Kate Draffen (Chapters 10-17)

By Swishy
Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

These are the next 8 chapters of Gemma's story.

*****

CHAPTER 10

It was very nice to smell home again. You know how your house has a distinctive smell? Everyone's house has one. You don't really notice it until you've been away for a while and then it greets you like a family pet, happily waiting for you at the front door. I wrinkled my cute little nose up as I drew in a huge whiff of the old house.

"It's good to be home!" I sighed loudly. I was perhaps overreacting because I had really only been away for two nights, on top of that I was only less than 5 kilometres down the road.

It might have been good to be home but it was a little disconcerting too. It was a familiar place and thus I finally noticed how weird it was to be so much shorter. It was like the reverse of the feeling you get from going back to your primary school fully grown. The chairs, tables and everything around me now felt so big. Jesus Christ, I was a midget! Well, maybe I was being a touch dramatic but I was quite small, 5'4 in the old language. I would now have to get the portable step if I wanted something out of the top cupboard, like Mum and Nicole. Curse my tiny body!

I kicked off my sandals and wondered what to do next. No idea popped into my head. My biggest hurdle had been getting out of the hospital and now I was free I had no idea what to do with the rest of my day, or tomorrow, or next week. I knew I was expected to go back to school at some point but I was sure nobody was going to rush me. Which was good as since going back to school would be my next big hurdle. I thought I would take my time going back to school.

"What now?" I asked Mum.

"Lunch?" Mum replied.

"Nah, not yet. Not that hungry."

"Wow! You have changed!"

Mum teased me about my 'bottomless stomach' when I was male.

"Well, if you are interested, you could have a look at these…" my mother swung open the TV room door and a treasure trove of cards, flowers and presents awaited me. It was way bigger than Christmas and probably bigger than all my previous Christmases combined.

"Who are all these for?"

"Michael and Gemma," Mum teased, "But don't you two fight over who gets what!"

"Can I help you open 'em?" asked Nicole, her eyes as wide as plates.

"I guess so," I said so as I went inside and sat on the couch.

There were a lot of cards to get through. Some from my friends at school, some from people I barely knew and even more from complete strangers. Most people went for the 'Get Well Soon' which seemed to be the right choice of card, although a guy I barely know from school sent an 'It's a girl' and Nicole actually found a condolences card. Most of them were short but very sweet messages of hope directed to me. Some had money in them, some had gift vouchers to clothes stores and other places. I guess people weren't aware that I was now comfortably well off, thanks to the price some others will pay to know more about my story.

But not all of them were nice.

Nicole found the first one. Normally after each card she would say,
"Awww, that's sweet," or
"Yay! Another gift voucher!"
I knew this time was different when she scrunched the letter up and threw it.
"Fucking losers!" didn't sound as complimentary as her other comments either.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Some religious fuckwit who says that you are a poof getting your just desserts."

It never dawned on me that some people wouldn't be on my side. I had never seen this body as an affront to God - an affront to me, sure, but not God. I was not at all religious but I wanted to see if I could see their side of things. After a little bit of thought, I could understand why they'd be upset; some people were using technology to thwart the choices of God, but I wasn't the perpetrator, I was the victim! So I decided not to go and get upset about it.

That wasn't the only weird letter I received. Some weird guys wrote of how jealous they were of me. One guy requested my first pair of panties to be sent to him. One of the packages contained a vibrator and a brand new digital camera with a request to 'Please enjoy and show me how much you enjoyed'. All this stuff had arrived before the public had even seen me. I could imagine how the big pile of letters was going to be over the next couple of days. I tried to laugh off most of the letters. But after one too many scary-weird ones, I went to my room to have a cry.

Crying was just another part of the day for me, these days.
I'm pretty sure I could blame it on being a girl but I don't think that was the case.
I could just as easily see myself being male and crying more if Mum or Nicole had died. I'm fairly certain being a girl was what was upsetting me. I didn't like all the attention, I didn't like how it was complicating things with all my friends and I didn't like being in this body. Sure, my last body wasn't perfect and a lot more people would call this new body a step up but I still really liked my old body.

Mum knocked on the door, so I rescheduled the rest of the crying session until later.

"Want some lunch, Gem?"

"That would be great," I said trying to sound like I hadn't been crying.

Mum carried in a plate with two rounds of BBQ chicken sandwiches, my favourite. I rubbed my red eyes and took the plate.

"Ta Mum."

Mum sat down alongside me on the bed and took a deep breath. I knew she was trying to think of something to say. The last few days had been so weird and the conversations had all been about the dramatic events in my life. I sensed that Mum just wanted this talk to be about anything but the change. I started to hoe into the sandwiches while Mum wondered what to talk to her new daughter about.

Mum glanced around at my room, "I guess you'll be taking down those girly posters, huh?"

I was wrong, Mum didn't want to avoid about my recent change, she just wanted to work up the confidence to ask me about my sexuality, a tough topic for any mother to broach with her daughter let alone a daughter who was only 2 days old, fresh out of the hospital.

I looked at Jessica Alba, Keeley Hazell and Krystal Forscutt staring back at me sensually. Oddly, I felt… nothing. No wanton desire, no yearning, no disgust, no jealousy… nothing at all. By contrast I pictured a handsome guy, muscly, naked and well endowed… also nothing. Maybe SGR had made me asexual. That fate may be better than developing a love for burying penises deep inside me.

"I don't know," I sighed, a non-committal sigh, "I'm not ready to take them down just yet. But I don't really mind."

By using the topic of posters I believe we had successfully held a conversation about my sexuality. Embarrassment averted!

But not for too long.

"So how do you like your giant boobs?" Fantastic! I thought we had a nice little code to talk about embarrassing things and she had to go and ruin it! My face grew red and I stammered out my answer, "Umm.. they're big and I keep bumping them with my hands. Is 17 too young for a breast reduction?"

"Oh come off it! You've got plenty of time to enjoy them before they'll start hurting your back. Live a little and show them off!"

She stared down at my cleavage, "They are so perky, Gem. Mine didn't get that big until I was preggers with Nicky and they really start to sag after childbirth."

The thought of childbirth was not one I was entertaining nor did I want to hear about the state of my Mum's breasts, I was having enough problems getting over my own.

"The bra strap is digging into me."

"You'll get used to it," she said in a world-weary voice.

"Not if I get a reduction," I hinted, "We can certainly afford it now. I probably have enough Just Jeans vouchers out there to get one!"

Mum only smiled at the joke.

"Well, since you're only 17 you'll have to wait at least a year because I am not going to sign for one. And I'm pretty sure Annette and Dr. Chisholm would be against it."

"But it's my body," I argued.

"Barely," she retorted, "You've scarcely had 'em 24 hours and you want to lop them off? Live with them, they are part of you. And when you get your sexuality back in whatever form it comes back, I'm sure you'll learn to love 'em. I love mine, I can't tell you how many times they've helped me out of many a jam."

"Jam?"

"Yeah, speed fines ripped up, served faster at stores and bars. You'll have men falling over themselves to help ya. You've just received a treasured family gift."

With comments like that you just have to laugh, so I did.

Nicole was still opening my 'fan mail' after my beyond awkward talk with Mum.

"You're a rich girl now, Gemma!" my sister called from the TV room.

"How much?" I asked curiously.

"Over two grand in cash!"

"Awesome!"

"You've got a bunch or cheques and gift vouchers too!"

"Take a few for yourself."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You're the fucking best, little sis!"

'Little sis' was something I was going to have to learn to get used to so I didn't comment on it.

With my mood already on the depressed side of things I was not looking forward to Annette's visit. She sat me down at the kitchen table so we could have a 'girl talk', although she was much too professional to call it that.

"This is a lovely house."

She chewed demurely on an apple I had offered her and began the work of checking up on me.

"So Gemma," she said, "How is everything?"

It was the kind of open-ended question she often opened with, one I would never honestly answer and she knew it. Why she kept it up I'll never know.

"Fine," I responded flatly, while resting my head on my hand and my elbow on the table.

At least I knew she wasn't going to jump headlong into a conversation about my 'giant boobs'.

"Today was a big day for you. How do you feel about the press conference?"

"It was OK, very scary."

I thought I would throw her a bone.

"Why was it very scary?" she asked.

"Well, there was so many people watching me and this was the first time I had gone outside looking like this,"

I gestured to my body, a body that I was stuck in.

"I think you did wonderfully, Gemma. So many people came up to me and told me how well you spoke."

Why random people were coming up to Dr. Annette Fischer to give her compliments about me I'll never know.

"Thanks for picking the clothes too. They are nice."

"Thank you Gemma. I was pretty certain you didn't want a skirt or anything like that."

"You're smarter than you look."

She laughed at my comment, but a laugh that sounded like 'I'm doing this to humour you and to show you I am a good sport'.

She handed me a blank piece of paper and a pen.

"Today I want to try one or two exercises with you," she addressed me as if I was a kindergarten class,

"First off I am going to give you a minute to write down all the things that you wanted to achieve in life as a guy that you still can achieve as a girl."

I could see what the point of this exercise was from the outset but not wanting to cause her any more grief I complied. It was reassuring that I was still left-handed, supposedly only 1 in 10 people are left-handed and it would have really thrown me out of whack if I had to start writing with my right hand. I leant over the kitchen table to scribble away and laid my elbow on the table but unnervingly my hefty boobs also rested on the table. I would have to learn to not hunch over as much when I wrote, another thing to add to the list.

-Graduate High School
-Graduate Uni
-Get a good job
-Travel

It was about there I was stumped. Those four things sounded fine, but a good life is made up of more than just those four things. I just couldn't think of them, I think they are a lot of small things.

"That's all I could get," I owned up as I slid the relatively blank piece of paper back to her.

She lowered her glasses on her nose and looked over my small list.

"Don't be upset with it. This is a good and concise list. Those are achievable goals for anyone to have and for some one as naturally talented as you, I'm sure you'll be set for life. Now, I want you to write all the things you can't achieve now that you are a girl."

See the point of the exercise was that my list of 'things a girl can't do' would be extremely slim. I saw that going into it. Didn't mean I wasn't going to come up with a few.

Annette furrowed her brow when I returned the paper again.

"I would like to think that your inability to write your name in the snow wouldn't be too devastating."

She was not a jokey person in the slightest.

"And I must correct you, it would still be possible to have a sexual encounter with Jessica Alba."

OK, maybe she had a slight sense of humour.

"Annette, can I ask you some personal things?"

I didn't particularly want an answer from her but I did want one from someone and she was qualified.

"Of course."

"I kinda have no sexual drive at the moment. When is it going to come back? And what is it going to be?"

Trust a teenager to have nothing but sex on their mind, even when they are unable to have sex on their mind.

"It's different among a lot of the cases. Some people's original sexual orientation remains while most of the other cases readjust to their new genders. The fact that you are feeling asexual at the moment means there will be a strong chance you'll start becoming attracted to boys. But as for when, I can't pinpoint an exact time and date. Some have noticed a gradual increase while others have explained it's like a light switch being turned on, completely asexual one minute and attracted to the opposite sex the next. Could happen today, could be as long as a month."

Having the 'light switch' moment with my sexual drive seemed a little scary so I hoped for a 'smooth transition' into my new sexuality. Actually, I hoped for a return to my old sexuality. I liked being turned on by giggles, little skirts, curves and softness. The idea of being turned on by guys and their angles, hair and hardness seemed a tough job to do.

"What is Draffen's sexual orientation?" I quizzed.

"He struggled with it for a while but John is heterosexual. He was ashamed at first but is slowly learning to enjoy it. Let's just say he has a few magazines under his bed."

I remembered my pile of magazines residing under my bed and was a little sad at its alluded redundancy.

"When your sex drive does return, do not feel ashamed at the prospect of masturbating. It's a perfectly healthy thing to do and a far more safe alternative to sexual intercourse,"

My life was just going to be full of these embarrassing conversations for a while.

"Did you masturbate as a boy?" Annette asked me.

My mind flicked back to the many times I had enjoyed my own company, looking at pics on the net. Pictures of cute girls squeezing their breasts together or joyously sucking on a man's cock. Or other times where I pictured Holly stripping for me.

"Yep," I confessed.

"Well for a guy, masturbating is rather limited to your penis and your hand. For women the process can be as simple as your vagina and your hand but many women use other devices. Like dildos or vibrators."

"Someone sent me one today," I informed Annette, remembering the long chrome shaft in the nice box.

"Who did?"

"Some weirdo who also included a camera. I got a few weird presents."

"Well, I wouldn't use that one just in case. The world is filled with sick people."

That sounded very pessimistic coming from a psychologist.

"I have included quite a good vibrator in the package I brought with me today,"

Wow! Nice work, dowdy Dr. Fischer!

"Along with other girly things: tampons, pads, and other feminine hygiene items."

Oh no! Let's not talk about those things yet!

Annette must have read my mind, "But that's all for another day."

"Now Gemma, I'll be around every day now for the next couple of weeks. Together we're going to be getting you ready for school and making this transition into womanhood a…"

'Smooth' you're going to say 'smooth'.

"…smooth one."

I nodded in agreement. She told me I could call her whenever I wanted day or night and she'd help me through any problem I had. Annette was trying her hardest, I'll give her that. It's just there was a clash of personalities, something very common. I decided to bite my lip and help her a little more. The sooner she deemed me healthy, the soon she could go on her merry way.

There are two types of families in the world: those who watched TV while eating dinner and those who didn't. We watched TV while we ate dinner. I'm sure some families frown on that sort of activity because they enjoy talking, but the fact of the matter is we do a lot of talking, mostly about the TV. Today the news played my speech word for word and I listened to it, cringing at the sound of my new voice. It was so high and girly. I guess I was no longer a bass at choir anymore, I'd be lucky if I was an alto. A lot of commentators had a lot of nice things to say about my speech, calling it 'mature' and 'thoughtful'. The piece ended by saying there would be an exclusive interview with me next Sunday night. Not only was I transformed into a girl and expected to fit in, I now had to compete against 60 minutes too!

I didn't have any visitors that night because we were all going to hang out at the Madsen house tomorrow night, kind of a 'Welcome Home' party for me. We'd do the usual, watch some DVDs, have a few drinks and stay up late. Really just the norm for a Saturday night in February. At the moment I had an itch I couldn't scratch - I desperately wanted to go swimming. It had been almost an entire week since I was last in the sea, before this whole thing began. I had never gone so long without swimming in my entire life. While the urge was there, the bravery was not. I couldn't bring myself to actually strip down and throw myself in the water.

Maybe tomorrow.

The evening was mainly spent by writing in my diary and listening to my iPod. It was the kind of quiet Friday night I liked to have before the change. If I had a tough week there was nothing better than a quiet Friday night, losing my way in my mind. It was my secret escape. This week had been incredibly tough and it was a great relaxant.

I still cried myself to sleep though.

CHAPTER 11

"We brought Burger Rings!" I said through the mesh of security door. Burger Rings had always been my favourite chip-like snack but I resented how everyone else neglected them. The neglect mostly came from people forgetting them, by ignoring the orange bag with black lettering but oddly some people didn't like the taste. These types of people are fools. The way Kev Madsen grimaced at me holding the bag probably meant he was one of those types of people.

"I said you didn't need to worry 'bout getting food. Mum and Dad have left the pantry fairly chockers."

"But she demanded we pick some up," Glen groaned, "Something about 'Lest we forget'."

"I just think Burger Rings are a neglected food stuff," I admitted, swinging the bag like a hypnotist's watch.

Kev opened the door and let Glen, Dot and me into his house.

If you think I sounded a little different, it was because I was feeling a little different. Before I arrived at the Madsen Brothers' house I had downed a few Vodka Cruisers (I know it's a girly drink, but I was drinking them before the change). Mum, in an effort to cheer me up, had bought a dozen for me to share with my friends. While at Dot's house, Glen, Dot and myself had drunk eight between us. While Dot and Glen had only drunk two each, I was currently winning on four. Hence, my mood. I felt buzzed.

"Hi Gemma," Mads said from the couch in his lounge room.

I was amazed no one had slipped up and called me Michael. But in hindsight the reason was apparent. People were as likely to confuse Dot and Glen, as they were to call me Michael. One was a girl and one was a boy, there was no mistaking the two.

"Great speech yesterday!" Mads enthused.

"Thanks, man," I said as I sat next to him on the couch.

"Yeah, me and my mates all YouTubed at lunch time in the library."

"It was on YouTube?" Considering I made the speech at 10am, making it onto YouTube by lunch was quite a feat.

"Yeah," Mads said, "There was several copies of it. I'm sure there is a lot of Net chat about you going on."

I really must Google myself one day.

The lid of the Vodka Cruiser sat beside the other one and kept it company, as I gently tipped the bottle at an angle letting the bright neon liquid pass my lips and into my stomach. This was my sixth of the night. I was enjoying myself. We were all engaged in a game of Scene It, which was a movie trivia board game that comes with a DVD that has movie scenes and questions on it. I don't want to brag, but I was doing pretty well, I like trivia a lot, and movie trivia just happens to be my forte.

"THE BIG LEBOWSKI!!" I screamed as pure excitement propelled me off my chair.

My boobs clattered violently beneath me as I jumped up and down when it was revealed to be the right answer. Tonight, I wore another tank top and another pair of jeans because that's pretty much all I had. The new tank top was bright red with black bands around the top and showed a little more cleavage. The material was a little clingier too but Mum had said that girls' clothes were generally more figure hugging and I would have to get used to it. I didn't mind showing a bit of boob because I was only being seen by my friends: one of whom was a girl, one of whom was probably gay and Glen and Kev didn't seem to be too threatening to me. However, the fact that Kev spent most of the night with a cushion covering his lap did make me a little suspicious.

"Ease up with the drinks, little Miss Movie Buff!" Dot warned, "I didn't think 3-day-olds were allowed to drink." Everyone laughed and I sheepishly put the bottle down. "It's OK," I assured everyone, "I'm not drunk!" I considered myself to be slightly tipsy: intoxicated enough to forget about my slue of problems and let down my hair but sober enough to walk without falling down. "I know, I know, you keep telling us that!" I giggled, the one sure sign that someone was drunk was the constant denial of being drunk. Maybe I had drunk enough. I decided to finish off the bottle and leave it there.

Despite being a lot more intoxicated than all the other players, I trounced everyone in the game. I danced a little victory dance to commemorate my win and prove to everyone that I was drunk and a sexy body does not necessarily mean a sexy dancer. I shook everyone's hand in mock good-sportsmanship.

"Good game, Glen, so close. Good game, Dot. Good game, Mads. And now you know that Steven Spielberg didn't direct Alien, Kev,"

I teased Kev because he came dead last.

"Like I care who directed Alien!"

The boys turned on the TV to watch the cricket. Well, actually they were just flicking through the channels just looking when they came across it. The scores were so close and the commentary team so excited they wanted to watch it. Not as enthusiastic about the cricket as the rest of my former gender I went to shoot the breeze with Dot outside. Don't go thinking that my disinterest was because of the different hormones sashaying through my girly body, I would have abandoned watching sports on TV for a chat, anytime, penis or no penis.

"Hey Victor/Victoria over here!" Dot called to me. She sat on the steps of the Madsen family decking, which gave an amazing view of the sea. The sun was threatening to call it a day and as a last desperate act before logging out for the night was painting the sky a lovely shade of purple. The night watchman, the moon had already clocked in and was patiently waiting for the sun to leave so that he could begin his shift. The presence of a cool, refreshing breeze made it the type of night that your brain would take a snapshot of, just in case you were panicking and needed an emergency calming image. It made me glad I lived in Marrang and glad I was alive.

"Yo! Christen Jorgansson!" Dot called out to me again and ruined the moment.

"Dot! Shut up! I'm coming.

I stumbled a little, as if I was wearing high heels and plonked myself beside her. She lit up a cigarette and began puffing away. I didn't like Dot's smoking habit. She claimed it was inherited from her mother and she only rarely did it but she and I had two different opinions on what 'rarely' meant. For such an incredibly smart girl, smoking seemed to be too stupid a pastime for Dot but nevertheless smart girls seem to make stupid decisions. Like Holly taking that dick, Sobey to the Deb.

"Turkey's done," Dot cryptically said, dryly.

"Huh?"

"I said that the turkey is done."

I furrowed my brow in confusion, "Still not getting you."

Dot sighed, the same little angry sigh she often reserved for me when she became frustrated with trivial matters.

"Let me put it this way… The weather is certainly 'nippy' out here."

I finally cottoned on to what she was gabbing on and looked down. Sure enough, my two plump nipples erectly stood up, clearly visible through my little top

"Oh great!" I groaned as I clumsily tried to cover them.

"Don't worry about it! I was just teasing you."

"These boobs have got a mind of their own!" I complained.

"Well Gemma, they are big enough to warrant their own brains!"

I gave her serious daggers.

"How big are they?" Dot asked staring deep into my cleavage.

"10D," I mumbled, reciting what I had read off the tags from my brassieres.

"Shit! Skinny with big boobs, I might be too jealous of you to continue being your best friend."

"So, how is my best friend doing?" Dot asked as she stubbed the smoke out on the decking and scooted a little closer to me.
I was finally asked this question by someone I didn't feel I had to lie to, there was no pressure or guilt about telling the truth to her.

"It fucking sucks, Dot. I hate so much of it. Not just the body, but the way people act around me and the whole fucking country watching my every move!"

I balled my hands into tight fists again for the hundredth time that week.

"Settle petal," Dot said as she draped her arm around my shoulder, "Us girls are in this together. I'm totally here for you. I've had 16 years in this being a girl business so I can help you out! And believe me I am going to treat you exactly the same"

It was a nice thing for a girl who found saying nice things a particularly difficult thing to achieve.

"Any tips?" I still wasn't used to the girly squeak that was my voice.

"For being a girl?" Dot responded, "Umm… never ever leave your tampon in for more than 4 hours, don't pretend to be stupider than you are to get a boy, learn to love the Gilmore Girls, spitting is very preferable to swallowing, don't listen to any gossip, you're always going to be judged on your looks, broken hearts are curable and masturbation is a very good way to spend your free time."

There was a silence while I took it all in.

"I already like The Gilmore Girls," I admitted.

Dot laughed. It was quiet again after that.

"You know, you are my first female best friend?" Dot said, looking at the horizon.

"I'm not sure if I count."

"Well, I'm counting you," Dot said, "All my life I've always wanted a best friend who was a girl but me and other girls just never seem to get along that well."

She was right, thinking about it I couldn't picture any girl Dot would call a 'good friend'.

"From kinder all the way to high school I've wanted a friend I could talk boys with and go shopping with."

"You never seemed too into clothes and boys, Dot."

"Well, compared to most girls I'm not, I mean I love hanging with you and Glen and playing video games and stuff, but there's sometimes I just wanna have girl chat."

"Aren't you lucky?" I said snidely, "You must be so happy I grew a cunt."

"Don't be a dickhead, Gemma!" Dot snapped back, "You know I didn't want this to happen to you. I'm just saying…"

I knew how she wanted to finish the sentence, so I did it for her, "You're glad that it did."

Dot stood up, clearly fed up.

"Don't be such a bitch!" she said, sounding hurt.

It was never my intention to hurt Dot but I wanted her to admit she was slightly happy I grew into the best friend she always wanted.

"Own up, Dot! You're a little bit pleased to have your best friend transform into your own personal Barbie!"

Dot shot me the daggers, "Stop feeling so sorry for yourself! Fuck! You're already more girl than you think!"

She stormed back into the Madsen's house. Sheesh, women! Can't live with them…

In that argument there, I was pretty sure that I was the victim, it was only a few days after my massive change and I was still coming to terms with it. In my eyes, I was allowed to be a little unpleasant and dare I say it, bitchy, I had earned the right. Why Dot thought she was entitled to be equally as bitchy, I don't know. I wasn't going to be the side to make amends, that was not my job to do. Back when I was male, she never seemed to be that sensitive. We never fought at all. Sure we had friendly disagreements and jokey fights, but they never ended with one of us storming out. Maybe she was PMSing. If that was the case, I was not looking forward to it.

So, I sat outside, hogging the last seconds of the beautiful sunset all to myself.

"Hey," said a voice behind me.

It wasn't Dot coming to apologise, it was the voice of my other best friend.

"Hey Glen, what's up?"

He came over and sat where Dot was sitting moments before.

"Nothing much, buddy," was all he said and that's all I understood.

If he was saying more using 'man-language' I couldn't tell. Two days without external genitals and I was having trouble reading 'man-language'. Out of the corner of my eye I caught him taking a peek at my erect nipples, so in defence I tried to cross my arms in front of them.

He must have seen me seeing him, so he said, "If I had to bet which one of my best friends would develop big boobs, I would have probably picked Dot."

"Yeah," I laughed, "Would have seemed like a safe bet."

"She's in there, crying, you know?"

Now that was surprising. Dot was not one prone to crying or any other fits of emotion. In fact, since I've been friends with her I don't remember ever seeing her cry. She, on the other hand, had seen me bawl plenty of times.

"It's not my fault," I said, childishly, "She was the one who started it!"

I was putting Glen in a position he didn't want to be in. Glen was laid back, totally non-confrontational and not one to be getting in the middle of a squabble between two girls.

"Look, we both know how selfish Dot can be. She can't help it, she's just built that way. But you are a perfectly functioning human being, just be the bigger man,"

Glen realized his mistake almost right away, "I mean…bigger person, and go and apologize. You know she's far too stubborn to make the first move."

Glen made a good point, Dot was not the type of person to admit fault in any situation. She often went toe-to-toe with a teacher if an answer she had given in a test deemed incorrect and she thought otherwise. If she was to come out here, it would be to yell at me some more. Glen knew I would be the first to apologise, I knew it too.

"Yeah, I know. Just give me a few minutes to cool down."

"I miss my cock."

It may have been an obvious statement but I had never said it out loud until then. Glen looked at me.

"But surely being a girl has its upsides."

"I haven't found them yet."
"You mean, you haven't 'plucked the strings on the ol' banjo'?" Glen gingerly asked me.

I couldn't believe that Glen had asked that.

"Ewww! No! … I'm kinda urgeless anyway."

"Not into guys or guys?"

"Not yet, the doctors say it should be soon."

"So, you're going to wake up some day and start craving the cock?"

I shuddered at the word 'craving', an image of me surrounded by men, erect and all waiting their turn while I serviced them flashed into my mind.

"Something along those lines."

"Wow, that's scary," said Glen as he tried to picture it, "You've got so many things to deal with, Gemma."

"Yeah, there is a lot on my plate at the moment."

And that was no lie.

"When are you coming back to school?"

"When Annette and Dr. Chisholm think I'm ready. I'm not sure I wanna come back."

"What? You wanna drop out of school?" Glen asked.

"Maybe…"

Kev came out to join us next.

"Dot's doing OK now," he informed us, "I've never seen Dot cry before."

"Yeah, I was pretty bitchy to her," I said as I made room for Kev to sit down beside us.

The sunset was officially over now and the night seemed to be just a little bit colder.
"But you're allowed to be," Kev sided with me (out here at least), "You've been through an awful lot."

"Did you know she doesn't even know if she's attracted to guys or girls yet?"

"Really? I thought the news said you would be heterosexual."

I didn't like the news reporting about my sexuality. Surely, there was a taste level in journalism that needed lifting.

"I most probably will be, like 99% sure. It's just I don't have any sexual urges at the moment."

"Man, it must feel so weird. You're like a eunuch, it must be weird to look at the world with no sexual desire. It's like never wanting food. You must be able to see everything in a total different way," Kev liked pontificating.

"Not really, I just feel a little bit numb. No-one seems beautiful or sexy to me, at the moment."

Kev asked, "So you haven't 'tapped out an SOS message on your hairy telegraph' yet?"

I had to laugh at that one.

"Where do you guys come up with these?"

"We made them up while you were talking to Dot!" Glen smiled his big, goofy grin as if he was extremely proud of himself.

"You've got a chance to see what life is like on the other side of the fence. You're a dude in girl's clothing. As soon as you get the urge you have to tell us which is better: guy or girl,"

Kev seemed very interested in answering the age-old question. The truth was I had paid more attention to how different my toes looked than my brand new vagina. I knew the basics, things come out of it and you were supposed to put things in it, but that was it. It was the crux of my problems, and I wasn't going to face it until I was ready. To me, my pussy seemed like the End Boss in a video game.

"Kev, you'll know as soon as I do."

"It's so weird, having a good friend turn into a smoking hottie!"

Kev had crossed a line that no guy had done yet. Sure, all the women in my life had called me 'beautiful' and even some of the men confessed I was 'pretty' but those were generic terms with no sexual underpinnings. Kev had called me a 'smoking hottie'. Kev declaring that I was a 'smoking hottie' announced to the world he found me sexually attractive. That under the right circumstances Kev would like to 'fuck' me. Upon looking in the mirror I kinda knew that I was sexy but until some guy actually said it to me I was unsure. Kev had let the cat out of the bag.

"A smoking hottie, huh?" I asked Kev.

"Yeah. Let's be honest here. You've got big green eyes, a cute face, an adorable pixie style haircut, a trim body with long legs and a great big pair of tits! Your butt could be a little bigger but besides from that you truly are a smoking hottie."

It was a little weird to be summed up in a list of body parts, but it wasn't a practice I was unaccustomed to. I had done it to numerous girls in my time.

Good chest, needs to lose weight.
Cute smile, but no ankles.
Wish she had some boobs to go with that ass.
So hot until she opens her mouth.
Great body, Butta face.

I was responsible for those thoughts as was every guy in the world. I was soon to be judged like that or assigned a number, or to have some guy mutter 'Fuck me!' under his breath. It was sort of exciting to know that I would be given a high score. It was unsure, back when I was male, what girls thought of me or if they thought of me at all. But going on previous knowledge, I knew that guys would be thinking about 'Gemma' and those thoughts would be front and centre in their mind whenever I would saunter past them. It felt exhilarating to be wanted.

"So do you think I'm a smoking hottie, Glen?" I asked him outright.

"Gemma, I don't think about my friends like that. I mean you are very pretty and all, it's just hard to stick you into my sexual thoughts box when you've been my best friend since we've been eight,"

Glen seemed flustered, and rightly so. It was a tricky question to answer. It didn't stop me from teasing him, which was my duty as his best friend.

"Ha ha! You find me sexy! You find me sexy!" I sang while undulating my body and letting my hands caress it like an under-trained stripper.

Glen returned fire, "Just wait until you turn, girly. You'll be begging for a piece of Glen! All the bitches do!"
He flexed his paltry muscles. I stifled a laugh.

Kev pulled his shirtsleeve up, "Those are piss weak! Now these are muscles!"

Kev flexed and a bulging bicep muscle appeared.

"Impressed, Gemma?"

