A Change of Perspective

by Optimizer

Part 1

Eric stepped out of the shower and began to dry off. It was going to be a quiet night - his little sister was spending a couple days at the house of one of her friends. He didn't have work tomorrow, but his friends did, or were out of town. His mother was home, as well, so he couldn't get too crazy.

At least she'd be doing one of her Wiccan rituals tonight - it was a full moon and all - so she'd be out of his hair. He was going to watch a movie, play some games on his console, and just plain chill. He wondered if maybe he should be more ambitious - there was only a month of vacation left - but heck, there'd be time to finish his summer reading later.

Wrapping his lower half in a towel, he padded to his room. He was about to get dressed when he found a note on his dresser. Slipping on his glasses and opening it up, he wasn't surprised to see it was in his mother's handwriting.

Eric -

I know you don't believe in my Magic, and I appreciate the respect you've shown me despite that. I've never forced my beliefs on you. But tonight, I have a very special 'initiation' planned.

I will give you the opportunity to find out what it means to be a Sister. Some of it, anyway. If you want more than that, it will be your choice, I promise.

I know this will be strange for you, but please don't be frightened. Try to look at it as an adventure. The changes you will soon experience don't have to be permanent. I'll tell you more once you've seen what I mean.

Love, Mom

Eric was nonplussed. He'd always humored his mother - and he had to admit her herbal remedies actually seemed to work more often than not - but real magic was not something he'd ever buy into. It looked like she might be trying to force a confrontation over that. Although he certainly didn't want to hurt her feelings, they'd always tried to be as honest as possible with each other.

Maybe he could pretend not to have seen the note? That wasn't honest, but it might give everyone a face-saving out... He continued musing as he pulled a t-shirt on. Be a "Sister"? That was a strange way to put it...

Then he stopped, puzzled. Something was weird - something was pulling at his hair. Was another shirt tangled in the one he'd just put on? He reached his hand back and got a fistful of hair.

What the fuck? he thought. He pulled, and it hurt. There were long tresses, lots of them, tucked under the shirt, and the other ends were in his head.

He raced to the bathroom and gazed searchingly into the mirror. His dark brown hair now ran down to the middle of his back and was not cut in a masculine style. He pulled again, and it hurt again. His blood ran cold. His mind raced, spinning out any number of wild theories - a super-glued wig, hallucinogens on the note - that he knew, just knew, were false.

It was fucking magic.

~~~~~

He meandered unsteadily back to his room, and re-read the note extremely carefully. Changes - more than one. That was terrifying, along with "what it means to be a Sister". The only reassuring thing was the "don't have to be permanent" - but that, of course, meant that they could be permanent. Which was terrifying.

Well, okay, the tone of the note was slightly comforting - he knew his mom loved him, and she did say he'd have a choice at some point. He trusted her - mostly. She could be astonishingly devious at times; the letter of what she said was always correct, but the spirit... Still, it didn't look like he had a choice, yet. Maybe he could - for now - treat what he suspected was happening as an 'adventure'.

His suspicions were confirmed in short order. There was no sensation he could concretely identify, but he knew something had changed. He looked at his hands - they were smaller, finer, and the nails were longer. Girl hands. She was turning him into a girl, gradually. The only question was how far, and when the choice would come.

He didn't bother putting more clothes on; he was pretty sure they wouldn't fit him, soon enough. He considered thoughtfully for a few seconds, then decided hell with it. His mom hadn't asked for permission, so he didn't need her permission to do what he wanted with what she'd 'provided'.

The feel of those small hands on his prick was bizarre but pleasant. It sort of felt like a girl was playing with him, but on the other... hand, it felt like his dick had gotten much bigger. He got hard very quickly. Indeed, he got into it fairly deeply, and only that not-quite-sensation of a change pulled him back out. It took a bit longer this time to pinpoint - most of his body hair had vanished.

This demanded a look-see. He took off the shirt, put on his seldom-used bathrobe, and strolled back down to the bathroom. Feeling a bit irrational, he locked the door. Then he dropped the robe and looked in the mirror again. No hair on his chest, a lot less on his legs. Quite a bit thinner under his arms, about the same at his crotch. And wait - his arms were slimmer, shorter now, matching the hands. He'd missed that. They looked pretty weird on his definitely male body.

He was kind of surprised at how easily he was adapting to this. If he hadn't been warned by the note - if he didn't know his mom wasn't intending any harm - he'd probably be a gibbering wreck by now. But though he felt some apprehension, he found he could look on the situation as a little exciting, too. Or at least, potentially informative.

He picked up one of Mom's hand mirrors before heading back to his room. He couldn't hear Mom chanting downstairs; it was like he had the house to himself. Once he made it back to his room, though, another note was on his bed.

Honey -

I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I will answer some of them. These alterations will take an hour to finish, and your genitals will be the last to change. You'll have a choice then - if you don't want that to happen, everything will go back to normal.

But if you decide to go on, you'll have an hour as a girl, the girl you might have been. Try to learn as much as you can - being a girl is rather nice. At the end of that hour, though, you'll have to decide if you want to go back. But even if you decide then to stay a young woman, once you've fully adjusted, you will be able to change back if you still want to.

Have fun,

Mom

~~~~~

Eric read the note again and again. By the time he was done, he realized some other changes had happened. A quick check in the hand mirror and he had a girl's face - a cute one. Though the masculine glasses didn't suit it well. He looked at the time - the whole outrageous situation had only been going on for about half an hour.

So, before long he could be a girl - if he chose. Half an hour ago, he would have refused out of hand... but seeing his new face in the mirror had sparked an intense curiosity. What would the final outcome look like? What would it feel like? He examined his arms, the smooth skin everywhere. What if he went and took another shower? He could shave his legs and the hair in his armpits, which would improve the aesthetics...

He popped in a pair of contacts; those glasses were just wrong. His walk back to the bathroom - man, he was running in circles - was disturbed by his hips realigning along the way.

He started the water. While it warmed up, he checked himself out in the mirror. He had a seriously attractive rump now. The surroundings didn't frame it well, but on its own it was very nice. His head, too, was cute. It looked like a sister might have. It didn't look much like Haylie, but his actual little sister was adopted.

He turned and checked the water; just right. At that point he realized his legs had changed. Apparently he wasn't going to be allowed to see the 'alterations' happening. They were nice legs. He stepped into the shower, marveling for a moment how much bigger it seemed; he'd lost a couple inches in height. Then he got to work - gingerly - with Mom's razor. He figured she wouldn't mind. For a brief moment he wondered if he'd still have shaved legs when he was male again - that could be kind of awkward - but if Mom could make him a girl, she could surely grow him some hair back, right?

His torso had changed in there somewhere. He looked like a girl now, all over... except for a flat chest and an erection that stood out even more from the contrast. Maybe it was weird to be turned on by the circumstances, but he hadn't had a chance to fondle too many girls before. He'd only actually had sex for the first time a couple months ago, at the beginning of summer. He was sure he hadn't been terribly good - but here he had an unparalleled opportunity for research.

There couldn't be more than ten minutes left, he thought - and with that thought came the penultimate change. He had breasts now. Decent ones, too. Not like half the girls in the porn he pulled off the net from time to time... but these were real. They sure felt real.

They felt good. He knew, now, that he was going to take that hour as a girl.

He rubbed his breasts and stroked his prick, as the warm water rained down. He moved his altered body gently as he did so, feeling the drops running in unfamiliar directions along unfamiliar curves. Almost everything was new, in some way. He nearly lost his balance, not used to his new shape, and put his hands out to catch himself. And then reaching back, he knew the final change had happened.

