearly see the holes in his pierced ears, and his thin eyebrows read "girl". His stomach sank. Another haircut would help, but he would have to wait for his waist and eyebrows to return to normal.

        Chris wandered aimlessly through the crowd, stopping at a magazine stand. He searched around the stacks for something to occupy his time. Grabbing a copy of PC Magazine, he pushed his way to the counter. As he was waiting in line, a copy of Cosmopolitan caught his eye. He studied the model on the front, who was wearing an off the shoulder black dress. Chris wondered if that would be a good look for him. His eyes focused on the article list, and they lit up when he saw the title "Dealing with men who don't take no for an answer."

        When Chris was next in line, he picked up the copy of Cosmo and started flipping though it. When it was his turn to pay, the woman rang up Chris' magazines. Chris noticed the cashier's stare. Did she think Chris was a boy? A girl? His cheeks burned as he realized he was sending mixed signals.

        Stuffing the magazines into his backpack, he rushed back into the crowd. He'd been studying makeup and fashion for the month leading up to his return to Oak Grove. This time, when he'd been Christina, he'd felt relatively free from the fear of discovery, allowing him to assume his new role in a way he didn't the first time.

        Chris wondered just how many feminine mannerisms had invaded his person. He leaned against the station wall and recalled his trip. He had acted so much like a girl, and it was almost subconscious. The way he walked and spoke; the way he'd moved and touched people. He'd stayed up late in his nightie, singing and dancing with Nina along to their favorite pop stars. No one had forced him to act this way. He enjoyed being with Nina. He even had fun shopping for swimsuits and showing them off to his uncle. And then there was his "date" with Richard. That was something he hadn't enjoyed or initiated, but it had happened. Chris tried to banish the feeling of Richard's tongue in his mouth. He'd never felt so ashamed.

        Jolted out of his thoughts by the train whistle, Chris reached into his bag and removed his copy of Cosmo, dropping it into the trash as he made his way to the train.

        Chris spent the train ride lost in thought. He'd regarded Christina Chase as a different person, but he had admitted to himself that he was Christina. He was himself in Oak Grove, the only difference was that he was a girl. He feared that perhaps acting like a girl wasn't something he could do just for a few days at a time. He worried that he was becoming Christina Chase, and that the lines between his old self and this new one was blurring in confusing and uncomfortable ways.

        As the train arrived at the Salt Mine, Chris put away his copy of PC Magazine. There were already people lined up to get out the door when the train came to a full stop. Chris stood up in his seat and waited patiently while the people sleepwalked through the isle. A gap formed in the line, and Chris looked back to see an old man in a suit waiting for him. He had kind eyes, and his head was wreathed with white hair.

        Chris slung his backpack over his shoulder and said, "Thanks."

        The older man grinned and remarked, "You're quite welcome, young lady."

        Chris froze as he stepped into the isle. He felt his blood pulse in his ears as he forced himself to carry on as though nothing was out of the ordinary. He tried to disappear into the crowd as he left the train. He wandered into a lonely corner of the station and took stock of the situation. The last time he'd returned from Oak Grove, he had been able to get by with his hair back and sunglasses. Of course, he didn't have his girlish figure then. Chris needed a moment to appraise his appearance.

        Keeping his head pointed at the ground, he weaved through the streams of morning commuters. He slipped down the hall to the restrooms. As he reached for the men's room door, he stopped, his mind wracked with panic. If someone mistook him for a girl on the train, what would happen in the men's room? He turned and stared at the ladies' room door. A large woman came out of the restroom and gave Chris a curious look. He grinned at her nervously as she left the hallway. He obviously couldn't risk going into either restroom. He strode back out of the corridor and into the swirling mass of travelers.

        He made his way back across the terminal and sat at a bench, pulling his bag into his lap. Fishing around through the papers and books, he found his phone. In an attempt to buy some time, Chris called Mr. Patel and invented a story about a broken down train. He could sense that Mr. Patel was unhappy, but there was no way Chris could show up to work in his current condition.

        Chris slung his pack onto his back and once again joined the torrent of people. Climbing the station stairs, he emerged onto the busy streets of the city. He blazed a trail uptown, keeping an eye out for the first barbershop, haircutter, or dog groomer that could be found.