Kev had a thing of being too competitive and being able to wreck a jovial moment. He knew he had a good body.

Glen got serious all of a sudden, "But I think you will have to be careful because a lot of guys will find you sexy and you don't know what guys will do."

Glen brought up a concern I hadn't thought about yet. Rape. As a guy, all you really had to fear was prison rape and a lot of mistakes had to have been made before that was a real fear. The only mistake a girl had to make to be raped was to walk down the wrong street at night. This smaller, skinnier body already felt vulnerable but I wasn't sure I could walk around town with the added threat of rape looming over me. The best thing to do was to push the thoughts into the back of my mind and try and forget about them.

"I might go speak with Dot," I said, standing up, "Don't watch my bum as a leave, thank you very much assembled perverts."

As I walked away I shielded my arse with my hands. Dot and Mads were in the lounge room just watching some crappy movie on TV when I came in. Silently, I sat down and joined them. None of us said a word as we watched the bad film with a supposed vested interest. She wasn't going to apologize first, I reminded myself.

"Look…" I started off, "I'm sorry. I said some things that weren't true back there."
"Don't worry about it," she said without breaking gaze from the TV.

It wasn't a forgiving 'Don't worry about it', it was more a 'let's ignore this problem together' deal.

"No, you're my best friend, Dot. See?"

I opened her stupid locket that I was still wearing, "There a picture of us, being best friends. I may look a little different but I feel the exact same way about you."

To show her this, I hugged her over-zealously.

"Ow!" she laughed, "You're smothering me with your boobs!"

"Say you forgive me!" I said, hugging her tighter.

"Let go of me! You Salma Hayeck wannabe!"

"Say it!"

"I forgive you, Lara Croft!"

"Promise?"

"I promise, just free me from your booby trap, Baby Dolly Parton!"

I relented and stopped the bear hug.

"Good," she gasped, "I was running out of celebrities with big tits."

"Pamela Anderson?" I suggested.

"Thanks," she smiled, "I'll remember her for next time."

"So this whole fight is over?" I asked.

"Of course, it's a little weird that I have a girl for a best friend now. It's just going to take me awhile to get used to you being a bit bitchy sometimes."

It wasn't the 'I'm sorry too' I was looking for, but for Dot it came close. It seemed that our friendship was patched once again. However, I was unsure how many more ruptures could be fixed with a simple patch. Dot really seemed to have a problem with me being a girl, even if she didn't want to admit it. It appeared that she didn't know how to have a female friend, what she was calling 'bitchy' behaviour by me would have been labelled 'cracking the sads' if I was a guy, something that would have never upset her. If I was going to keep this very important friendship going, I was going to have to work hard at it.

Kev, Glen and I all arranged to go to the beach tomorrow at my house.
Although I was looking forward to swimming, I was a little scared of the problems I was going to face. But it was a challenge I needed to face eventually.
I said goodbye to everyone as Mum's car arrived to pick me up.
My first night out with friends wasn't quite a success but like everyone else, I was coping.

"I need some swimming togs," I half mumbled/half announced at the breakfast table the next morning.

"What was that?" asked Mum as she buttered her toast.

I told her about my beach plans with my mates in the afternoon.

"That sounds like a great day out."

"I guess so."

"Perhaps you and Nicky can go shopping for bathers this morning."

Swimsuit shopping with my sister? My brain would explode if I tried to think of a more embarrassing activity.

"Is that cool with you, Nicky?" Mum called down the hall, before I could realize what she was doing.

"What's that?" screamed back my sister.

"You want to take Gem shopping for bathers?"

"Yeah, I'll just grab the gift vouchers!"

Without being able to stop it, it had been arranged.
Each bite of my jam on toast seemed a little bitterer now.

Before I knew it, Nicole and I were walking into Sun, Ski and Surf, our local clothing shop for all things watersporty. It also stocked a lot of 'cool' clothes for teens, summery colours, fashionable brands, that sort of thing. When I wanted to impress Holly I would wear clothes bought from here. Nicole practically marched to the swimsuit area. I wasn't as excited as she was. This must have been a dream for her, her own brand new little sister, her very own to dress however she wanted. And from the looks of it she wanted to show me off.

She held up a revealing one. "No," I answered, quickly, "I want just a plain one-piece."

I said it quietly too as we were drawing glances from everyone in the shop. They all were amazed to see 'The Gemma Taylor' in person. They whispered things to each other and messaged people on their mobile phones. I felt like the guest of honour at a funeral, with everyone talking quietly about me but not to me at all. Nicole, however, was completely oblivious to this. The whole situation made me uncomfortable and I wondered if going out in public would ever feel normal again.

"We'll get you a boring one-piece, but we'll get you something cuter too," was Nicole's mission statement, "for when you get more comfortable in your skin."

I sighed, Nicole was notoriously stubborn, so there was no chance of me getting my way in this one. The whispering crowd seemed to be tightly closing in on me, judging me, staring at me.

"Nicole," I whispered, "I'm just going to go into the change room. Can you pick some stuff for me and just hand me it there?"

"Why?"

"These people are staring at me."

"Oh, go on then."

The polite but obtrusive glances followed me into the changed room, where no one could see me. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I was free, free of the hushed gossip and the sideways glances. It was a nice spacious change room with a chair and a large mirror. I think it was the first time I saw myself in a full-length mirror. Despite my minimal efforts, I still looked pretty cute today - wearing a short-sleeved flannel shirt and a pair of jeans. The buttons on the shirt were slipped off and I became a cute little girl in a bra and a pair of jeans and then with some fiddling, a girl in a pair of jeans. That was the point when Nicole came in.

"Whoa!" she said, announcing her entry.

I quickly tried to cover myself, throwing my little hands up in front of my nipples.

"Nicole!" I whined, "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

"I didn't think you would already be undressed, Gemma," Nicole answered, "Why would you undress before I brought the clothes in?"

"Because I want this over and done with!"

She handed me a black swimsuit.

"This is the most conservative one they have in your size."

When boys go swimming they were allowed to wear shorts, and the body or sun conscious even wore T-shirts. Girls, on the other hand were expected to dress in only their swimsuits in the water, sure they could wear a (shudder) sarong or something on the beach, when it came into going inside the water they only had a thin piece of material to conceal their body. Which was more than I had on now, I though as I removed my hand from a breast to hold on to the swimsuit. Blood heard the call and came rushing to my cheeks.

"Oh don't be so shy, Gem. It's not like I've never seen boobs before."

Nicole was thrown out while I went mano-e-mano with the swimsuit. First, off came the jeans, spooling onto the floor, leaving a girl naked bar her little boy-leg panties. I liked these boy-leg panties, they were cut like a boy pair of undies, except there was more room in the seat and less room in the crotch but other than that they were very 'familiar'. It wasn't necessary to wriggle out of those as well, I thought, so I confronted the swimsuit. The fact of the matter was I was unsure if this was actually the most modest swimsuit in the entire shop, I had to take Nicole's word on it. Since I was safely secured inside this change room, Nicole could feed me all sorts of misinformation. I decided I just had to grin and bear it, as that was the best way to get out of here as fast as I can.

I stepped into the back one-piece and slowly tugged the bathers up my body. It nestled against my crotch and worked up past my hips, waist until just under my breasts. One arm in and then the other arm through the armhole and then I squished my boobs in as I pulled the black stretchy material over them. I was now in the swimsuit. I fiddled with my boobs trying to get them to feel right as I stared at the image in the mirror. I was sexy, I couldn't help that and putting on a skin-tight swimming costumed only seemed to accentuate it. But at least I wasn't showing too much skin; the swimsuit was cut quite high at the top, showing barely any skin below my shoulder blades and none of my butt. The front was a different matter altogether, my thighs were revealed and quite a lot of my underwear along with them. And my boobs actually seemed bigger, somehow, restrained behind the fabric. The swimsuit was cut a little above halfway up my breasts and created a cleavage that I didn't have to lean over to expose. The brand 'Speedo' was embroidered in white above my right hip. To avoid freaking out I kept telling myself it could be a lot worse.

"Nicole," I called.

"Yeah?"

"I'm done."

Nicole opened the door and joined me inside the room. She eyed me up and down before passing her judgement.

"Geez, I wish I was as skinny as you!" was her verdict, "You pull it off well."

"It's a little tight in the top," I informed her, as did my overflowing breasts.

"Well, to fit in the bottom it was going to have to be tight in the top," she remarked,
"but it looks fine. We're going to have to stop off at Tania's though."

Tania's was where Nicole worked as a hairdresser, it was a women's salon, a place far too filled with oestrogen, hair spray and gossip that I could barely stand running in to talk to Nicole for 5 minutes.

"Why do we have to go to Tania's?"

"To get your hairy legs and bikini line waxed."

I looked down at my legs, sure there was some hair on them, but I wouldn't call them hairy. Hairy legs are what I had before, thick, dark hair protruding all over, even my feet. These were shapely legs with a few random strands of thin, downy, very fair hair sprinkled over them. OK, so my pussy region was a little more hirsute but that was because I wasn't going to shave myself clean down there, I couldn't even bring myself to touch anything down there.

The solution came to me, "We don't need to do that. I'll just wear board shorts over the top of my bathers."

"Gemma, you'll have to wax or shave your legs some time."

She was probably right, I was a girl and thus had to do the basic things that a girl does just to fit in. I could avoid most of the extras, nobody was going to force me to wear a skirt or heels or suck a guy's cock but the truth was it was the middle of summer and I was still hiding my legs away in sweltering jeans. I was going to have to break out the shorts sometime soon and with the entire country staring at me. Not today though. I had taken too many steps towards trading in my former gender completely and my mind wasn't budging on the issue.

"Please Nicole," I put on best begging little sister voice and face, "I don't want to shave my legs."

"OK, fine! Wear some stupid shorts, be unfashionable, see what I care. I'm still going to buy you something cute to wear if you change your mind. And when you do, I can wax your legs at home."

I didn't like Nicole use of the word 'when' - I thought 'if' would have been the better choice. However, Nicole was nice enough to run and get me a simple pair of board shorts. They were primarily white with a blue strip down each leg and they were long, to my knees. They looked good against the black of the swimsuit.

"Happy?"

"Yep."

"Right, now it's my turn," Nicole said as she handed me another swimsuit.

I grabbed it, or at least I thought I did. I only grabbed the top half, while the bottom half flitted to the floor. Nicole had picked a bikini for me, a tiny, little bikini. Trying it on would be a hassle but Nicole wouldn't leave me alone until I did. All I would have to do is wear it this once and never again. It was pink. Typical! I wriggled into the bottoms and tugged them up, according to the mirror they were cut quite high on my bum, and if I wasn't already wearing my boy-leg briefs I would be exposing a fair amount of cheek. I wiggled into the top as well, jostling my breasts into position. It was skimpy and snug at the same time. Yep, if I were a different type of girl this would be a perfect outfit. My tight little tummy was on display and the cleavage created could only be described as 'impressive'. Nicole would be happy.

"See? Don't you like it better?" she asked me as she made me look at myself in the mirror. "You are such a little sexpot! You've got the best qualities from Mum and Dad. You don't have Mum's googly eyes or her big nose, like I do. You've got really cute features."

"I'm so lucky," I said, with the sarcasm dripping from my voice.

"You'll wake up one day and realize how lucky you are, Gem. You might hate being a pretty girl but being an ugly one would probably be worse."

So, I was a pretty girl. I reminded myself that things could be worse and I walked onto the sand, following the boys. They excitedly flung their T-shirts onto the shore before splashing headlong into the sea. I was a little more timid, placing my towel carefully on the ground and slowly unbuttoning my flannel shirt. I placed it on the towel and began to slowly edge towards the inviting ocean.

"Hurry up, Taylor!" Glen called out to me, his voice almost swallowed by the sea.

I would have run, if I wasn't scared of looking like a Baywatch babe running across the beach, seductively bouncing. So instead, I quickly shuffled towards the water.

The water felt absolutely freezing when my toes first touched it but I didn't run back, I ploughed on. I had been in this water so often I knew not be scared of its initial coldness, I knew that you would only make the problem worse by dwelling on the temperature. Usually the very worst thing about walking into chilly water was when a painfully cold wave would cheekily hit your testicles, making them turn and run up inside your body. At least that wasn't going to be a problem for me anymore. A wave did swell up and hit my crotch and despite the coldness, I was spared the crippling pain of immense and sudden ball shrinkage. Finally, an upside!

If my pussy was apparently unfazed by the drop in temperature than my nipples more than made up for it, pricking up to tell everyone I was cold. They were like little lighthouses, alerting me that water was near. And when a rogue wave hit me fair in the chest, they stung a little bit. But that had to be the worst of it and that meant I was practically totally submerged. It was all downhill from here. I did a duck-dive under the water to get my head wet. The water wasn't that bad anymore, I had adjusted to it. I had beaten it.

"G'day gentlemen," I said as I swum up to the boys.

"Howdy," replied Glen.

"I finally found an upside to this all becoming-a-girl thing," I left a pause, "No shrinkage!"

"I was just telling Glen that I feel like what you must have mid-transformation," laughed Kev while he shivered a little bit, "I know I have genitals I just can't find them."

It was great to have a swim again, although it felt different. I was clumsy in the water. It was like I was learning to swim again. I knew the basics but it felt different being in the weird shaped body. I wasn't as lean anymore, as hydro-dynamical. It was almost like having two floatation devices stuck to my chest that were always trying to get me to float to the top. The baggy board shorts weren't helping much either. We raced each other. Back in a time when I would also be fighting shrinkage I could usually beat Glen and occasionally I could beat Kev but today I lost it by miles. I'm not that much of a competitive type, so I wasn't too upset, plus I had a great excuse: I was only a 4-day-old racing against a 16 and 18-year-old.

Swimming in the ocean is a fight against the coldness. You stay out as long as you can, without shivering. Living with two females all my life had taught me that women get cold easier than men, I'm not sure why. I was no different, about 40 minutes in the chills got to me and I said, "I'm going back now, lads."

"I think I might join you," said Glen, which effectively ended Kev's swim too.

The usual problem about getting out of the water was that it was cold getting out of the water too. It was cold getting in, staying in too long and then you were slapped with another bout of cold by the breeze hitting your wet body. Today, the sea breeze was minimal and the sun was beating down on us, so as the water level receded I didn't feel very cool. My nipples disagreed with me but I wasn't listening to them anymore. The boys clattered out of the ocean like they were thrown out running past me and hurtling towards their towels. I wanted to experience their carefree abandon too, so I broke out into a run. It was only a few strides in when I understood Annette's long talk about sports bras, properly. While I ran, my boobs desperately tried to keep up with my body but they kept getting it wrong. When I was up, my boobs were down and when I was down my boobs were high on my chest, they just couldn't get it right. I slowed down and the problem, while not over, was a whole lot less chaotic.

I bounced over to the guys. "That felt great!" I breathlessly gushed.

"The water is such an awesome stress reliever," agreed Kev, his very muscular body glistening in the afternoon sun. It was weird looking at his body, knowing that soon that would look very attractive to me.
Glen wasn't quite that buff, in fact he had a little bit of a belly which he appeared to be sucking in. Was he worried that I was judging him on his looks? I hoped he wasn't because there was nothing more destructive in a friendship than sexual tension. The fact of the matter was, even if I was attracted to boys, I doubted that I would have a boyfriend, I doubted even more that it would be Glen. It would be too weird because we were too good friends. As a guy, I hated to hear that from girls but it was true. Glen and I had been friends since we were eight and one of us spontaneously changing gender is not enough to change the fact I saw him as my brother.

I probably wouldn't date Kev either but that was for other reasons.

"You're really rocking that swimsuit, Gemma!" he told me as we dried ourselves.

"Huh?" was all I could say to him.

Glen also gave him a stare that seemed to say, "Dude, what the hell are you saying?"

Despite the confused looks, Kev rambled on oblivious, "It's cool that you used to be a guy so that I can say these things to you, you know? I don't just have to bottle up all these thoughts, which would only make me hornier. To think you used to be Michael Taylor a week ago but now you are sexy, little Gemma Taylor. That just blows my mind!"

Girls used to always tell me how sleazy he was but that didn't bother me. He was my friend, I was his and we were both guys so his sleaziness was a flaw I rarely had to see. It was only when we were around girls that he became Sleazy Kev. Now that I had become a girl his lecherous nature was creeping in.

"Your boob-to-waist ratio is so perfect," Kev said looking me up and down, "What size are they, double D?"

"Just a single D." I have no idea why I told him that!

"They probably seem so big because your waist is so small. And because you're shortish. And because they are mega perky. They just look so big and inviting. But not too big. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing. And you've got just enough. You looked so fucking hot when you were running towards us!"

When did he become the expert on breasts? I was getting fairly sick of talking about my boobs, they seemed to be the only thing people wanted to talk about. I had been through an experience that less than 100 people in the world had been through and all anyone wants to talk about is the apparent perkiness of my mammary glands. I wandered if all large-chested women had to endure this torment.

Kev must have noticed that I was tired of all this boob talk and moved on.

"I mean, you're pretty well designed. It's as if the nanobots had sexiness in mind. I mean, just watching you dry yourself is an alluring activity."

Was he serious? Glen looked at me as if to say, "Do you want me to kill this nut job and leave his body in a shallow bush grave for you?" Glen didn't say a lot so I was adept at reading his eyes. Sure, I used to be a guy and we used to talk about girls quite graphically but since my forcible change in perspective this type of conversation was best left as a memory of how I used to be. Although, I did do a lot of proclaiming that I was going to be the very same person as before just in a different shaped box, so maybe I should see Kev's warblings as an attempt to reach out to me and talk the way we used to about girls.

Kev continued as we packed up our stuff, "You're probably going to be one of the hottest girls at school. Up there with Leanne Ward-McGregor, Alanna Sturt and Alison what's-her-name."

"Sorokin," Glen chimed in with the last name of the girl he had a crush on.

"That's it," Kev bundled his shirt and towel into a ball, "You are that hot! I know since you don't have any sexual drive you probably didn't know that."

"Enough people have been saying it that I got the idea."

"How do you feel about it?"

I thought I would regurgitate some of my sister's advice, "I guess it's better than being ugly."

I retold the story about Kev and his leering ways to Dot on the phone that evening.

"He's such a perv. He always tells me how 'unclassically' beautiful I am when it's just us two." Kev had often pined to me about wanting Dot's affection and how she would make a wonderful girlfriend. I was doubtful of that.

"He's gross but harmless," Dot summarized him, "So how was the beach?"

"Really good. You should have come."

"You know I can't swim, dildo!"

'Dildo' had always been one of Dot's favourite terms of scorn. It was true, despite living two kilometres from the beach Dot couldn't swim. For the entire seven years of primary school whenever we had school swimming lessons, Dot would sit them out. She blamed it on an ear-infection she had as a baby but I think she was scared of the water.

"How did the swimsuit go?"
"It was like squeezing two watermelons into a rubber glove," I joked.

"Nice imagery, Mick! I mean Gemma. Wow, I actually called you by the wrong name. Sorry dude"

"Don't be. I'm glad someone did."

"So, will you be joining us at Marrnag College tomorrow, ready for a General Maths double in the morning?"

"Nope, not going to school until at least Wednesday. Got a full medical exam on Tuesday before Dr. Chisholm can ship off."

"Full medical exam? You mean they're going in deep?"

I gulped, "Guess so."

"It's gross and invasive but it doesn't last that long."

"Sounds like the way you'd describe our night together."

"Fuck you!" Dot laughed, "That's what I was going to say!"

"Sorry, I beat you to it!"

"So, what are you doing tomorrow then?"

"Oh, you know, nothing much, just sitting back. Anna Coren may stop by to interview me," I said as nonchalantly as I could.

"Oh shit! I totally forgot about your big interview."

"Not just my interview."

"What you talking 'bout, Willis??????"

"My publicist just called and said that Channel 7 wants to interview two of my friends tomorrow too. So, I thought I'd extend my offer to you."

"And Glen?"

"Yep."

"Well, good news for you, Taylor. He's here, I'm helping him do his Maths homework. Does that mean we get out of school?"

"Oh yeah."

"Rock on, Daddy-O! Let me just ask Mum if it's OK. I'll hand you over to Mr. Lumsden."

There was some scuffling and mumbling as Dot handed the phone over to Glen.

"Hi Glen," I said.

"Hey Gemma," he replied, "Are we really going to be on TV?"

"Maybe, I mean I am going to be. You may be cut for time."

"But it's going to be an hour long special. Surely there's going to be some time for me?"

Despite being a quiet guy, Glen liked his time in the spotlight. I think that's why he was always so quiet, he was always trying to come up with the perfect thing to say.

"I don't know. I am a very good story teller."

"True, true. Enjoy the swim today?"

"Yeah, was fun," I replied, "Next time let's leave Sleazy Kev out of the loop and go by ourselves though."

"That would be awesome because I think you are so fuckin' hot and I want to kiss you so fuckin' bad!" said Glen, or at least Dot doing a horrendous Glen impression.

I heard Glen say "Get fucked!" to Dot.

"You suck," I told her.

"I'm in," she said, changing the subject.

"OK, ace! My house, 10am."

"Deal! See ya, Hootie!"

And before I could finish asking her why she called me Hootie she hung up. She was a weird one. Glen messaged me about 10 minutes later telling me he was in as well.

That night I lay in bed, watching my chest rise and fall with each breath. Out of pure curiosity I had decided to sleep in the nude. It was a hot night and clothes seemed to be more a hassle than anything and so nothing but a thing sheet covered me from the rest of the world. And yet I felt safe. After days and days of things not going my way I felt I could stick that day in 'I won' column. Granted it was my easiest day for a while. No doctors, no fights, no Annette (she took the day off with my approval), no paparazzi, no more transforming. Hopefully I could get a few more wins and then I might actually start feeling good for a change.

I think the swim made all the difference.

CHAPTER 12

Today was different.

I woke with a start, for a start. This was the first day all week I had used my alarm clock. So far 'Gemma' had no reason to wake up early, she had a nice and easy life. But not today. Today was a big working day. Today was the filming of my exclusive interview with Channel 7. Today was the day I earned my $2.25 million paycheque.

But as I shot up in bed, startled by the alarm clock, I couldn't remember that. All I seemed to know was what I see: it was morning, I was naked and I was still a girl. The last thought I always have before going to sleep it is, 'Maybe tomorrow I will be awake from this dream'. And every morning there are a few seconds where I slowly realise that I am still 'dreaming', that I still have a vagina and that the world is still a very strange place.

The thoughts began to come back to me as I blearily stumbled out of bed. Sleeping naked comes with a problem, do I make a naked run to the shower and risk being seen or do I put on some clothes only to walk the four metres to the bathroom and take them off again? It was a quandary as old as time itself, or at least as old as people being ashamed of their naked bodies. I listened to the door and heard nothing, the coast was most likely clear. I waited for a second, flung open the door and pounced. I was like a cat or a well-trained federal police officer, except for the fact I was starkers. I was almost there, the mission so close to completion. I opened the bathroom door and skidded in, only to hear Mum calling out, "Cute bum!" from the kitchen. I was caught- I had bet all and lost.

It was still weird seeing 'Gemma's' reflection in the mirror. I was slowly getting used to it but I kept thinking of 'Michael's' reflection tied to a chair, gagged and locked away in some basement. However, the fact I saw seeing 'Gemma's' lovely image today meant I was going to be a lot richer by the end of it.

I was excited by the money and had plans for the year after Graduating Year 12. They involved world travel and seeing exciting destinations far away from Gemma Taylor being a household name. I playfully practiced a few facial expressions I would need to use today: my sad face, my scared of the future face, my nervous to be the centre of attention face and my hopeful face. My big eyes made all these expressions all the more telling. My dream was always to become an actor. I would have to wait and see if this entire hubbub over the transformation would die down, otherwise I may be hired for acting work but they would just be picking me because I was 'that girl'. The idea of moving to the USA or the UK appealed to me very much.

I washed my hair and all today, the whole works. I even shaved my legs, it didn't seem to be the big deal it was yesterday. I wondered if that should scare me. Was Isurrendering too easily to what seemed like a massive deal to me yesterday? Was I only a few days away from letting some guy stick his penis inside me? The fact I was cleaning up my pubic area with a ladies' razor may suggest that but I was doing that with the intention of going swimming again and not having to wearing those big baggy shorts. I'm pretty sure sexual intercourse would eventually happen but I foresee a much more mature Gemma getting involved with that.

The ladies' razor was pink. That was essentially the only difference from the ones I used to shave my face. I was using a pink one because there was not one hair on my pretty little face but a few on my legs and nether regions. I didn't shave my pussy totally bald, that didn't appeal to me, but I left a little landing strip that I had seen on the internet a lot. On the net, all girls seem to come from two groups, bald or cute little landing strip. Although amateur porn videos on the net probably aren't the best source of knowledge when it came to grooming tips, they were the ones I could use the most discreetly.

When I was finished and all dry, I rubbed my legs together and enjoyed the feeling of two smooth legs. According to the mirror I was a lot more 'managed' down there and looked like I could be the star of my own internet video. I tipped my head back and pretended to moan like the women in the videos. I clutched at my boobs and rubbed them together, the feelings I received were nice but not 'sexy' nice. My landscaping duties around my pussy seemed to take some of the terror away from it. It looked less like a chasm in the middle of a dense forest and more like a wishing well at the bottom of the garden path. It just didn't seem as scary anymore. Curiosity got the better of me and my hand slowly ambled down the garden path and circled the lip of the well. Again, nice but not 'sexy' nice. Maybe if I explored what was inside the well? My middle finger ever so gently entered just inside, the word that came to me was 'sensitive'. And I just as slowly removed my finger and rinsed it under the tap. That was enough exploring for one day.

I wrapped a towel around me and returned to my bedroom. It was barely 8am and already the day was quite hot. It seemed we had somewhat of a heat wave on our hands, hot enough for people to mumble 'global warming' under their breath. I slid my panties up my legs and decided it was too hot for jeans. It wasn't a decision I made lightly, for what I wore today would be viewed by a lot of people. It had to be shorts. Lessening the blow somewhat I chose a pair of denim shorts, "Just putting on my Daisy Dukes," I mumbled to myself as I pulled them up. They were nowhere near as form fitting or as short as the ones Jessica Simpson wore in that silly movie but there were the most revealing pants I had worn to date. For a top I chose another tank top. I considered tank tops to be my uniform as they were casual, young and feminine without going overboard. This one was a bright red with thing spaghetti straps and had the brand name embroidered across my left boob. Tyler had told me yesterday that Channel 7 would bring hair and make-up people themselves, so I didn't fuss with my hair at all. I wasn't sure about make-up but Tyler said it was essential for TV, when I told him last night that I didn't wear any for the press conference he told me to stop being such a girl and wear the make-up which made the both of us laugh.

There was a bang on the door, which meant Nicole was awake and demanding use of the bathroom; luckily for her I didn't turn into a preening little princess like herself otherwise the bathroom would become a hotly contested territory.

"I'm coming," I told her as I scurried for the door; early morning-Nicole was a creature you didn't want to make angry. My dainty fingers twisted the knob and I opened the door. Instead of pushing past me and setting up shop like she usually did, Nicole took a step back.

"Shorts! Nice!" she complimented me, using early morning monosyllable talk. "Turn 'round."

I obeyed.

"Good, good. You shaved?"

"Yep, all by myself," I kinda proudly said.

She squatted down and caressed my legs in a qualitative examination. Her verdict?
"Excellent job, Gem!"

"Can I go and have some breakfast now?" I asked, hoping I had passed enough tests.

"Proceed."

I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite as I swung open the fridge door. I pulled the carton out and poured myself a long tall glass of 'breakfast juice'.

"Morning!" Mum called to me.

She sounded exceedingly chipper for a woman who usually hated morning with a passion.

"Good morning," I returned.

"How did you sleep?" Mum asked as she kissed me on the forehead.

"Not too bad. You?"

"Also not bad. Ready for the interview?"

"I guess so."

Mum looked out the window, "Looks like it's going to be another scorcher!"

Despite every weird thing that has happened, people's ability to talk about the weather is never hindered. I'm sure that the day World War Two was declared it was topic of conversation number two, right after the amount of rain they had been getting.

"That's why I'm wearing shorts!"

Mum peered under the table. "So you are!"

There was a rap at the door and I jumped up to get it.
The whole TV thing had filled me with a twitchy, nervous energy

"I'll get it," I called as I bounded from the table. I unlatched the lock and opened the door.

"Hi Tyler!" I said.

My cheery morning greeting must have shocked him as he looked a little startled.

"Uh… good morning Gemma."

I spotted a car pull up and Dot and Glen got out.

"Hi guys!" I called out, perhaps a little too loud for Tyler.

They waved back.

"Tyler, these are my friends, Dorothy Newsom and Glen Lumsden."

Tyler shook both of their hands.

"So you're the ones looking after our little girl?" Tyler said as if he was my protective big brother.

"Well, she can be quite the handful, but we do our best," teased Dot.

A nice black car pulled up outside my house and a well-dressed older man clambered out. He was chubby and sweating as if he was on the surface of Mercury.

"I've got an introduction for you now. Assorted teenagers meet the producer of the Gemma Taylor special, Reg Bastoni."

We all said our names as his plump and clammy hand limply shook our hands.

When I said my name he answered with, "I know who you are. Everyone does."

Tyler and Reg rounded up all the players in the day's events. Mum, Nicole, Glen, Dot and I all sat around the kitchen table while Reg explained what Channel 7 wanted to do. I missed the start because I was watching him play with his tie as he rambled on. I had always been easily distracted, one of my worst traits. Why Reg was wearing a full suit on such a warm day also confused me. I was in shorts and a tank top and it seemed extremely warm to me, he must be sweltering. Even Tyler, who looked professional at all times was in a short sleeved shirt.

"So, what we're interested in making is a portrait of you, Gemma. A portrait of who you are and who you were and the process that took you from there to here,"

Reg's voice was very gravelly, as if he had smoked continually from the moment he turned 12 until he got out of his car 10 minutes ago.

"You all seem like very nice, very relaxed people and the thing is not to forget that as soon as the camera goes on. Now, Anna Coren from Today Tonight is flying in from Melbourne and will be here in about an hour. She is the one who will be interviewing you all. We'll start with you, Gemma and then we'll get other people to join in. It's going to be friendly, relaxed and may I stress non-confrontational. Tyler has told me that you have a delightful porch out back that would be a perfect spot to do the interviews. Can I see?"

"This'll be perfect!" Reg exclaimed, "It's got a perfect 'Home, Sweet, Home' look with the beach in the background. It doesn't get too windy back here, does it?"

"Not really," answered Mum, trying to see the majesty of our dingy old porch that Reg could.