Reaching lower, he found the expected - the lips, the vagina. His new flesh was as turned on, as eager for release, as the prior. His hand played with the folds and involutions. In wonder, he ran his moistened finger along the crevice between inner and outer lips, down one side and up the other. The vulva were at least as sensitive as his shaft and scrotum had been. It was tempting just to stroke them, tease them a little... but time was short, there was business to take care of.

He probed inward, trying to remember landmarks hastily noted from fumbling sessions before. There was the vagina itself... so, a bit higher up... ah, yes, the clit. Very sensitive, indeed, but just how sensitive?

Yikes! Note to self: Watch out for those nails!

With a chastened appreciation for the need for gentleness, he resumed his efforts; by now he was almost frantically horny. But his skill was not up to the task for many minutes. Things were so tender, needed such diffident care! The hot water became lukewarm. But presently he came, and it went on so long...

Shuddering a little, he turned off the shower and reached out for a towel, taking his mom's since his was still wet. He got the bulk of the water off - it was so strange seeing nothing between his legs, drying off his new anatomy. Excited, he stepped out and wiped off the steam from the mirror.

So, this was 'Erica'. Definitely cute. Not in supermodel territory, but tasty. I wouldn't kick her out of bed, he thought. Or, well, technically 'she' thought, at this point, no?

...No. Despite the body, he was definitely still Eric, a boy, inside.

He liked the way he looked, fresh out of the shower - an hour ago, he would have killed for such a sight in the flesh - but long wet hair was not a whole lot of fun running down one's own back. He worked briskly with a towel, and then found his mom's hair dryer and a brush. It was a rush job but there were things to do. He went back to his room - determined to stay there this time - and checked the time. About forty minutes left on the clock; the tail end of the shower had been lengthy.

On the bed was a box and a note.

Erica -

A little present for you. Have fun!

Love, Mom

Bemused, he noticed the name. He thought it had been a private joke, but his Mom seemed to have anticipated it. He picked up the box, and opened it.

Perfume, quick-dry nail polish, and an extremely feminine panty-and-teddy set of some kind. This whole night was deeply weird on so many levels, but getting a gift of lingerie from his mom somehow added a whole new dimension to the strangeness.

The clothes fit well. Perfume was easy, but the nail polish took a little work. He wouldn't have bothered, but... his Mom seemed to want him to try it, and he was more reluctant than ever to annoy her. Fortunately, he'd gotten pretty good at detailing from painting model cars.

Finally they were dry. A look at the clock: twenty-five minutes left. Screw the toenails, he thought. He dithered for just a moment, then did one last quick march to the bathroom. He beheld himself all girlied up.

The outfit was indeed sexy... but classy-sexy, not slutty-sexy. The appearance was spoiled by the expression, though: the girl in the mirror wasn't demure at all. She looked at least as horny as any porn star. More, really - she wasn't faking. Turning, inspecting from all angles, he was... enchanted. It was truly magical.

One last stare to burn the image into memory, then he dashed back to his room. He steeled himself not to be distracted by any more of Mother's surprises, but no new packages or notes turned up. He flopped into the middle of the bed, on his back, and got to feverish work.

His hand slipped under the waist of his panties and explored. It was still faintly bizarre, how far down the new equipment was; there was just that slight moment where his hand went right on past where he was still, subconsciously, expecting to find something. And then the sense of discovery an instant later...

In the shower, there had been nothing unusual about wetness. In bed, it was irrationally surprising. Those juices were coming from him... but they did make everything slide so easily.

Now fully caught up in a spirit of adventure, he pursued his experiments with less than scientific detachment. Rubbing the clitoris - carefully - got sparks flying, but the lips and canal were enjoyable to the touch as well. Before long he had discovered the erotic potentials of his breasts, too. These nipples provided sensations quite unlike the old ones had, and the mounds themselves filled the hand so well. His second orgasm of the evening arrived more rapidly than the first.

Gasping, shivering, he was inspired to try something. He'd read about the supposed 'G spot'. Was it really all it was cracked up to be? Allegedly you got your fingers a couple inches in... on the roof somewhere... Damn it, have to get these panties off... Hmmmm... No... Maybe... Hey, that was... Oh, wow, hey, that was different... Whoa, it felt good but kinda like he had to pee but still, it was good... and... and... a thumb rubbing his clit... the other almost clamped on a breast, nipple between two fingers... "Aaaaaaaaaaaah!"

It just kept getting better.

He'd come three times already and he was still excited. There was hardly any of the lassitude, the exhaustion that followed climax as a male. He was well on the way to number four for the evening when a firm but polite knock came at the door.

"It's time, honey! You have to make your choice now!" He could picture the smug grin on his mom's face; she couldn't have missed the screams he'd been making. He felt mortified but at the same time he was still so worked up!

"Please, Mom! Just a few more minutes!" He could hear the husky passion in his own voice, and blushed, but his new anatomy just got more excited. Oh God, he was aching now...

"You need more time?" The voice was pure sweetness.

"Yes! Just a little!"

