I give Mom a funny look.

She misinterprets it and says, “OK. I didn’t think so… I still think this is a bit overboard, though… We didn’t use these in my teen days as a model…” She picks up the gartered corset and holds it up for me to get into.

I shrug, still trying to figure out what is going on. I remember my research from last night…somehow that has affected reality. This is the first time that I am aware that the necklace, if indeed that IS what is doing this, has affected anything, or anyone besides ME. I still had not connected the dots that it was WAY too easy to have my records changed at school… No doctor, no legalities…

Then it hits me, as Mom is tightening the corset. I replay what she had just said in my head, “We didn’t use these in my teen days as a model… HER days as a model? Mom was never a model…”

She pulls the corset tighter and tighter and says, “I never would have expected you to want to go this far with your dream. When you started your changes, I had no idea the desire to be a model, like me, was driving it…”

She ties off the corset. I can barely breathe, but my waist is down to the perfect size ‘00’. I look at Mom’s reflection in the mirror as she stands behind me and see some less-than subtle, and very stunning differences. Mom has always been pretty in my eyes. She is BEAUTIFUL, now…and has a figure to die for.

I shake my head, trying to reconcile this new reality with the one my brain is still semi-clamoring to; or is it just a lack of oxygen making me think funny?

Mom hands me my stockings, clearly with the expectation that I put them on. I distinctly hear her voice in my head, saying, “I meant it when I said no garters in school!”

I roll the silky stockings up my legs and deftly attach the garters, like I had done it a thousand times before.

Mom says, “Hurry up and put on your dress. We have to leave in fifteen minutes. You have just enough time for breakfast.”

I put on my dress and heels and hurry downstairs. Mom hands me a candy bar and an e-cig. She is puffing on one herself and downing a candy bar between puffs. My mouth starts watering and I greedily turn on the e-cig and take a big drag—hungrily taking in the nicotine, I am so hopelessly addicted to…

“Landon! Landon! LAYLA! Wake up! You are going to be late!!!”

I open my eyes to see Mom, my REAL Mom shaking me. I shudder; the dream was so real…I could have sworn it was really happening to me…

I groggily nod my head and say, “OK, Mom. I am awake!” I sit up and feel a weight shift on my chest.

Mom says, “Oh, my! I am not sure those bras I picked up for you yesterday are going to fit anymore!” She giggles.

I give her an exasperated look and pinch myself to see if I am REALLY awake this time.

I stand in front of the same mirror that I still so vividly remember from my dream—this time, however, Mom is helping into a bra. As it turns out, the B-cup bras I have are a perfect fit; just that now the gel inserts are not needed. Mom is fiddling with the straps and I am still trying to make sense of the dream…

It is sort of like the necklace is telling me to be careful what I wish for. I am fully convinced it is the necklace creating my changes, since it has once again gotten daintier…and has the cursive name ‘Layla’ written in gold wire suspended in its center.

Mom finishes adjusting the bra straps and I stand there in just my panties and bra and look in the mirror. I shake off the dream and see the beginnings of a girly figure. Curves where there are supposed to be curves. My waist is a little narrower, my hips a little wider, my chest (obviously) more developed. I smile—then frown.

Mom asks, “What is wrong, Hon? You will get used to the bra.”

I shake my head and say, “That is not it. I don’t think the dresses I got from the Braun’s will fit anymore. I think they may be a bit big…”

Mom slowly nods her head and says, “You may be right. Let’s see…” She sorts through them, then picks out one and holds it up with a strange look on her face. She asks, “Layla? Gabi was a size twelve before she lost her weight, right?”

I nod my head and say, “Duh! That is why those are all twelves…”

Mom gives me a stern look and says, “Don’t you sass me, young lady! These dresses are all EIGHTS…”

I gasp and take it to see for myself. The label clearly says size eight…and it fits perfectly… What’s more, the pants that Mom had gotten me in size twelve are also now eights…

I shake my head and look at Mom. She shrugs and says, “It is not any weirder than anything else that has happened this week, I guess…”

I get out at school with mixed feelings. I am sure it is going to basically be a repeat of yesterday—but, I DO look much better today. At least I am starting to get a figure that resembles a girl more than a guy. Oh! And I have BOOBS! Well, beginner boobs…but they are real!

I meet Bethany and my ‘honor guard’ for the day right outside school. Bethany hugs me and several of the girls tell me how great I look. Bethany says, “I know that is one of the dresses that I gave you yesterday, but it looks…smaller?”