Slowly the entire TV crew arrived in their vans on our street. The neighbours stood on their front lawns and watched the spectacle. Aside from the one time, the press had been nice enough to leave the house alone. Two big, white vans with a big red 7 emblazed on the side spilled into the street and men came scurrying out to bring in the equipment. It was like watching ants just before it rains, working as fast as possible. Lights on long poles and camera stands pouring into my house.

"Can you come with me, sweetheart?" asked Reg as he took my hand.

"Where are we going?" I asked, a little scared of this mountain of a man whose voice sounded like an avalanche.

He led me to one of the vans and inside was a mirror and make-up and a woman wearing a bandana who was ready to try out the make-up on my face.

Reg introduced us, "Gemma, this is Emily. Emily, Gemily. I mean Gemma. Try saying that ten times fast."

"Hi," I shyly said.

"Hi."

Doing a lot of school musicals and plays I was no stranger to make-up. To me, it was a necessary evil so that people up the back of the theatre could make out your face. Emily's box was filled with things I knew of; foundation, blush, lipstick, eyeliner, mascara.

"Take a seat," Emily told me.

She was the quiet mousy type, which was a nice change from all the extroverted chatterboxes I had met within the last week. She was a little taller than me but skinny as a rake. She looked young but with some people you can never tell. Taped to the mirror were photos of me with notes scribbled messily all over it

"What are they for?" I asked about the pictures.

"Just so I could figure out your colouring before I saw you in person," she squeaked in her shy voice, "If you haven't noticed, you are kind of big deal."

I could hear the roar of a helicopter overhead that must have Anna Coren inside.

"Yeah, I noticed," I laughed, "You're not going to do anything too drastic with the make-up, are you?"

"No, I get the feeling from you that you're a real natural type, you know? So, it's not going to be too much. Just enough that you don't look washed out on camera. You are already pretty enough."

"Thanks," I grumbled.

"Oh sorry, where is my head? I just see a pretty girl and assume she would find that a compliment but I guess you would rather not be a pretty girl, huh?"

"You guessed right. But there's nothing I can do about it."

Emily took out some foundation and began dabbing it gently on me and with one question I knew I would be having the same conversation with her that I have already had with a lot of people beforehand.

"So, did it hurt?"

I saw it as a practice interview, so I didn't mind answering all her questions while she expertly applied the make-up. She wasn't rough like the make-up ladies at the plays who would dig the eyeliner pencil right into your eye. And I hate to admit it, but all her work was making me even prettier, enhancing my natural glow.

"So, I like your hair," she commented.

"Thanks, it was a lot like this when I was male, but it seems a lot longer now. I'm not sure if it's because my head is a little smaller now or because it grew a lot during the transformation."

"Are you going to grow it out?"

"I don't know."

She put some hairpins into it, and pulled it out of my face. Growing it out would be a step into becoming more girly than I had to be. I mean shaving my legs and pits might seem a step towards that already but society kind of demands it, people still talk about when Julia Roberts didn't shave her armpits at some film premier and that was back when I was in primary school. Society doesn't really care how long a girl's hair is, as long as it's not too short. My length was perfectly acceptable, a 'pixie cut' as Kev had referred to it.

"So, you must be Gemma," a familiar voice called out as the person it was attached to entered the van. I have heard this voice talk to me over dinner for the last few years, telling me about social injustices, about shonky businesses and about miracle weight loss stories. It was Anna Coren, the host of Today Tonight. She was a beautiful woman in her thirties that seemed to populate news and currents affairs programs beside men in their forties and fifties. But she wasn't dressed in her usual smart suit; she was dressed in a large floppy hat, with sunglasses, a blue top and a long, flowing floral skirt.

"Hi Miss Coren," I said, very politely, wondering if that should have been 'Ms. Coren' because I was unsure if she was married or not.

I wouldn't have to worry about that anymore because she told me in her deep, professional voice, "Please call me Anna."

I was getting flustered a little bit around her, which was weird because she wasn't that much of a big celebrity and she was probably more nervous about this interview than I was. But it was so strange to come face to face with a person who you have seen every night on TV. It was like meeting Marge Simpson or something.

"So, are you looking forward to today?" Anna asked me.

"I guess so," I told the woman who couldn't usually hear me from the other side of the TV, "How about you?"

"Very much so, Gemma. It was such a great speech you gave the other day. You seem like a very thoughtful and very intelligent 17-year-old. I'm sure you'll be able to shine a light on this very unusual experience you've been through."

It was a very professional statement, it could have easily been her introduction to the interview. That disappointed me a little because I was hoping to see the more personal side of Anna Coren.

It wasn't too long before I was sitting on the back porch with people scurrying all around, adjusting lights and running cables. I felt guilty that I wasn't helping but there was nothing I could do plus I'm pretty sure that they wouldn't want their $2.25 million investment playing with electrical equipment. The tech guys all stared at me with a combination of lust and unobscured curiosity. It felt like I was a sexy animal in a zoo. I suddenly wished I wasn't wearing such a revealing outfit, even though it was standard attire for any 17-year-old girl. But the way I was being looked at I felt so on display. I could almost feel my clothes being gently peeled off as they mentally undressed me. Sure, I have had a few guys 'check me out' but this was like 8 all at once. Even Tyler seemed to make a sideways glance whenever he could. My boobs were well and truly ogled.
Therefore, I was quite happy when Anna Coren showed up to sit on the chair opposite me. She was now fully made up and had removed her summery hat and sunglasses. She was still dressed casually though and not in the business attire I was used to seeing her wear on TV.

"Are you wearing that?" I asked her.

"This isn't going to be an interrogation, Gemma," she said as men with camera stands walked past her, "It's more like a friendly chat about your experience. So that's why I'm not going to be dressed more formally."

It was weird seeing her dressed so casually, it was like seeing a policeman in Bermuda shorts or funeral director in a sombrero. A sound technician came over to me and got me to stand and turn around. He then clipped a cordless microphone transmitter to the belt and got me to feed the wire up under my top. I groped around between my boobs for the mic and navigated it through the valley between the two fleshy mounds. It must have been quite a sight for him and looking at Anna Coren' s 'professionally' sized small B-Cups, one he was not privy to very often. I clipped to the top of my shirt and the tech explained that I should forget about it, it was only a backup mic in case the boom missed what I was saying. I nodded diligently.

"Just try and ignore everyone," Anna told me, "It's just going to be a little conversation between you and me."

"That a million people are going to watch," I retorted.

She laughed a little but it wasn't the laugh she used on the show after a story would end on a funny note and then cut back to her, this was a natural, normal laugh.

"I'd be very disappointed if only a million watched. I think we are aiming for 4 to 5. But you have to remember to relax."

"You can't tell me that 4 million people are going to watch me and then tell me to relax. That's hardly fair."

It was nice to talk to Anna as if she was a real person. I mean it is usually safe to assume that people on TV aren't robots but it was good to see first hand that the professional, dry woman on TV could actually laugh like a normal person.

Before I knew it, we were all ready to begin. Tyler came over and I told him I was worried about my little-too-sexy attire and he assured me that I looked fine. Mum came over and wished me luck but said they couldn't watch the interview as there was a mountain of paperwork for them all to fill in and the producer, Reg had suggested that they do it while I was being interviewed. She suspected that he just wanted them out of his hair, which was probably right. Mum gets excited when someone breaks out a mobile phone camera, I'm sure the slew of TV cameras got her in an absolute tizzy. I swallowed hard, even though I had undergone the stress of the press conference a few days ago, it didn't make this feel any less stressful.
Anna must have noticed how nervous I was and leaned over to me. "Just relax. You're going to be great!" she whispered.

The director counted down from 5 and it started.

I reminded myself to be charming. And not to be boring. I smiled a lot, much more than my overall mood dictated. I was jovial and made jokes about being fine about asking for directions now and wanted to own more and more shoes.
When the questions got more serious so did I.
I think my generation has grown up with TV so prevalent in our lives that we instinctively knew how to behave in front of a camera. I had seen enough interviews that I almost was on autopilot answering the questions the best way I could think of. I teared up when I talked about when I first found out I had SGR and how scared I was, a smile broke through the tears when I talked about how much I admired my Mum and her strength and you could hear the disappointment in my voice when I recalled how I felt when I first looked in the mirror after my transformation was complete. Since I knew the women would be slighted too much if I sounded too repulsed at my new body, I remembered to placate them later on by reiterating that there is nothing that my old body can do that this new one cannot.

"So, are there babies in your future?" asked Anna Coren.

I had thought that question may come up. Nobody so far had asked me that but sometimes in the quiet of the night, my hand would brush past my vagina and I would think about what it was there for.

"Well, I haven't been female for nine months yet so the idea of being pregnant for nine months is a little scary," I told her and the camera and thus Australia, "When I was male I always wanted a big family when I grew up but now the tables have turned and I am rethinking that plan a little. Maybe I'll adopt. I'm only a kid myself, anyway, it's a long way off."

We talked for over an hour about a lot of things, my friends and family, what had changed and what stayed the same and my plans for the future. I told her I didn't understand the way bras hook up but I did appreciated the support they give, I talked about the presents people had sent me and how grateful I was, I talked about how I planned on going to uni the year after next and how sorry I felt for everyone who had undergone the SGR transformation without medical help. We talked for so long I knew that some of the things would not make it on TV. I relaxed and actually forgot that I was on my back porch overlooking the sea with eight guys pointing microphones and lights at me.
Anna wrapped it up and shook my hand.
Easiest $2.25 million I had ever made!

Mum and Nicole were ushered onto the set and Anna then interviewed all three of us. I thought I was done, but apparently not. They were going to get their money's worth. The interview with my family was slightly embarrassing and not only because both Mum and Nicole used the phrase 'Top-Heavy Taylor'. Mum talked about how proud she was of both of her kids and how she thought I was always destined for big things. Nicole said that she was proud of her little brother now sister and that she couldn't wait to teach me the finer points of being a woman.
And then the subject of the Deb Ball came up.

"She's made me very proud," Mum said, "Even though she refuses to do her Deb."

Anna Coren's eyes lit up, this was going to make for some good TV

"Refuses?" Anna asked.

"Staunchly!" Nicole added.

Where had Nicole learnt the word 'staunchly'?

"We have the perfect dress and all but Gemma doesn't want to wear any dresses of any kind. But the Deb Ball is perfect for her because it's all about introducing young women to society for the first time."

"Are you afraid to be introduced to society, Gemma?" Anna playfully probed.

"I think this interview is plenty introduction," I said, "Which is lucky because I don't have to wear a white satin dress and do ballroom dancing."

Mum addressed the camera directly, "People of Australia! If you think my daughter should do her Deb Ball…"

"Stop it, Mum!"

"Please write me a letter of a support and send it to Channel 7!"

I stared at Anna for help but she was too busy laughing to defend me.

"Thanks for the support, Coren" I sneered.

The interview with my friends didn't go much better.

"Just my luck that my male best friend gets a visit from the Boob Fairy and neglects to visit me," Dot teased me about 10 minutes in.

I shot her a dirty look but I'm sure people would find that funny too.

"With friends like these…" I grumbled.

"It's unsettling having your best friend turning into a pretty girl, but I think I'm coping really well," Glen inadvertently bragged.

Anna Coren thought she would get my friends take on the whole Deb issue, they didn't seem as fussed as my family did.

"Neither of us are doing it, either," Glen revealed, "And Dot flat out hates it."
"I just don't like that way it portrays women. It's old fashioned like chastity belts or a dowry."

I'm sure Anna Coren wanted some more playful teasing instead of the lecture about dowries. Dot wasn't about to conform to any of Coren's ideas about teenage girls.

On reflection it wasn't that painful, I guess. And it was over by one in the afternoon.
At least the interview part was. We had to shoot footage of us acting 'normal' after lunch to splice into the interview.

"Thanks so much, Gemma. You were a delight," TV's Anna Coren said to me as she shook my hand.

"Thank you," soon-to-be TV's Gemma Taylor answered.

"Good luck," Anna whispered to be as she left my house and probably my life.

Good luck is an interesting choice of a farewell as it implies that I might need her wishes to get me through a set of challenges.

For lunch we all helped ourselves to some sandwiches that the crew had brought. I had dreamed of a huge catering van with all sorts of food but it just proves that our house in Marrang could only be a smidgen show biz and not flashing lights and feasts. The crew was fairly quiet around me, so much so that it seemed bizarre, as if the director had warned them against talking to me. I didn't push it, I didn't want any of them getting in trouble.

"So, that was fun," Glen said as he hoed into his third round of sandwiches. "Enjoying all the food?"

"It's free isn't it?" he smiled as he scoffed down a large bite.

"Yeah, but it's probably coming out of my salary!" I said as I slapped his hand as he went for another.

"Oh yeah. How much are you being paid?"

I hadn't told anyone yet that I was going to be a millionaire by the end of the day.

"Let's just say it's enough that you'd consider selling your penis!" I slyly winked at him.

"I don't know I wouldn't cut off Little Glen for anything less than a million dollars."

I kept drinking my juice box.
"What? You got a million bucks for this interview!! That's ridiculous, tell me that's not true."

I remained tight lipped.

"I guess you can pay me back the $20 I leant you two weeks ago," he reminded me as he reached out, "And I'm taking another sandwich."

The afternoon was spent setting up 'normal' things for me to do and filming it. Me washing dishes, me playing on my computer, me and Dot walking along the beach and talking, me driving Mum's car with the 'L' plates on, Nicole playing with my hair, Glen and I shooting hoops in our front driveway. Just typical everyday stuff. The director wanted footage to put under the interview

"We can go swimming, if you want to film that?" Nicole suggested.

And so for the second time in two days I was stuffing my boobs back into my black swimsuit. Nicole wore a green bikini that was perhaps a little too revealing for her weight, Glen wore his board shorts and Dot and Mum sat on the dunes watching us. I skipped the shorts this time, knowing my legs and bikini area was hair free and jogged out to the beach.

The director has seen the body boards in our carport and thought that would make better footage so Nicole, Glen and I carried body boards with us into the sea. I was a little nervous that the cameraman was focussing on my butt but there was little I could do but grin and bear it. We had a lot of fun in the water, catching a wave and zipping towards the shore on the little boards. I didn't use the boards that often, since I was like 13 or something but they were a lot of fun. I'd try and catch Nicole or Glen or wave to them as I went flying past on the surf. If the cameraman didn't get a shot of my arse earlier I'm sure there was plenty of opportunities to get a lensful of my ample cleavage as I came hurtling towards the shore lying on the body board. There's a shot for the promo, I thought. It was good to see Mum keeping Dot company, Mum loves a good swim in the beach, especially if it is with Nicole and me. I'm not sure what they could talk about though as Dot and Mum are completely different types of women.

After our little swim Reg declared they had got enough footage of me behaving normal.

The truck were quickly packed up and "So, remember this Wednesday at 7.30," Reg reminded us of the airdate, "I promise that we'll do you justice, Gemma. You did a great interview so it shouldn't be that difficult turning it into a fine program."

He shook my hand firmly and the nice black car drove away, leaving our street as quiet as before the hubbub started.

*****

Popcorn, I think, was a little too much.
Mum had made popcorn for the big event, the airing of my interview.
Since filming it on Monday we hadn't seen a single frame of it, except for the ads, so everyone was pretty excited.
And by everyone I meant people with vaginas, it was a girls' night in with Mum, Nicole, Dot and I sat around the glowing box.
Since there were no men around, the talk naturally turned to Girls Only topics.

"It felt gross," I told everyone about my first real gynaecological exam, "Like they shouldn't be messing around in there. And they had these spoon things, which really should be heated up in the microwave first because they were so cold."

Mum retorted, "Get used to it, I've had one almost every year since I was about your age."

Nicole must have thought a conversation about cold spoons in people's vaginas wasn't crass enough so she said, "You were pregnant by Gemma's age, Mum. You had more than spoons in you!"

Nicole shrieked in laughter like she was one of the Sex in the City girls and I just looked at her in horror. Mum having sex with my Dad, getting pregnant by 17 and my Mum having a gynaecological exam were things I never ever wanted to think about. Dot must have read my mind because she tried to steer the conversation away from Nicole's comments,

"So, you were given a clean bill of health then?"

"Physically, yep. Annette has given me some 'mood stabilizers' because she doesn't like how flighty I can be. But I don't think she understands how big a change transforming into a girl is."

Dot scoffed, "Gemma, she specializes in SGR, I think if anyone knows, she does."

"That's what I told her!" Mum said, "Annette knows what she is talking about so take your happy pills and shut up!"

I liked it better when people always rushed to my defence, the longer I was out of the hospital the less people were likely to agree with me.

"Nicky, I forgot to tell you, we were followed by some paparazzi while me and Gem were buying clothes yesterday."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, the cheeky buggers would just walk with us from shop to shop taking pictures and calling out to us, I know how Princess Di feels now."

I'm sure Mum meant 'felt', my Mum may be a little slow with news but I'm sure word of Princess Diana's death had reached her foggy head. It was true though, the press was out to get some more pictures of us.
Unlike Mum I didn't feel like Princess Diana, I felt more like a commodity, being used for a few bucks by anyone with a decent camera. While I was more than happy for me to cash-in on the recent events, I thought it was a little unfair the other people could earn a bit of money by just standing next to me with a camera. And I was sure that those people would hang around until the money dried up, which I was hoping was soon because I didn't want my every trip to the shops to be a circus too.

Since we were now flushed with cash, Mum had made the first big purchase (aside from my new wardrobe, which was needed.)
We, like most people who find a large amount of disposable money, were the proud new owners of a big screen TV and DVD recorder. Mum had been a little silly too, getting a TV much too large for our TV room. It really was almost the size of the entire wall and was blisteringly bright. I was a little apprehensive about watching me on a TV bigger than I was, but I wasn't about to watch it by myself in the kitchen. Mum had got the man installing everything to teach her how to use the DVD recorder because she wanted to tape the interview. I told her Channel 7 would surely be quite happy to send her a copy but she thought it was easier having a man teach her four times how to use it.
I would have stuck around to learn too but I heard the guy call one of his friends that he was installing a TV at "Gemma Taylor's house, you know, that guy who became the hot chick" and that "her boobs are even bigger in person" and that was enough for me.

Channel 7 had been advertising the interview pretty hard and it seemed to be working, everyone I knew was planning on watching it. Although, the people I knew were not a fair section of the populace, all being fairly interested because they knew me directly. I was interested in seeing what they had come up with, since they only had two days to cut it all together. I was already fairly certain how they would portray me; as a spunky, little, hope-driven machine looking to make the world her very own with a wink and a smile. It was an attractive package to sell, but the truth was a little more depressing.

The mood stabilizers that Annette put me on were in an effort to stem my crying fits and although I was never violent, I was inconsolable for half an hour at a time. During those moments, I truly hated this body and I wanted to tear it off. I saw the crying fits as a horrible but necessary part of my dealing with it all, concentrating all of my depression into short daily gushes of hopelessness. Annette saw it as unhealthy. John Draffen supposedly went through them as well and the medication helped him too. I guess whatever was good enough for Draffen was good enough for me.

"Shhh," Nicole hushed nobody in particular, "It's starting!"

It opened with me talking about how being a girl wasn't going to stop me from achieving anything I want to in life, with shots of me reading, playing at the beach and look wistfully in the sky, exactly how I predicted it would start. Anna Coren walked into frame and talked to the people sitting at home how only days ago she had met a remarkable young woman. Remarkable was an interesting choice of words because two weeks ago I would have called myself unremarkable and totally unworthy of an hour of prime time set aside for an interview of me.
But times change.
Anna Coren then revealed to the audience that this 'remarkable' young woman was only a few short days ago a young man.

"Oooh," gushed Mum as another voice starts talking, "That's me!"

Mum's words were complimented with shots of me as my old self, lovingly pilfered from old home movies,

"Michael was always such a hopeful kid, you know? Always wandering around and looking at things differently to other people, you know? If anyone was going to get through this it was going to be him. He's a battler, you know?"

"Do I really say 'you know?' that often?"

"Shhh," Nicole said, seemingly because Mum talking was getting in the way of hearing Mum talking.

"She's doing a tremendous job being a girl," a peppier than normal Dot begins.

The real life Dot groaned and slumped in her chair, covering her face with her hands,

"Even better than me and I've been a girl all my life!"

"Michael has been my best friend all my life," Glen said, "And Michael's going to keep being my best friend forever," he then turns to me and asks, "Do I call you Michael or Gemma?"

I turn directly at him and look at him like a confused dog.

"I don't know."

"Because I'm going to be talking about you a lot for the next hour or so."

"I'd hope so," I joke, "Because this whole production is for me!"

"Whoa, don't get a big head or nothing! I'm going to call you Gemma because you don't look like a Michael to me."

"But I used to, right?"

"I think you looked more like a Charlie."

"You're an idiot!"

"It's freaking weird to have a brand new 17-year-old sister," Nicole practically yells at Anna, "But it's calming to know she's made out of my wonderful little brother."

"I look so fat!" Nicole shouted at the TV.

For the one who had done the most Shhing it appeared she felt she was exempt.

"No, you look great," I told her and Mum and Dot backed me up.

The program trudged on, now that it had introduced the main characters it went through the story, from me finding out to me doing the press conference. When they weren't using parts of the interview they were using other interviews from Dr. Chisholm, my Principal Mrs. Higgins among others. They even showed edited footage from the camera set in the examination room when I was literally transforming.

It was footage I'd never seen and to me it was quite disturbing watching my old reliable body slowly melt into my new form while Dr. Chisholm talked calmly over it. It was interesting however, because they weren't sure when my boy's chest became a girl's pair of tits and so had put up black censor bar covering my chest from the very start.

What was noticeable though was the absolute terror in my eyes.
Terror I was reminded of whenever I looked into the mirror.
There was still a hint of it.

The commercial breaks were spent answering text messages from my friends. The number of friends who message me since the transformation had grown exponentially but I always made sure to answer Glen, Kev, Ace and Holly before anyone else. I often had to field the question of when I was coming back to school and I always said that I wasn't sure, even though Annette said it would be healthy for me to return as soon as I wanted. Nicole was busy sending texts as well, to all her friends getting confirmation that she didn't look fat.

As I suspected they did show a lot of video of me in the swimsuit. I know that sex sells but I thought it was slightly tacky. The fact they used an extended shot of me, riding a body board down a wave, boobs spilling out seductively from my bathers rather prominently in the advertisements had prepared me for the worst but luckily they seemed to use titillation sparingly. Sure, they used me talking about my boobs over me talking about how threatened I felt by the press but they did let me talk about other things. Anyone trying to masturbate to the program would have to turn down the volume because nobody could beat off to me crying about how scared I was.

Overall, I was happy with the total product. It was Channel 7 so I knew it wasn't going to be of the highest journalistic standards but I didn't feel dirty after watching it either. I could have gone with the ABC and had Andrew Denton interview me but I wouldn't be a millionaire either. I mean I was in it almost entirely for the money so I was in no place to complain. I wondered why Draffen turned down all offers for an interview. Maybe he was stronger willed than me.

"It wasn't a Hertzog documentary but it wasn't horrible," was Dot's response to the program.

She laid on my beanbag and stared at the ceiling. I could almost see the thoughts rushing around her dark mysterious eyes

"It's a bit strange. Seeing the whole story unfold on TV really cements it. 'Michael' isn't coming back. You're going to be a girl for a really long time."

I sighed, lying on my bed, it was a long girly sigh,

"I'd put a bet on forever because nobody is really looking for a cure."

"That sucks."

"Tell me about it," I said, looking up at the tops of my breasts. "You know what else really cements the fact that this is all real?"

"Ummm… the fact that I'm almost fucking drowning in feminine undergarments over here?" Dot was referring to the numerous bags of clothes surrounding the beanbag, only some of which contained 'feminine undergarments'.

"No," I said as a pulled something out of my pocket and flung it at her, "This!"

"That's the same wallet you always had," Dot said, unimpressed.

"Open it."

Inside the wallet was my new Learner's permit and instead of Michael's geeky mug smiling awkwardly back at you, there was a picture of Gemma, not smiling but looking way more attractive. I hated that I didn't even need to try and I was a lot sexier as a girl then when I was a boy. I guess I just 'lucked-in' to some good genes. Maybe later on I would be happy that I was much more alluring now, but it seemed to bug me more than anything.

"Nice photo, Gemma Ward."

"Huh?"

"Gemma Ward, she's a supermodel."

"Never fucking heard of her."

"I'm not sure why I have."

"So, I'm legal to drive again."

"Yay!" Dot cheered sarcastically.

She hadn't even bothered to get her Learner's Permit yet.

"Went around yesterday and got all my paperwork to everything in the entire world changed to say female. That's pretty cemented."

"Everything? So, it's like you were never a guy?"

"Everything, even my birth certificate says I was born this way."

"Wow… so my previous best friend never actually existed!"

I was not about to get into another I am me and the same person as I've always been argument.

We laid back and let The Shins sing to us. It was late on a school night but Dot didn't seem to care that much.

"School's just not as fun without you anyway," Dot explained, "When are you coming back?"

"When I feel the transformation is complete," I said, finally answering the question honestly for the first time.

Dot didn't thing my honestly was clear enough,

"What do you mean 'complete'? You look pretty finished to me, Hootie."

"That's the second time you've called my Hootie!" I exclaimed, sounding as perplexed and annoyed at the same time..

"Oh, I thought I told you that Glen and I decided if you ever became a stripper that would be your stage name: Hootie McBoob,"

Dot smirked as if she was proud of herself. I didn't like it that Glen and Dot were talking about me behind my back but I guess the whole country was doing it, so I couldn't feel that angry.

"What would yours be?" I asked.

"I don't know. Umm… Flatsy McCoy?"

I laughed, maybe I should have more of a sense of humour about myself.

"Anyway," Dot said, "You got me off topic. What else needs completing, Hootie? You look like a mighty fine girl to me."

I paused while I tried to figure out the answer, I had a lot of trouble vocalising my response.

"A few things need to click into place before I feel I'm ready."

The response was cryptic enough without being completely baffling, hopefully that would keep her happy, I thought.

"You're talking about your sex drive, aren't you?"

Damn it! Maybe Dot knows me too well.

"You really want to be all horny before coming to school? Wearing your little dress? Flirting with all the boys?"
"No, that's not it at all. I just don't want to be standing at school, wearing the little dress when it all hits. The doctors say it might come all of a sudden and I don't want to be surrounded by boys when it does."

"Believe me, the boys at our school aren't that hot."

"To you, maybe, but you've had years of desensitisation. Annette told me yesterday that I may even find it disorientating. I've been without a sex drive for a week now."

"Wow, I have sex with you and I cure you of all desire."

Dot put her hands high in the air in victory.

"You wish! But the likelihood of me finding guys sexy is pretty high and that's going to creep me out. I would rather be home when that hits, you dig?"

"I dig."

Dot clambered out of the beanbag and jumped on the swivel chair.

"Maybe we could jump start it!" she said as she madly clicked around the computer screen with the mouse.

Dot was inspired.
She often did her best work when inspired.
Dot was easily the smartest student at Marrang College and because of that she rarely tried. Only when she was inspired did the glory of her brain in full flight become visible. It was an amazing thing to see.

This bout of inspiration, however, yielded very different results: Pictures of men, lots of them, in various states of undress and arousal.

"So much gay porn," Dot muttered as she sorted through the pictures, "I guess that there are more gay men than women looking for pics of hot guys on the internet."

I sat there, mesmerized by her tenacity.
After 5 minutes she had her selection all ready.

"OK, in an effort to speed things up and get you back to school being my best friend where you belong I have searched the net for pics of guys that turn me on," she announced, "Here's my plan. Before going to bed at night, study these pictures for a good 10 minutes. And feel free to rub yourself, here," she gestured to her bust, "or here," another gesture to her crotch.

"And that should do what?"

"I don't know, awaken some primal urge deep inside you or something," she pointed to a ruggedly handsome guy with his shirt off, "Are you sure he doesn't stir anything in your loins? He's got the 'V'!"

"My loins remain unstirred. What's the 'V'?"

She pointed to some very pronounced muscles in under his stomach.

"That's the 'V' it's like a pointer to the cock on the hottest of guys. It tells you that the guys are amazingly fit, you didn't have one," Dot teased. "Anyway, I'm going to leave this on as a slideshow and maybe by morning you'll be a raring to go man-hungry bimbo so that you can come back to school. Night Hootie!"

"Night Flatsy!"

She quietly snuck into the hall as not to wake my Mum, leaving a revolving slideshow of 'sexy' hunks illuminating my room.

I closed my eyes and tried to drain my head of her nonsense.

CHAPTER 13

There was a weird tingle in my pussy when I woke up.
I must be getting my period, I thought.
Gingerly, I gently rubbed the lips of the stranger between my legs.
It felt… nice
Nice like I hadn't thought before
Nice like I wasn't going to stop!
I was turned on!
I leapt out of bed and watched the parade of men on my computer screen.
I liked that guy's eyes.
I liked that guy's smile.
That guy has a great body!
Look at his magnificent cock!

My sex drive was back!!

Now I doubt that Dot's stupid plan worked and Annette seriously does too. We think it was just a coincident that the 'switch' flipped sometime while I was asleep during the night.But try telling Dot that, as far as she is concerned she awakened the Frankenstein's Monster that is my sexuality by force-feeding me porn.

Looking at the men was unquestionably having an effect on me. My nipples seemed to be as excited as me, begging to be allowed to join the festivities. I peeled off my T-shirt and let my bust sway majestically. My nipples demanded that I touch at least one of them, so I complied and sent my talented left hand up there to rub and squeeze and playfully twist while the right hand manned the computer mouse. What used to be a huge lump of fat to me now surged with sexual energy. My hand had just come to play with the nipple but soon it was enjoying the breast it sat on as well.

It hardly bothered me that to some people I was now 'gay', the pictures of well toned men were scratching an itch I feared would never be scratched again. I looked and I mean really looked at the sexy women blue-tacked to the walls. There was a little something, a fleeting feeling of arousal but hardly a flicker compared to how the men made me feel.

It was sad, knowing that a giggle and short skirt would never have the same effect on me again, that I would have to throw away my carefully arranged turn ons and start compiling a new list. I said a little prayer for all the girls I would never find attractive and went back to the enjoyment.

It was good to know I wasn't carrying these bowling balls strapped to my chest for no reason, when I became aroused they turned into miracle globes of pleasure. They suddenly felt very nice to touch and therefore I touched them a lot. I settled on one picture, he wasn't a muscles-stacked-to-the-rafters type or shot in some studio, it was a nicely toned, well-groomed man standing proudly letting his large cock swing between his legs. No showboating a massive erection, or flexing arrogantly, but a guy candidly standing by his bed, looking good and enjoying looking good. I don't know why I was so fascinated by him but I wasn't going to question it, I was just going to enjoy it.