"Of course, dear."

~~~~~

Eric lay in a limp, satisfied heap on his bed. He wasn't really sure how many orgasms he'd had - under a dozen, probably, but not much under. He was nearly certain he was more familiar with these genitals than he'd been with the old set. Certainly he'd never explored his dick and balls with the same fervor. But even he'd had enough. Next time he was with a girl, he'd be a lot better. It was time to go back, now, and... what time was it, anyway?

The warm, relaxed haze lifted like fog in a stiff breeze as he stared at his alarm clock. It was after midnight. He'd been fully female for over three hours! He knew his Mom. She wouldn't consider that a 'little more time'...

He bolted out of bed and looked around frantically for something to wear. The teddy and panties lay on the floor, but he shied away from them like they might bite. He pulled on the bathrobe instead. Jeez, his chest stuck out that much?

The house was silent. Relief and trepidation filled him as he made his way downstairs and saw a light was on in the kitchen. Stepping in, he found his mother sitting at the table, paging through one of her scrapbooks, a dreamy smile on her face. She looked up and the smile widened. "There you are, honey!" A pause. "So, what do you think?"

This was going to take every shred of diplomacy he had. "Well, uh... I owe you an apology about your magic."

"Oh, honey, you don't have to apologize! You never had any reason to think otherwise, I made sure of that." A little mischief crept into her smile now. "I was referring to your new form. Personally, I think you look even more beautiful than I'd hoped."

"Uh, well, about that..." He was sweating. "It's, well, it's beautiful, yeah, but I don't think it's, um... me."

"Oh, it's very much you, now." A lot of mischief showed in the smile.

"I mean, uh... I'd like to go back. To being a boy, I mean." Silence greeted this. "Um, please?"

Mock-seriousness, now. "But... naturally, when you asked for more time, I assumed you knew what that meant. I was very clear in my note, I thought."

His fears crystallized, but he had to press on. "I didn't mean to stay like this! I figured, well... that if you couldn't give me just a little more time, you'd say so."

"Erica, at this point, how much or little time you spend as a girl is up to you. It's out of my hands." A helpless shrug, spoiled only by the slightly upturned corners of her mouth.

Ignoring the name she'd used, Eric pressed on. "What do you mean, it's up to me? I just told you, I want to be a boy again! I want my old body back!" He was getting upset. He didn't keep his voice as level as he'd hoped.

"Honey, I can't change you back now. Only you can do it."

A long pause. He felt like he was wading through mental syrup, slow and stupid. "What?" he finally asked.

"After that first hour, the Transformation becomes permanent. Only the Transformed One can reverse it." His Mom seemed very solemn.

"But... but you said even after that hour, I could change back!"

"Certainly... once you've fully adjusted, as I said." Her mirth was unmistakable. "Do you think you've fully adjusted to being a girl?"

Eric absorbed this in silence for a few seconds. "So... how long until I can change back?"

"As I said, it's up to you, how quickly you decide to acclimate." She looked thoughtful. "I think the current record is just under two years." She smiled, then. "It usually takes quite a bit longer."

"Two years?" His voice could not be described as 'level' by any stretch of the imagination. Indeed, it rose to a squeak.

"Give or take." His Mother's voice was calm. Happy, even. "It was almost five years before I was ready to learn the Transformation spell."

"But... but... I go back to school in, like, a month!" It came out in a wail.

"I know! We've got a lot to do, to get you ready," she replied in an excited tone, as if planning a vacation.

His jaw hung low for quite a while. "I think people are gonna notice I've suddenly got, like, breasts!"

His mother chortled. "Oh, I guarantee the boys will. You are stacked, my dear!" At her progeny's mortified glare, she sighed. "Punkin, if I can give you breasts, and everything that goes with them... don't you think I can handle a few records and memories?"

That brought him up short. He stared at his Mom with wide eyes. "You know I love you, don't you, honey?" she asked, finally, genuinely serious.

He nodded, eyes still wide.

"Do you imagine I would do something like this if I didn't think you could handle it? Even enjoy it?" She stared earnestly into his now-squinting eyes.

After a moment, Eric quietly shook his head.

"Honestly, you might be surprised by the things you learn about girls. And about yourself." He just sat there, absorbing it all.

"Sweetie, come look at this." She waved her new daughter over to look at the scrapbook. He approached cautiously, and at her insistent wave he began to flip through it. Photos and report cards and memorabilia of one Mark Jardin. There was Grandma, looking young, almost his Mom's age. But Mom didn't have a brother... his head snapped up.

She met his searching gaze unflinchingly, with a smile. "Like I said, Erica, you might be amazed at what you learn about yourself."

"You were... you..." He couldn't complete the thought.

"Yes, honey. I grew up as Mark. Grandma gave me the same initiation one night, and, well, I 'needed more time,' too." She winked. "I've been Miranda Jardin ever since."

Eric sat down heavily, shaking his head. "I... I don't..."

"Honey? Honey, look at me." He slowly met her gaze. "I know this is a lot to get used to. I was in the same boat. But honestly, the important things haven't changed. I'm still your Mother, and I love you. You're still my child, whatever you decide you want to be one day. Son or daughter." He twitched a little at that. "I did not, will not lie to you. You will have that choice one day, and it will be your choice. If you choose to Transform back into Eric, I won't interfere. I wouldn't be able to, even if I wanted to go against your wishes. Which I don't."

While he processed that, she kept going. "In the meantime, as I said, try to look at this as an adventure. For now, you are Erica, and you will get to experience things no boy ever does. You can learn many things that will benefit you even if you become Eric again." Then she winked. "I promise, it'll even be fun. Obviously it was for me."

Eric - Erica? - just slumped at the table, transfixed by the scrapbook. At long last, he sighed. "Okay, Mom. I'll try."

Miranda clapped her hands together. "That's my girl!" She stood up. "I suggest you get some rest. It'll be a big day tomorrow. I'm going to my room to get to work on those records and such." She leaned over and gave Erica a big hug. "I'm so proud of you, honey."

He... no, she watched her Mom walk away, feeling dazed. She looked down at the scrapbook, not sure what to think.

As soon as she was around the corner, Miranda allowed the triumphant smile to bloom on her face. It almost always worked this way. Miranda nearly laughed aloud, remembering her own tangled emotions once she'd realized her Transformation wasn't going to end as quickly as it had started. The situation was artfully contrived; the Sisterhood had a lot of experience. It hadn't entirely been Erica's choice - so she had an excuse to explore her new femininity without quite so much male anxiety and guilt. But it hadn't exactly not been her choice, either - which limited how upset she could be at her Mother.

In time, she'd even be grateful. Very few Sisters ever Transformed back into men. After all, once you'd birthed and suckled a child - the final steps in mastering the Transformation spell - how could you want to give up being a Mother?

~~~~~

Eric woke slowly. Getting to sleep had taken a while. At first all he could do was wonder where he was. Not in his bed... he opened his eyes and looked around. Even with his glasses off, he could see it wasn't his room. And as he tried to sit up, a whole flood of odd sensations finally reminded him it wasn't his body, either.

He looked wonderingly down at his... her own shape, back in the teddy and panties. So bizarre, seeing those breasts, those slim arms. Long hair, long nails... swinging out of bed, broad hips came to the fore of her attention as she nearly fell over. This body had a quite different set of balancing requirements from the old one.

Eric... Erica woke up a touch further, and put on the pair of glasses placed on the nightstand next to the bed. They weren't his - they were girlish, rectangular framed. Still, they made everything clear.

He... she finally understood where she was. It was his... her bedroom, but with a new decor. The view through the window hadn't changed; everything on this side of the glass was weirdly different. It wasn't that things had been replaced, so much as... translated from 'boy' to 'girl'. There were correspondences everywhere. Furniture was in the same positions, mostly, but...

The windowframe had curtains instead of blinds. The walls were a pale purple instead of the dark blue he'd picked a few years back. The plain white ceiling fan was now filigreed. The bed had a bedskirt at the bottom, and the covers were a frilly pattern dominated by pastel pink instead of the plain dark maroon they'd been the night before. A few throw pillows and even stuffed animals lay at the foot of the bed, again in pastel colors.

Instead of a bookshelf next to the bed, there was an ornate dresser and a small table. The simple, utilitarian alarm clock had been replaced with a larger model that apparently played CDs. The cell phone looked almost the same, except for the new tassel hanging off it.

Models and figurines painstakingly built over many years were gone; instead little, unfamiliar knick-knacks were scattered about. Statuettes, framed pictures, dried flowers. The posters on the wall had morphed - sports teams and girls had become landscapes and celebrities. Male celebrities.

The desk on the other side of the room was now an ivory color and sported rounded corners instead of square ones. Thankfully the computer still had the glowing blue running lights and chrome detailing from before. It looked out-of-place, but apparently Mom had hesitated to mess with it. Given her ignorance of electronics, that was probably a good thing. The TV and console were still in their former place; the games were all neatly shelved, however.

The previous dresser had become much larger, and as ornate as the rest of the furniture. Cosmetics were organized on one side, a modest array of jewelry was on the other, and a large mirror hung on the wall behind it. He... she stared at it, and the girl wearing the confused expression within, for almost a minute. Thinking about how much time could have been saved if it had been there last night. Maybe enough time to prevent her from winding up stuck as a her?

As she retrieved the robe from its hook, she discovered the closet was empty save for a pair of pink fuzzy slippers on the floor. Padding over to the dresser, she drew out a drawer, finding it similarly barren. Puzzled, she went downstairs.

Her Mom sat at the table, slowly eating some toast. Though she was clearly exhausted, she didn't have her usual morning cup of tea before her. She gave Erica a wan smile and a quiet, "Good morning, dear."

"I guess you were pretty busy last night." Erica said, getting down a bowl for cereal.

"You bet your cute butt I was," Miranda sighed. "You'll find a purse in the dining room. Your new driver's license and Social Security card are in it. No one around here remembers Eric, now. To the world, you've always been Erica Jardin."

"Thanks, I guess." She hesitated before sitting down. Part of him... her craved the reassurance of closeness with Mom. Part of her - the big part that was still him - thought it would be weak, would be admitting vulnerability. But she was supposed to be a girl, now... Ultimately she sat down next to her Mom, but left a little space. Frowning, she asked, "What about my friends?"