I giggle and say, “Size eight… Like magic!”

Bethany smiles and winks. We link arms and stroll inside like we own the school. Edward and his cronies are in the main hall waiting for us. He looks at me and stutters, “Drag fag? Look at you! Trying to be all girlie! What? Did you get an overnight boob-job? It doesn’t matter!”

We ignore and walk on by towards class…

It infuriates him and he starts screaming. Mr. Garner comes around the corner and collars Edward. He quietly says, “Stanton, you have just earned yourself and your ‘entourage’ a day of detention this Saturday!”

The girls and I all giggle and keep walking without looking back.

Edward screams, “You will pay for this drag fag!”

The last thing we hear before we enter our class room is Mr. Garner saying, “Make that TWO Saturdays… One more and you earn a suspension!”

Mrs. Van Buren studies the pictures I pull up. She smiles and says, “Layla, these are really good! I like the Victorian foundation together with the modern touches! Keep up the good work!”

I look at Bethany and grin…then groan as Mrs. Van Buren moves on. I whine, “I don’t FEEL like this is great! And…even if I get it designed…how am I going to sew it? I know NOTHING about sewing!”

Bethany grins and says, “No worries, Lay! I have an extra machine at home. I can show you. You just need to finish your design.”

The rest of the day, I get muddled looks and lots of smiles. It seems that my new developing figure is confusing people’s perception of me. Most girls seem to be happy for me—plying me with bright smiles. Most guys seem totally confused, showering me with befuddled stares.

At least, for whatever reason, I don’t run into Edward, or his cronies the rest of the day.

After school, I am escorted to Mrs. Braun’s car by Bethany and my ‘entourage’ and we go to their house. Bethany pulls out a second sewing machine and sets it beside the one she normally uses. She has me practice by sewing different swatches, using different threads and fabrics, and trying out different stitches.

After an hour of sewing practice, we do our yoga routine. I am getting much better at stretching, and placing my heel on the floor, but I still prefer my heels.

Mrs. Braun invites me for dinner and insists that I stay for a girl’s night, since Mr. Braun has to work late. It’s her, Bethany, Bethany’s sisters, and I. We have a ball talking and giggling. I have never felt included in a group this way…it is exhilarating.

As I am getting ready to leave, Mrs. Braun says, “Layla, hon, you are turning into a real doll.” She whispers in my ear, “You need to work on the voice, though!” She smiles at me and gives me a hug.

I give her a shocked look and she says, “No! Don’t be embarrassed! You are doing so wonderful! That is what makes the voice so out of place. That is a wonderful thing!”

I hug her back and say, trying my best to downplay my deep voice, “You are right, Mrs. Braun. I didn’t really think about it…”

I hurry home and hug Mom. I go up to my bathroom to take a bath and moisturize, then I do some more research for my dress. I turn on Jayda and unconsciously hum along to the music as I search for design ideas…and envy the models wearing the dresses…

I stand in front of the mirror and am stunned that I am now a size four…and my dresses are too! My face is MUCH more feminine…a mix of Mom and Christy, actually… And…I am now nearly a C-cup.

I hum as I stroll down the stairs and am singing a Jayda song as I make the coffee. Mom comes in and looks around, clearly expecting to find something. I give her an inquisitive look and she asks, “Do you have the radio on?”

I giggle and say, “No…” I put my hands to my throat and give her a startled look. I say, “It was just me…singing…”

Mom smiles and says, “It was beautiful… A lot like that singer you like, what is her name? Jayda? Only…not… I like your voice much better!”

If I thought the boys’ looks yesterday were confused…they were NOTHING compared to today. And I think they are going to smother me, when they hear my voice.

Of course, all of that is again NOTHING compared to the next day, when I show up the next day, Friday… I am a svelte size two and a FULL C-cup. My face puts even the most ravishing beauty to shame. My body is perfectly shaped, toned, and…well, exquisitely sexy…with cleavage to die for.

The only thing that is even remotely male…or masculine that is left of me…is the small remnant of my…penis…

I am starting to feel…really good about myself. Even the wind is now taken out of Edward’s sail… NO ONE even REMOTELY considers me to be a guy dressed as a girl, anymore… He can’t get anyone to go along with his idiocy.

As far as everyone is concerned, I am Layla. Just Layla…