I had came to a crossroads, do I keep chasing this feeling to its inevitable goal or do I stop and leave this momentous occasion for another time? It seemed foolish to book a hotel, load the car up, fill it up with petrol and drive all the way to the destination without getting out and having a look around so I locked my door and I moved myself over to the bed.

"Hi Miss Pussy," I whispered to it, as not to scare it as I slid off my boxer shorts, "We don't really know each other very well but I think we're ready for a bit of one on one time together."

I traced my finger around the outside, feeling the collected moisture.

"I'm as scared of you as you are of me, but personally I think we're going to be great friends. If you promise to let me enjoy this I promise to never ever let a baby come out of you."

My pussy remained silent but I am sure she was looking forward to this moment as much as I was.

The questions in my head scared me a little. Should I break out one of my toys or should I do this manually? Should I lay down a towel in case I'm a 'squirter'? Should I keep it quiet or was Mum working the early shift today? I decided that it was a very personal time for me and my new sex, so machinery should be left out until at least the second time, and since it was my first time I was going to be as loud as I needed. If people hear, that's fine with me I am proud of my new found sexuality. I lay on top of the bed, not wanting the sheets get in the way. I put a pillow under my bum and started to gently rub the outer folds of my pussy. It was exciting, I was about to become one of only a few people that would know what an orgasm felt for each gender.

I bit my bottom lip as the caressing intensified. I was pretty sure I had found the clitoris, it was extremely sensitive but in a way that I couldn't stop touching it. I rubbed it and my pussy had gotten quite lubricated. Even though we had nutted out an agreement my pussy wanted a thick penis inside of it. At least that was what I was picturing as I inserted my index finger. Inside me was warm and moist and it felt good to have something filling the void even if it was my own finger. I slowly slid my finger in and out, while my other hand rubbed my clit. I moaned, if Mum wasn't at work, she definitely would have heard that one.

Fuck! It felt good! While masturbating as a guy felt like you were desperate to expel something out of your body, the joy of female masturbation was the thrill of bringing something into the body, in my case, my index and now middle finger. My right hand returned to my breasts, apologising for leaving them alone for so long by lovingly tweaking the nipples.

My face went red as my fervour and the speed increased. The room smelt of sex, the same scent Dot had left behind after our little tryst. While by no means an expert, I was quite happy with my progress so far. This body was so alien to me, I was impressed at the speed I was pleasuring myself. In my reading that Annette had assigned, I read that quite a lot of women couldn't orgasm at all and here I was unlocking the secrets a few days in.

I surprised myself by making little, short mini-moans as I broke through another barrier. The end was in sight! All it needed was some deep concentration. My slippery fingers glided in and out of my sopping wet pussy. The fleshy walls around my fingers closed in, trying to draw in all the friction. My thumb rubbed up against my excited clit. My other hand cupped my breast. I was a machine with many, many moving parts all working together for a simple goal: to give me an orgasm. I moaned a weird, very feminine moan, one I had never made before. Glimpses of flashing images- naked men, oily muscles, engorged cocks, Tyler, my cute little body being violated, strong arms, broad shoulders, Kev's rippling body in his bathers, the 'V', guys with six-packs- flooded my mind, none lasting more than a fraction of a second.

It suddenly happened! Without warning, I was in freefall, my mind plunging deep into the warmth of the orgasm. My pussy tensed up around my fingers and I screamed in surprise. The scream dissolved into a nervous giggle as the pure pleasure dissipated a little. I continued to rub my privates, noting they weren't immediately tender like my male organ right after a climax, in fact everything felt ready to continue. Annette had talked about multiple orgasms briefly but I thought it might have been a very rare occurrence like an eclipse. They way I was feeling at the moment I was only minutes away from another orgasm. It is a beautiful gender that can realistically contemplate their next orgasm while still shivering from the previous one.

So, I had myself another orgasm.

The second was a little trickier and required more concentration but the reward was almost as sweet. I clutched the bed as if I could fall off and screamed my way through the amazing feeling. I may still be unhappy to be in this body but it's hard to argue against two mind-blowing orgasms before breakfast. It really is a wonderful way to start the day. I was just happy to have my sex drive back, I never realised it was so integral. Now that it was back colours seemed brighter, food tasted richer and music sounded better.

If I had to choose who had the better experience when it came to 'playing with oneself', it would be a tricky choice. For men it's so simple, up and down, in and out, back and forth, keep doing one of those things and eventually you have an orgasm on your hands. For me now, while I feel the rewards are better, it takes a lot more work to get there. You need to concentrate, and hit exact spots. Sure the whole region down there feels nice, but there are only one or two small spots that can achieve that incredible feeling.

I stretched out like a happy cat in the warm sun and writhed in celebration.

I had made my doona a little damp with my morning's activities but I'm sure it would dry. I had just participated solely in a momentous occasion but it would not be the last time, I thought to myself as I took my shower. Now that my body and I found something we could enjoy together everything didn't seem as bleak. I almost started again, right there in the shower but teaching myself self-control was as important as teaching myself to get good at masturbating.

Since I was pleased with my body, I decided to reward it. I covered it in silky undergarments, which felt very luxurious against my soft skin. On top of that went a plain T-shirt and shorts, so no one would ever know that underneath I was dressed very girly indeed. Not that anyone was around I was completely alone at home, both Nicole and Mum must have been at their jobs. I wandered around the house, trying to avoid doing any work. Sure there was dirty dishes in the sink, but I still traumatized by the transformation. I wondered how long I could play the 'traumatized' card before I would have to do some work, Annette was already pretty adamant I go back to school soon. But I am sure I would be quite happy to spend my days swimming, hanging with my friends and playing with myself for a long time to come. I was enjoying being lazy.

Laziness was the cause of me not reading a long e-mail Dr. Chisholm had sent me. Instead I just surfed the web, watched some movie trailers and downloaded some music. If laziness stopped me from doing work, curiosity made me type my own name into YouTube. I wasn't too surprised to see I yielded a few results Ace had already told me he watched the press conference. There were some news stories on me, people doing video blogs talking about me and the interview in full already uploaded. The most viewed video was me doing the press conference, but the second most viewed was something I was surprised about.

The video went for 43 seconds and featured me walking to the podium at the press conference, dropping my diary and then bending down to pick it up at which point it went into slow motion as for a few glorious seconds the public had an impressive view of my large, milky white breasts right down my top. The fact that some one had taken the time to make this video didn't surprise me very much, 6 billion people in the world, I'm sure some of them have an immense love of cleavage and a lot of time on their hands. What did shock me was the fact that that small video had racked up more than 80,000 views.

More people had seen that video than all the people I would meet in my life collectively. My breasts had been rated 4 stars which I wasn't sure if I should be proud or not.
There were comments too.
A brand new fan of mine, !_cArNaGe_! wrote, "so hot!!! anyone else want to motorboat those things?"
Charming.
FlamingMonkeyAttack wrote, "You guys are all sick! I don't care how hot she is She was a he."
Latinlover046 made the eloquent response, "I don't care that she used to be a dude, I just jerked off to that video… twice!"
"Not much of a butt," critiqued BigRedAndrew, "But boobs I could to get lost in between 4 dayz! I just wish that we could get PE girls half as hot as her here in America. None of them hold a candle to Gemma!"

To be honest, I was unsure if I was proud or repulsed. While there was a massive pile of reasons to feel disgusted, I found it tricky to shake a small but unmistakable feeling of pride, they were talking about me! Now, this may be an unusual reaction to have but for 17 years my looks had never really been commented on, let alone 437 times. I was totally unremarkable but now I was wrapped inside this new wrapping everyone seemed to have a remark, most of them very positive. I Googled myself. There were a lot of pages for Gemma Taylor but a few of them weren't me. I had that problem when I was called Michael, but it was a lot worse, namely because there are a lot more Michael Taylors out there and there was a hardly any website writing about me.

I stumbled onto a message board. "We're all fans of hot chicks here," it announced, "So it is with great pleasure I introduce you to Gemma Taylor." I scrolled down and there were pictures of me walking across the road to get to the press conference, walking to the podium, bending down to pick up my dropped diary, smiling at the podium. The poster from the message board continued, "Enjoyed?" he wrote, "Well, here's the kicker. She, a day before that was a guy! Born Michael Taylor in Marrang, Australia he caught PE earlier in the week. Here's what he used to look like." The picture was my school photo from last year, the one the newspapers were printing as a 'before' shot.

"Shit! That was a man? I've heard of man boobs," said the first response, "but these are MAN BOOBS! Aussie you say? Even the guys are way hotter over there!"

"This PE girl is smokin'! My dick says 'Yes' but my brain would be screaming 'NOOOO!' the whole time!" said another one. I was unsure why I kept reading, but I did. It was like I was invisible and I could hear conversations about me.

"I'm Australian and she's all over the news. My housemate saw the front page of the paper the other day and said who's the babe and I had to break the news to him." A few pages along there were more pictures posted of me, these one were of me and Nicole walking into the surf shop when we were bathers shopping, and then a few pages on stills taken from yesterday's interview, mostly ones of me in the swimsuit, leaning on the body board, spilling breasts everywhere.

"JESUS CHRIST! Nice post, man! I'd feel a lot less guilty at the moment if I was unaware that she's underage and used to be a guy."

Suddenly, I felt very cheeky as a plan came into my head.

I removed my T-shirt and bra, stood up against a wall, grabbed my digital camera and took a picture. Looking at the display I decided that the picture would do nicely, I had framed it perfectly. Within minutes I had uploaded it to the website saying, "Looky what I just found, a topless picture of little Miss Gemma Taylor!" Now, that might have been a very foolish thing to do, that is, if this picture had included my head. What the picture contained was a pair of very round, very pert and very anonymous boobs. Just one of probably millions of pictures like that floating around in the internet. The fact that nobody would believe me just added to the cheekiness.

I wasted the next few hours just surfing around. I read news sites about me, read a few blogs praising me for being so brave, others called me a slight against God. There was even a site dedicated to men who were desperate to catch SGR so that they could become women. They were very welcome to switch places with me. At one website, I was ranked number one in a list of the hottest victims of P.E, above a very pretty Russian woman with blonde hair and brown eyes that used to be a Russian man. The Chicago woman who was the first of us to be treated with the electronic pulse procedure was rated number 8, but honestly she wasn't that pretty. Actually from number 4 down they were fairly average looking women, but when there has been less than 35 men turn into women, and a lot of them over 40 and two of them were under 10 it was never going to be much of a beauty pageant.

I looked down the list of forced contestants. Though I had never met any of these women we all were bonded together. We had all undergone a very bizarre transformation against our will. None of us knew who had started this or why. All we collectively knew was that we were stuck. They all had already sat here in my position, female and scared. I wondered if they all had poked their new genitals with as much glee as I had earlier that day. Looking at the photos of these apparently very depressed women, I doubted it. Maybe some of them did, but definitely not all of them.

Having my sex drive back had made me a little loopy.

Before I would have never even considered putting a photo of my exposed breasts up on the net but today I had done it without even thinking. It was a sublimely stupid thing to do. They can tell where in the world you send stuff from and if someone checked to see where the photo came from they could figure out that it was possibly real and then things would really get crazy. I thought about taking it down, but decided to forget about it. I was just being paranoid.

The computer made a sound that almost sounded like a sigh of relief when I turned it off. Perhaps it was glad that I wasn't going to use it to make a bigger fool of myself, or maybe it didn't want to be left to show pictures of sexy men for hours again. Either way, it was off and I had the whole house to myself. I could do anything, the world was my oyster and there was nothing I couldn't do, that was until 1pm, when Annette was coming around to beg me to go to school.

I went for a swim, just me and the sea. Well, it was just me and the sea until I got out of the water and then another party joined in. They didn't really join in per se, more like watched from afar. Out of the corner of my eyes, hiding in the sand dunes, was a man with a camera. Paparazzi, I assumed.

There were several options available to me: I could go over there and asked him nicely for my privacy or I could go crazy at him and yell and scream or I could just pretend to not notice him. They were all viable choices. In the end I decided to ignore them, still firmly believing in the 'ignore them and they will ignore you' that you receive for bullies and snakes.

Casually I dried myself, making sure that the towel was 'accidentally' blocking his view. It was cool, I felt like James Bond being so covert, even though I resemble more of a Bond Girl. I kept the casual act up, playing ignorant to the shadowy figure. The whole thing made me feel like a celebrity, up to this point I had felt like a science experiment but the paparazzi and internet chat combined made me realise people were judging me based on my looks and were too interested in my personal life which, I guess, made me a celebrity.

"Enjoy your swim?" asked the woman waiting for me when I got back to the house.

"It was very refreshing, thank you Annette," I told her, "Is it OK if I go and change?"

"Go, change," she said, casually, "But after that we work, K? Life cannot always be one long party."

As I walked back to my bedroom I wondered if that was true.
For most people, yes you can't party all life long.
But I was rich and given the word I could be a lot richer.
Life could quite easily be a party for me.
And why not? I like parties.

"So, Miss Taylor, let's get you prepared for school!" said Annette, not for the first time.

"I'm not going to school," I answered.

She wasn't happy with that, she furrowed her brow and leaned forward as if she was my confidant and not someone I was forced to talk with.

"Now, we've been through this, you've almost already missed out on two weeks. The sooner you come back, the sooner you can start work and catch up," Annette had a lovely way of making things sound appealing.

I leaned forward, mimicking her mock sincerity. "I don't need to catch up," I told her plainly, "I'm quitting."

"WHAT?!?" said Mum when she got home from work.

Annette had forced me to tell her my plans and Mum seemed a little angrier than Annette was.

"I want to do some travelling instead. See the world, find myself."

"Find yourself? I'll give you a hint, Gem. You're right there! Of all the childish, stupid things…" Mum was using her angry voice that had a habit of ascending to a pitch that only some breeds of dog can hear.

"It's OK, it's not like we're poor. I'll take a bit of my money, see the world come back and figure out what I want to do then."

"I tell you what you want to do. Go back to school before I clip you 'round the back of the bloody head." Mum was not being very receptive of my ideas, "Gemma, do you really think I am going to let my 17 year old daughter waste a year of her life gallivanting around the world by herself? No chance, missy. Until you are 18 you are my property, you understand? I should fucking give you a tattoo the says 'Property of Mrs. Janet Taylor, do not touch until 18'."

Mum was being totally unfair, "Nicole dropped out of school when she was 17!"

"But Nicole had a plan, she had a hairdressing apprenticeship! All you want to do is get on a plane and waste all our money."

I suddenly saw what this was all about, Mum could rush out and buy a giant TV, but me spending a small amount of the fortune that I earned was out of the question.

"Our money? I'm pretty sure it's my money, Mum. I was the one who went through the incredibly distressing transformation. I didn't even want the big TV."

Mum paced up and down the kitchen, as she was prone to do when angry. Annette, who had started the fight, sat there painfully quiet, almost as if her job wasn't to make sure I was having a 'smooth transition'.

"Now listen up, Gemma Mae Taylor," my mother announced, "I've been fairly relaxed with you but not anymore. You're going to learn some authority. Here's how things are going to happen: Tomorrow morning at 8:30, you will be here in the kitchen, wearing your pretty, new school uniform ready to go to school. We will repeat this everyday until next year when you graduate, after that you can do whatever the hell you want. But until you finish high school, I own you."

Mum was really angry, the sort of anger usually reserved for Nicole when she messed up. I was the favourite child, the child who was still at school, the child with the good marks, the child who was singing beautifully onstage and didn't take 'booze' money out of Mum's wallet without asking. I must have hit a raw nerve but Mum was always talking about giving us opportunities that she didn't have at our age and here I was, 17 and rich enough to spend a year travelling the world and discovering who I am, essential since my concept of identity had just had a major shake up. When Mum was my age, she had dropped out of school because she was pregnant with Nicole. It's not like I couldn't finish school, I could return after my year off unlike Mum who had to look after a baby.

Despite shouting, Mum didn't hear a word I said. She was livid and red and fuming. She kept referring to me as 'Gemma Mae Taylor' and 'Little Missy' and did not mention my SGR once, as if I was the real problem and it had nothing to do with it. But it had everything to do with it! If I weren't falsely imprisoned in this body then I wouldn't feel the dire urge to escape. I wasn't the problem, this shorter, curvier wrapping was.

I stormed off to my room, as gloomy and aggressive as a real storm. The door slammed behind my like a thunderclap and the tears poured down like a torrential rain. I hoped Annette was happy, she had gotten me 'grounded', a term never used by my mother ever. 'Grounded' was for TV's 'Moms' in American sit-coms for misbehaving pre-pubescents, not parents of teenagers that were 11-months shy of being a legal adult. I felt thoroughly stuck. I was stuck in this country, I was stuck in this house, I was stuck in the room and most importantly I was stuck in this body.

I hadn't even gotten to share the news that I had become a woman, sexually. I'm sure most parents dread the moment their precious little girls start noticing boys but Mum had been counting down the days until we could share gossip of who we think is cute. Well, if maybe she had turned down her rage a little, we might have been able to have a civilised conversation. I can't believe she had flown off the handle so bad at one little idea. Sure, I had presented the idea with a fair amount of conviction but it was still open to discussion. She did nothing to persuade me that going through the torment of school while learning who I've become was a good idea. All she did was shout me into my room. I cried into my previously tear-stained pillow and turned my iPod all the way up, filling every second with as much sound as possible.

My dinner remained uneaten and my mother's requests to come out for dinner remained unanswered. I needed some alone time and had locked the door to provide me some.
Me locking my door was a big deal, as I never really locked it.
Day or night, anyone who wanted to come in, did. Nicole wanted to borrow a DVD, she just walked right in. Mum wanted some chores done, in she comes. The only real time I locked my door was when I was having a wank and I was so upset that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

Let's just say I wasn't in my 'pretty, new school uniform' waiting in the kitchen to be taken to school by Mum the next day. I stayed behind the locked door. That didn't make my mum very happy. She knocked on the door three times before muttering, "I'm not angry, Gem. Just very disappointed."

That hurt. If she was angry at least I could be angry back, disappointed meant I just felt like a total heel.

My bags sat by the door ready for Nicole to pick me up.
I had called up and pleaded with her and she said she would take an extended lunch break and pick me up. I found calling myself her 'little sis' helped me get my way. I made a double check that I had everything because I wanted to be prepared for any situation. There was one last thing to do before I left. I quickly jotted down a message for Mum:

Mum,
Sorry I've been acting like a little bitch, it's not how you raised me. You raised a boy, so you can understand why I've been confused lately. I'm going away for the weekend, just to be alone. I'm not turning my phone on so don't try and call it. I just want you to know that I'll be waiting in the kitchen, ready to go to school first thing Monday morning.
I love you,
Gemma

The two short blasts on the horn alerted me that Nicole was out the front. I put the letter on the kitchen table, picked up my backpack and ran out to the car. It was another blistering hot February day in a long line of blistering hot February days. Because of that I was wearing my trademark shorts and a tank top. Not ideal for where I was going but I should OK.

"Mum is going to be so pissed off," Nicole said as I opened the car door.

"It's OK, I wrote her a letter. It's not like I'm running away, I'm just going on a little trip."

"But still, you should have asked."

"If I did that she would have said no. I'm 'grounded' remember, I'm not supposed to leave the house."

Nicole drove a little too fast over a speed bump and all four breasts in the car jiggled enormously. Bras only did so much, I figured out.

"Left here and straight out onto the highway," I told Nicole.

"You should have invited Dot or someone to come with you. Is it safe to be out there alone?"

"Yeah," I answered, "I've been there alone there twice already by myself and Mum didn't have a problem then."

"But you were a boy."

"How is that different?" I asked.

I have noticed people are all for this boy and girls are totally equal business until something remotely physical comes along and then it seemed that even the unhealthiest male is better than a girl. The truth is, this female body feels a hell of a lot better than my old body. I feel more energised, most flexible and even though I am probably not, stronger. If I could handle a little camping trip as Michael, Gemma would be fine.

Nicole dropped me off in the national park's car park. The campsite was about a 7km walk from there, nothing too strenuous.

"Now, I'll see you back here at 5pm on Sunday, OK?"

"OK. Please don't tell Mum where I am, I don't want her driving all the way out here to get me."

"OK, but you owe me one."

Now, to most people 'you owe me one' is just a figure of speech but not to the Taylor family. Not only do we keep a record of who owes whom but it is its own currency. But by owing someone you knew that you would have to perform a favour in return. And owing Nicole one usually meant there was going to be a lot of work.

"Fine. Have a good weekend, sis."

"You too." She beeped her horn as she skidded off into the distance.

And finally I was alone.
No Annette to drone on at me, no Mum to get angry with me for no reason, no Dot to be teased by, no Glen to feel awkward by and now no Nicole to give me beauty hints.

It was just me, my thoughts and my heavy, heavy backpack.
Now I was unsure if I had packed too much or I really was weaker than I felt but the backpack did feel quite heavy. Not 'I'll never make this distance' heavy more of a 'My back is going to kill me' heavy.
But despite that, I began the hike.

It was so refreshing to be alone with my thoughts in the beauty of the bush. Even in the middle of the drought we were in, the bush was still a fascinating place. As amazing as it is to look at, it's not the most incredible place, aurally. Luckily, I brought my Ipod with me. I slipped on the headphones and let my music complement the beauty surrounding me. The bush has a wonderful calming effect and several minutes into my hike I forgot about my Mum, my weird body and my problems, even the constant bouncing feeling coming from my chest didn't bother me. The only thing that bothered me was the threat of snakes, but even that didn't stop me from smiling.

The hike to the campsite was a mild one, there weren't a lot of obstacles to climb or steep inclines. It was more of a pleasant walk than a punishing one.
I had travelled down to this campsite a few times in my life.
My old primary school friend, Alan had shown me it. His whole family used to camp there a lot before he moved away.
Then I would beg Mum to take Glen, the Madsen boys and I there a few times a year for the last couple of years.
Even Dot came once
The national park was upstaged by a lot more 'fancy' parks in the nearby area so you almost always had the campsite all to yourself. It was the perfect place to unwind and figure out the answer to some of my life's more pressing questions.

It also had an amazing view of the ocean, and a small winding path that leads you to the best beach in the entire region. I always had a good time there and was anxious to set up my tent and lie back letting the world pass me by in absolute seclusion. I was right about the backpack, my back was feeling some pain as I neared the summit of the hill where the site is. I would have been happy to rest for a little while, since I was sweating like a pig in the summer sun but I was almost there! What was worse, I was fairly sure I had developed some blisters on my feet. You are supposed to wear worn-in shoes whenever you go on a hike, but I had only worn sandals since the change so my sneakers, while cute, were attacking the soles of my feet with vigour.

I was a sweaty mess as I strode towards the top of the hill.
The sun and I had battled it out all of the way and I felt victorious.
My plans changed.

I would save erecting the tent until later in the afternoon, my first order of business would be stripping off, changing into my bathers and going for a well earned swim. I could almost feel the cool salty water surrounding my body, draining my of all my stress and…

"Bloody hell!" said someone else in a weird voice.

I guess I wasn't alone.

CHAPTER 14

"Sorry," apologised the weird voice, "I thought we were alone here. Wasn't expecting anyone else."

I figured out why the voice sounded weird, it had an accent. An English accent I guessed, not a hoity-toity 'cucumber sandwiches' English accent or a Victorian era chimney sweep but a normal middle accent. It belonged to a guy, scruffy 'fashionable' hair and goatee, around 20, very tall and bulky, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts.

"I didn't think anyone else knew about this place," I told him, suddenly aware of my gender once more with the way he looked at me.

"Yeah, it's a real little slice of heaven here, isn't it? My name's Terry by the way."

I could tell from the way he looked at me he wasn't aware of who I was, if he was a backpacker he probably didn't bother reading the papers and he probably didn't have a chance to see any TV.

"I'm Gemma Taylor," I told him and there was no flash of recognition, I was in the clear, there were going to be no 'Did it hurt?' questions.

"So, me and my mate have just been travelling around your fine country since November, safely avoiding the winter back home. Seen it all; Sydney, Brisbane, Cairns, Ayres Rock, Melbourne. Heading home on Tuesday, so we thought we cram in some serious surfing in a nice secluded spot before we left. Been here two nights already, we'll leave for Melbourne on Monday. Having a great time."

Terry smiled all the way through his story. He seemed like a very jovial guy and while I was hoping for complete isolation to get my thoughts in order, being in the company of two British backpackers who knew nothing of the saga that is Gemma Taylor might be a healthy way to spend some time too.

"So, where is your friend?" I asked.

"Oh, he's out still surfing. It was getting too hot for me so I got out ages ago but he's mad. Especially today."

I asked the obvious question.

"Oh, because it's his birthday! We brought a shitload of alcohol to celebrate tonight. So if you want to join us?"

I nodded, there was another way to forget all my problems. I heaved the backpack off my shoulders and let it drop to the ground, there was nothing breakable in there anyway. I suddenly felt so much lighter and gasped in relief.

"Man, that feels good!" I said a little too loudly.

"Heavy, huh?"

"Oh yeah," I moaned, rolling my head around in an effort to loosen my neck up.

"Want a beer?"

It was a perfectly timed offer so I accepted it. He opened the Esky and pulled out a stubby, opened it and handed it to me. I thanked him and rolled the cool bottle over my forehead and let out a sigh. I never had liked beer, I heard most people learn to love it at university when they go out to bars and can't afford to get drunk on the more expensive mixed drinks. It was an acquired taste, and one I hadn't really acquired yet but it was extremely refreshing. I must have sucked back at least half the bottle in one go.

"Thirsty, huh?"

"Oh yeah."

We sat and talked for a while, well, mainly he talked and I listened. He told me stories about his trip and the crazy adventures him and his friend, 'Monster' had got up to. A lot of his stories revolved around their efforts to attract Aussie girls in various levels of intoxications and the failures.

"We thought two English blokes were going to be exotic to you Aussie girls, but it turns out every other bastard and his dog has the same idea and have rushed out here," Terry bemoaned.

I enjoyed being treated like a normal person for a change, and not like some mixed-up deformed creature. Sure, I was being treated like a girl with lusty stares and gentle flirting, but least he didn't see me as a freak.
There was a noise in the distance and Terry jumped up, "Hey I've got a funny idea. You go and hide in the tent, OK?"

I was picked up by his mischievous enthusiasm, nodded and jumped into his tent.

I sat silently as I waited for the plan to unfurl, I was unaware of the details of the plan other than it was 'funny'. The tent was roomy, two guys in a tent for four. It wasn't high enough to stand up in but it was high enough not to have to crawl around, much more cosy than my old, decrepit tent too. I laid on my belly, with my feet swinging in the air, listening to the rustling sound getting closer.

"Hey birthday dude," Terry said, "Finally out, huh?"

"Yeah, I've had enough for one day," said a second English accent, "Awesome little beach though, not another soul for miles."

"A real paradise," agreed Terry, "So you ready for your present?"

"You got me something?"

"Yeah, it's in the tent."

Ah ha! I was finally aware of the plan. It wasn't the funniest joke in the world but it might give 'Monster' a bit of a scare. I pondered why he was named monster and concluded he was probably ugly or at least really hairy. Guys aren't usually very cryptic with nicknames, it was either a variation of your last name or a one-word summation of your personality or looks. As long as he was as nice as Terry, I didn't care what he looked like.

"Awesome! I didn't expect you to get me a present, you bought all the booze," Monster sounded genuinely touched.

However, Terry was getting impatient, "Just go in and get it, I wanna see if you like it."

The zipper whined as it flew up the zip and the flaps rustled.
I prepared myself, trying to look as sexy as possible.
'Monster' crawled into the tent.

"Happy birthday!" I cooed with a mixture of one part seduction and four parts giggling idiot.

"Whoa!" he said as he stumbled back, falling back onto his back, but since he was only crawling it wasn't that bad of a fall.
I laughed and heard Terry cackling like a super villain.
Monster composed himself, sat back up and stared into my eyes. "Hi. Aren't you a nice present? Do you want me to unwrap you now or later?"

It was only because he was English and sounded a bit like James Bond as he said it that he got away with such a corny line.

Monster was not called so for his looks at all, he was called Monster because his name was Robert Cooke and people called him 'The Cookie Monster' which was later shortened to just 'Monster'. Truth be told, he didn't look monstrous at all. He was fairly short, shorter than the average guy, but still had a inch or three over me, his dirty blonde hair was messy in the 'fashionable' way too and he had a face that was sweet enough to impress your mother but with a glint in the eye that you knew that as soon as he charmed mother he was going to misbehave badly. He crawled into the tent with his wetsuit hanging off him, just above his hips so my new sex drive got a thrill when I saw his torso. Picking fruit and surfing must have agreed with him because his stomach was nicely muscled and his pecs made my nipples tingle in a funny way.
He told me I could call him Rob, if I wanted.

"So what brings you here, Gemma?" Rob asked me as he handed me another beer.

I remembered how last time I had rubbed the cold bottle against my forehead and thought that was a pretty sexy thing to do. For some reason, impressing Rob was high on my list of things to do so in an effort to excite him I rolled the bottle over my tight little tummy before slowly bringing up to my lips. If it seems a little ham-fisted and over the top to you, don't worry, Rob seemed to think it was just dandy.

"I'm just here to chill out," I said, trying to sound mature and casual, "I live in Marrang which is like 40 minutes down the road, so I've just come up to have a peaceful weekend before I ran into you two Poms."

"Sorry for wrecking your plans," he said with a smile

"Sorry for crashing your birthday party. How old are you turning?"

"I'm 22 today, an old man. How old are you?"

Shit! Don't tell them your real age! I'm much too young for them. If you tell them 17 the conversation will slowly wither away to nothing.

"19," I squeaked.

"Cool," he answered.

I lied a little more to the British boys. I didn't want to lie to them but the truth would have them running into the bush screaming. I told them I was starting first year uni this month in Melbourne, studying business (a boring enough course so that they wouldn't have many follow up questions) and that my boyfriend was gigging with his band out of town this weekend. I thought it was important to make up a boyfriend, just so the boys didn't fool themselves into thinking I might be up for some 'fun' over the weekend. Sure, they were nice to look at but I barely knew how to work this body and was no way ready to experiment using other people. The boyfriend in the rock band sounded a bit too cliché after I had talked about it for a while, so I made sure that I added that the band was lousy. Which makes sense because there's no chance a band called 'The Tiny, Tiny Shoes' could be any good at all.

Rob walked around with his shirt off all day. I'm not sure if he was doing that to try and impress me but that was definitely one of the side effects. Even if I was still a guy I would have been impressed of his well-sculpted body. Although I did think all guys who walked around with their shirts off were total posers. But Ron didn't appear to be a poser to me, just a relaxed guy who didn't feel the need to put on a shirt on such a hot day. Dot would have liked him, he had the muscle 'V' at the bottom of his stomach.