"There had to be some changes there, I'm afraid." She shrugged apologetically. "You'll be remembered as being one of the girls, not one of the boys, now. No close friendships among girls or boys. You'll have to start over a bit, I'm sorry to say, but you won't have to remember too many conversations you never had." She smiled a little at the question in her daughter's eyes. "No, you don't have a boyfriend, either - but I suspect they'll be trying soon enough. You really are gorgeous."

"Thanks... I think." Her face had fallen a little. "No friends?"

"It'll be all right. You're still in the computer club, they know you. You don't have your baseball history, I'm afraid. However, I found you a replacement that'll give you some status and friends. I signed you up for cheerleading."

Erica almost did a spit-take. She choked a little on her orange juice. "Cheerleading?" she managed to sputter. "Jumping around waving pom-poms?"

Her Mother just grinned tiredly. "There's a bit more to it than that. But yes, it'll help get you used to your new station quickly, and it's good exercise. Give it a try, but if you decide it's not for you... just don't make the team. I only signed you up, you'll still have to do the work and qualify." A wicked shade to her grin, now. "Besides, haven't you always wanted to get up close with the cheerleaders?"

Her new daughter ignored the jibe, the enormity of it all starting to hit home. "It's like moving to a new school," she lamented quietly. "Only I don't know how to make friends as a girl."

"The same way as a boy, punkin: by being a good friend." Erica's raised eyebrows and skeptical expression - which practically screamed 'I don't know how to do that as a girl either' - forced Miranda to be a little more serious. "I'm really sorry, honey, but it's the best way. You can decide who you are, find out as you make new friends. And it won't be so hard, everything's in flux at the start of a new school year. I promise, it'll work out, you'll see."

"Was it like that for you?" she asked, searching her Mother's tired face.

"Grandma Transformed me the summer after I graduated high school," she replied. Then she smiled a little, reminiscing. "I went off to college as a girl." Her attention returned to the present. "I felt you'd do better if you started your Transition in a somewhat more familiar environment."

"Couldn't you have waited a little?" She hadn't meant for it to sound quite as whiny as it came out.

"Every Transformation is different, honey. And so is every Transition, after." She smiled with a little more animation. "Some boys need 'training wheels', little mental Suggestions." A look of pride. "But you didn't."

Erica wasn't sure how to feel about that. "It's so strange. I mean, I only just started being a man. I only just..." she trailed off, not wanting to just up and tell his... her Mom about her... well, actually, his... sex life.

But her Mother had a wise smile on her face. "I know, punkin." It was still strange hearing that endearment applied to him. Her. "I wouldn't have done this while you were still a virgin."

Erica was mortified. "You knew?" Accusation filled her tone, safer than the terrible embarrassment.

"Dear, I did not invade your privacy. Well, not much. I didn't find out - or want - details." She shrugged. "It's just, we... well, we're careful about that now. We don't Transform anyone until they've 'gone all the way'." She grinned. "Boys can be very sensitive about that stuff."

"'We'?"

"There are other Sisters, dear." She yawned hugely. "But don't worry about that for now. You'll meet some later, in due course."

Erica cocked her head. "I think I've met some already, haven't I?" she asked, thinking of a handful of her Mom's friends.

"Never mind about that now," Miranda chided, mock-annoyed. "Finish your cereal."

Erica talked around a spoonful. "What happened to all my clothes? Why didn't you 'translate' them, too?"

"'Translate'," Miranda chuckled. "That's a good one." She stretched a little, yawning once more. She had expended a lot of power last night. "I banished them, instead of transforming them, for my own selfish reasons." A big grin appeared. "We're going shopping! I can't wait to dress you up!"

Erica's face fell again.

~~~~~

After breakfast, Miranda sent Erica up to get dressed, handing her a bag with an outfit inside. It took a while - just brushing out her hair was a chore - and felt incredibly strange. She wished she had a better idea how to manage a bra. Inspecting herself in the mirror, she decided she was presentable. A simple skirt and sweater, flat pumps, and hose. She finally placed what was wrong - no makeup, no jewelry. Few girls went out this unadorned. But she was too frightened to tackle the options on the dresser.

When she came down, her Mom was on the phone. "Honey, there's someone you need to talk to. It won't take too long, I promise." She passed the phone to Erica.

"Hi, I'm Jacqui," came the voice on the other end of the line. "This is Erica, right?"

"Um, yeah," she said shyly. Hearing someone else use that name, besides her Mom, made the whole thing feel more real.

"Welcome to the Sisterhood!" There seemed to be genuine warmth in the tone.

"Uh, thanks." A pause. "I'm sorry, it's just... a lot to get used to, y'know?"

"Okay, I know this is all really strange. But I promise, you're going to be fine." Erica could hear the smile in her voice. "I talked to your Mom a little. You're already doing way better than I did, I guarantee."

Erica wasn't quite as sure that was a positive as Jacqui seemed to be. "So, uh, my Mom said I need to talk with you?"

"I'm afraid so. Our tradition has always been to let new Sisters find their own way as much as possible, with their Moms, before we formally introduce anyone to the Sisterhood. But we've had to get with the times a little. I'm sort of 'Mistress of Internet Security' for the Sisterhood now. Your Mom took care of the local stuff, school records and classmate memories and such. The problem these days is, everybody leaves a lot more traces lying around. I'm going to need all your usernames and passwords for anything you've done on the net - gamertags, handles, whatever. What websites you go to, forums you're on, etc. etc."

"Wow." She looked at her Mom, asking with her eyes if Jacqui could be trusted. Miranda nodded. "That could take a bit. I'm gonna have to go back up to my room, get on my computer."

"No prob."

Erica noticed her Mom holding up a finger. "Just a sec, Jacqui." She put her palm over the receiver.

Miranda yawned. "While you're working with Jacqui, I'm going to take a nap. Last night did me in." She smiled. "We'll head out this afternoon." The smile became a smirk. "That'll give you time to get some jewelry and makeup on, anyway. Mind you don't get any on your clothes!"

As Erica was walking up the stairs, Jacqui made conversation. "Actually, I was glad to hear you're a programmer. I could use some help, one day when you're ready. Most Sisters..." A chuckle. "...well, let's just say they aren't technically-minded."

"Um, I'm not sure I'm staying... um, as a Sister." Erica said hesitantly, sitting in front of his... her computer.

"I understand. Believe me, I know where you're coming from." Erica could practically see the knowing smirk. "Just give it a fair try, okay? It will be up to you when the time comes. Honest." Now there was an audibly impudent grin; Jacqui had such an expressive voice. "For me, at least, the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks."

"Well, it's sure been... eye-opening so far." She started typing. "Um, I'm logging on. My gamertag on XBox Live is Cyb0rg111..."

~~~~~

Jacqui was amazingly fast, yet thorough. Erica would log into a website for her, and almost before she could refresh the page "Eric's" data was gone or morphed. When in doubt, Jacqui erased. The Transformation in the real world forced an almost complete rebirth in the digital. At least her gaming Achievements made it across. A lot of forum posts and emails got scrapped.

After Jacqui said her goodbyes and hung up, Erica numbly perused "her" Facebook page. She'd gone from a hundred and eight friends to ten, and 'Liked' only a handful of pages. Most of the updates Eric had posted were gone; a few links and generic photos remained.

She stared for a long time at the profile picture. It looked so typical of a high-school-girl's headshot. A picture she'd never posed for, that had been constructed out of the bizarre blend of technology and Magic that Jacqui could apply.