        After crossing seven city blocks, Chris found a unisex salon. He walked in and was greeted by a pretty girl behind a podium. She recorded his first name in a book and directed him to the waiting area. Chris kept his head down and walked to a magazine rack. His eyes were assaulted by all manner of ladies' magazines, some of which he'd already read. He bent down and snatched an issue of Car and Driver. He sat down and leafed through the magazine, not finding a single article that remotely held his interest. Still, he forced himself to read.

        Chris had barely made it halfway through an article comparing off road vehicles when he heard the stylist call his name.

        "Chris?" the man called, "Christopher Chase?"

        Chris stood up and acknowledged the man. He was large, muscular, and wearing makeup. He held his elbows at his side with his arms outward.

        "My name is Billy. I'll take care of you." His voice was male, but it was laced with feminine mannerisms.

        Chris nodded and followed the black man as he sashayed to his station. Chris studied Billy as he walked. He wondered if he acted or looked like the man in front of him. Chris shook off that thought; I'm not gay, he thought, I'm a girl.

        That is, he corrected, I was pretending to be a girl.

        He took his seat and Billy draped a plastic apron around him, asking, "Okay, honey. What can we do for you this morning?"

        Chris took off his sunglasses and let his hair down. His blond locks fell to his shoulders and retook its feminine shape.

        Billy raised his eyebrows and remarked, "Well, hello Rapunzel!" He stood behind Chris and manipulated his hair in the mirror. "Are you looking for a new style? Maybe a different color?"

        Chris cleared his throat and croaked, "No, I just need it to be a lot shorter."

        Billy held Chris' hair above his shoulders and questioned, "Something cute like this?"

        Chris' face flushed as he removed his wallet from his pants pocket. He took out his driver's license and pointed at the picture. "I need this, right here." The picture showed Chris' old hairstyle. It was plain, and it fell beneath the ears, but the style was obviously male.

        Billy studied the image and exclaimed, "You really want me to desecrate this beautiful head of yours with that?"

        "Actually," Chris decided, "I need it to be much shorter." He scanned the pictures on the wall and pointed at a man with a layered cut. "Something like that."

        "Okay, honey," Billy joked, "You're the boss, but this will haunt me the rest of my life!"

        Billy took out a pair of shears and mercilessly sliced away at Chris' mane. It took mere seconds before the floor was littered with piles of blonde hair. With the heavy lifting over, Billy misted Chris' hair and went to work.

        "It's a cryin' shame, honey," Billy started, "I know a lot of boys who would kill to have your good looks."

        Chris' face went flush, and he stammered, "I ... I don't usually look like this ... I went to a costume party last night."

        "Umm hmm," Billy hummed. "We all wear our costumes until we decide to be who we really are."

        Chris ignored that last comment.

        "I can still remember when I was your age. I started hittin' the clubs ... looking good ... dancin' all night. It was a blast, baby, but it was back to wearing a costume in the morning. Walkin' around, being somebody I wasn't s'posed to be."

        "It's not like that, really."

        "You can fool yourself baby, but you can't fool Billy. I've been down that road myself. But now I'm out, and I'm me all the time." Billy joked, "I can tell you're so far in the closet, you're knee-deep in shoes."

        "I'm not in the closet!" Chris protested.

        "When did you come out?"

        Chris stumbled, "I'm not ... I'm NOT gay!"

        "Whatever, baby. You're straight. You're just a pretty straight boy with a movie starlet 'do."

        Chris frowned and closed his eyes, praying for this experience to end.

        "I know it's hard, honey. I waited years before I told anyone," Billy added sympathetically.

        Chris perked up. Billy had him all wrong, but there was a similarity to their situations. Chris looked at Billy through the mirror and asked, "When you told your family that you were ... that you weren't who they wanted you to be, how did they take it?"

        "Well baby," Billy counseled, "It went down like they all go down. There was yelling and screamin'. My parents thought it was a phase. When they realized it wasn't, they thought they could church it outta me."

        "But it's okay now, right?"

        "Things are different, but they're good. My folks disowned me, but my sister keeps in touch. There's never any guarantees that people will accept the real you, but you have to deal with that and get on with livin', cause life's too short to spend it being someone you ain't."