I set up an experiment.

"I really want to go swimming," I announced, "but I haven't set up my tent yet."

"Don't worry 'bout that. We'll set up your tent. Go and have a swim," Terry said, almost automatically.

"That's so sweet. Thanks a lot!"

Just as I thought, I had gained superpowers, namely the power to control all men. I had once been victim of that very same power, Holly could make me do anything she wanted and usually she wanted me to do some heavy lifting or something that involved a lot of waiting around. But the shoe was on the other foot now, I had been a victim but now I was in control. All I needed was a pout, or a smile and all men were putty in my hands. Sadly, my powers were worthless in my home full of women. I would have to rely on the undependable power of pity, a power that was working less and less as they got steadily fed up with me.

"Do you mind if I get changed into my togs in your tent?" I asked the guys as I rummaged around the bag for my bathers.

"Go right ahead," said Rob, "What's ours is yours."

I grimaced as I grabbed a bundle of stuff and marched into their tent. Changing into a swimsuit is tricky when you can't stand up. It's tricky to know if things are going to sit right when you are lying down. But I did my best. I also didn't have a mirror to see if I looked OK. I really didn't think to pack a mirror, as I didn't expect to see anyone all weekend. But I passed the spot check I gave myself and prepared to exit the tent.

I had forgotten about my situation. I really didn't think I would see anyone this weekend. I blame my laziness for the pickle I was now in. If I had bothered to hang my black bathers up after swimming yesterday and not have left them on the bathroom floor they would have been dry when I packed my bag this morning and I wouldn't have had to pack the only other swimsuit I owned: the little, skimpy pink bikini that Nicole had picked out for me. My feminine superpowers were about to be amplified ten fold.

Luckily, I found a reason to stall as I saw a tube of sunscreen sitting on top of someone's bag. I would certainly have to put some on before stepping outside in these poor excuse for clothes. I started on my face, rubbing it in all over. My nose felt tiny, even to my new small hands. I continued down the body, arms, boobs tummy, legs, etc. I was relieved to find out that I was flexible enough to get all of my back, so that I wouldn't have to plead with the boys for a little help. It was all already embarrassing enough that I was dressed like this. I was worried that my little bum was too exposed, the material back there hiding in the crack of my butt instead of covering it. For a little more protection from the sun, but mostly from the roving eyes I tugged my denim cut offs back on.

Now I was ready to exit the tent.

It was immediately obvious that the boys liked what they saw as I emerged. I couldn't blame them, since I was a male only about 2 weeks before. I remember what turned me on, and seeing a shy, overdeveloped teenage girl emerge from the tent you sleep in wearing nothing much more than a tight pair of shorts, a minuscule pink bikini top and a nervous smile would have been enough to give me a boner for life.

"The tent is in the bottom of my pack," I told them nonchalantly as if I didn't notice I was being ogled to within an inch of my life.
My boobs needed adjusting so I fiddled with them as the guys rifled through my pack to get to the tent.
Out came my clothes, an embarrassing assortment of little tops, bottoms, frilly underwear and even some thong panties Mum had begged me to try.
I tried to act casual, like I didn't mind them touching my clothes as if my fictional boyfriend would do it all the time.

I had not thought it through when I had gave the British boys my pack to unpack. I had forgotten what I had packed in it. Sure, seeing my intimate apparel was uncomfortable enough but when Terry brought out the long, thin weird shaped object out of my bag I was mortified. It was the vibrator Annette had got me. It was a 'rabbit' and Dot said they were amazing, I hadn't tried it yet but I had ideas about tonight, lying out in the bush. But that was when I thought I was going to have the whole campsite to myself.
Terry held it like it was an unexploded grenade and his eyes bulged out of his skull. If I could act casual through this I would earn a lifetime achievement Oscar.

"What?" I said as laid-back as I could muster, "I thought I was going to be alone."

Running away seemed to be the only viable option after barely surviving a truly embarrassing moment like that. I mumbled something about really needing a swim and I scurried away down the path. It was a rather steep decline down to the private little beach but it was so worth the effort. All the way down the sea calls to you, singing its siren song. Even the sand feels luxuriously soft between your toes like you are walking on a blanket. While the beach behind my house was delightful, this one was my favourite beach.

The snap buttons on my fly popped off one by one and I let my cut offs hit the ground. I was right to wear the shorts in front of the boys because these bottoms left nothing to the imagination. And I needed them to have something to think about while they assembled my tent. The bottoms were what Nicole called a Brazilian cut which she said would be perfect for enhancing my bum, which she said was the only area she had me beat. I whinged that it gave me a wedgie and she said it was supposed to. I tugged at it to try and get it to sit right but it stayed firmly half in my bum, half out. I began stretching, which is very important to do before you go swimming. If you don't you could cramp up and then you would be in a lot of trouble.

Me doing stretches in my pretty, little half-thong wasn't supposed to be seen by anyone.
The fact I was alone meant I went the whole hog, no compromises for modesty's sake. I was bent over, touching my toes when I felt two sets of eyes on me.

"Go on, don't mind us," joked Rob.

To them I must seem like complete nympho, there I was all alone, standing in the perfect position to be taken from behind. They didn't know of my stretching regiment and how I didn't want to drown. Well, I assume they could probably guess that I didn't want to drown.

"We thought we'd join you for a bit of a splash around," Terry said and he laid out a beach towel beside mine.

Not to be outdone, Rob took his towel and spread it out on the other side of mine, "We'll do your tent later."
They both reclined on their towels drinking a beer and stared out at the view of the sea and me. Since I had only begun my stretches I felt compelled to finish them, although I didn't keep my bum pointed away from them as much as I could.

"Are you doing Ti Chi?" asked Rob.

"No," I told him, "Just stretching so I don't get a cramp."

"Oh."

"You don't have to watch, feel free to start frolicking without me," I said as I realized that by not exposing my bum, I was showing off a fair bit of boob.

A girl can't win.

"But we like watching," Terry confessed.

I thought about the situation. Here I was dressed in a provocative manner, doing provocative moves in full view of some attractive member of the opposite sex who were giving me their full attention. If the genders were swapped and I was male again, stretching in front of two attractive girls I would have been overjoyed that they were enjoying the show. But now I felt a little nervous to be so wanted. I could see the pleasure in their eyes, even through their sunglasses. While they were not predatory in any way, I still felt like a piece of meat. I cut my stretching short, but it didn't lead to me drowning.

"Well, I'm warmed up enough," I told my new friends.

"Us too," joked Terry.

"I don't know about you," I said, turning around "but I'm off for a swim."

I felt their eyes watching my bum all the way into the water but there was nothing I could do about it, I would look pretty stupid backing up all the way. I suddenly felt some compassion for the girl in the 'Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini' song who was too scared to come out of the water. I always thought she was stupid for putting it on in the first place, she must have known how sexy it looked when she put it on. It felt a little foolish being so shy when I knew how sexy I looked. I had no reason to be shy, they thought I was a girl and they liked me.
And after this weekend they would never see me again.
It was as my arse disappeared from view under the water that I decided I would no longer be shy.
I was the owner of this body and these weird new feelings and it was time to embrace them.

The water was warm and waves were nonexistent, it was apparent why Rob had given up surfing for the day.
The ocean was as flat as I was curvy.
It was the perfect condition for some playful splashing, which started as soon as Terry edged towards the water.
I ran over to him and kicked up the torrent of spray, drenching him completely.
Terry had taken his shirt off too and while there was no six-pack to speak of he still looked good to me. I wondered if I had been wired up wrong and thus found all guys attractive or if all girls felt the same amount of attraction as me.
Maybe I was just getting used to it.

"You naughty girl!" Terry said as he tried to retaliate, I was too quick and easily avoided the water he kicked up at me.

"Missed me!" I teased.

"Monster!" he called out to his friend, "Give Gemma here a thorough soaking, would you?"

I turned around to see that Rob was packing a large overpowered water pistol. He fired. I gave a long, particularly girly scream as Rob unloaded a powerful jet of water all over me.

"Give me the gun," I whispered to Rob my strategy, "I'm going to get Terry good!"

I outstretched my arms to show him how eager I was.

Rob handed me the pistol and as soon as my fingers were in place, I yelled, "Sucked in!" and proceeded to squirt Rob good.

His surprise turned into mock rage and he started advancing on me.
I had to run, "Oi! Terry! Catch!"

I tossed the water gun high into the air and began to sprint.
But as soon as he had the gun, Terry turned on me, pulling the trigger and hitting me on my back.
I was seriously being ganged up on.
Rob was chasing me and Terry was laughing manically as he was squirting my back.

I swung my arm back across the top of the water, sending up a spray that got my pursuer. But it did little to slow him down, Rob tackled me, making me fall into the awaiting sea.
Underwater we became a tangled mess of limbs and torsos. His hands brushed my arse, tummy and one boob, whether or not on purpose was hard to detect because there was a lot of thrashing about.
I mean I was about to damn his wandering hands, because I have no idea where I touched him with my whipping around.
As soon as I found my feet, Terry was standing over me, ready to shoot me again.

I pleaded with him, "I surrender, I surrender!"

"So we win?" asked Rob who was ready to toss me back into the water again.

"Well, yeah. But you weren't playing fucking fair!" My protests sounded way too cute for my liking.

The day was hot, the water was cool and the company was great. With perfect conditions like that it seemed impossible to get out of the water. We mucked around and we swam, we lay around and floated about. The boys tried to impress me with their stunts, doing somersaults off of rocks and I rewarded them by letting them help reapply my sunscreen.

My plan to forget my problems was working, very well. I hadn't though about them at all.In this little part of the world the gender-confused national celebrity Gemma Taylor ceased to exist, instead she was replaced by a playful and confident 19-year-old girl whose name just happened Gemma too. It was like I was on holiday from hating myself. I knew I hadn't escaped it, as soon as I returned to the 'real world' the problems would return too. So, my plan was to enjoy this carefree freedom as much as I could before I was forced to turn around and face my real life.

The boys were completely fooled. They were absolutely convinced that I was a 19-year-old girl, although I must admit my disguise was perfect, I even had a fully operational vagina to trick them. I just hoped that I wouldn't do something wrong and they would twig that something was amiss. So because of that fear, I think I was trying a little too hard to appear calm and in control. The waves were decent again so the boys had decided to break out the surfboards again. I wasn't that good a surfer when I was male so I passed at the offer to join them, opting to sunbathe and write in my journal instead.

One thing I knew about mature girls was that they hated tan lines. Tan lines are the mortal enemy of the girl and thus my new nemesis. As I turned to lay on my stomach, I reached around and undid my bikini top. I hadn't taken much notice of what girls did after they undid their tops. Did they remove it completely or just moved the straps from leaving an imprint? Undecided, I pulled it off entirely, just in case.

I looked down at the sight, the boys over there on their surfboards didn't know what they were missing. In saying that, I didn't get much of a sexual thrill looking at them, mainly because they were hanging off my body. But I did admire their shape and size, which without me bragging were both very, very impressive. There are some girls whose centrepiece is their bust. They may have shapely legs, a cute bum, a gorgeous face or tremendous body (all of which I seemed to be blessed/cursed with) but the main focal point is the impressiveness of their breasts. Nicole and Mum were like that, Leanne from school was like that and I believe that I too, fell into that category.

And so, I laid there, writing about myself in my journal.
I had filled up a few pages by now and had even attempted a few drawings.
It was the place I could out all the thoughts I was scared to say out loud - that I was terrified of being a girl, that in my darker moments I had thought dying would be better, that I was never going to have a baby and that the thought of an erect penis turned me on. They were all scary thoughts in some regard and writing them out was a way of getting them out without having people looking at me weird.

I sat up, covered my nipples with my arm and walked over to the Esky.
I took out a beer and looked around for the bottle opener.
It must have been in the bag they brought down with them since it didn't appear to be near the Esky. I made sure I wasn't facing the water, removed my nipple-covering arm and began to rummage. My main focal points bounced around as I delved into their bag. Ipod, sunscreen, a tatty old book, sunglasses, cigarettes, lighter… box of condoms? They were dreaming if they thought they might need them here on the beach, or at all this weekend, unless maybe a real 19-year-old hottie also stumbled onto their campsite and what are the chances of that happening?

The lid flicked off, landed in the sand and the cold, refreshing liquid trickled into my mouth. I sat and watched the boys wait for waves, again covering my nipples with my arm. Surfing seemed to me a lot like fishing, a lot of waiting around before things get interesting and there is always the chance you could go home empty handed.
I never had the patience for either.
So I rolled over and restarted my writing.

It was starting to get dark as we climbed back up to the campsite.
The sun had given up and was calling it a night.
Terry and Rob had given up surfing a while back and we all had a splash around and a quick round of beach cricket. It's heart-warming to know you can meet two strangers at 2pm and by 8pm they can be your good friends. It's a little less heart-warming to notice your good friends are staring at your erect nipples through your bikini. As soon as we reached the campsite I jogged over to my bag and put on a tank top to cover up. That might stop some of the staring, I figured.
Not to say that I wasn't doing some staring of my own.
My attraction to men was still new and my nipples were erect for a reason.

The boys excused themselves and they walked to the edge of the grounds.
There was a pause in their ruckus and the following sound was the noise of running water. They were both pissing. The noise suddenly reminded my body that I needed to go too. I sat there and remembered that I was no longer equipped to piss easily. I groaned and started to walk towards the scrub.

"Gemma! Where are you going?" asked of the boys as they came back.

"Nature's calling," I explained.

I was shy of my new parts, so I probably walked a little further than I needed to successfully hide myself. I tugged down my shorts and bikini bottoms and stepped out of them. I wasn't sure what was going to happen and I didn't want to get them wet. And so, naked from the waist down, I squatted. The feeling washed over me and a steady stream of urine came out. This did not rate up there as one of the best moments to be a girl, I felt exposed, frustrated and a twig was poking me in the arse.
I truly missed my penis.

The plans to raise my tent were again put on hold as they decided they were too hungry to begin work.
They offered me dinner, which I didn't refuse because I couldn't be bothered setting up my little gas burner.
It was a good meal of sausages and baked potatoes and we joked and laughed as we ate it.
They seemed like the closest of friends who never fought at all, which sadly reminded me of the condition I had left some of my friendships at home, Dot's in particular. I know she was quite keen to have me return to school but I was unsure about it. She seemed to find it tricky to relate to me now, which was baffling because if anything I had more in common with her now.
I also had a tiny feeling that she was jealous of me.
Maybe that is why she normally gets along with boys better, the rules of competition are different between girls vs. boys and girls vs. girls.

But I crammed those thoughts towards the back of my mind, this weekend was not about worrying about problems I couldn't fix by myself but about figuring out what kind of person I am now.
I liked that Rob and Terry didn't know my back-story.
Even though I was lying to them I felt more real.

"Now are you going to put up my tent?" I asked them after dinner.

"Bossy, isn't she Monster?"

"My word she is, Terry!"

I suspected that they very much enjoyed teasing me. I was onto them.

"I know what game you're playing!" I told them.

"What game?" Rob asked innocently.

"If I have no tent tonight, guess where I'll have to sleep?"

"Under the stars?" guessed Rob.

"In a cave?" asked Terry.

"Hmmm…maybe in your tent!"

"I never thought of that. But now that you mention it, there is room in our tent. Isn't there, Monster?"

"There certainly is, Terry and she's very welcome to sleep between us."

I laughed, as they tried to keep straight faces.

"My boyfriend," I reminded them, "will fucking bash you guys!"

The laughing didn't stop for most of the night.
Although, my memories of the night are slightly frazzled.
As a birthday present for Rob, Terry brought out a very large bottle of very cheap bourbon and some shot glasses.
That's about the point my memory gets a little fuzzy.
I remember chaining about six shots in a row as the boys cheered, I remember doing my best Marylyn Monroe impression as I serenaded Rob with Happy Birthday, I remember falling for the trick of trying to touch my elbows together behind my back and I think I remember Terry rubbing my back as I vomited behind a bush.

CHAPTER 15

My suspicions were right.
My tent was still in its bag the next morning as I lay in the British boys' tent beside them.
I awoke first, my head deciding that it didn't want me to sleep through the entire hangover. I grabbed for the memories of last night but none came to me right away. I checked my surroundings,
I was in Terry and Rob's tent, Terry to my left and Rob to my right.
I was in my own sleeping bag, good.
I was fully clothed, good.
It appeared that they were too much of gentlemen to take advantage of me, or my stories of my boyfriend scared them off or (most likely) I passed out.

My mouth tasted disgusting, a repugnant mixture of cheap bourbon and bile which both taste strangely alike. I gingerly wriggled out of my sleeping bag towards my bag that they had stuck at the back of the tent. My head felt like my brain was trying to break out and didn't care how much of the skull it took with it. I rummaged around my pack and took out the essential items. I was proud of how quiet I managed to be as I crept out of the tent, past the sleeping men.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, cures a hangover better than a swim in the sea.
The salt in the air, the cool of the water and the gentle swell of the waves combine together to make some sort of miracle tonic. When other 15-year-olds were groaning, begging for a Panadol and thus, giving away to their parents the truth about what they were really up to last night, I was curing all with a dip in the ocean, something I would do anyway. Not that my Mum cared if I drank, she was a 'Cool Mum' who often bought me the booze herself.

First things first, oral hygiene.
I brushed and flossed and rinsed and repeated.
Eventually, the sting of bourbon and bile was gone and my mouth was as fresh as a meadow.
Now that the mouth was cleansed, it was time for the rest of me.
I scampered down to the beach, tossed my clothes to the ground and groggily lumbered into the spray. I would give stretching a miss. The replenishing isn't instant; like a lot of good things in life you need patience. The important thing is to get your head wet as quickly as possible, so as soon as it was waist deep, I duck-dived under a wave and swam around a bit. I felt like a human antacid, fizzy and dissolving in the water and by the time I had finished dissolving I felt 100 times better.

I was in the water awhile again. When my fingers was started to go all pruney, I decided that it was time to go in.The gents had come down and set up a little time before.
That's what prompted me to stay out here a little longer because I was still embarrassed about getting so drunk last night. So much for embracing this new body.
My teeny little bikini felt even smaller as I strode toward the boys sitting on their towels.The way they looked at me I was convinced they were wearing X-ray glasses.
I needed something cool to say, something to make them forget that I passed out last night. Something casual, something sexy.

"You'll go blind if you keep staring like that," I said as I bent down to pick up my towel.

That would do the trick.

"So worth it," Rob joked.

Terry offered me another good hangover cure, a glass of Berocca. I thanked him sweetly and downed a big mouthful.

"This isn't Berocca!" I said.

"Never said it was," Terry was right, I had just assumed.

"What is it?"

"Raspberry and vodka, you said that was your favourite drink last night,"

Had I?

"So we drove down to the store just now and got you some."

"Drinking already? We just got up!"

"You've obviously never hung out with Backpackers before!"

"When with travelling Romans…" I said as I downed the glass.

I stretched out on my towel and laid on my back.

"I'm so embarrassed about last night," I lamented
.
"You were pretty bloody funny," chuckled Terry, "You're a funny drunk."

"And a fucking chatty one," added Rob.

Chatty? That wasn't a good sign.

"Yak, yak, yak. Couldn't shut you up!" he teased.

"Oh, and you also revealed to us your secret!" grinned Terry

"I can't believe you lied to us, little Miss Liar!"

My secret? Oh good god, what the hell did I say last night?

"Secret?" I nervously giggled, "I have no secrets from you!"

"Not any more," smiled Rob, "We know the truth!"

My hands suddenly became very clammy and I didn't know if I could keep playing it cool.

"So, what do you think of the truth?" It was an unusual thing to ask but I needed to know how much of my horrible secret they knew.

"Well, we knew the truth, pretty much from the start."
They did? Maybe they had seen a newspaper in the last week. I gulped nervously.

"We don't know why you were trying to deceive us in the first place."

Not only did they know I am a freak, they didn't like liars either.

"Some of the lies you told! Not believable in the slightest!"

And I thought I was passing quite well.

"I'm so sorry, guys…" I began to apologise

"Don't bother apologising. There's no excuse. You shouldn't have made up a boyfriend!"

Oh! Great! I had told a great many lies about myself yesterday so I was glad it was that one that came undone and not one of the many lies connected to my real identity. Any girl could make up a boyfriend, not just one who had only been a girl for a week. I decided that I would act as if I had distraught at being caught out.

"Sorry! It's true! I don't have a boyfriend in a band. I don't have a boyfriend at all."

"I thought the name of the band sounded fishy," remarked Rob
.
"We forgive you. As long as you do one thing for us."

"What's that?"

"Set up your own bloody tent!"

And so I tried a very different hangover cure, hair of the dog and a lot of it.
It didn't take long transform into Chatty Gemma again, but this time I didn't overdo it. I was silly without being catatonic. We talked a lot and they told me about England. I told them I was thinking of moving there and they got quite excited. They told me that I was one of their favourite people they had met on their entire trip. It made me feel special, it made me feel remarkable.
I liked talking to them too.

Rob rolled onto his back and asked, "Do you know what time it is?"

We were unaware of what time it was.

"It's time for dipping of the skinny variety, methinks," he said with his peculiar accent.

"Fuck off!" I laughed.

Although I was almost naked already the things the bikini was covering up are known commonly known as the 'rude bits' and nice girls aren't supposed to show them to anyone.

"Oh come on!" pleaded Rob, "Nobody is going to see you!"

"You guys will!"

"Yeah, but you get to see two guys naked, we only get to see one girl. So you're already ahead on the deal!" Terry explained the finer points of the deal.

"And it's not like your 'boyfriend' will get jealous!" Rob teased.

Now, I would have never considered it if I wasn't drunk. Too many stories start out like that and so does this one. I was drunk on Vodka and Raspberry and drunk on the rush I got from them thinking I was a real girl. The truth was they were two attractive men and if the genders were reversed I would have easily stripped down for the chance to see two hot girls.

But they were guys and I was a girl. Sure, seeing them in the altogether would be a little titillating but trading in my modesty card so early in the day would leave me with nowhere to go. But then again I was drunk and they do it all the time in Europe.

"OK," I said, much to the happiness of the men lying either side of me, "But you first and right in front of me."

"And you?"

"Well, I'll take my stuff in the water," I said trying to be demure.

"No fair!"

"Well, life isn't fair, boys!"

"How about a compromise? Top here, bottoms in the water?" suggested Rob, eagerly.

What's the harm in them seeing my boobs? It's not like they get to touch them.

"You drive a hard bargain," I told them as I stood up, "But OK."

I faced my back towards them and freed myself from the confines of the bikini top. I gave my breasts a once over before revealing them to strangers. They looked the perkiest I have ever seen them, as if they knew that they were on show. I spun around and introduced them to the boys, briefly rubbing and squeezing them together.

"Nice," said Rob but that was easily an understatement, Terry's open mouth stare was a little more accurate.

"Your turn."

The boys stood right in front of me side by side, like a bizarre firing squad. I was almost as nervous as they were. Neither of them were going first and the kept giving each other sideways glances.

"Come on, play fair. I held up my end of the bargain," I said, reminding them I was topless as if they needed a reminder.

They laughed nervously and I, now unable to laugh properly, giggled nervously. I had no idea why I was nervous, I had seen my own penis everyday (not that I was going to tell them that). I thought that I had scared them completely, until without warning Rob pulled down his shorts.

I had seen my own penis everyday, but this was different. First thing, he was circumcised, which seems to change the personality of the penis completely. I wondered if a circumcised penis felt different inside me and wondered if I would ever find out. When I first started to change I had told myself that I would never let a guy touch me with his cock, but since I have been female less than a week and I was already face to face with one that promise seems a little shaky. But I had made that promise before I had developed a keen interest in boys and their bodies.

I would never tell him but compared to my old cock, Rob didn't hold up too well.
It was a lot skinnier and a fair bit shorter, maybe he sculpted his superb body to make up for it or maybe I was remembering my own penis wrong.

I echoed what Rob had said to me, "Nice."

It became apparent that Terry was stalling.

"What's the hold up?" questioned Rob as he swang freely in the air.

Terry tried to convey something to his mate through his eyes but I saw it too.

"Come on, Terry. Don't let your country down!" I said as I bounced freely in the air.

He sighed and looked up in the air, as if he was praying to someone.

He cleared his throat nervously, "Let's just say, seeing your baps has had a big effect on me."

He pulled down his shorts but he was not yet naked, he was wearing briefs under that, kinda. He was only kinda wearing them because half of his penis was sticking out the top and it was erect. I knew this trick, it was a good way of hiding an erection.
All you needed to do was direct it up and make sure the elastic of the briefs could restrict it and you were protected from the telltale bulge It looked like King Kong towards the end of the movies when they have him chained up in the theatre. I made sure I didn't take photos of it just in case it broke free and tried to attack me. He begrudgingly pulled down his briefs and freed his large, hairy and slightly bent erection from its restraints. Terry looked at me sheepishly as if to apologise on its behalf.

I decided not to embarrass him anymore and ran towards the awaiting sea.
Running unrestrained for the first time I was witness to what bedlam my tits could now wreak. They actually hurt as they chaotically bounced about my chest so I brought up my hands to act as a temporary bra. Each dainty, little hand clutched tightly to each heaving boob and held on for dear life until I plunged myself into the water.

It was freaky having two large buoyant devices attached to me, it made swimming underwater a little tricky and they bobbed around when I was on the surface.
It was just one of a million different things I hadn't thought about when I was told I would become a girl.

The protection from judging eyes that water provides had made Terry a lot calmer.
He was naked, sure but he could have all the erections he wanted without anyone seeing. Or maybe the cold water had already taken care of that problem.

"Now your bottoms, Gemma!" Trust Rob not to forget.

I too was happy for the protection of the water as I removed the last item to conceal my modesty. I held the bottoms above my head as proof and the boys cheered. I clutched them with both hands, fearing that I would loose them in a wave and would be forced to reveal everything all the way back up to the shore as I rummaged through my satchel to find my shorts.

"You're not just going to hold them, are you?" Rob asked, "You should go put them back with your stuff, so you don't lose them."

Rob's suggestion seemed to have a not-so-hidden agenda.

"I'll be fine, thank you very much," I told the boy desperate to see me naked.

Then Terry piped up, "I'll run them back for you and I'll bring them back to you before you get out the water."

Terry also had a not-so-hidden agenda but trying to be sweet to me was more appreciated than trying to see a glimpse of my snatch.

"A true gentleman," I said as I threw my last vestige of clothes at him.

They sailed high through the air and he caught them with one hand and ran onto shore, placing them with the rest of my stuff.

"Hey Terry," shouted Rob, "Grab the beach ball while you're there!"

"Gemma? Have you ever been skinny dipping before?" Rob asked.

I remembered skinny-dipping before in these very waters with a few friends and Laura, my ex-girlfriend when I was 15. She had done the getting undressed in the water too and I remembered the absolute thrill of seeing her tiny, little breasts uncovered for the first time. It was night time and the moonlight seemed to shine a spotlight on them. We nervously embraced in the water and my hands cupped her flat bottom. She didn't have the nicest body in the entire world but it was cute and she was willing to let me touch it. Back on the land and fully clothed, we made out together on a picnic table. We were the talk of all my friends. It was thoughts like those that made me miss being a guy, thoughts like those and a million others.

"Once or twice," I said, nostalgically.

Terry had retrieved the beach ball and was running towards the sea. His erection was long gone so his cock comically flopped around. If running with breasts was hazardous then running with a penis was hilarious. Watching it foolishly waggle around helped me to stop idolizing it. Penises weren't always majestic rods of manliness, in fact there was something ugly and mundane about a flaccid one.
In fact, for all my years of owning one I was usually much more embarrassed by it than proud. And most of the time I wasn't thinking about it at all. They were the things that you would accidentally catch in you zipper, they were the things you couldn't get to sit right when your wore boxers, they were the things that would shrivel to nothing in cold water and they would annoy you with uncalled for erections.
I knew precisely how mundane they were and thus I shouldn't be scared or in awe of them in the slightest.

My new genitals on the other hand are completely foreign and thus were allowed to scare the hell out of me.

"Run, Forrest, run!" called Rob and Terry came crashing into the waves, beach ball in his arms.

I turned to tell Rob that I loved that movie only to see he had disappeared, vanished out of sight.

Now although shark attacks are extremely rare and you're almost more likely to have nanobots change your gender than be attacked by one, I felt a little scared.
I mean, my string of bad luck might not be over. I felt something brush past my leg and I panicked. I let out a nervous yelp and then it happened. The unseen creature pushed through my legs and stood up, lifting me high out of the water.

"You scared the life out of me, you dickhead!" I screamed as I involuntarily rode upon Rob's shoulder.

He had done this to me a few times yesterday but I never dreamt that he would do while I was naked. Somehow that little square of material between my pussy and his neck made a huge difference to me.Rob made lurching movements around, making it a necessity that I hold onto his head, as opposed to covering my chest. I screamed for him to let go, but due to all the previous playful screaming I had done I didn't blame him for not knowing I was uncomfortable.

Blame aside, I was totally nude and raised high in the air for all (well, just Terry) to see. Rob spun around, thus showcasing my arse and my tits for the crowd's (well, Terry's) amusement.

"Put me down!" I wailed as I realised that screaming wasn't going to do it.

I pulled his hair and leaned back, trying to tip him. It worked and we went tumbling into the waiting ocean, Rob laughing all the way. A hearty wave rolled over the top of us and I swallowed a large mouthful of seawater. Rob, on the other hand, got a mouthful of something else. He turned abruptly in the water, getting a faceful of my crotch. I briefly felt his lips brush past my vaginal lips, although blame was hard to place, because it was a tussle and it was hard to know if it was on purpose or not.
Either way, it wasn't the first time a tangle between us had resulted in me being felt up, so I decided to give Rob a wide berth from now on. Maybe 'Monster' was an accurate name for him.

Terry seemed like the safer choice, so I paddled over to him. He was standing in a shallowed part of the ocean, but not shallow enough that you could see everything on him that meant due to my shorter stature my crotch was hidden from view too.

"Hey Terry, Monster keeps touching me up underwater. Can you protect me?" I whispered.

"Of course, me lady!" he said putting on a posh English accent and standing between Rob and I.

"My hero," I said, hugging him from behind, my breasts squishing against his back.