But the face in the picture had some makeup on it. Remembering her Mother's admonition, she looked doubtfully over at the panoply of options on her new dresser.

~~~~~

Her Mom laughed out loud when she saw what Erica had wrought with the potions and creams and powders that had been provided. She helped the novice girl wipe it all off and start over; it was quite evident that model-painting skills only carried over so far.

Erica was dumbfounded when she beheld herself after her mother had finished applying just a few touches here and there. She was pretty, and the makeup definitely did something, but... she also looked so ordinary. 'Eric' would have given her an appreciative once-over... and moved on. At that moment she started to believe that this masquerade might actually be pulled off, though she was far from convinced.

Her Mom took her straight to a mall and Erica began her tutelage in the strange, mazelike world of women's clothing. There was so much more to it - more options, more fabrics, more styles and patterns, and far more subtle rules. Men's pants, to take just one example, were generally a solid color; they might have a stripe at most. Women's pants were cut multiple ways, had more patterns and color mixes and fabrics, and then you got to the ruffles or embroidery or piping or...

They didn't get anything like a complete wardrobe - that was flatly impossible for a girl in one day - focusing simply on getting enough outfits to make it through the first couple weeks of school.

Even within those limits, Erica was numbed by the totals on the receipts as they went from store to store. She realized her Mom must have been saving up for this for a while.

Miranda offered guidance and suggestions, but forced Erica to find her own style to a large extent. She ended up trying to remember outfits she'd seen girls wear, before, and attempting to describe them to her Mother with an inadequate vocabulary. For Erica it was laborious and draining, though it seemed to actually energize her Mom.

She still felt like an impostor, and made some silly mistakes - including almost walking into the Men's room - but it was by turns shocking and reassuring how little undue attention she drew. Undue for a pretty girl, at least. The way boys - and some men - looked at her... that was going to take getting used to. She felt like prey.

She even got her ears pierced, though the girl at the counter was rather surprised someone as old as Erica had never had it done before. She'd stared for the longest time into the mirror after, at the little dangling jewels hanging from her ears. She kept feeling them as she moved, continually reminding her of their presence.

They had dinner out, having shopped well into the evening. Even the way things tasted was slightly different - she ended up putting more butter on her roll than normal. "Do you really think I'll be ready for school?"

Her Mother swallowed quickly and said, "Punkin, you'll be fine. No need to fret."

"I don't even know how to dress myself!" Erica riposted.

"Oh, look! You're already getting the drama of a teenage girl down pat! But you really should have started with, 'Mo-ther," Miranda teased. Erica just glared. "It's not so complicated, you'll see. You did all right this morning."

Erica changed the subject slightly. "What you did with the makeup... I'll never learn that."

"Oh, honey, relax." She put her hand on her daughter's. "Surely, you know a few girls from school who are... less than geniuses?"

Erica's brow crinkled, not sure where her Mother was going with this. "Well, yeah." She hastily added, "I don't think all girls are dumb, Mom, but..."

"I never thought you did, dear. Some people - male or female - aren't very smart. But let me point out - they can handle clothes and makeup and jewelry, right?"

"Well, yeah..."

"You are still an intelligent and creative person, dear. That hasn't changed." Now talking like a sports coach, she asked, "Are you going to let them beat you?"

Both women chuckled, then. "I guess not."

They finished dinner and arrived home. After carrying many of the purchases upstairs, Erica received instructions on how to store and care for all her new things. Then she was brought down to the laundry room for further lessons. "There are more cycles than 'Regular' on the washing machine, my dear. You will definitely need to get acquainted with 'Delicate'," Miranda lectured.

Finally Miranda went to take a bath and Erica was released on her own recognizance. She went back to her room - still a little disturbed by its altered character - and sat on her bed, gazing about. It seemed like every time she turned around, some vast new unsuspected aspect or consequence of this change was in her face. Like bras, for example. She was, apparently, a smaller C cup, but that was still plenty of breast to get sweaty and itchy over the course of the day. She disrobed down to her panties and scratched where the straps had been. The sensation of her nipples hardening at the exposure to cool air sent her thoughts in a different direction.

Eric had never been a transvestite, or had any interest in girls clothes beyond how they looked on girls, and how to get girls out of them. But Erica had spent half the day in and out of changing rooms, and some of the outfits had been... interesting. Dressing up this body - that she still couldn't completely believe was hers - had an almost illicit feel. She went over to the closet and picked out a couple of items she'd noted before.

She hadn't bought any super-short skirts, but one of them could be rolled up at the waist to hike the hemline. Knee-high socks, a white blouse. Then, a couple of hairbands and a little experimentation resulted in some passable pigtails. She could only manage simple makeup - basic lipstick, a little eyeshadow - but that actually fit the image she was going for. Extracting her contacts and switching to glasses was the final touch.

A sexy schoolgirl looked back at her out of the mirror. She really was cute, Erica realized then. Again, not like a supermodel; more in a real, girl-next-door way. She did a few poses, becoming quite aroused. Enjoying this sort of thing too much was what had landed her in this situation, after all... but it couldn't do any more harm now, could it?

Miranda smiled gently as she eased herself into the warm water. Mothers of the newly Transformed had to peek occasionally at their daughters' thoughts during their Transition. Privacy was important... but the changes that Erica had to navigate over the coming weeks and months were profound, and could go wrong. Even many birth-girls managed the change into young women gracelessly, and Erica faced the challenges that were unique to new Sisters.

Let her daughter appreciate her newfound form on at least a physical, sexual level for now. That was certainly the easiest path, and anything that helped her see positives in the Transformation could be built on. Much more was involved in being a woman, needless to say, but she would have chances to learn that in time. The Sisterhood's leadership hadn't reported any dangers looming for at least the next few years, for which Miranda thanked the Goddess.

~~~~~

Erica made sure to take a shower before she came downstairs. She hoped her Mom hadn't heard the moans and cries she'd been making, but at the end she'd been so sweaty and disheveled that it would've been obvious what she'd been up to if she hadn't cleaned up.

Miranda was sipping some milk in the kitchen, reading a magazine; she gave no sign when her daughter appeared. The needs of Transformed women could be... acute, and if Erica felt too frightened or ashamed or embarrassed to express them, it would make many things much harder. "I think I'll turn in soon. I'm still a little tired from all those spells last night, and it was a long day."

"You can say that again," Erica replied, assembling the ingredients for a small sandwich. "What's on the agenda for tomorrow?" she asked, curious.

Miranda stood and stretched. "Deportment, my dear. You move with the grace of a linebacker, and talk like one too, half the time." She sighed. "If you don't want to be teased at school, you'll need to learn to behave in a more ladylike fashion."

Erica gulped. "I still have to do my summer reading."

"Well, young lady, perhaps you should start reading a little every night." She chuckled. "I doubt you'll get much chance tomorrow night, though."

"What do you mean?" Erica asked suspiciously.

"Have you forgotten your sister's coming home in the morning?" An evil smile blossomed on her face. "Wait until we tell Haylie!"