        Chris pondered telling his family that he was in fact, a boy. What would they think of him? How could he even explain it? Chris thought of his uncle. Even if Alek did accept him as a boy, their relationship would never be the same. What about Misha? And Andrei? He couldn't bear to think of losing Nina.

        "Tell me honey, what do you think of that?"

        Chris' contemplation was halted by Billy's announcement. He reached up and felt the shaved hairs on the back of his neck. He unquestionably had a male haircut. His hair hadn't been this short since he was still living with his mother.

        Chris responded, "It's perfect." His face and body still retained traces of Christina, but this would be enough to allow him to return to work.

        Chris tipped Billy and gathered his things. He was lost in thought as he paid for his haircut and left the salon. Billy didn't understand Chris' situation, but he did have some good advice. Sooner or later, Chris had to stop pretending to be someone he was not. The question was, how would he go about it? Confessing to his family, he reasoned, would almost ensure that he would lose them. One option was to dispose of Christina Chase altogether. Move her somewhere far away. Perhaps some other excuse. That was no good either. Not only would he still lose his family, but he knew they would look for him. Chris' own mother had not bothered to even visit him since he'd left home, but he knew his uncle would not stop looking if his niece vanished.

        Chris walked into the office, still gripped by his dilemma. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a picture frame and placed it on his desk. It was the only decoration among the piles of papers and books in his tiny area. He melted into the image of his family standing in the field on the mountain. He could smell the wildflowers and feel winter's last chill on his face. He'd kept these pictures stuffed away in his album, just as he had tried to keep Christina safely contained in Oak Grove. It had made it easier to keep his troubles away from the forefront of his thoughts. Now, he couldn't image why he did that. These people were a source of strength. All it took was a glance at the frame, and he felt the warmth of their love. It seemed so unfair that he'd been blessed with the family he'd always dreamed of, only to be doomed to lose them forever.

 

        July was now in full force, bringing all the simple pleasures of Summer: sitting on the front porch on a breezy starlight evening eating watermelon, the cool refreshment of homemade lemonade, the feeling of the cold lake water on your skin after a long day in the heat. This is how Chris imagined the time was passed in Oak Grove. He often pictured these things in his mind when he looked out the grimy window by his cubicle. Another high rise across the street made the view anything but interesting. The alley between the buildings was cloaked in their perpetual shadow. Even on the brightest of days, the window gave the impression that it was dusk. This is how Chris spent three whole months; the entire summer.

        Chris devoted the next couple of months to reestablishing his male persona. He was relieved that his eyebrows had returned to normal, but pretending to be a girl had taken its toll on his body. His waist never completely recovered from wearing his cinchers. While he had lost his hourglass figure, his midsection retained distinctively girlish curves. His pubic hairs were regrowing slowly; Chris had a thin layer of blonde peach fuzz between his legs and his butt cheeks. He self-consciously monitored his body for changes every time he was in the bathroom.

        Even if his body wasn't cooperating, he had taken steps to banish his feminine mannerisms. He'd thrown away all of his fashion and beauty magazines and boxed up all of his girl clothes. Conscious of the way he spoke and how he moved his body, he attempted to halt any behaviors that were overtly feminine. The only exception to this policy was his hair. He let his hair grow, rationalizing that it had been long before he was ever a girl. A part of him knew that he was growing his hair out so he could visit his family again, even though he couldn't bring himself to admit it. He'd considered dating; there was an endless supply of attractive women in the city. While he thought about it, he never followed through. His time was ruled by his job. He also found that whenever he saw a beautiful woman, he immediately compared her to Steph.

        The days began to blend together. Chris was shocked to realize that it was already September, when Nina's phone calls had lessened in frequency because she'd started high school. Chris still managed to speak with her cousin at least once a week. Nina would always ask for advice about school and especially about her new boyfriend, David. Chris spoke with his aunt as well. Misha constantly asked when she could expect to see her niece again. Reluctant to become Christina Chase again, Chris deflected these questions. Even if he wanted to return, his schedule at work would have prevented it. Chris had no idea that the situation was about to be come worse.

        When Chris got to work one Monday, it was like any other day. He shuffled drearily to his computer and went through his emails. There was one marked urgent from Mr. Patel, that requested that Chris should stop by his office first thing that morning.