Terry tossed the beach ball at Rob hitting him directly in the face.
I squealed in delight and Rob tried to hit me with the ball in retaliation.
I threw it to Terry and it evolved into a friendly game of catch, albeit one where all the players were naked.
It was a pleasant, amiable and only slightly sexually charged game.
Despite slowly finding out that Rob was a fairly sleazy guy, I couldn't help but revel in his awesome body and childish smile.
Once when I was neither throwing nor catching the ball, my hand gently and secretly rubbed the sensitive delicateness of my pussy.
So much more discreet than rubbing a throbbing erection.

The game of catch wound down and the mentions of food and more drinks had persuaded us all.
I waited patiently for Terry to bring my bikini bottoms to me and he rewarded me with my top as well.
So I was fully clothed as I emerged out of the water, much to Rob's displeasure.

I made sure I didn't consume too much, in an effort to curb the return of the chatty, giggly, vomiting creature I had become last night. But a mixture of the jovial mood and the super warm sun made drinking a lot seem like almost a necessity. They loved to tease me and it was easy because I was so different to them.
They were from a big city, I was a country bumpkin.
I was sheltered and they had travelled the world.
I was an Aussie and they were from the mother country.
But mainly, because I was a girl and they were boys.

I guess the transformation was so convincing they could have never guessed the truth. I liked hanging around them, the experience was so pure that I finally knew how I would have been treated if I was born this way. It made me feel more at home inside this body. They hadn't been what I was expecting when I came here, but they had been healthy for me.

We had talked so long that I didn't even notice the sun going down. It felt weird to break out of a conversation and notice the entire world had gone dark for the day.
In my defence we hadn't gotten out bed until the afternoon, so it's not like we had wasted the entire day.

It was when Terry was out collecting more wood for the fire when Rob made his move.

"So, Gemma," Rob said as he slid up beside me, "Have you had a good weekend?"

"Yeah," I replied honestly, "I actually have."

"Me too. You are really a sweet girl."

"And you are really a drunk guy."

"Yeah," he laughed, "I am a little! You look so hot!"

"Thanks."

Rob slowly slid his arm up onto my shoulder.

"Do you know what would make it a perfect weekend?" he slurred.

It was very possible that Rob way more drunk than me.

"What's that?" I asked.

He leaned towards me and his warm bourbon breath crept up my face and into my nostrils.

"You, me, a picnic blanket under the stars and we'll take things to the next level."

Rob leered at me, so I was aware that the next level probably involved me being lovingly impaled on his cock. I looked down at his body. Why did he have to be so cute? His muscles seemed even more pronounced under the glow of the moon.

"Ummm, no thanks," I rejected him.

"Huh?" he grunted.

He had obviously not expected that answer.

It's not as if he wasn't cute, because he was. Insanely so. Hormones and weird feelings rushed around my body, wetting my crotch, hardening my nipples and clouding my mind. My body may have been ready but I was not ready. And even if I was, I was too much of a romantic to let a horny, drunk backpacker be my first. I didn't want it to be like this.

"No thank you," I whispered as I leant in close to him, "but thanks for the offer."

As consolation I leaned a further in and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. For a second I almost gave him a kiss on the lips but reconsidered just before my moist lips reached his. I wasn't even sure I wanted him as my first kiss. Terry trudged into sight and we broke off our little huddle. As he did, I'm sure I heard Rob mutter, "Prick tease!" under his breath.

Rob acted like a wounded dog after I rejected him, sitting alone and pounding back shot after shot. I may have accidentally led him to believe that I was a slut by flirting with him and swimming naked with him but I was still learning a lot about being a girl. I didn't know how to flirt properly or how to control this body. I had never been overtly coveted before, so maybe some of my responses may have given off the wrong signs. Hell, I was so unsure of myself that if I had one more drink in me, I may have happily gone off and fucked his brains out. There was so much sexual pressure between the both of us.

I felt no so such pressure with Terry though.
He didn't flirt with me outrageously.
Sure, he had openly stared at me when I was naked or close to naked, but when I was fully clothed I felt nothing but camaraderie between us.
He told me stories of life in London while I subtly altered stories from my life to tell to him.
We liked the same movies and the same TV shows and even some of the same music. We talked as we sat around the fire that we probably shouldn't have built on such a dry night.
Meanwhile, Rob had gone and had a vomit a few times and finally went inside the tent and passed out.

"He's pretty out of it," confirmed Terry as he exited the only standing tent, "He doesn't take rejection well."

"How did you know I rejected him?"

"He told me what a bitch you were when you went the bathroom," he suddenly looked startled, "But… but I don't think you're a bitch. It's probably good for him if he gets taken down a peg or two. He deserves it."

It was unusual to hear someone talk about their best friend like that, so I asked Terry why Rob deserved it.

"Well, when I told you that we had been unsuccessful with the women in this country I really meant just me. Monster has done extremely well and I'm glad to see that you didn't just become another notch on his bedpost. You're much too special for that."

"You think I'm special?" I said, mocking Terry.

"Yeah, I actually do, no lie. Truly beautiful girls are usually boring to talk to, but most of them are too stuck up to even talk to you. I think a lot of the beautiful people get things too easy and so they never develop their personality fully. But not only are you one of the hottest girls I've seen, you're the sweetest too. I don't know how you achieved it."

"Well, let's just say I wasn't always this pretty," I told him.

"I find that very hard to believe," Terry retorted.

Hard to believe, maybe, but it was the truth.

We decided that we would stay up all night and watch the sunrise.
But I was a little sleepy when we decided in the plan, so I was unsure if I would make it. We climbed down to the beach and set up a picnic blanket.

"I can't believe I'm heading home on Tuesday. It's going to be so weird. I've been away for so long."

"Did you ever get homesick?" I asked as I watched the waves gently massage the shore.

"You know what? Not really. That might sound a little strange," Terry said as he looked out at the sea as well.

"Yeah, a little. I mean I'm homesick now."

Terry seemed amazed, "But you've only been away two days! And you're only like half an hour away!"

"Yeah, but home has been a very different place lately and I wish it could go back to the way that it was."

"Can things go back to the way they were?" Terry asked with a hint of hope.

I looked down at my body and told him flatly, "No."

"Well then, you might as well try and embrace the changes. Do the best with what you got, right?"

"So," I said changing the subject, "What were the best things you saw in Australia?"

"Well," Terry said, jumping back into his enthusiasm, "Sydney was beautiful, the Opera House and stuff and the desert was actually astoundingly breath taking but my all time favourite thing I saw was you, naked!"

He teased me but I knew there was more truth there than he let on.

"You liked that, huh?"

"Oh yeah, just wished I brought my camera."

"I am so fucking glad you didn't."

There was a rustling sound that made me think that Rob was watching us, until I remember that it was probably a possum or something. Would Rob be angry to see me and Terry chatting together all night long on a blanket on the beach? He probably wasn't the very jealous type, so probably not.

I wriggled a little closer to Terry as the night continued on.
He reminded me a lot of myself when I used to be male and so I followed the golden rule by treating him the way I would have loved to be treated by a pretty girl. I laughed at his jokes and openly flirted with him. I was worrying more about his happiness than I was about mine the more I drank. That's not to say it was an act, I actually liked his stories and his jokes. It was interesting to be able to see the conversation from the other side and I was able to recognise the signs.

"It's almost time for the sun to come up," I said as the dark blue sky began to give way.

"I sorta was hoping that the sun wasn't going to come up today, so that we could talk longer," he sighed as he lay on his back, studying the sky.

"How could someone as sweet as you get nowhere with the girls in this country?" I asked him but just as well could have been asking the question to myself.

"Ah, when pitted against Rob," Terry sightly winced at his friend's name, "I was always second best. I mean Rob's probably slept with at least 15 girls here and the best I got was half a hand job from a Welsh girl at a hostel in Wagga Wagga."

Now fairly drunk, I grinned, "I think I can do better than that!"

It was a split-decision my alcohol driven brain made.
I had sat there listening to a guy who reminded me of myself, pour his heart out to me, a really pretty girl who reminded me a tiny bit of Holly. My decision to give Terry a hand job was based solely on how I would have wanted this situation to go if I was in Terry's position.
If Terry had said sex or even a head-job I would have been grossed out too much to follow through with my wish fulfilment plan, but a hand-job was just like something I had done hundreds of time, instead it was someone else's penis in my hand.

"What are you doing?" Terry asked me as I clumsily fumbled with his shorts.

"You said the best you got in this country was half a hand-job. I think I can do a little better!"

"Really?" he said, the excitement making the word almost inaudible.

"Yeah Terry. Really. Now lie back and enjoy the show!"

Since he was wearing his bathers from early on I only had one layer of clothes to battle. I straddled his legs as I wrestled with his shorts, finally pulling them down enough to reveal the thick coil of his cock. It was already coming to life as the blood rushed to help us out. It wasn't until my hand clamped around the thick shaft that I realised the severity of what I was doing.
I was providing sexual gratification to a man.
My mind screamed so loud I was afraid that Terry would hear the noise coming out of my ears.

In an effort to calm my freaking out mind I laid out the facts.
I was now a girl who was now attracted to men.
He was a cute guy with an itch that needed scratching.
I hadn't kissed him nor had planned too.
I wasn't naked.
His penis was going nowhere near my mouth nor my vagina.
I was just doing a friend a favour, to show him that he was special and that he meant a lot to me.
He was the first and only person I felt comfortable acting like a normal girl in front of. And what do normal 17-year-old girls do to boys they like sometimes?
Give them a hand-job.
What I was doing wasn't wrong.

My hand felt so little wrapped around Terry's cock.
It looked like when a baby grasps a large adult finger in its hand.
Since Terry was over six feet tall his penis was evenly matched, thick and long.
It was no longer the comical appendage I had seen flopping about as he ran but the hard and very willing recipient of my services. I had watched a few videos on the internet where girls give a guy a hand job and usually she would daintily spit on his cock so that there was some moisture. To me, the act of spitting on a guy's genitals always seemed so disrespectful but as I glided my hand up and down I could see that a little moisture would be a little better. I formulated a plan and spat on my hand thus not showing any disrespect to the penis.

"Wow," Terry moaned as my little hand moved like lighting up and down his cock.

It brought back memories of when I used to masturbate. Actually it almost felt like I was masturbating myself but I couldn't feel it.

"Thank you, Gemma," Terry sounded very grateful.

"My pleasure," I smiled at Terry.

I built up speed and was quite proud of the groans I received. If I was going to be good at any sexual practice, I would think that at least my hand-jobs would be at least well researched.

"Can I see your breasts, please?"

"Huh?" I asked him, mid-stroke.

"Can you slip your top off? I love your tits!"

I stopped, let go of his member and pulled off my top, followed by my bra, freeing my substantial boobs from their confines. I squeezed them together and pouted as he took over my job, a charming grin and glazed look on his face. I placed my hand on his penis as well, interrupting him mid-pull.

"No, no! I owe you an entire hand-job, no cheating."

I am sure there is a technique to giving an incredible hand-job but since it was my first I didn't chastise myself for not being the greatest. I did try a few things such as giving a little twist at the top, changing speeds and tightening and loosening my grip when the mood strikes. It didn't matter what little tricks I was doing, Terry seemed to love it all equally. The look on his face made me wish I had a penis, I remembered all the good times I had with it. Instead, I let my right hand play with my boobs, which felt nice.

"Ooh, I'm about to cum!" Terry warned me after an extended period of silence. I panicked, I had forgotten that this all ended rather messily. In these porn videos the women always take the 'money shot' on their face or their tits but I wasn't in the porn industry. I didn't want a drop of the semen on me, mostly because that stuff is gross but partly because I didn't want become pregnant. Even though I knew there was an extremely miniscule chance of a droplet of cum entering my vagina and finding its way to an egg I didn't want to chance it. I dutifully stroked harder and faster, but made sure it was not facing towards me in the slightest.

Terry's grunt denoted that my job was finished.
A small amount of jism spurted out of the head of his penis, an event I had seen a lot of times, just not from this angle. Terry did not become a sperm geyser like I feared he might but a dribble of his semen did get on my hand. I did not freak out; I gently leaned down and wiped it on the blanket. His penis began to shrivel and shrink, like a flower on time lapse as the sun goes down.

"Wow," Terry smiled, "You are such a nice girl!"

"…a nice girl" rang in my head like a fire alarm.
I surveyed the situation; I was on the beach, on top of a guy, breasts exposed, hand a little cramped because I stroked a guy's penis until it shot reproductive fluids in my general direction.
What the hell had I done?
I had only been a girl for a week and already I am wanking off strangers.
What the fuck was I going to do with the guys I knew at school?
This camping trip was to centre myself before going to school not to sexually gratify tourists.
I was ashamed of myself.
Silently, I packed my breasts back into their bra and shimmied my top back on.
There was an awkward, very un-sexy pause between us.
I could see him try and figure what to do next.
Should he try and kiss me?
Should he offer to finger me?
Should he blush and go to bed?

"Now at least I can tell my friends at home that I got a full hand job," was about the most gauche line he could possibly say.

But he said it.
Although, to his credit he did look as horrified with what he just said as I did.

"Not that I'm going to tell my friends about you. You're far too special… to me for me to do that to you, you see?" he stuttered as he struggled to put his shorts back on.

Within a minute of Terry climaxing we were both fully dressed and already at a complete loss for words, a new world record!

Silence was my best option, I told myself. If I started talking in this state, I might accidentally spit out the entire story and fully embarrass him. There probably nothing more embarrassing than finding out the girl you just got a hand job from used to be a guy. But I'm not a guy now, I kept telling myself. Not even a fully trained doctor could tell I was ever a guy. Although all of Australia knew. I was confused, should I see what I had just done as the first step of becoming a beautiful sexual woman or the desperate act of a teenage slut?

I thought about it long and hard, while it was easier to consider myself a disgusting gender confused slut, I think it was healthier to tell myself that was what most girls would do in the same situation.

Sadly, I couldn't stop the thought of what I had just done was wrong from dominating my mind. Sure, a lot of drunken 17-year-old girls were wanking off strangers but I wasn't a 17-year-old girl, I was a guy in a girl's body. What happened to just acting like Michael with breasts? That was the original plan before this body forced its way onto me. Who was in control here; my body or my mind?

All this thinking time was done in total silence, leaving Terry very concerned. While I was figuring out whether what I had done was a travesty or not, he laid there wandering what I was thinking about him. The truth was nothing, he seemed sweet and was cute and I loved the accent but the turmoil going through my head had almost nothing to do with him.

"So," he said in a valiant effort to stop the silence, "what are you thinking about?"

"Just admiring the beautiful sunrise," I was never going to tell him the truth.

"Yeah," he murmured, "It is definitely beautiful."

He left a pause where I'm sure he contemplated adding, "but not as beautiful as you," or something along those lines but at the last minute ditched it. I felt bad for him, here he was laying beside me, wandering why I had gone all quiet. He had no idea what I was thinking about.

"Sorry man," I said, rubbing my eyes, "But I don't think I can stay awake much longer. I might go and crash."

"This staying up to see the sunrise is harder than I thought it would be," agreed Terry, sounding a little hurt.

I felt terrible, I just couldn't leave him here wondering why the pretty girl would jerk him off and than just piss off. What happened to me following the golden rule: treat him the way I would have wanted to be treated by a pretty girl.

I rolled over to him, "I might be gone by the time you wake up," I purred to him, "So I just wanted to say I really loved our time together. You really solved a lot of problems I had going on in my head and you are such a sweet guy."

"Really?" he asked earnestly.

"Really." I kissed him on the cheek as evidence.

A contented smile crept onto his face as I stood up and dusted the sand off of me.

"You have been the highlight of my entire trip, Gemma," Terry told me as I started to walk away.

"And you've been the highlight of my week," I told him, "I know that doesn't sound like much, but believe me it is."

CHAPTER 16

'Fleeing' was probably too strong a word for what I was doing. Sure, both the boys were still asleep and I did call Nicole to come and pick me up hours early but I wouldn't consider what I was doing 'fleeing'. Maybe 'leaving with haste' was more correct. People who flee wouldn't leave a note with their email address on it tucked into Terry's bag. But I was walking fast enough that if he woke up and found that I was gone, he would have to run for a while before he could catch me. So, there was probably no way that he could ask me for a parting blowjob.
I was free.

Last night's events went whirring though my head like they were on the wheels of a slot machine. There was nothing that could push that out of the front of my mind. A Brown Snake could bite me fair on the leg and getting the antidote would be number two on my To-Do list. I kept reassuring myself that it was only a hand-job and that was tantamount to masturbating. I felt like Bill Clinton, frantically trying to tell myself that I had not been part of a sexual act. The only thing I had decided at the end of my hike; I wasn't going to tell anyone about it, especially Nicole.

"Hey sis," she called out, clearly revelling in calling me sis.

"Hi Nicole," I said wearily.

"How was your trip?" she asked me as she helped me lift my bag into the boot of Mum's car.

"Very calming," I lied.

Nicole sped a little too fast down the very gravely road for my liking. Her stereo was too loud so that the squeal of her tyres on the loose stones was muffled.

"Mum's pretty pissed off," Nicole revealed.

Ah, I had forgotten that there were problems at home as well. It did seem a little foolish that I was running away from a problem in the direction of many more. This is why I wanted to travel a lot further away from home than Breybrook National Park.

"What did you tell her?" I asked.

"Just that you were safe, needed your space and would be home on Monday."

Nicole had a few bad qualities but you could trust her to keep a secret from Mum if you needed her to, maybe because I had plenty more secrets about her that I was keeping.

Nicole was right, Mum was mad at me. She glared through the lounge room window at me as I unloaded the car.

As I swung the front door open I was greeted with a very snide, "Welcome back."

"Hi," I said peeking around into the lounge, "I'm sorry."

"Well, I certainly hope you 'found yourself' this weekend because I couldn't find you anywhere!"

"Mum, I'm sorry," I said, trying to sound a lot more sorry than I really was.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it, Miss,"

I loathed it when she calls me 'Miss'.

"I know it must be very tough to be you at the moment but have you for a second put yourself in my shoes. My brand new daughter goes missing for the entire weekend leaving me nothing more than a note! I haven't slept a wink all fucking weekend, how did you sleep?"

I wasn't going to tell her I slept between two boys.

"Mum, I'm sorry!" I tried a little harder.

Her eyes lit up as if they were aflame.

"Just go to your room, I'm sick of the bloody sight of you!"

Perhaps I had pushed my Mum too far this time. It was true, I hadn't thought of my Mum at all while I was away. But if I had told her where I was going to she would have ran out to retrieve me. I didn't want to hurt her but there were things I needed to do. I opened my wardrobe to see all my old male clothes gone, replaced with the new feminine outfits all neatly folded or hung. That's how I knew Mum was really stressed. She had always, since we were old enough to walk, made our bedrooms our sanctuary. She would never come in when we weren't there, she wouldn't yell at us to clean them up or clean them for us. It was our little place in the world. The only times she would ever come in was if she was stressed. The fact she cleaned up proved to me that I was scaring her. I would have to be a little more sensitive from now on.

Categorically, I refused dresses. When Mum took me clothes shopping I pouted and sulked and whinged whenever she even looked in the direction of a dress or a skirt.
There was something too feminine about them and even though I already owned some very feminine things (a womb, vagina, ovaries), girly clothes were still optional. However, hung up next to my shirts was a dress and it was rather short too, bound to expose a lot of my shapely, new legs. I'm sure if I bent down the wrong way my undies would be revealed too. Not only that, I was going to be forced to wear this dress.

I hated the school uniform.

I didn't come out for lunch, instead I surfed around on the net, reading more about what people thought of me. The picture I posted of my boobs had been deemed a fake by all and the chatting about me seemed to be quietening down, which made me feel a little relieved and peeved at the same time. A part of me loved being famous and if Tyler rang up and offered me another interview I would totally take it, but I was too proud to call him and request one.

Dot called my mobile to see how I was doing and I told her about my fake and very quiet weekend alone.

"Sounds great," Dot really loved her time alone.

"It was very relaxing," I lied.

"So, any word of when you are coming back to school?"

"Mum is forcing me to return tomorrow."

"Yay for me!" Dot was a lot more happy than me, "Why don't you want to go back to school, Hootie?"

"Umm… because I will be the topic of thousands of conversations and yet everyone will be silent around me. The guys won't see me as a real guy anymore and the girls won't see me as a real girl. I'm going to be a freak."

"You've always been a freak," Dot teased, "But I think it's going to be a lot better than you think. Friday we had a full school assembly and that Annette woman came and talked to the whole school about you. Went through the whole process. Told us all to treat you friendly. Mr. Westmoreland said that all the teachers had to do a whole half day program learning how to treat you."

"So, more preparation is going into me returning than if terrorists attack."

"At least we know you have weapons of mass destruction."

"…Is that a joke about my breasts?"

"Ummm, yeah. Not great, huh?"

"Not one of your best."

Mum called me out for dinner. She seemed less angry this time, so I bit the bullet and went out. I thought I smelled a roast. Laid out on the table was four plates piled high with all the trimmings; roast potatoes, parsnip, peas, gravy, mint sauce and the main attraction, roast lamb. "This smells great," Ben, Nicole's boyfriend, said as he sat down where I usually sit.

It wasn't a big deal, so I sat across from him, next to Mum.

"Looks yummy!" I said, which sounded ever more childish with my squeak of a voice.

"Glad to see you out for dinner," Mum told me with a smile that had told me she had calmed down.

Nicole dominated the dinnertime conversation, retelling a long, pointless story about what had happened to her at Ben's footy game this afternoon. It included a lot of people who weren't fully explained and a lot of events that had no bearing to the main story. Ben dutifully nodded along and Mum seemed genuinely interested.
I sat there lost in my thoughts. Tomorrow morning I was going to be facing a lot of problems. I was going to school and there were hundreds of inherent little problems for me to solve. I thought about those problems as I prepared for bed. And I knew that every minute that passed would bring school a little closer.
Barring a catastrophe, tomorrow morning I would be walking to school in my summer uniform.
I feel asleep hoping for a catastrophe.

Sadly, nothing horrible happened during the night and I found myself drying my naked body on the bathroom. I was running a little late because I had to wait until Nicole was finished in there before I could use it and once in there I had more things to do than when I was a guy. My legs and armpits needed a shave, I had to rub in some stuff Mum had said was important for my skin and I had to swallow my pride and wear a dress. I tried to tell myself that it was no big deal, every single girl in school is wearing the exact same thing as me but that only reminded me that I was a girl.

The clock warned me that if I didn't finish getting ready soon, I would be late.

First off, I stepped a pair of undies and pulled them up. They were lime green boy-shorts, with a tiny amount of yellow lace around the top. They were certainly not boy's underpants but at least it wasn't a red silk G-string. I didn't really mind that much if I was wearing frilly knickers, it's not like anybody was going to see them and this was the appropriate body to wear such garments. My bra didn't match my panties and that was fine too. It was a plain white one and the one I felt the most supported in.
I still hadn't got the knack of putting on a bra properly so it did eat a lot into my getting dressed time but by the time I was finished my boobs felt comfortably encased in their cotton confines.
But that wasn't the end of today's underwear.

Years of staring up girls' dresses at school had taught me one thing; almost all of them wear boxer shorts underneath. I mentioned that to Dot last night and she said it was true. As well as undies, the girls would put on boxer shorts, tights or bike shorts to hide their undies from prying eyes. As I didn't want to stick out at all, I pulled on some red satin boxers shorts as well.

The only good thing about wearing a dress is I could put off putting on the dress by putting on my shoes first. First I had tiny little white anklet socks that reminded me just how small my feet had become. Then I put on my shoes, they were brown leather girls' school shoes with a cute little buckle. There was nothing left to do but pull on the dress. I paced around the bathroom, dreading the moment. It would seem that wearing just my bra and panties to school was a less scary choice. Mum banged on the door and scared the living daylights out of me.

There was no going around it, I was going to have to pull on that dress.

I held my breath as I pulled my blue and white checked dress on but I had no idea why. It seemed like something to calm me down. The dress was tight against my new body as if it was disagreeing with the curves that my body has.
My God! My waist was so small!
There were buttons up the middle and I rushed to do them up.
I had to squeeze my breasts together a little bit to do up a button or two.
And then I was finished.
A high school girl in her slightly tight summer uniform looked into the mirror and saw a high school girl in her slightly tight summer uniform looking into the mirror. Kev was right, I was going to be one of the hotter girls at school.
I sighed and wished I had turned into a girl during the winter, at least that uniform tries to hide a girl's figure, not celebrate it.

This was horrible; it was like first day of high school all over again.

"Oh you look so cute!" Mum gushed, "It's like your first day of high school again!"

I am positive Mum didn't mean it in the same doom and gloom way that I did. She slung out a camera like it was a six-shooter in the old west and started firing at me.
It was weird, although there had been a million photos taken of me recently, not one of them was taken by a friend or family member. Now not only was I in the nation's newspapers but now I was destined for a family photo album. I meekly smiled as the camera flashed as brightly as my Mum's smile.

"Mum," I protested, "If I don't leave now I am going to be late."

Now I would have loved to missed school altogether but if I was going I wasn't going to be late. I hated being late to anything and I had a habit of getting twitchy and anxious if there was a chance of me becoming behind schedule.

"Don't get your knickers in a knot, Gem. I'll drive you there."

And there I was, sitting beside my Mum in her beat up old Toyota on the short drive to school, the seat belt sitting awkwardly between my breasts. As the car lurched forward towards my school one thought was running through my head. The thought was the same as what the Beach Boys were singing out of the car speakers. "Let me go home. I wanna go home," they sang in perfect harmony; sure they were singing about sailing on The Sloop John B but I knew exactly how they felt.

We passed some kids walking to school. Trisha and Drew from Year 8, I think. School was just down the road a little bit. I pulled at the hem of my dress, trying to stretch it further down my nicely tanned legs.

The Beach Boys abruptly stopped singing as if they had all died at the same time.
So, much for 'Good Vibrations'! They hadn't died, Mum had just turned off the stereo, along with the rest of the car.

We were at school, I could see it pulling countless students into its door as it would do every morning. I knew I had only been away for two weeks but it had felt like a lifetime.

"OK," I said, nervously, "This is it."

"Now, I'm very proud of how brave you are being, Gemma," Mum told me.

"Thanks," I said as I opened the car door, "I'll see you after school?"

"Sure thing, Gem,"

Mum gave me a parting kiss and I left the sanctuary of the beat up Toyota. It didn't usually feel safe in that death trap but compared to the unknown horrors of my first day at school it was a haven.

As soon as I got out of the car I realized how difficult today was going to be. 15 pairs of eyes stopped what they were doing (looking at the sky, scouring a bag for homework, checking out a cute boy) and locked onto me. I had become an aural black hole sucking out all the sound in an area surrounding me, loud chitchat deteriorated into hushed whispers. Trying to ignore it I heaved my backpack over one shoulder and started the arduous walk into school.

I had done this walk from through car park to my locker a million times in my life. Well, maybe a million was a slight exaggeration but life had been so crazy lately that hyperbole seemed fair. This time was different though for some obvious reasons, namely I was now a girl, in a dress, with everyone watching me. I decided to try and make this as normal as possible. The main problem was seeing all the people sneakily glancing at me or openly staring. To remedy that I craned my neck down, but that created another problem - in my view now was my two very prominent, very round, schoolgirl uniformed breasts. I finally found a decent angle to hold my head, one that blocked out both the boobs and the gawkers.

All I had to do was stare at the ground about 3 meters in front of me.

The journey to my locker was relatively uneventful considering the circumstances. A lot more people said, "Hi," to me as I walked there but that wasn't too scary, I tried to smile brightly and return the greeting back but mostly I just mumbled a thank you, which didn't make a whole lot of sense.

The dress felt far too short on me and as I stood on my tippy-toes to reach the top shelf of my locker I'm sure the bottom of my boxer shorts were revealed. And with the number of people staring at me, I'm sure it would become a well-documented fact that Gemma Taylor wore red boxer shorts on her first day at school, it might even make it to my Wikipedia page.

My main mission today was to get through the day without running away, screaming into the horizon but my secondary mission was show everyone else that I wasn't fazed by the whole thing. To do that I had to keep from crying and to do that I had to keep myself relatively sane. There within lay the problem - how do I keep sane when the entire world felt off-kilter?

My locker seemed bigger and much higher up, my bag felt much heavier and everyone I knew before was now much taller and much more intimidating.
Even the girls.

"Dude, how's things?" asked Louis, the guy who's locker was below mine.
We weren't best friends but since we had always had lockers close together we weren't above a bit of small talk.
I told him I was finding everything, "a bit scary," and he nodded.
I used to be able to look him directly in the eye but not I had to stare up at him.

"Want me to carry your books to Form meetings?" he asked me.

I turned him down and therefore began my secondary mission. I looked around at the other girls preparing to go to form meetings, most of them carried their books in the same way: hugging them to their chest, while most of the boys carried their books by holding them under one arm.
As much as I hate reminding myself I had breasts, I clutched my books like they did, they all had been girls a lot longer than me and they must have come up with that way to carry books for a reason.

Form meetings were a necessary evil. Every day before real classes start, we would go to a room (in our case an art room) and have our Form Teacher check attendance and read out notices for the day, reminding people about sports meetings and that the canteen would be now selling soft serve ice cream and things like that. They were only 10 minutes long but it was such a boring way to start the day that they would usually drain you of all energy you had saved up. Forms are groups of about 20 students, ours was called 11C. They were much more important back in Year 7 and 8 because you would do every class together but by Year 11 Form Meetings was the only thing our Form did together. Our 11C, my form, had the reputation of being the smartest, which was probably because they put a lot of the smarter students in it.

I was in such a blind hurry that Louis and I were the first to get to Form Meetings, even before Mr. Cahill, our Form Teacher. The fact I usually hung back and waited for Dot must have slipped my mind, but that usually meant I arrived there late anyway. It was weird being there first. I had a sneaky suspicion that nobody expected me to be there first, mainly because there was a massive banner that read, "Welcome back Gemma!!!" and nobody was there to cheer.

"Surprise!" said Louis drably and the sound echoed around the empty room.
I laughed.
I sat where I usually sat and he sat where he usually sat, which was across from me. Dot usually sat beside me and Louis' best friend, Tom would sit across from Dot. That was our whole table. Glen and Holly were in different forms and both the Madsen boys were in completely different year levels. So it was really just me and Dot in our form.

"Nice banner."

"Yeah, I think Alana and Lilly made it for you," Louis said.

Alana and Lilly's names always seem to be together. You couldn't start a sentence with Alana and not add 'and Lilly' because it would sound too weird. They did everything together from the same classes to dating from the same circle of boys. Alana Sturt was widely regarded as the hottest girl in our entire year level and Lilly would easily be in most boys' Top 5, and therefore they were two of the most popular girls. Most people thought they were bitchy while I persisted in thinking they were just in their own little world and they didn't really realize that everyone thought about them so much. This banner proved to me that they weren't bitchy at all.