Erica's face fell yet again.

~~~~~

"You mean Eric is my sister now?" Haylie wasn't nearly as stunned as many girls would be. She'd been raised in the religion of the Goddess, and had seen her mother do real Magic before. It had been kind of fun keeping it secret from Eric, just between her and Mom. Her Mom had even taken her flying once. So the Transformation itself was impressive but not a total shock. Getting used to having a big sister was... weird, though.

"Yes, dear. At least for a while. Her name is Erica now." Haylie stared at Erica, who was looking anywhere but into her eyes. She could see the resemblance, but it was hard to connect this girl with her goofy big brother.

"Won't people be kind of upset?"

"I've taken care of that, honey. No one remembers Eric anymore, everyone thinks she's always been Erica." Erica's lips tightened. She stared down at the table.

"Wow, you can do that?" Haylie was impressed again.

"It wasn't easy, but yes." Miranda smiled. "You'll help me make her comfortable, right? Teach her about being a girl?"

"Sure!" Haylie couldn't imagine anyone wanting to be a boy anyway. But that sparked a thought, which swiftly became a worry. "Are you gonna make me a boy someday?" Erica perked up at that, also curious.

Miranda felt the intensity of the stares of both of her daughters. "No, sweetie. Men can't do the work of the Goddess. In a year or two, you'll start your period," she said comfortingly, noticing the apprehensive shadow passing across Erica's face at the mention of menstruation. "Then you can begin becoming a full Sister."

She paused, then frowned theatrically as if something had occurred to her. "Of course, once you complete the training, you could become a boy then, if you wanted." Despite her attempt, she could not suppress the chuckle when she saw the look of horror that prospect brought forth from Haylie, and the glare that drew in turn from Erica.

But she felt a hint of disquiet herself. There'd be a lot more to explain, once the girl formally entered the Sisterhood. Miranda wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

Haylie had once been Harold Rothstein, a powerful dark sorcerer in a group called the Brotherhood. There had been a major battle between the Brotherhood and Sisterhood a decade ago, and the newest Sister, a novice of history-making talent and power - Jacqui Donovan, in fact - had applied the Transformation spell in an unprecedented way, turning a few dozen evil men into baby girls.

Sisters around the world had adopted the new infants. Haylie had been Miranda's ever since. The Sisterhood had never raised girls - since before recorded human history - but she felt she'd done a pretty good job. Haylie was a dear, and Miranda had even learned things about being female from seeing how Haylie grew up. She loved her as much as she loved Eric, her own flesh and blood. Besides, you could dress up little girls in the cutest outfits!

Haylie didn't remember her previous life, really. Miranda knew she had strange dreams sometimes, and feelings of déjà vu. She occasionally showed a wisdom beyond her years. But she was happy, too - Miranda had never spared any love, and Eric had been a doting big brother, despite the usual sibling bickering. Sometimes, when boys were Transformed too soon, when they became girls too young, the power of the Goddess didn't manifest. Thankfully, there were divinations that could at least roughly assess someone's Magical potential. The signs pointed to Haylie developing more-or-less normally - for a Sister, anyway - once she became sexually mature.

It made Erica's Transition a bit more difficult, of course. There were aspects of family life in the Sisterhood that would be hard to explain to both her daughters. That was for another time, though. "Breakfast is over, ladies! Erica, clean up and put on a nice dress - the teal one, I think, and don't forget the heels - and meet me in the living room."

Of course Erica was annoyed and embarrassed by Haylie's comments... but she was surprised at how little it ended up bothering her. Haylie insisted on being part of Erica's 'deportment' lessons, and even she had trouble with some of them, which helped defuse a lot of the older sister's own tension. Mom ran the whole affair like a grande dame in charge of a finishing school: if Haylie hadn't been there giggling Erica would have been much more intimidated.

Skirts were vastly more complicated to manage than pants, and high heels were precarious deathtraps. Such were Erica's conclusions when they wrapped up the 'class' to eat.

She helped make dinner, which was nothing unusual - everybody contributed in the Jardin home. But the dynamics were slightly off, everyone negotiating new mother-daughter and 'big sister'-'little sister' relationships. And yet, what her Mom had said rang true. They were still a family, and that love helped. A lot.

After dinner, Miranda began introducing Erica to the religion of the Goddess. It would be a while before she could start learning Magic proper, but given what had happened, Erica took Miranda's beliefs a lot more seriously now. It wasn't very structured as religions went, holding life sacred, advocating love and peace and nonviolence. It struck her as almost primitive - and she wondered just how old it was.

As Miranda had predicted, Haylie didn't allow Erica much time to herself that night. Only the knowledge that Haylie's incessant questioning came from genuine curiosity, and not an intent to irritate, let Erica bear it. She tried to honestly answer her sister's queries - at least, with answers appropriate for an eleven-year-old. (According to her Mom, sex was a sacred gift from the Goddess, not something to be ashamed of, and their upbringing had reflected that. But, because sex was sacred, it was not a casual thing and had to be treated with respect - nor was it something for children.)

They ended up having a family game night, something they hadn't done in months. Again, the dynamics were just that touch off, but the familiarity of the situation helped her relax further than she'd expected. She got to sleep more easily that night... though only after getting herself off. She'd always heard that girls didn't masturbate as much as boys, but she felt at least as horny as Eric ever had.

~~~~~

The next days were spent in much the same way. Femininity classes in the morning and afternoon, and 'rec time' in the evening. Movie nights were weird; she couldn't help looking at the situations from a different point of view. 'Chick flicks' weren't inherently more interesting, but she paid more attention to them for the educational opportunities. In some ways, it was nice; the family hadn't spent so much time together in years.

Still, the unanticipated ramifications of the Transformation kept cropping up. Erica was astounded at how much more complicated feminine hygiene was - and they hadn't even gotten to periods. Those lessons were excruciatingly embarrassing, almost humiliating, but her Mother handled them with sensitivity and humor, while at the same time emphasizing how necessary they were. "Take it from me, girl, you do not want to learn first-hand what a yeast infection feels like."

She got another surprise when she showed up for work. Pretty girls like Erica weren't busboys at restaurants - they were hostesses. Luckily one of the waitresses stopped her before she went inside wearing grubby clothes. She raced home before the manager spotted her, changed into a more suitable outfit, and got back only a few minutes late.

She'd - well, technically, he'd - worked there long enough to have soaked up the system by osmosis, so she managed the job reasonably well. It did make her reflect on the different trials men and women faced in the job market, though. One of the patrons tried to cop a feel, too, which was - to her - completely out of the blue.

The ways that boys and men reacted to her now were endlessly disconcerting. Holding doors open for her, letting her ahead in line. Once even whistles from a passing car. And - seemingly always - looking at her.

Women and girls, too, behaved differently toward her, as either a fellow-traveller or - even more weirdly - competitor. In many ways it wasn't any different than how other males had reacted when she'd been Eric... except that he hadn't felt attracted to other men. Despite being female now, she still stared at girls, not boys. Concealing that was sometimes a challenge.