        Chris walked down the deserted corridor to Mr. Patel's office. He knocked on the open door to get Mr. Patel's attention. Mr. Patel was on the phone, and motioned for Chris to wait. Chris' eyes wandered around his the office. Mr. Patel had a large window with a decent view of the city. His wall was adorned with business degrees and accolades. He had given up an upper management position at a solid firm before starting this company. Chris noticed that the office was uncharacteristically disorganized; Mr. Patel's desk was littered with paperwork. Mr. Patel hung up the phone and motioned for Chris to sit down.

        "Chris," Mr. Patel said in a serious tone, "Thank you for stopping by. I want to tell you how much we appreciate all the hard work you've been doing."

        "Thanks," Chris responded. He was glad that Mr. Patel had noticed all the time he was putting in, but he didn't like the Mr. Patel's tone.

        "Chris, Sergei and Phil are leaving this week. I don't have to tell you how shorthanded this leaves us. I'm going to level with you, the company is in a spot of trouble."

        Chris nodded, but did not speak. There was only one senior programmer left.

        "This doesn't mean anything necessarily, we just have to work harder to pick up the slack. We need to hold on until the end of the year. I'm arranging for some venture capital, and then we can hire more people. We're all going to have to pull some late hours, but we're going to be just fine."

        Chris nodded again and looked down.

        "Chris, can we count on you?"

        Chris looked up at his boss and replied, "Yes sir. I'll help out however I can."

        "Good, good. That's all then. I won't keep you any longer." Mr. Patel stood up and walked Chris to the door. He gave Chris a slap on the back, and then Chris returned to his desk.

        Chris wasn't sure how he could work more than he already was. He'd already been doing far more work than a junior programmer should. Though his title and pay hadn't changed, he was essentially the lead on the eCommerce package. He was also working a good number of Saturdays. Still, Mr. Patel had given Chris a chance even though he had no real experience or education. He was determined to stick things out.

        Over the next month, Chris found out just how hard that was going to be. He was now working every Saturday, and occasionally on Sundays as well. Not once did Chris get home before ten o'clock at night on any weeknight. His sleep patters became irregular, and his every waking moment seemed to be spent at work or commuting. This pace kept up into October, and Chris wasn't sure he could continue at this rate for another two months.

 

        It was nearly eleven-thirty when Chris returned home one Saturday. He barely had time to take off his oversized leather jacket before the land line rang.

        Chris picked up the phone and groggily muttered, "Hello?"

        Chris heard his uncle answer, "Christina?"

        Chris cleared his throat and said, "Hi Uncle Alek, it's me."

        "Christina, where have you been all day? We called at least three times!"

        Kicking his sneakers off as he dropped onto the couch, Chris responded, "I'm sorry Uncle Alek, I was at work all day."

        "You were working on a Saturday? Again?" his uncle exclaimed angrily. "Did you just get home?"

        Chris winced at the sound of disapproval in his uncle's voice. "Yes sir," he replied guiltily, "I know you don't approve of me being out so late, but things have been really busy at work. They need me to work late for a while."

        "Tina, we have not heard from you in two weeks."

        Chris was astonished. He knew he missed speaking with his aunt and uncle the previous Sunday, but had it really been two weeks? He strained to remember, but he couldn't recall the last time he'd spoken with his uncle. He didn't even remember the last time he'd spoken with Nina, or even Andrei. "I'm so sorry Uncle Alek," he apologized, "I've just been so busy ... I guess I lost track of time."

        Alek's voice changed from annoyance to concern. "Your aunt and I are worried about you. You work far too hard. You should find some other kind of job."

        "I really can't right now." Chris had thought about getting a new job. He'd scanned the job boards online, but there was hardly anything in the area. The companies that were hiring were looking to fill senior positions; Chris would be lucky to even get another junior position with the state of his resume. He'd even contemplated getting some other kind of job, as some sort of cashier, or other kind of entry level work, but he couldn't see how he could earn enough money to keep his apartment. For better or for worse, Chris needed to ride this rough spot out where he was.

        "Tina, you are to call your Aunt tomorrow," Alek commanded. "She misses you."

        "I will," Chris responded obediently.