As the other students walked in and saw I was already there, sitting beneath the banner they appeared to be a little disappointed, as if they wanted to see me become overjoyed at it. Obviously the ones who looked the most disappointed were the ones who had gone to all the effort, Alana and Lilly. They walked in together (of course) and together their gorgeous faces sunk. They came up to me.

"Hi," Alana said.

"Hi."

"Welcome back," Lilly said, maybe as a subtle hint about the banner.

"Thanks," I said warmly.

"Like the banner?" Alana's hint was nowhere as subtle.

"I heard you two made it for me?"

"Yeah," they blushed, together, "We've been watching the news about you every day and just feel that you've been so brave about it all. We wanted you to feel welcome when you came back so we made it for you."

Going by the lectures Annette had given me this was the perfect opportunity for a hug. Annette had said that where a high-five or a handshake would usually suffice for a guy a girl would prefer a hug. I usually ignored Annette whenever she gave any advice of how to act like a 'real' girl but a slither of me was thrilled by the chance I could hug both Lilly and Alana. I did and the slither didn't get as much of a sexual thrill from it as it wanted.

Mr. Cahill went down the list of names. "Tracy?"

"Yeah," said a voice from the corner of the room.

"Anna?"

"Yes."

"Harry?"

"Still sick," someone called out on his behalf.

"Nakata?"

"Yeah."

"Dot?"

She didn't answer because she wasn't here yet.
She was usually a little late but she was so excited about me coming back to school I thought she would have been bright and early, ready to greet me.
But she wasn't.

"Dot?"

I looked out the window and saw her jogging to get here. She didn't have the same natural 'speed humps' to restrain her, that I had.

Mr. Cahill asked again, "Dorothy Newsom?"

"She coming," I squeaked in my girly voice.

Mr. Cahill stared at 'the new girl' in his class for a second and went back to the roll. "Cameron?"

Dot slid open the classroom door and snuck into the room just in time to see me historically announce to the world I was a girl.

"Gemma?" asked Mr. Cahill.

"Here," I responded.

OK, maybe it wasn't a major moment in history but it was to me.

"Hello 'Gemma'," teased Dot.

"Hello 'Dorothy'," I responded, "You're late."

"Just trying to make your first day back feel familiar," she whispered.

Mr. Cahill finished reading out the roll and began to announce today's notices, none of which would interest me.

"You're looking pretty hot, Gemma," it appeared Dot had been saving up two weeks of teasing to hit me with today, at least she had forgot to call me Hootie.

Sarcastically, I told her, "Thanks."

"On a personal note," interjected Mr. Cahill, "I would like to welcome Gemma Taylor back into our form. I could never imagine the things you've gone through and I am delighted to see you back."

The entire room clapped and I looked down at my feet.

The bell rang and everyone scampered out of the door.
My first class was English, the only class I didn't do with Dot. She had to do Physical Education when I did English, and I did Physical Education when she did Advanced English, other than that we did all the same classes.
It was only a little over a month into the school year and I had missed almost two weeks. Luckily it wasn't during exams or something, otherwise I might have had to repeat the year and that would have been even more awful than the position I found myself now.

"I'll see you at recess, OK?" Dot said as she carried her sports bag towards the gym.

"OK."

English was my time to hang out with Holly.
I'd sit next to her and playfully distract her from more important things, like work.
So far this year we had already been told off three times for talking too much.
I found English to be one of the easier classes and if I had any ambition I would have enrolled in Advanced English with Dot.

"Hey Gemma. Wanna walk to English with us?" Alana asked me.

Alana and Lilly shared all their classes together and had English with me.
Since I didn't want to walk alone and be greeted by the stares of everyone while I strolled down the halls, I scooped up my books, clutched them to my chest and joined the girls.

"Thanks so much for this," I said as he headed towards the English department, "I don't feel as weird walking with you guys. Everyone stares at me by myself."

"That's because you are practically a celebrity. Everyone saw you on TV and the newspapers and here you are walking around in the flesh. It's kinda like Nicole Kidman coming to school," Lilly said as all the eyes in the corridor clamped onto us.

Alana and Lilly didn't seem to care about the stares, being pretty girls all their lives meant getting a fair amount of attention. Me, I was still unsettled. I clutched my books to my chest in an effort to hide it and I tried to reduce the natural wiggle in my walk.

"Yay! Good work, Gemma!" somebody I didn't know yelled out.

So far, he was the only person who had yelled something at me, at least it was complimentary, although slightly confusing.

"Have you read the book we're doing?" Alana asked me.

I had. It was Albert Camus' The Outsider, a rather tricky book for 16 and 17 year olds to study. I wasn't sure what I thought about existentialism, it was a pretty big concept to take in. The only thought I got from the book was that it reminded me of the last episode of Seinfeld.

"I'm not sure I get it," Alana frowned.

"Don't fret. We're learning it for like 3 months, I'm sure you'll get it by then," I said as we rounded the corner and into the room.

Seating in classrooms is a much bigger part of life than it should be. You are defined by who you sit with, where you sit in the room, and how willing you are to compromise, it is really a delicate thing.

Sit too close to the front and you are a chock, the back row could mean you're a loser, depending on the class.
The middle is usually the safe bet.
Except the thing is, each classroom is set up differently, so the rules have to be altered for each room. This particular English room is set up like a horseshoe with tables around the outside, with two tables inside the horseshoe (the dorks would take those).
All I wanted to do was to sit next to Holly, if that meant sitting in a dork seat than that's what I would do.
I am pretty sure it's hard for me to be re-classed as anything, since I am now Chick-that-was-a-dude.

But Holly had betrayed me, she was sitting at the end of the horseshoe sitting beside her new Deb partner and my arch nemesis, Trent Sobey.
I know it shouldn't feel like I was stabbed in the heart but it did.
Was Trent taking over my position as her best male friend?
He was already doing the Deb with her, wasn't that enough?
How much time did he have to spend with her anyway?
Some bully who probably didn't even read the book we were studying was replacing me. Holly didn't even seem to notice me when I walked in, preferring to giggle along with something Sobey was saying. She looked up and did a double take as she saw me.

"Gemma!" she called out.

"Hi," I said, doing my best to remove all the rage from my voice.

"You're back!"

"I am," I said.

"You look… great!"

It wasn't a compliment I loved to receive, however coming from the former girl of my dreams it did feel a little nice.

"Saw you on TV. It was so moving. How's everything going?"

"Scary," I told her.

"We should catch up sometime soon. Now that you're a girl you can probably help me pick out a Deb Dress!" she awkwardly laughed.

She knew as soon as she said it that that joke could possibly offend me.

"Look," she said, trying to sound as caring as possible, "I mean it though, let's talk about things. How's after school for you?"

"Good for me," I told her.

"Then it's settled. Today, after school."

Sobey turned to look at me. His eyes practically rubbed up against the curves of my body.

"Who is this sexy new girl at school?" he purred, slowly looking up my body, "Oh hi Michael!" he said casually when his eyes met mine.

Sure it was meant to be a joke, but it still felt gross. Plus I didn't like people using my old name, it felt like speaking ill of the dead.

So Holly wanted to rekindle our friendship, that was great but it still left me with nowhere to sit. I looked around the tables and tried to find a space where I now belonged. Michael could have sat down next to Will, but I just didn't feel up to it.
I wanted to sit next to someone of my new gender, some to look at me with a sympathetic eye and not a lusty one.

"Psst, sit over here!" called Alana in a voice much too loud to be considered a whisper.

Well, Alana and Lilly seemed to be my brand new best friends anyway so sitting next to them would be the appropriate thing to do. I walked over to their side of the horseshoe and plonked myself down between them. A little slice of my old self cheered in joy as I sat between two of the hottest girls in my year level, I must have forgot that I too was one of the hotter girls and the depressing truth was I was probably more attracted to my arch nemesis, Trent Sobey than to either Alana or Lilly.

"Up top, girlfriend!" Lilly said as she extended her palm.

I untangled of my hands from my books and slapped her the High-5 she wanted. Maybe they were going to be my best friends.

English class didn't seem to have changed much.
All the changes were in me; I was a little reluctant to answer questions (and luckily the teacher didn't call on me), I tried to concentrate but kept finding myself spacing out and I had to continue reminding myself to keep my legs crossed to save me any embarrassment.

Let's just say there were too many distractions to allow thinking about Albert Camus. One thing that weirded me out was how different the boys in my class now looked with sexual desires tinting my view.
I wasn't about to leap out of my chair and pounce on him but Cameron Heine was looking very striking. And so did 'Tall Jason' come to think about it. I tried to steer my thoughts away because I wasn't sure if this dress and my bra could successfully hide swollen nipples and I didn't want to find out.

The class seemed to drag on and didn't show any signs of the end.
There was no clock in the room and my watch didn't fit my skinny little wrist anymore, so I had no clue. I leaned over to Lilly and whispered, "When is this class going to end?"

Lilly gave me a knowing glance and looked at her watch. She opened her mouth to say something and the bell rang out. I laughed because it looked like Lilly made the sound of the bells.

Well, laugh isn't the right word, my laugh had become a giggle and I'm not just saying that because I was now a girl.
Some girls laugh, I'd say at least 60% of all girls' laughs could be considered a laugh; a regular, normal everyday laugh. 10% of girls' laughs have to be deemed a squawk or a scream and they were the worst people to sit beside in a comedy movie. 5% are miscellaneous, leaving me in the 25% of women who possess a truly girly giggle.
I couldn't help it, it was because I had such a high pitched girly voice.
When I talked it sounded like a 12-year-old girl instead a 17-year-old woman.
Dr. Chisholm said it wasn't as bad as I thought it was but both Mum and Nicole had described it as a little 'squeaky'. I was pretty self conscious about it too, girls with high-pitched voices don't get taken seriously and girls with big boobs and high-pitched voices, forget about it.

In fact if I was allowed to change one small thing about me my voice would be number two, right behind shrinking those air-bags of mine.

But the bell meant one thing: English was over and recess had begun. No one even waited for the English teacher to finish her sentence we all grabbed our books and tore out of the room. I did the same walking back to my locker with Alana and Lilly.

"So good to be back, huh?" joked Alana.

"Yeah, it was boring at home but nothing compares to the boring levels achieved here at school."

Lilly chimed in, "It's Mrs. Hickey's voice, it's so monotone."

We agreed and walked outside. The sun had decided to burn as brightly as it could for the last few weeks now and showed no sign of changing its mind. The weathermen were now calling it a heat wave. What it meant to me was that I couldn't change into my more modest winter uniform without fear of combusting. So I was displaying a fair amount of leg, but as I looked over at Alana and Lilly I noticed they were exposing their silky legs too.

Alana must have noticed the similarities between us too, "I've known you for 5 years, I can't wrap my head around the fact that you used to be a guy. There's not a trace of manliness left in you."

"Is it scary?" asked Lilly.

"Yeah, I'm scared. So much had changed, not just my face and my body but my handwriting and my walk and some of my thoughts. Sometimes I feel like Michael trapped inside this strange body and other times Michael feels like a father figure who keeps giving me lectures and tries to keep me from having fun."

It felt good to open up without fear of being yelled at by Mum, talked down to by Annette or teased by Dot.

"The newspaper said you'd probably be attracted to guys by now," recited Alana.

I watched two rather cute guys walk past. My eyes fluttered over their wide shoulders and strong arms.

"I'm not ready for a boyfriend," I told them flatly, "But boys do look cute to me."

"And you look cute to boys," grinned Alana, "You should have heard my brother rave about you during your TV show!"

I blushed a little, Alana Sturt was telling me how hot I was, if only I was a guy this would be the happiest day of my life, asides from Holly Morrissey saying I was hot. But sadly, I no longer found Alana hot. Her long, luxurious blonde hair and her tight, fit and perfectly proportioned body were now wasted on my eyes.

"You should come and hang out with us during recess," offered Lilly.

"I would but I'm haven't really seen Dot Newsom all day."

"Oh," Lilly didn't sound too upset at my rejection, "Lunch?"

"I'm sure I can spend some of my lunch break hanging with the cool girls."

They both laughed, neither of them would have been deemed gigglers like me.

"Oh yeah, we're sooo cool!" they teased.

I waved to them and left them at their locker.
A lot more people were greeting me as I walked back to my locker.
It wasn't the scary, leery nightmare I dreamed it was. I'm sure some people had absolutely horrible things to say about me but as human nature goes, they weren't about to say it to my face.

"Hey Hootie!" Dot was waiting for me by my locker.

"G'day Flatsy!" I wasn't going to take none of her teasing today.

"Tired of lugging around those massive boulders yet?"

"You're just jealous," I was only half-joking, "because a one week old girl has bigger boobs than you!"

She looked down in defeat at her flat, flat chest.

"Most one week old girls have bigger chests than me!"
At least she could be self-deprecating too.
I grabbed a banana from my locker and followed Dot to where we sat during our breaks.

As important as doing homework and learning is, finding a comfortable spot on the school grounds with your friends was paramount for a decent school life. It needed to reflect the type of person you are. We hung out behind the music room; it was off the beaten track, sunny and tricky to find if you didn't know what you were looking for.
It suited who we were. The whole gang; Mads, Kev, Glen, Dot and I were almost always there, if not all of us, at least two. It was the perfect place to just chat and joke around without the fear of having a basketball hit us, an on-duty teacher pestering us or unknowing Year 7s taking our spot. We had been there for four years and I planned to hang out there until we graduate.

Glen, Mads were already waiting for us when Dot and I arrived.

"Greetings ladies!" Glen said,

I might have been a little upset at being called a 'lady' but the truth was he was saying that a long time before I became a girl.

"Hello good sire!" Dot said grandly, waving her hand about like an aristocrat while Mads and I looked on.

"Hi," I said plainly.

"Hi," was Mads equally plain return, "How's your first day back going?"

"I forgot how boring school was," I told him and the other two who had finally finished fooling around, "It's exactly the same as when I left except I have a bra strap digging into me."

"Well, you look funny in a school uniform. You know, younger."

I had thought the same thing too when I had pulled it on. Looking younger may be good to someone older but it was the worst thing in the world to a teenager, most of whom just wanted their teen years over so that they could start up their real life.

"I bet I can make her look younger," challenged Dot to nobody in particular.

She darted behind me and began fiddling with the back of my head.
My hair had grown a fair bit and was almost at a length exclusive for girls and guys in heavy metal bands. I hadn't done a lot with it yet, feeling that along with make-up, playing with my hair was extremely girly.

Dot pulled at my hair roughly and snapped something elastic around some of it.

"Ta-da!" she sung.

I couldn't see it as I could never see the back of my head and changing genders didn't help that.

"Oh, that's just mean!" Mads said, trying to hide a smile.

"Show me, show me!" I squealed.

If this were any other decade they would have to drag me somewhere with a reflective surface. Not this decade, Glen whipped out his mobile phone and took a picture of it. Dot had given me pigtails - cute, bouncy, high on the side of my head pigtails, like a 6 year old would have.

"Dot!" I whinged.

"What?" she echoed in the same tone of voice.

"Get rid of them!"

"Just leave them in for the rest of the break."

"Only if you don't call me Hootie again!"

Dot shook my hand and told me that we had a deal.

Kev looked surprised when he saw me.

"I know you have to wear the dress but the hair is a little much," he warned me.

"If I do this until the end of the break Dot promised she wouldn't call me Hootie McBoob again," I explained, my little pigtails bouncing as I moved my head.

Kev couldn't wrap his head around the deal, "So, in order to get Dot to stop doing something mean to you, you are letting her do something else mean to you?"

He was right, there was something a little twisted about the logic to it all.

"Why don't you tell her to stop being such a mean spirited bitch?"

It was a little over-the-top considering I could have just taken out the pigtails on my own if I hated it that much.

"Ease up, we're just having a little bit of fun!" Dot said, "Besides, I think Gemma looks cute."

"Just watch it, Dot. You have a habit of taking things too far," Kev warned, acting like my protective big brother, "I just came here to see how Gemma's doing."

"I'm doing OK," I told my big brother.

"You're wearing underwear, right?" Kev asked me, "My mate, Macca said he heard that you weren't wearing anything under your skirt."

I lifted up my hem a few inches to reveal my red boxer shorts, "Macca is full of shit," I told him, "And there's another layer under that. Not a soul is going to see my vertical smile, spread the word."

What kind of extroverted idiot did he think I was?
If this was the rumour Kev thought was true, what other outlandish ones were being told about me.
I bet if the truth got out about me wanking a British backpacker off people would say, "So what? I've heard she's done worst stuff than that. Did you hear what I heard she did while she was still half n' half?"

I assumed people wouldn't believe the more over-the-top rumours about me, but if Kev, my good friend, even entertained the notion that I wasn't wearing any panties what must the regular Joe think about me?
Even if they believed only a slither of the rumours it would make me a sick individual.
I tried to analyse the stares as I walked back to my locker. Were they merely enjoying the bounce of my perky bosom or were they wondering if I really did spend the first two periods giving a blowjob to the Vice-Principal?
For once, I wished people were staring at my breasts.

I liked Media class, mostly because Mr. Ludlow was one of those spaced out teachers. He insisted you called him by his first name, but since he shared the same first name as an English backpacker whose penis I had recently wrapped my dainty hands around, I didn't really feel up with it today.
He also likes to watch movies and introduce students to films they may have never seen. All it took was a statement from a student declaring 'The Departed' to be the best movie he's ever seen and for the next month we will do nothing but watch Scorsese classics.

While I was away someone had (purposely?) said that all black and white movies were lousy, so today we were watching 'Psycho'.
It was that easy to get out of work.

"There are a lot of reasons Psycho was made in black and white. Colour had been around for ages when Hitchcock made Psycho, he had used it himself a number of times. A lot of critics point to the fact Hitchcock wanted to make this movie cheap and fast, but I think it's also because black and white is so much scarier. Anyway, that's enough talking for one lesson, let's get to the movie,"

Mr. Ludlow adjusted his glasses and pressed play.
The movie started up and I tried to relax in my plastic school chair. The titles quickly splashed onto the screen and disappeared just as quickly.

"Wait! Who knows how this movie ends?"

From the class of thirty about a dozen of us, including Dot, Glen and I raise our hands.

"OK, don't spoil the ending for those not in the know. Just out of curiosity, hands up if you have actually seen the movie."

This time only two hands (one of which belongs to Glen) went up.

"I've seen the remake," said know-it-all Alyssa Mackenzie.

In response, Mr. Ludlow closed his eyes in disgust and shouted, "Doesn't count!"

It was good to watch a movie. Nothing takes your mind off being a girl like watching a good movie. The screening room in our school was new and thus made the rest of our school look like junk. It was like a cinema, save for the rotten plastic seats and the man who would constantly pause the movie to talk more about how great the movie is. A tall, mild mannered man came into view.

"Hey," whispered Glen, "That's you!"

"Huh?" I squeaked.

"You're Norman Bates!"

Oh, come off it! I really didn't want Glen to delve further into his idea but when it came to movies you could never shut him up.

"You're a mild mannered guy who turned into a murderous woman."

"Murderous?" I arched a delicately shaped eyebrow at him.

"Well…not yet," joked Glen.

"I'm nothing like Norman Bates, he has multiple personality disorder. I am the very same person, just inside a different body."

Glen muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" I asked him.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"I said that you have changed… a little bit."

"How?" I asked him indignantly, "How have I fucking changed?"

"Well, I heard you hung out with those bimbos, Alana and Lilly today in English. What's up with that?" he actually sounded hurt that I was talking to Alana and Lilly.

"There were no seats left," I defended myself, "Plus they were being real nice. They made me a banner!"

"They never would have made Michael a banner, your environment has changed and thus you will change!"

Mr. Ludlow must have heard us, "Shh! This dialogue is real important!"

I returned to facing the movie, fuming a little that because someone made me a banner I was going to become a completely different person.

The incessant pausing and un-pausing of the movie meant that I didn't finish before the class did.

"Just an example of how perfect black and white can be, ladies and gentlemen,"

Mr. Ludlow called out over the top of us grabbing our books and leaving, "Next class make sure you've read chapter two in your yellow books. If you have an old text book I think it's chapter three. I promise you all we will be doing work next lesson."

"All I'm saying is," Glen restarted as soon as we left the screening room, "read any book, any creature will naturally adapt to its environment and since your environment is changing, drastically in some parts, you are going to change."

I had been quietly stewing in his previous comments all movie and wasn't going to take them lying down. "I'll agree with you there. But I think the changes are going to be too small to notice. I mean your environment is subtly changing too - your best friend just changed genders!"

"I'm not saying change is a bad thing," Glen was getting a little flustered, "But you can't deny you are a different person now than you were two weeks ago!"

This was ridiculous!

"Yes, two weeks ago I had a cock and now I have tits and a vagina and a chipmunk voice! But I still feel the same in my mind, Glen!"

"Yeah, whatever," huffed Glen.

It wasn't an admission of defeat by any means but at least I didn't have to debate him anymore.

I wasn't looking forward to lunch. I was sick of Dot mocking me and was still fuming about Glen. I had often been angry with one of them going into lunch but at least I had the other one to vent my frustrations to. Now I was annoyed with both of them and had no one to turn to. I mean I could talk to Mads but he is so non-confrontational that we never wants to get involved or I could talk to Kev but I was finding him a bit pervy lately.
I wasn't an idiot, I knew that my transformation was hard on them too, but I expected them to cut me some slack and not the other way around.

But an opportunity had arisen, both Dot and Glen were buying their lunch from the canteen today and had left me alone by my locker. I looked around, only to catch the sight of Alana and Lilly waving happily at me. It was like finding an oasis in the middle of a frustrating desert.
I practically skipped to them.

"G'day Gemma!" Lilly said pleasantly.

"Hi!" I said back, "Can I hang out with you guys?"

"Of course you can!" Alana said excitedly.

"Awesome!"

Problem solved!

The popular girls all hung out at the tennis courts.
It was nice and private, surrounded by leafy hedges and like behind the music room was never ventured to by teachers. I followed the girls up the path and onto the bench that surrounded the courts. We weren't the only girls there; Holly's friend Alison was there as were some other popular girls.

"Is it cool if Gemma eats lunch with us?" asked Alana.

She didn't need any answer because she was the unofficial leader anyway but she got answers just the same. I sat safely away from possible scorn between Lilly and Alana. Mum had made me some BBQ chicken sandwiches as a treat and I nibbled on them quietly as the other girls gossiped.

"So, are you happy to be back, Gemma?" Alison asked me as she ate her yoghurt.

"Actually, now I am. Staying at home was getting boring. But I will admit it's been kinda scary coming back here where everyone knows me and knows what happened to me."

"Well," cooed the super friendly Becca, "I think you're being really brave."

"Yeah," I joked, "I hear that a lot."

"And you're doing really well. If I didn't know any better I would have thought you had been a girl all your life."

"It must be tough, I mean you fell right into the deep end. No training bra for you, you went straight to the heavy stuff," Alison said, "What are you, a D-cup?"

"Yep."

"Wow! I don't think anyone else here is a D, right? I mean I'm a C," Alison certainly had a nice pair of her own.

"Just an A here," Becca said.

"Large B, small C," revealed Alana.

"A," said Lilly.

"A small B over here," Danielle said.

I looked at the line of beautiful girls and realised fate had indeed been cruel to me. Fate, and my genes, for Mum and Nicole were both equally cursed.

"Don't rub it in," I grumbled. I had found a whole other social group to hang out with but it seems the teasing topics were always going to be the same.

"No, I'm jealous. I wish I could be as curvy as you and be able to pull it off. You pull it off so well. I'd look silly with big boobs," said Lilly as she sized me up.

The popular girl clan nodded silently in agreement.
They weren't teasing me?
They were jealous?
For the first time I looked down at the fleshy protrusions jutting out and I felt a tiny amount of pride.
Don't get me wrong I would easily trade with any girl sitting before me but it was a little comforting to know they would be just as happy to trade.

They all had questions.
Everyone I talked to seemed to have a thousand questions to ask me.
Every conversation I had these days was about me.
Some people would relish the chance to be the centre of attention and you know what? I was one of those people.
All of my life I had been wanting to talk about myself but I never had anything to say and the things I did say could never hold anyone's interest for very long.
I was unremarkable.
But now people would hang on my every word as if my next sentence could very well be the meaning of life.

"If I am going to have a chance at a 'normal' life I am going to have to move overseas. I mean, I am not famous in any other country so it will be easy to just be a girl and not be 'Gemma Taylor'. More than anything I just want to fit in."

"Where would you go?" asked Alana, leaning on her hand and staring at me.

"America or the UK, I guess. Maybe Canada, somewhere where the beaches are still decent."

They wanted to know what I thought about boys.

"I like them. I used to really wonder why girls are attracted to guys and now I know. But I'm scared of them because I know exactly what they think about. I can look them in the eye and see all the dirty thoughts flying through their heads."

"Oh, come on! Girls have dirty thoughts too!" said Alison, "We are not as innocent as you think."

Well the truth was I didn't think Alison was that innocent.
If I believed even half the stories I had been told, not only did she have a lot of dirty thoughts she acted on them quite frequently. But I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt because I was the subject of a lot of rumours too.

Slowly but surely the conversation drifted away from being about me, which was fine. This was my first real peek into how girls talk, I felt like I was a researcher hiding in the jungle to observe the behaviour of a species I knew nothing about. To tell you the truth there was no startling revelations, no secret girls' business, just girls talking about things. They talked about a lot of different things: classes, movies, music, weekend plans, they didn't even talk about boys that much. However the one thing they talked about the most was one subject I really didn't want to discuss.

The Deb.

"Yeah, the one I'm looking at is like a fitted bodice and the skirt is like this whole separate piece."

"What sort of neckline does it have?"

"It's like an A-line thing, I don't have too much to show off."

I quickly turned away from those two girls before I was confronted.
I found comfort with two other girls.

"You looking forward to practise tonight?"

"No, Scotty can't waltz for shit! He better look good in a suit or I'll have to admit to Karen that I picked wrong!"
Damn it!
Another conversation about that stupid social event.
I spun around to seek refuge with the last group of girls.

"So Gemma, we all think you should do your Deb!"

Uh oh! Direct hit!

"Huh?"

"Well," smiled Alana, "It's a perfect opportunity to announce to the world that you are a girl and proud!"

I didn't have the heart to tell her that I wasn't proud to be a girl.

"Maybe," I noncommittally mumbled, "I'm not sure that my Mum would let me do it."

My lie was caught out as soon as I said it.

"We all saw the interview, Gemma. She's dying to dress up her little girl!"

Damn it! I had forgot about that!

"You don't want to disappoint your Mum do you?" Alana turned on a sad puppy dog look that she had perfected from years of not getting her way, she had gotten extremely good at it over the years.

But it didn't work on me.

"I'm just not sure that I'm ready for such a big event."

"At least promise us you'll think about it."

The girls were driving a very hard bargain.

"I'm not promising anything."

"I know we are already a month into practise but Mrs. Coleman said since you are such a strong dancer you'd be able to pick it up real easy."

They weren't letting go.

Aside from the Deb Ball ambush, lunch with the Group A Girls was really quite nice. They didn't tease me at all, they were interested in what I had to say. This wasn't going to be my permanent lunch location but it was certainly a nice breath of fresh air.
I wondered if I would have had such a nice time talking if I was still male. I would have enjoyed the scenery a little more, sure but could have I had the same connection?

Dot was angry that I didn't join her for lunch.
She would have been much angrier if I had told her the truth.
As far as Dot was concerned I went to the principal's office to go over a few bits and pieces. I'm not sure why but Dot didn't like my new circle of friends and never had.
But from the other side of the fence they didn't have a problem with Dot at all, in fact they hardly noticed her.
Glen didn't seem to mind as much and also seemed to have completely forgotten about our little disagreement. He was back to his absent-minded, cheerful self.

We didn't get to catch up long because instead of going with them to our Literature class I had a different class of my own to go to.
For the next couple of days while I adjusted to school Annette would be taking me out of the last two periods for a special adjustment meeting.
It was a mixed blessing; I would get out of class but I would have to spend time with Annette.

"Hello Gemma," she beamed her fake smile at me.

"Hi," I said as I sat down in the meeting room with her.

"So," she said as she busily shuffled some papers, "Gemma," she shuffled some more, "How is school going?"

"Good, I guess," I said squirming in my chair. I wasn't a fan of how much leg was exposed when I sat down. "School is school."

"How is everyone treating you?" Annette asked me.

"Everyone has been really good. The girls have accepted me which is nice," I smiled softly as I thought of my new acquaintances.

Annette let out a sigh of relief, like I was telling her unexpected news,

"That's great to hear, Gemma. Teenage girls can be very petty creatures. I hadn't been through a one thousandth of what you have been through and yet I had a difficult time in high school."

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair as if weighty, bad memories came tumbling out of her mind and landed painfully on her lap.

"So, nobody has been mean to you at all? This must be a terrific school."

"Well, there have been some hurtful rumours but nothing has been said to my face, so I'm OK with it. But I had lunch with some girls and they were real nice."

Annette fiddled with her glasses and looked at me from behind them.

"You're making new friends and that is to be expected, just don't be too surprised if you find some of old friendships becoming more problematic."

Problematic would be precisely how I would explain old friendships at the moment.
I was amazed that Annette was right about something for once but I didn't let on that was what was happening.

"Problematic?" I furrowed my brow in mock confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Well, there are many things that can happen to friendships. They're very tricky things to keep running smoothly. I see a friendship like a rope being held by two people driving cars."

Annette leaned forward and talked to me rather than at me, "When you are both travelling in the same direction and at the same speed, it's easy to keep a hold of the rope. But sometimes you want to go in another directions or they are not progressing at the same speed or an obstacle get in the way and no matter how tight your grip is, the rope is going to come out of your hands."

It was a slightly clunky metaphor but I knew exactly what Annette meant.
Not only were Dot and I always going in the same direction I am pretty sure we were driving the same make of car.
But now, I was driving a brand new car, something I was reminded of by my massive 'headlights', and we seemed to be veering away from each other slightly.
Maybe eventually we would come to a fork in the road and we would have to let go but I was pretty sure all it would take to fix our companionship would be a little corrective steering.

"And how are you coping with your feminine urges?" Annette asked, as comfortably as if she was asking me the time.

I thought about it, "It's weird coming back here and suddenly finding guys I have known for years very attractive. It's like I've been wearing a blindfold all my life and finally I've taken them off."

Clumsy metaphors must be the order of the day.
I wasn't lying to Annette, a stroll through the school grounds was an exercise in confusion. I had started to notice how attracted I was to some of the male students, all the while ignoring girls that I had fancied a few short weeks ago.

"Well, that's understandable, Gemma," she said as if she had handled this problem one hundred times before.