And then, when she went to exercise, it was shocking how much strength she'd lost, at least in the upper body. Benches, curls, presses... it was like she was thirteen again. Fourteen, maybe. Her legs were stronger, maybe eighty percent of before. Her pain threshold might have been a little lower, it was hard to tell. Her overall endurance appeared to have been enhanced by the change, at least.

~~~~~

Erica lay in her bed, vaguely frustrated. Even as Eric, she... he hadn't masturbated every night. After her new nightly routine - which now included things like applying moisturizer and checking to see if her eyebrows needed to be plucked, how weird was that - she'd intended to just go to sleep tonight without frigging herself... mostly to prove that she could.

But apparently she couldn't.

Deciding that if she had to have an orgasm, it might as well be a good one, she climbed out of bed, slipped off her nightgown, and went over to her desk. Logging on, she opened the hidden directory and began to look around. Her Mother hadn't changed the computer at all; the pictures and videos were still there.

She opened a set of photos at random and beheld the naked beauty arrayed in various positions. She felt... not conflicted, exactly, but... different. Oh, she still got horny. It manifested in a strange way in this new body, of course, but she was almost becoming used to that. At the same time, though, other thoughts occurred to her. Ones she'd never had cause to entertain: What would she look like in that pose? Was she as sexy as this girl?

Did she want to be?

She clicked to another set. The huge breasts still looked attractive, lickable even, but she now felt a pang of sympathy for what it must be like to lug them around every day, even if they were fake. Which made her think about cosmetic surgery - not wanting it for herself, but being so consumed by image that someone would choose to do that. It had only been one week, but she'd begun to think more and more about how she looked. She couldn't imagine choosing surgery - and she realized with bemusement that she had started to take a modicum of pride in her appearance. Still, she could at least see the outlines of what might push girls in that direction.

Even as these thoughts percolated, she was shifting on her chair, feeling herself getting honestly wet. A different girl on the screen now, with an impossibly tiny waist. While she stroked herself gently through her panties, she found that she was examining the girl's makeup too, trying to figure out what had been done where. What would she look like all slutted up like that?

Outside wasn't enough now. Her fingers slid under the waistband and between her lips, gently teasing. A throaty whine escaped her. That first night, she'd thought she'd become an expert on pleasing girls, but she'd learned even more since then.

A series of pictures, a woman progressively removing lingerie. She hadn't bought any such frippery on their shopping trip, unable to bear the thought of trying such things on in front of her Mom. Now she wondered if she could manage a solo trip to the mall. It would be wild to put on an outfit like that...

Her fingers moved faster now, urged on by images both electronic and mental.

A woman playing with a dildo. Erica had tried out the shower massager a few days ago and wondered intensely what a more solid toy might be capable of.

She fingered her clit deftly, squeezing her mouth shut to keep the moans from carrying. And something new - kneading her breasts, rubbing her nipples. Masturbation as a boy focused on one area, but for a girl there were so many places to benefit from attention...

Two girls playing with each other, embracing, kissing, fingering, tonguing. Oh God... Goddess, she wanted to join them. It would feel so good...

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, muffling the scream as she came explosively, body jerking, hips bucking.

Panting, she rested for a few moments. Then she shut off the monitor and fled to her nightgown, her bed, seeking sleep. If she'd looked at any more pictures, she'd have started up again...

~~~~~

She turned the mower around at the edge of their lawn and peered out of the corner of her eye. There was no doubt about it - Mr. Kryspecki was staring at her. She put her eyes on the grass in front of her and wondered what to do.

Eric had actually never minded lawnmowing much. A chance to zone out and listen to music, mostly. But the Transformation had changed that.

The first annoyance had been just finding something to wear. She didn't have any old, worn-out clothes! A nonessential t-shirt and some sacrificial socks didn't bother her much, but she was going to need another pair of sneakers; the grass stains would never come out of these. At the time she'd considered herself clever to put on the short-shorts; grass clippings wouldn't get that high. Mr. Kryspecki was making her rethink that.

Just getting the mower started had been annoying. Her slimmer arms couldn't generate the same force. She'd finally had to pop out the sparkplug and squirt starter fluid into the engine.

She came around again, stole a glance... and he was still looking. It was creepy. She felt guilty for all the times Eric had rolled his eyes at girls complaining about 'dirty old men'. She was almost certain he was just ogling, that he wasn't going to actually attack her or anything.

But only almost certain.

She knew the odds were overwhelmingly against there being any actual danger. So she told herself, repeatedly. But a little voice in the back of her mind wondered if she might have too little experience to judge a real threat. And if he did try... something... he was in his fifties, but he was a big guy. She was so much weaker now...

Moving to the backyard gave some relief. But eventually she turned off her mp3 player and took out her headphones. Just in case she might hear something over the roar of the engine.

Finally the job was done and she went indoors. Miranda found her curled up on the couch, staring out the window. "What's wrong, honey?" she asked. "You look a little down."

Erica shrugged. "It's nothing, Mom."

"Don't give me that, young lady," Miranda ordered sternly. "Something's bothering you." She didn't need to Magically probe to see that.

"I didn't think it showed that much," Erica said as her Mother sat beside her and wrapped her in a hug. Haltingly, confused and a little sheepish, she told her story.

"Oh, Goddess," Miranda sighed when she was done, "I'm so sorry you went through that. I should have remembered what an ass Bill is." Erica took heart in the glare Miranda threw toward the Kryspecki home. Enraged Mothers could be fearsome. She hadn't been comforted in quite that way by maternal protection since she'd been a little boy.

Miranda smiled ruefully. "I could have told you that he's a lech, but the main danger he poses is at the block parties. Don't turn your back on him unless you want to get pinched."

"Oh, I'm so stupid!" Erica grumbled, upset at her overreaction.

"No, dear, you are not. I'm actually glad you're aware that men will be paying different kinds of attention to you now. And you'll learn soon enough to better tell the difference between attention that's just annoying, and attention that's really cause for concern."

"I'll have to," Erica grumbled further. "Thanks, Mom."

"Enough of that, young lady," Miranda admonished. "It's something all women have to come to terms with. Haylie will." Erica's brow furrowed as she pondered that. "Do you think it'll make her wish she wasn't a girl? Or perhaps she'll just wish men were different?"

That was clearly a perspective Erica had never considered.

~~~~~

The family had gone out to dinner the next night. Ostensibly it had been something of a test, to see how her feminine behavior held up in public, but Erica knew it was also a semi-celebration of the two-week 'anniversary' of her Transformation. It had started out fun, and she'd almost felt comfortable, but she hadn't been very hungry. Then, to top it all off, one of her former friends had been a few tables over. She'd stared at him a little too long; she was pretty sure he'd thought she was flirting with him.

On the way home she'd been fairly subdued. As soon as they got in, she went and laid on the couch; what little she'd eaten was disagreeing with her. After twenty minutes of channel-surfing, she sought out Miranda. "Mom... I don't feel so hot." She winced, holding her belly. "I think I might have some food poisoning. Maybe the salad dressing was off?"

Her Mother looked at her sympathetically. "No, dear, Haylie and I had the same things and we're fine. This is something else." At Erica's blank look, she reached out to touch her daughter's arm. "I'm afraid you're starting your period, punkin."

A lot of women would have been amused or irritated by the look of dawning comprehension and horror that blossomed on Erica's face at that news. Miranda herself got annoyed by the overblown revulsion some men claimed at the very concept of menstruation. (Especially when they seemed to pride themselves on better handling 'gross' things in general.)

But she couldn't be upset at her daughter; Erica's reaction wasn't that hysterical, and she herself had felt the same way, once. Many, many birth-girls, knowing for years that it was coming, found the onset of menses troubling... and boys just didn't get any psychological preparation for it.

"This isn't anyone's favorite part of being female, sweetie, but it'll be okay," she said comfortingly. Standing, she pulled her daughter to bathroom and commenced giving Erica the necessary instructions for dealing with what she called her 'First Flow'. There wasn't an associated ritual, but it was a sacred thing to Sisters, she explained.

"Can't I use a tampon?" Erica asked, seeing her Mother draw out some pads from the cabinet.

"Perhaps someday, dear, if you choose. But for now, we don't know how heavy your flow will be, or how long it will last. Until you're more used to your body's reactions, more experienced with your own cycle, we'll stick to these." She headed off the stubborn frown gathering on her daughter's brow with a quick question: "Have you ever heard of toxic shock syndrome?"

Erica had not. After it had been explained, she paid very close attention to her Mother's instructions. Her apprehensions were eased by their easygoing, humorous delivery, but it was somewhat embarrassing having to expose herself so intimately to her Mother once again.

She spent a quiet evening, feeling increasingly ill. It wasn't arousal that gave Erica trouble falling asleep that night. Her cramps had started in earnest.

Lying in the dark, feeling sick and weak and pained, she fought back tears for a time. But she finally gave in and wept, telling herself that crying was part of becoming a girl, that it'd speed the time when she could become Eric again and put periods behind her. And it helped. Before long she fell into an uneasy slumber.

Down the hall, Miranda's eyes were wet, too. She had peeked at her elder daughter's thoughts and was coming to understand how much restraint her own Mother must have shown, once. Healing was not her talent, but she had the training and could ease Erica's pain handily, take much of it upon herself. All she had to do was walk down the hall, lay her hands on her daughter...

But Sisters never interfered with the First Flow of the Transformed. It was a rite of passage, important for reasons both sacred and practical. Unpleasant as it could be, it was a gift of the Goddess nonetheless, a true miracle.

And it worked to bring home the reality of the Transformation in an unavoidable way. Most new Sisters maintained a certain denial for a time, or at least tried to avoid confronting the full implications of the Transformation. After all, quite a few men dressed up as women, and some of them could be - externally - very convincing. Frequently the Transformed would believe, on some level, that the change was skin-deep; an excellent costume, no more.

But only women had to deal with menses. It was hard to pretend you didn't have a uterus when the cramps were insistently telling you exactly where it was. Using Magic to smooth that road the first time would only postpone the psychological adjustments needed to become a full Sister.

So Miranda also cried herself to sleep. But saddened as she was by her daughter's pain, she wept tears of love and pride as well.