        "Why do you not come home for a while? When will we see you again?"

        "I dunno," Chris began, "I miss you all so much, but I don't think I can get away. Maybe Thanksgiving."

        "We will see you then," Alek responded firmly. "It is late, I want you to go to bed right now."

        "I will, Uncle Alek,"

        "Goodnight, Tina," Alek said affectionately.

        Chris replied, "Goodnight Uncle Alek, I love you."

        Chris was chagrined that his uncle thought he had a bedtime, and furthermore, that midnight was past it. It didn't matter; Chris was tired and he had no intention of staying up. The truth was, even if he'd been wide awake, he would still have obeyed his uncle. Alek had assumed the role of an overprotective father to his niece. Chris didn't care for the overprotective part, but he liked the idea that there was someone who was always looking out for him. It seemed that whenever Alek treated him like a helpless little girl, he fell obliged to obey.

        Chris stumbled around in the dark around the piles of clothes and trash on the floor. Misha had done an excellent job teaching Chris to keep house, but he was hardly ever home for long enough to put those skills into practice. He dropped onto his bed and shimmied out of his clothes.

        As he laid there in his underwear, he transcended the normal definition of "tired." He entered that realm of mental exhaustion that exceeded physical fatigue. His muscles felt dead and empty, and his mind was spent. A solid month of sixty-hour work weeks had taken its toll. He wished he was in his bed in Oak Grove. His room there was always clean, and there were always crisp, clean sheets. As he cast his thoughts to his other bedroom, he could smell the fragrant summer air floating in from the window. He pictured the canopy of his bed flowing in the mountain breeze. He could almost feel the softness of his mattress. He always felt like a princess when he slept in the bed that Andrei had made for him.

        Chris tossed and turned. The alarm clock read two-seventeen. He wanted desperately to sleep, but he was caught in a restless fit. His body ached from overuse. Desperate, Chris rose from his bed, his ankles and knees stinging as they bore his weight. Flipping on the bathroom light switch, he stared at his face as it was lit up by the pale illumination of the incandescent bulb dangling from two wires overhead. There was no color in his cheeks, on the walls, or in his thoughts.

        Stripping out of his underwear, Chris left it on the floor where he stood. He stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water. The massaging pulse of the shower head coaxed some life back into Chris' sore muscles. He stood there for several minutes, leaning on the shower rod for support.

        Feeling better after the brief shower, he grabbed a towel from the wall, dried his long hair and shambled back to the bedroom. He laid back down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He was tormented by the sound of passing cars and people on the street. Looking at the alarm clock, he realized it was almost four in the morning. This had to end; Chris needed something to help him sleep. He thoughts again drifted to his other bedroom. If only there was some way he could be there, he knew he could sleep.

        Chris jumped out of bed and went to his closet. He knew what he was about to do was very wrong, but he was desperate. He was consumed with nervous energy, and he needed to do something to make it stop. Removing a large cardboard box out of the closet, Chris ripped off the tape that held it shut. He didn't rummage through his girl clothes; instead, he made a neat stack on the ground as he dug into the box. He searched until he found the satin boxer pajamas that Nina had picked out for him during their first visit to Ariel Rose.

        Taking a deep breath, Chris slid the boxers bottoms up his long slender legs. He relished the feel of the smooth satin against his bare bottom. His male clothes were so course and abrasive; he wondered how he'd survived for so long in them. He slid his arms daintily though the sleeves of the top and buttoned it, and pranced over to the mirror with a rediscovered girlish delight. Looking at his reflection in the window, he fussed playfully with his hair. He was a long way from being Christina again, but his pajamas made him feel comfortable and relaxed; even attractive.

        Relishing the sensation of his pajamas, Chris slid back into bed and fantasized that he was back in his room at home. He closed his eyes and focused. Andrei and Nina were sleeping just down the hall. When he would wake up tomorrow morning Misha would be waiting downstairs with something delicious for breakfast. Chris would be up bright and early, and he would wear something pretty for his uncle. Perhaps he would go swimming with Nina or sit under the stars with Andrei. It was a beautiful fantasy. The fantasy turned into dreams as Chris truly relaxed for the first time in weeks and drifted to sleep.