"But there's no way I'm going to do anything with them!" I stated adamantly

"And that's wise. Getting involved with any sort of romantic relationship while trying to cope with the millions of pressures you are going through would probably not work out to your favour."

My mind wandered over to the only other person in the country who could possibly understand what I was going through,

"Has Mr. Draffen ever been involved in a romantic relationship?"

"No, he is much too shy. He spends a lot of time alone," Annette told me.

As well as looking after me, Annette also cared for John Draffen.
In fact, while I was skinny dipping at the beach on the weekend, she was in Sydney looking after John.

"What's John like?" I asked.

"He's very troubled. Very quiet. Does an incredible amount of reading. Anything to get out of his own head. The only time I've seen him happy is when he is with his kids. He loves those kids. He asked about you too."

I guess it made sense, even a misanthrope such as himself would have heard the news about me but I was still surprised that he would ask about me.

"What did he want to know?"

"How you were doing and what you were like. The same things you are wondering about him. He's been reading all the newspaper stories about you. I think he's amazed with how well you're taking it all."

I left Meeting Room C with my head held high because John Draffen thought I was doing really well. That was high praise indeed. My gait was a little different, now that I was feeling so triumphant, I felt my dress swishing against my thighs as I walked. I had finished my first day of school and all in all it wasn't that bad. It wasn't that much different, the key ingredients remained; boring teachers, cheeky friends and a torrent of useless information. I had talked to Annette for a little while after the bell rang so the corridors were thinning out.
People wouldn't stop staring at me though.
I kept wondering what they wanted to see, as I looked just the same as most of the Year 11 girls.
I guess the fact that I used to look like a Year 11 boy was enough reason.

A pretty girl in a short school uniform was waiting for me, a pretty girl in a short school uniform.

"You made it, Gemma!" Holly said, alone in the Common Room, where our lockers are kept.

"Yeah, sorry, my shrink wouldn't let me go," I whinged as I quickly grabbed my school bag.

"So, how was your first day?"

I silently told myself that soon I wouldn't be able to be asked that question again because I was sick of it.

"Not horrible. Being a girl isn't that bad," I sighed as we began the short walk to Holly's house.

"See? I told you it was good fun."

"I didn't say fun, I just said not bad."

"Well, you seemed to have fun, Alison told me that you hung out with her and the other girls at lunch."

"There is some truth to that."

"So?" Holly asked me.

" 'So' what?" I asked Holly.

"How was being one of the 'cool chicks' for the day?"

"It was OK," I said non-committedly,

I wasn't sure how I felt about anything these days.

"Alison said that if she didn't know better she would have never guessed you were a guy, the way you were gossiping and giggling."

"I was not gossiping and giggling!" I said, sounding offended as if she had accused me of 'sucking and swallowing' instead of 'gossiping and giggling'.

To me, both were equally girly and thus had to be dismissed at all times.

"OK," I slowly said, "I may have laughed once or twice, I will admit to laughing. But I've been gone for two weeks and I've never been one for gossip so I don't think I would really be able to keep up with the likes of Gossip Queen Alison Sorokin."

"Why didn't you hang out with Dot and Glen?"

"No reason," I lied.

"No, tell me," Holly saw right through it.

"I was just sick of their constant teasing and I needed a little break,"

I sounded hurt.

"Gemma, they're just having fun with you. You know what they're like."

"I know, I just wish they'd cut me some slack!"

"Hey Gemma! Over here!" someone that wasn't Holly called out.

And like anyone whose name had been called out I looked in the general direction of the noise.
CLICK!
Right in my eyes!
A photographer, no four of them stood across the road from us and were crossing towards us, taking photos all the same.
I began to walk a little quicker, shielding my face from them.
I really didn't want to be a celebrity today.

"Gemma! Please! Just one!" they called out as they tried to keep up.

"Is it always like this?" Holly asked, sounding slightly scared.

"No," I honestly told her, "They must have heard I was going to school today and getting a pic of me in my school uniform carrying my bag will probably get them a few bucks."

"Let them get it and maybe then they'll leave you alone. Otherwise they might bug you all week."

I stopped in my tracks, still shielding my face from the stare of the lenses.

"Photo guys," I addressed my foes, "If I pose for a few pictures will you promise to leave me alone for a while?"

There was a brisk silence while the professional pests non-verbally agreed.

"Of course, that's all we are here for."

Slowly, I turned and looked my antagonists in their lenses.
I adjusted my face into the happy position and 'posed' for the men.
I wasn't quite sure what to do with my hands, so they clutched one another, nervously.

"Big smile, big smile, very nice, very nice!" called one of the people behind the clicks and cameras.

"Any truth to the rumours that you are doing the next season on Dancing with the Stars?"

I actually had to laugh (OK giggle!) at that one.

"No truth whatsoever," I said, feeling slightly more relaxed.

"How was your first day at school?"

Maybe I was never going hear the end of that question.

"Fine."

"What about the rumour that you are considering to do a shoot for FHM?"

"Nothing in that one, I'm afraid."

"Get your pretty blonde friend to pose with you!"

I looked around, startled to see that Holly wasn't beside me but had scurried off to stand by the hedges that surround our school.

"Holly!" I called out, "Come over here!"

I knew she was a natural show off so the lure of the national press would easily overcome any hesitancy that she had.
She looked at me and shook her head,

"No thanks."

Her loss, I thought as I posed a little more for the cameras.
I giggled nervously as I pulled a few poses from photos of celebrities I had seen, making sure the camera got my good side.
The cameras clicked and whirred as I smiled.
Having all this attention dumped on me was cheering me up.
On second thought, I kinda enjoy being a celebrity.
What a bizarre first day of school!

CHAPTER 17

"Do you think you'd be able to give the best blow jobs in the world, Gem? I mean, no other girl has the same insight into what guys find pleasurable."

I didn't like this question. I didn't want to answer it or even think about it. I was trying to figure out my life and questions like this were just annoyances. And the fact my supposed 'best friend' was asking them only made it worse.

"I mean with your body and your old experiences you are the perfect sex machine," Dot wouldn't shut up, "Do you know who you should have sex with? John Draffen! Think about it, you both know exactly what to do to pleasure each other. I mean he's a little old but I'm sure he goes off like a frog in a sock!"

It was only my second day at school and already I was sick of Dot. I could take a little joking around but all Dot could do is make fun of me, she seemed incapable of discussing anything else. She wanted to talk about everything; my 'girly' walk, my new found attraction to boys, my boobs and she was giving me hell over the very slight amount of make-up Mum had put on my face this morning.
I was thoroughly sick of it.
As long as this continued we were best friends in title only. During her one-sided conversation about my theoretical sexual prowess I stood up and walked away, no goodbye, no nothing.
I knew where I was going to spend the rest of my lunch.
I was going to the tennis courts.

I heard a "Hey Gemma," from a few girls as I walked into view. They were words of friendliness; no one was going to tease me here. I instantly calmed down and felt the muscles in my tense shoulders relax. I was home, surrounded by my own kind: pretty girls.

"G'day Alana," I said, sitting down beside her.

"Hey Gemma. How's your day been?"

"Exhausting!" I squeaked, "And it's only lunch time!" I rubbed my palms of my hands into my eyes in frustration.

"Saw your pic in the paper today. Very cute!"

I had seen the picture. Nicole had excitedly burst into my room this morning to show me it. She had said it was the best picture of me taken to date, I liked it too.

After school yesterday I went to Holly's house. Holly's little sister Fiona was there and she had a million questions she wanted me to answer. After that Holly and me retired to her room. Old me would have been thrilled to bits to be sitting on Holly Morissey's bed with her but new me just wanted to hear what she wanted to tell me. Maybe she still wanted to do the Deb with me, maybe she felt guilty for rejecting my plea for sex the other day and wanted to make it up to me, although I wasn't into girls anymore I would still try and awaken my desires for Holly.

"I wanted to tell you something," Holly began in a way that I knew it wasn't good news.

I nodded slightly and pushed some hair behind my ear.

"Me and Jake," she said, talking about her boyfriend, "broke up last week."

What great timing! If only this had happened sooner I might have been able to spend a few precious weeks as her boyfriend.

"I'd like to be friends with you, Gemma, so I want us to be able to tell each other stuff."

"We are already friends, Hol," I assured her.

"I was friends with Michael, I'm not sure where we stand."

"I am Michael!"

I can't believe that Holly was going there as well. Were all of my friends turning against me?

"Gem, you don't look, sound or even act like Michael."

I'll give her the first two but there was no wiggle room on the last, "What do you mean I don't act like me?"

"You're fighting with Dot and Glen. That would have never happen, you usually just let it run off your back. And you are hanging out with Alana and Lilly."

"Hey, they've been really nice!" I defended my new friends.

"Yes, they are nice but they aren't Michael type people."

I didn't like that fact that Holly thought she knew more about me than I did.

"Plus, you were posing your little heart out in front of the paps earlier. You used to be so shy in front of strangers."

She may have been arguing with me but she said this all very calmly as if she was debating for our school's team. She had finished her speech and now it was time for my rebuttal.

"You have said that I've changed because I've learnt to stand up for myself, made some new friends and became more confident and you say it like it's a bad thing!"

"You're missing the point," Holly said, "It's not that change isn't good, it's just that you're not the same person I knew."

Holly furrowed her brow in frustration and I could see in her face that she wasn't trying to be mean to me.

"I just think you should remember that you're going to be a different person by the end of all this but Michael was a perfectly good guy."

Well, as far as I knew I was more or less the same person. OK, the packaging was different but the mind was the same. The reason I was spending time with the cool girls was to learn things about my new gender. I was now a teenage girl and there were some things to learn about it.
Alana invited me over to sleep at her house on Friday night, watch a movie and talk all things feminine. Since I had no plans, I agreed. It would act as a crash course for being a girl.

"And on Saturday," she added, "we could go to Macca's party. He said it would be cool if you came."

I actually liked Jeff Macdonald or Macca, he was a bit of a larrikin around school. He found it impossible not to talk, which meant he always got in trouble but also he got to be friends with a lot of people. I wasn't sure I was ready for a party though but I'm sure I can just tell Alana I am having 'women's troubles' and go.

I should have used the ol' 'women's troubles' excuse for my next class: P.E. I know I had joked about how excited I was to see the inside of a girls' changing room but when the bell rang out I became quite terrified. The girls would all stare at me as I change, looking intently to see if my boobs were real, or if I had a hint of penis in my panties. And I wouldn't be able to look at them because they would see that as perving. Plus I had never tried on my Sports Bra on before. I knew it wouldn't be much different to my regular bras but I didn't want to be seen madly struggling to get my boobs into it.

And so I didn't get changed in the changing room with every set of eyes watching me, I got changed in the toilet where there was no room for another set of eyes. I took deep breath to calm me down, I was alone and nobody was judging me in here. It was unnerving being so proud of my body one minute and then mortally ashamed of it the next, I just wished that I would finally sort out whether or not I loved being all 'tits and ass'. At that present moment, as the 'tits' part of me was being terribly squished by the sports Bra, I wasn't a fan. However a few test lunges revealed they did reduce the jiggling significantly. The school sports uniforms for girls were rather modest I thought, they had a white polo top and knee length blue shorts made out of that parachute material. I guess it made up for the shortness of the summer dress I wore for the rest of the week.

Since I wasn't occupied with chatting, I was the first one out and waiting for the class to start. Our P.E. teacher was notorious for being a mean and savage crackpot, a reputation he probably enjoyed. I know it's a bit of a cliché to have a sadistic P.E. teacher, but clichés have to come from somewhere and Mr. Dellaqua was every bit a walking, yelling, screaming cliché.

"You are a new girl, huh?" he grunted, as he scratched at his patchy beard, he mustn't read the newspapers or watch TV or pay any attention to the outside world.

"Not quite," I told him.

"What's your name?"

"Gemma," I said, hoping that would trigger something. When it didn't I added my last name, "Taylor." He looked down his roll and ticked off my name.

"Welcome to my class, Ms. Taylor," he said apparently unaware of who I was, "And may I say the P.E. transformation did you wonders, darling."

Thankfully the other victims of Mr. Dellaqua's Physical Education class came out from their hiding spot in the changing rooms of the gym so that Dellaqua's focus would be off me. The thing that used to piss me off about P.E. class was the thing I now kinda enjoyed: footy shorts. While the girls sports uniforms were baggy and loose all the boys where required to don the tightest pair of footy shorts known to man. It was a very public display of your manhood. I looked at the guys walking into the gym, it was not at all a flattering look on any boy that had the slightest amount of fat on them but for the select few of them - those who were trim, muscly and well endowed - it was a sight that made my nipples tingle. The sporty guys came running out, laughing and mucking around. I was surprised how aroused I was getting just from looking at guys' strong, powerful legs and their attractive bums. At 17 a lot of guys were now men; well developed, masculine men.

One of the guys I wasn't attracted to came over to me.

"Nice shorts," I remarked.

"Now I know why you became a girl. Anything to stop wearing these shorts, hey Taylor?" Glen replied.

Glen's legs didn't have an ounce of fat or muscle on them, he had by all definition classic 'chicken legs'.

"Yeah, footy shorts for sports bra, seems like a fair trade," I winced as I adjusted one of the straps that was giving me hell.

"Where did you go at lunch?"

"Just needed a break from Dot," I confessed, "Spent some time by myself."

The last half of that statement was a lie but I wasn't about to tell him I hung out with the 'cool' girls.

"Yeah, well, Dot's getting annoyed with you too. I wish you two would stop acting like real girls."

The 'cool' girls were the last to come out; Alana, Alison, and Lilly. They looked a little different to the rest of the girls, their school polo tops were one size too small, clinging onto their bodies and they were wearing bike shorts instead of the normal baggy ones. I think there was a school rule saying you could wear other things besides the uniform if it improves your performance. But the girls were so occupied with their looks I'm pretty sure beating their own personal bests was the last thing on their mind. As a male, I had enjoyed ogling them in their tiny shorts and I would have flipped if they came over to me and sat down beside me like they did.

"How did you get changed?"

"I changed in the toilet," I told Lilly.

"Why?"

I didn't want to tell her it was because I was scared so I just told her, "No reason," and that seemed to stop the questions.

First we all did stretches, I don't think Mr. Dellaqua was a huge fan of stretching, he wanted to go and start torturing us and that was harder to do if we were all warmed up but it was probably a school regulation to warm up before we started, we also had five minutes of warming down at the end of the lesson. I also don't think Mr. Dellaqua liked calling the roll either, another obstacle between him and pushing us no-good kids beyond our limits. And so he combined call the roll and doing the stretches.

"Anderson?" he said while he held his leg behind his back.

"Here," replied a student who was copying Mr. Dellaqua stretch.

"And now, bend down and touch your toes. Bouman?"

I knew Stephen Bouman was there, his arse almost blocked my entire vision. He was our year level's fat guy and seeing him squashed into a pair of ill-fitting footy shorts did not do nice things to my brand new female sexual desire.

Dellaqua rushed through the stretches and made sure none of us were properly warmed up.

"OK, I was not happy with you guys last week. Your collective time for running around the oval six times was rubbish! Even my Year 8s do better than that! So, we're
going to do it again and if your average time is better than last weeks, we'll play Slaughter Ball or something fun. If not, I'm putting you through boot camp!"

'Boot camp' was what Mr Dellaqua called a whole bunch of drills put together, push ups, chin ups, star jumps. It wasn't fun and everyone was exhausted by the end of it.

The sun was still a little overzealous; it was the tenth day in a row that the temperature was over thirty degrees. Any other teacher would see this as an exercise in cruelty but not good old Mr. Dellaqua, he was ready to lead his warriors into battle. I say that but he, himself wasn't going to run.

"On your marks," Mr. Dellaqua shouted, despite the fact we had no marks. "GO!"

Mr. Dellaqua shouted, forgetting the 'Get set'. Three times around the oval was probably a bit over a kilometre, so I paced myself. My boobs tried to bounce around but they were restrained. I'm sure now that I was a girl I would probably run slower but that didn't really seem that important to me. I ran stride for stride alongside Alana, Alison and Lilly who weren't sprinting but were keeping their pace up.

"This is bullshit! It's so flipping hot!" complained Alana, her blonde hair gleaming in the sun.

"Five," Mr. Dellaqua shouted out to our group as we jogged passed him.

Only five laps? I was already drenched in six laps worth of sweat. At least we were almost done. I much preferred swimming over running but we had already done swimming for P.E. We began to slow a bit and two boys in our group sped up a little. I would have very much liked to keep up with them but I was giving it my all and have nothing left. I had a stitch in my stomach and my legs didn't want to run anymore.

"Keep going, Gem. Almost finished," encouraged Alana.

I bit my bottom lip and tried to push past the pain.

Each stride to the finish line reminded me that the end of the race was that much closer. Wanting it to be all over I doubled my efforts, leaving Alana behind me. My boobs, restrained by the sports bra, bounced as much as they could. I was glad for the bra, because unrestrained they might have hit me in the chin. I wasn't first, I wasn't the first girl or even the fourth but I finished it. And not having to run again was enough of a reward for me. I clutched my knees and breathed in deeply. Selma, who had forgotten to bring her sports uniform again (she never brought it) took down my time and smiled,

"Nice work, Michael!"

"Gemma," I corrected her.

"Sorry," she looked a little ashamed, "You actually beat your last time!"

Disbelieving her, I looked at Mr. Dellaqua's book, beside my name was all the times I had ran the 6 laps and my new time was faster than most, not all, of my old times. It was a whole 5 seconds faster than my last time, I wondered why that was.

An exhausted Glen ran up to me, "Hey idiot," he huffed, "You were on the wrong side of 'Butt-Watch' today!"

Ah, of course! Butt-Watch! Being the sexually frustrated teenage males we were, Glen and I used to enjoy the viewing of the feminine form as often as we could. Running six laps around the oval allowed us the perfect view of Alana and Alison's nicely shaped derrieres encased in lycra for 15 minutes. We called it Butt-Watch and I had totally forgotten about it. That's why my time was faster, I was running alongside the girls that I usually ran behind.

"By the way, yours is delightful!"

I swung my arm and hit him in the stomach as I laughed.

"Why did you run with the girls anyway?" Glen said as Selma, the maths whiz who never remembered to bring her sports uniform averaged out the times, to see if we were going to be forced to go through a Boot Camp.

"I don't know. I kinda forgot. I don't think Butt-Watch would be as interesting to me as it used to be anyway." I said as I caught a glimpse of 'Tall Jason's' manly thighs.

"You left me to run with New Zealand Greg and he didn't stop talking about how hot you had become."

That grossed me out, New Zealand Greg was a socially retarded creep who had little to no redeeming qualities. He would sneak into your conversations without warning and even had the audacity to invite himself to other people's parties. He had often cornered me and would seek my advice, calling me one of his 'best friends'. I think he thought of me as a good friend because I was the one of only a few polite enough not to tell him to get lost. Dot would openly tell him to 'Fuck off because everyone hates you.' The fact he now found me attractive wasn't a cause for celebration.

"Sorry," I said, knowing that leaving someone alone with New Zealand Greg was a reprehensible crime, "It's just I'm learning how to be a girl and you can't get much more girly than Lilly, Alana and Alison."

That seemed like a believable excuse and one that was partly true. There was a lot about being a girl I wasn't going to learn from Dot and after I had learnt enough I could decide for myself whether I wanted to be super girly like the 'cool' girls or just 'Michael' in a girl's uniform.

"You hung out with them at lunch, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I feel like I'm doing covert surveillance learning all about their secret world."

I knew what I said could really piss off Glen, it was a weak excuse when I really should have been hanging out with my old friends.
But he didn't look upset.

"Find out if Alison likes me!" he smiled.

Mr. Dellaqua shouted, "Alright! Shut up!" and silence fell around him. Even the teacher walking out to their cars stopped talking. "Selma has just averaged out your times for the run and it seems enough of you have improved so you have been spared a Boot Camp… today."

He looked down at his papers, it appeared like he didn't know what to do with us now.

"So," he began, "go and get a drink and be back here in five minutes to start our next activity."

That was code for: I have no idea what do to now, go away so that I can find something for you to do. By Year 11 we all knew the tricks teachers pull.

Selma wandered up to me. She was a nice girl, we did a lot of public speaking together and she was very good at it. She hated sport though and would always 'forget' her uniform. It meant she failed P.E. and as a nerd that pained her, but it was better than running laps.

"Sorry 'bout calling you Michael before," she apologised.

"Don't worry about it," I told her.

"It's just I thought you would like it," she said as she nervously raked her fingers through her hair.

"I'm trying to be Gemma now, so I'm kinda trying to forget I was ever a boy."

"Sorry again, Gemma," she concentrated, "Gemma, Gemma, Gemma. There, now I won't forget it." Selma was a nerd, she knew it and seemed to enjoy it.

"Thanks by the way," I added as I grabbed some girly smelling deodorant out of my bag.

"For what?" she asked.

"For fudging the average so that we didn't have to go through a Boot Camp."

She smiled and gave me a wink.

"It's not like he will check it. Dellaqua is such a douche."

People often forget that nerds break the rules, usually as often than the 'bad' kids, only they get away with it.

The rest of Physical Education class was playing tennis on the tennis courts. Mr. Dellaqua said that we had to choose a partner for mixed doubles.
I had to play with a boy, my first thought was simple; I would play with Glen.
But then a plan came to mind.

"So, you and me?" asked Glen when Mr. Dellaqua hollered to get into pairs.

" 'fraid not, Lumsden," I said, "I've already organized a partner for you."

On cue, Alison walked up to Glen and handed him a racket. He boyishly grinned at her and followed her like the sheep he was.

There was no way anything was going to happen between them but it was nice to see Glen so happy.

That left me with a problem - I had no partner. There were 14 boys and only 11 girls, so there was no chance that I could pair up with a girl. The majority of boys came over to the popular girls area, to try their luck. I, due to association, was now a popular girl so I had my pick of men. My first choice, ruggedly handsome 'Tall Jason' was snapped by Alana.
I felt a weird pang of jealousy.
I think because I had been so used to getting what I wanted, not getting things them annoyed me a little.
I surveyed what was left.
Too chubby, too mean to me when I was a guy, too hairy and Aaron Lekakis.
Before my run-in with nanobots, the most dramatic transformation that everyone was talking about was that of Aaron Lekakis. The story goes that just before school had ended for the year, last year Aaron had began to work out a little, which would have surprised anyone because Aaron was completely meek and as skinny as a rake. Working out consumed him and he spent all day, every day of his holidays lifting weights and pumping iron. When he returned to school he was a different person. I remember him proudly showing of his recently earned six-pack to a group of us, just days before I went into hospital for my own dramatic change.

"Gemma," Aaron asked, as if he was reading my mind, "Wanna be my partner?"

I casually agreed.
I had prepared to be attracted to his body but I was surprised how much I enjoyed looking at his face. It was a friendly face with a cheeky smile and large, brown eyes.
I stared into it for a second too long.

"Umm… let's get some racquets," Aaron said and I dutifully followed behind him. As much as looking into Aaron's face was fun, staring at his firm butt was pleasurable too. I was a butt-guy as a man, and I guess I was a bit of a butt-girl too. He bent down to grab some racquets and gave me the perfect view that sent a thrill down my spine.

"So," Aaron said as we strolled to a court, "how's the being a girl thing going?"

Which suddenly reminded me that I used to be a guy and staring at his butt was something I wouldn't have done a few very short weeks ago.

"It's actually not that bad," I told him and smiled.

"Really?" he sounded a bit surprised.

I ran a hand through my hair, it was a nervous tick I had all my life but being a girl gave it a fun, flirty vibe.

"Yeah, it's not all that different."

"So, it's not like learning to walk again?"

"Nope," I said, my hips swaying as I walk, "It's not that bad."

We won our first match.

"High five!" Aaron said in a celebratory mood.

I granted his request and slapped his hand. Like everyone, I liked winning. This body was rather fit, I liked the feeling of flexibility. I was by no means a tennis pro but I hit my share of balls over the net. The thing I didn't like was that my sports bra was working quite hard. Running and jumping and lunging made my large breasts bounce a fair bit and the poor bra had its work cut out for it. I wondered if Aaron found me attractive. Ever since I had gotten back my sexuality I had been paranoid that guys wouldn't want to date me. I knew that I was sexy, I had enough 'maleness' left in me to know that but I was worried that they were grossed out by the fact I used to be a guy. Kate Draffen was certainly a household name and I was scared that 'Gemma Taylor' would invoke images of the mixed gender freak for decades to come. While I wasn't ready to date now, or for even the foreseeable future it was something I would think about at night, alone in my bed.

Maybe Aaron didn't find me disgusting, he was treating me friendlier than he ever had before. I was flirting with him a little too, smiling and laughing as we played. I'd apologise for a bung serve and he'd trash talk the other teams in hilarious ways. It was perplexing why we hadn't been better friends before.

"Good game, Taylor!" he said as we walked back to the gym to get changed at the end of the day. He had exerted so much during the matches that he had quite the sweat going. I wondered what his toned body would look like, glistening in his perspiration.

"Thanks, kiddo! You didn't play too bad either."

I thought about Aaron as I slipped the vibrator into my pussy.
I pictured his thick, sweaty dick gently pushing into my soft, delicate folds.
"Geez!" I moaned as I slowly edged it inside me.
The vibrator was lot more intimidating than my previous visitor: my fingers.
It filled me and my body actually felt like it was making room for it, accommodating it. Not only was it larger, it was buzzing wildly, a feature my fingers definitely didn't have.
I actually laughed in apprehension as I inserted the batteries, masturbation used to be so simple and now I was introducing electricity.
I knew that Aaron's penis couldn't vibrate madly but that small logic difference did not hinder my fantasy.

I had walked home a little quicker today, motivated by the urge to try out my new toy on my new body part. I also didn't want negative thoughts to come crashing in as they usually do.
I had a mission: To try out my vibrator while fantasizing about Aaron Lekakis.
In my heart I knew that a fair chunk of me would be opposed to my plan but I thought if I hurried home, I could outrun my hesitations.
Not only did I outrun my hesitations, I beat both Mum and Nicole home. I was home alone and free to moan as much as I wanted.

"Mmmm… Aaron," I playfully moaned, "That feels so good!"

It was a goofy thing to do and it was said more out of cheekiness than arousal.

My vagina likes to be busy. It does its best work when things are coming and going. I liked playing with myself a whole lot and thought I was pretty good at it. I was a stranger to this body and yet in just few minutes I could convince it to have a real good time.
In my imagination Aaron grabbed a handful of boob and roughly played with it, in reality it was my little hand doing the grabbing and manhandling.

"Sex me good, Aaron!" I moaned in mock arousal despite being very, very aroused at the same time.

If you can't have fun while self-pleasuring, when can you?

In my imagination, Aaron was very excited to be having sex with me, it was like his dream came true. He kept saying, "You're even hotter than I thought you were," and I smiled as he did his dirty things to me. The whir of my little electric friend was a little tricky to ignore but the experience was immensely pleasant. Aaron's electric buzzing cock was thrust hard into me and I orgasmed. I moaned loudly and cupped my boobs in blinding bliss.

"Fuck me, that's good!" I moaned as I was coming down from the impossible high I was just on.

I lay there, breathing deeply only to remember the plastic phallic implement buzzing away, still inside me. I sheepishly withdrew it, wiped it on the bed sheets and placed it in my bedside table, top drawer.

Lying there made me want to have sex with a real person. If there weren't the problems of finding someone who loves you and getting to know them and learning to feel secure around them and figuring out whether they are the right one or not and then dealing with all the problems that having sex with someone causes, I would have had sex with some then and there. I pulled a T-shirt out of my wardrobe and pulled on some shorts. My family would be home soon and I didn't want them to catch me in my post-orgasm nakedness.
They would never know.

"So, how's the vibrator, Gem?" asked Nicole over dinner.

"Huh?" was all I could say without spitting out my ravioli.

"I went to put something in the bin just before and saw the packaging for your vibrator in there," Nicole smiled because she knew she had caught me out.

I didn't say a thing and just continued to eat, looking down at my food.

"Look!" Nicole teased, "She's blushing!"

It was probably true, my face did feel like it was blushing.

I snapped, "Shut up!"

"Nicky, don't tease your sister," Mum doled out some old-school parenting,

"And Gem, welcome to womanhood."

My life was so embarrassing!

"So are you really attracted to boys?" Nicole tried again to broach the issue of my sexuality while watching TV but this time she wasn't teasing me.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said without turning my head from The Simpsons.

I felt an arm drape over my shoulder.

"Come on, open up to your big sis!"

"Open up about what? I like guys, what else is there to say?"

"Do you want to go out with guys?" asked Nicole turning away from the TV completely and focusing on me.

"I don't know, these feelings are all new to me. I'm just trying to wrap my head around things."

"Well, if you ever want me to hook you up with someone, Gem, just let me know."

Her offer was genuine and embarrassing. I certainly didn't want to be set up with anyone, let alone guys that Nicole would choose for me. I escaped into the kitchen.

"Did you like it?" Mum asked me.

"Huh?"

I should have kept walking to my bedroom, this was not going to be a conversation that I was going to like.

"Did you like it? You know… 'it'?"

My own mother was wondering if I enjoyed masturbating; things don't get much more awkward than that. She stopped packing the dishwasher and looked at me, waiting for my answer. Is there anyway to answer the question without dying of embarrassment?

"It… was… fun," I said slowly as I felt the blood rush to me cheeks.

My Mum and I have always had a very close relationship, even so she had never asked me about masturbating before, even after I would lock them out of the bathroom for an hour at a time while I attended to myself.

"Did Annette teach you how to do it?"

These questions weren't getting any less embarrassing. What sort of question was that anyway?

"No, I'm self taught," I said mock-proudly.

Mum's eyes stayed locked onto me while I could look anywhere but at her.

"So, what's better; guy or girl?"

"You mean, playing with yourself?"

I don't know why I asked for clarification but I did.
She blushed and nodded, I was happy to see this wasn't easy for her too.

"Well, let's just say that is one area where I am not feeling short changed."

That would answer her question and hopefully shut her up.
It was true, too.
I enjoyed playing with my pussy.

"So, are there any boys at school you like? Glen maybe?"

She sat down on the kitchen chair.

"Ewww, Glen is one of my best friends, Mum. I'm not going to be going out with guys at school. It would be too weird."

"Well, I'm pretty sure you could have any boy you wanted. You're very beautiful, you know."

I used to be annoyed when people told me I was pretty but I kinda liked it now.
I know I didn't do anything to become this beautiful but I now liked the attention it got me.

**********

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I got to my first lot of chapters was absolutely amazing. Thank you so much.

A huge thank you to Julia for editing. Her advice was incredible and has greatly improved my work.