~~~~~

Five days later, Erica was doubly grateful her First Flow was over. After the initial night, the cramps and nausea had significantly abated, but she'd still felt tired and generally crappy the entire time. She was well satisfied to be past that, though her relief was shadowed by the knowledge that its return was inevitable. The other reason for gratitude was more positive - Miranda said that she could now start teaching her Magic. It would be some time before Erica could actually perform any spells, but her mother began to impart a grounding in the theory.

It wasn't like Harry Potter. The power to change reality came from within - from the Goddess, she was taught. Spells acted to focus that power, direct it most efficiently. They were like recipes, though, in that the rules were flexible and could be modified and shifted for different effects and situations. Likewise, one couldn't become a mistress of Magic overnight any more than one could become a master chef in an instant.

Culinary metaphors, Erica understood. Miranda was employed as the main cookbook editor for an independent publisher, so her hours were flexible. She mostly worked from home. And her children had grown up soaking up her enthusiasm for adventurous, homemade cuisine.

The behavior lessons were bearing more fruit than she would have believed, before. It was almost disturbing how feminine her demeanor was now, even when she wasn't thinking about it. She kept her legs together when sitting in a skirt, and usually remembered not to bend over too far in them. Indeed, it only occasionally felt strange anymore that she was wearing women's clothes. She'd gotten used to caring for long hair. She could handle heels well, at least on level ground, and she wouldn't be wearing those to school anyway.

She was still frightened of going back to school as a girl. The heart-stopping terror was gone, though, and she was beginning to think it might - just conceivably - be managed. With luck. During her period, while laying around feeling ill, she'd even gotten her school reading done early.

So her mother had added new reading requirements - fashion magazines and a pair of romance novels. And then she'd quizzed her daughter on the contents. A few days later, Miranda dropped another surprise. She took both her daughters to a beauty parlor for full makeovers. That had been an experience, especially because it had turned into another kind of quiz, with her Mother and the stylist insisting on her input.

She just stared in the mirror for the longest time when they were done, astonished. It looked like her, sort of... yet she didn't have cheekbones quite that high, did she? Or lips that full, or eyes so sultry... She was turning herself on, which was confusing enough, but imagining how the kids at school would react to someone like this... she felt a disconcerting flash of pride.

As they left, Haylie said, "Wow, sis, you look really pretty." Erica stared guardedly at her sister for a beat, and then felt guilty. So far as she could tell, Haylie's compliment had been just that - a genuine and honest compliment. Not even the 'sis' had been ironic.

"You look great, too, Haylie," she replied, smiling. And she did, with bright pink nails and a hint of glitter on her face. The very picture of a young girl, not quite ready to begin her journey into womanhood. Erica felt a connection to her sister on whole new level, a novel understanding of how she thought and felt.

Behind them, unseen, Miranda beamed.

~~~~~

The end of her first period brought one final consequence. Erica fidgeted in her waiting-room chair, unable to concentrate. "Mom, do I really have to do this?"

"Erica, we're done with this conversation." Miranda's voice bristled with annoyance. "Love of the Goddess, you didn't fuss this much about the Transformation!"

The door opened. A nurse called out, "Erica Jardin?" She nodded and stood and followed her back to a room, her Mother in tow. The nurse left, and Erica began to disrobe her lower half. "Why this one? Is she a Sister or something?" Anything to distract her from what awaited.

"No, Dr. Simmons isn't one of us. But although she doesn't know it, she has a talent for working with the newly Transformed." Erica peered narrowly at Miranda. "She's gentle and not at all condescending. Feel free to ask anything you want. She won't make you feel like your questions are strange or stupid."

Eyeing the stirrups with trepidation, Erica asked again, "Do I really have to do this?"

An exasperated sigh escaped her Mother. "You should thank the Goddess you're too young for mammograms," Miranda groused. But then the door opened and Dr. Simmons came in.

The gynecologist was indeed gentle. While the exam was uncomfortable nonetheless, it was nowhere near as bad as Erica had built up in her head. She managed to put Erica at ease almost at once with her unthreatening manner, and she took Erica's rather basic questions in stride. Upon finishing, Dr. Simmons gave suitable advice on hygiene, then discussed contraception and a course of HPV vaccine. Erica still judged it quite unlikely she'd ever do what it took to catch an STD from a boy... but after three weeks in this body, feeling its raging hormones, she couldn't deny the chances were greater than zero. She got the first round of shots and walked out clutching a prescription for birth control pills.

Afterward, her Mother took her out to lunch. As they ate, Miranda took the opportunity to discuss a consequence of Erica's Magical heritage. "Honey, before you go off to school, there's something you need to know." Her mouth twisted in wry amusement. "I know you don't intend to have anything to do with boys. That way, for now." Erica blushed a little. "But should you ever change your mind, you need to be aware. Sisters... well, birth control isn't terribly reliable for us."

"What do you mean, Mom?" Erica asked cautiously.

"If a Sister wants the baby of the man she's making love with - or even if she's not firmly opposed to the idea - she will get pregnant. No matter what chemicals or barriers or whatnot she uses." Miranda shrugged apologetically. "The heart of women's Magic is tied to giving and nurturing life."

Erica considered that for a moment, remembering her lessons in the religion of the Goddess. "And abortion's out, right?"

"Just so, honey. Anyone who deliberately ends another human life forfeits the Gift of the Goddess. Forever."

Erica was quiet for several seconds. "So, no messing around. Got it."

"Well, there are limits. Vaginal intercourse is still required." Her grin was impish. "I mean, I happen to know that sperm won't make it from your stomach to your womb," she said with a wink.

"Mo-oom!" Erica gasped, scandalized.

"Get used to it, dear. Women are much earthier among themselves than they are around men." Miranda looked smug.

Erica shivered and tried to change the subject. "So if I really don't want a baby? Can that, like, keep me from getting pregnant?"

"My, for a girl who doesn't like boys you're sure looking for loopholes," Miranda teased.

Erica glared ferociously. "I'm just... Control's a little difficult for me now, thanks to you. Once I get really turned on, I have to get off." She looked at her Mother, pleading, her expression serious. "If I get in over my head..."

Miranda relented. "It is possible to shield oneself to an extent. Enough to allow birth control to work, anyway." She shook her head sadly. "But that requires a great deal of discipline and self-knowledge. The kind that only comes from mastering the Transformation spell." Which you can't do until you've given birth, she left unspoken. "And not all Sisters can do it, even then."

Erica frowned. "So by the time I have a choice about it... I'll be Eric again."

"If that's your decision, punkin," Miranda replied gently. Erica looked away then, troubled.

Continued in Part 2