        When Chris awoke the next day, it was as thought a dam had broken in his mind. He was not ashamed when he realized he was wearing his girl pajamas. They were his clothes, and they were comfortable. The fact that they were intended for girls didn't seem to matter. Even though he'd only slept for a few hours, he felt invigorated. His dreams had been filled with vivid images of life on the mountain, and he felt as though he'd really been there. Chris realized that to keep up the punishing pace of his job, he had to make some changes.

        The first thing he did was clean his apartment. He cleaned thoroughly, the way Misha had taught him. It took him half the day, but the apartment had never looked or smelled so good. Once that chore was done, Chris opened the boxes containing his girl clothes. He hung them up properly and cleared out a drawer for his panties and undergarments, even though he had no intention of wearing these things, except perhaps for his sleep clothes. Lastly, he put pictures of his family on the walls, including pictures of himself.

        This new behavior carried into the week. Chris had bought several magazines to read on the train on Monday morning, including the latest issues of Cosmo, Allure, and even YM. He had become genuinely interested in makeup and fashion, and he didn't see any reason to deny himself these things. He knew he was still a boy, but it didn't matter. This was no different from buying any other magazine about any other topic that interested him.

        All these things made the long hours easier to bear. As long as he was focused on Thanksgiving, and seeing his family, it was as though the volume on life was turned down.

        As November approached, Chris prepared for his return to Oak Grove. He shopped online for new clothes; he needed an entirely new wardrobe for Fall and Winter weather. Again, Chris dipped into his meager savings, but spending money on new clothes felt like a reward for all the hard work.

        Now an expert at online shopping, Chris had no trouble buying girls' clothes in the right sizes. He clicked around for hours, scrutinizing every skirt and sweater in every catalog. Compounding measures, he needed a new dress. Chris had a romantic notion of a family Thanksgiving; he pictured the family, well dressed, and sitting around an enormous turkey. Christina Chase would need a new dress to wear for Thanksgiving Day. While not overly dressy, it had to be something more extravagant than the dresses she'd worn to church.

        Chris, who now had bookmarks for all his favorite apparel stores, perused the images of formal dresses. He wished that he had the luxury of trying them on before deciding what to buy. As he saw one image after another of dresses designed for proms and weddings, he realized he had to try other stores or at least other sections of the catalogs. Just before he navigated away, one dress in particular caught his eye; it was a peach colored cocktail dress with a very short skirt. Though it was completely impractical, he clicked on the image to view the details. For an instant, he pictured himself wearing the dress. Against his better judgment, Chris bought the dress. He could try it on just once or twice, he reasoned, then return it. He just wanted to see what it would look like. After all, any other girl would be able to try on as many dresses as she wished. All she'd have to do was walk into any story and try things on. He didn't have the option. Considering the circumstances, ordering the dress for fun seemed like the only fair thing to do.

        After spoiling himself by spending some of his rapidly shrinking savings on a dress he would never need, Chris returned to the search for a Thanksgiving dress. Once he found one to his liking, he finished up the rest of his online shopping. By the time he was done, his girl clothes far outnumbered his boy clothes. He'd also splurged on body lotions, makeup, perfume, and jewelry. Though he'd bought a variety of bracelets and earrings, he didn't purchase any necklaces, as he could never dream of wearing anything but his gear necklace.

        Once his new wardrobe was secure, Chris called Lucille at the Transformations Boutique and set up an appointment. He wasn't looking forward to the pain or humiliation of another waxing, but he chalked it up as one of the costs for spending time at home. He would also have to get his ears pierced again before he could enjoy all of his new earrings. Even thought he was going to see Lucille, Chris called Steph and made an appointment for the day after Thanksgiving. He rationalized that he wanted to try some new things with his hair, but it was really an excuse to spend time with the girl of his dreams.

        The last step was his bus ticket. His uncle had forbidden him to take the night bus again, so he had to purchase tickets for a bus that left early in the morning.

        With all this done, Chris still returned home exhausted at the end of every day, but his heart was filled with hope, as he knew he would be home soon.

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Edited into coherence by Holly H. Hart.
Thanks to Sephrena Miller for taking an early read.
Hope you enjoyed it. If you liked it or hated it, please leave a tasty comment.
Krunch Away!