Something Feels Strange…

The three women just stare at me for a few moments with surprised expressions.

"I see you have a problem," Mrs. Harrison breaks the silence.

"You think?" I reply sarcastically.

Chapter 12: Clearing the Air

Did you know that running in a billowing skirt is challenging?  I didn't until just now.  That cool-feeling piece of feminine attire is a royal pain in the ass when you want to run.  I don't get far.

After my little outburst, I turned on my heel and made a quick exit from the cabin with tears streaming down my face. I crossed the expansive lawn to the lake edge, looking for a trail that would take me out of sight of the lodge.  The combination of the skirt and Laurie's sandals put an end to an extended flight. In total frustration, I just sit down on the lawn.

I discovered another problem with a skirt.  As I plopped myself down, it billowed out and I ended up sitting my pantied butt directly on the coarse crab grass. To put it mildly it is not at all comfortable.  I think that I have a thorn of some kind in my panties.

To add insult to injury, a swarm of mosquitoes decides that it is lunch time and that I am the main course on the menu. If you have never seen Alaskan mosquitoes, then you have never seen a real mosquito before.  These things look like small birds. Really. I swear, the perfume that Laurie put on me this morning must attract them.

So here I sit. In a very unlady-like fashion, in a skirt, course grass poking me in the butt, mosquitoes eating me alive, and a world of people conspiring against me. My new boss, my ex-girlfriend and her mother, my family–just about everybody. And all I can do is cry. Oh, and don't forget about the four camouflage wearing soldiers carrying automatic weapons and big packs that just popped out of the woods. Great.

Just when I thought I had a grip on things, it seems as if someone has come along and turned my world upside down. Until now, I have been feeling pretty good about how I was handling all this, so how did it get out of control so fast?

One of the soldiers sees my predicament with the insects and offers me some spray-on mosquito repellant. Without looking at his face, I just take the can and angrily start spraying all over myself, including up my skirt. I discover that bug dope stings the eyes and tastes horrible. I start to gag and spit–much to the amusement of the soldiers.

I glare at them. "What's your problem," I demand.

They all back up a step and look at each other with that 'what's wrong with this chick' expression.

The guy who loaned me the spray says, "You're not from around here, I can tell, or you wouldn't have sprayed that in your face. Most folks around here spray some on their hand then rub it on their face.  That way you don't eat it or get it in your eyes.

"Look Miss, it is apparent that you are having a bad day here and none of us are counselors. We'll just mosey on and let you sort it out, okay?" he says cautiously.

My tears have stopped but I am feeling pretty foolish. I am sure that my makeup is a mess. "Sure. Ah... thanks for the bug dope." I tell them sheepishly, handing it back to the soldier.

"Hey, Chica, it can only get better from here," another soldier tosses my way as they disappear back into the forest.

I am still sitting on the ground with grass poking my panties, but I ponder that last comment.  Somehow it sounds like the best thought that has come my way all day.  Strange, but that comment is what allows me to pull myself together.  It can't get much worse.

I still wish that I could go for a run, but figure now is as good of time as any to do my heavy thinking. I can't do this sitting down, so I get up and find an informal path around the edge of the lake, obviously made by fisherman. The path is pretty rugged and overgrown, but I can negotiate it, after a fashion, wearing a skirt.

I still have grass in my panties so I duck behind a bush looking carefully around before I drop my skirt and slip to brush the grass off my butt.  Somewhere not too far away someone lets loose with a 'wolf' whistle which is followed by a slap and a grunt–So much for privacy! At this point, I don't care.  At least not too much.

Picking my way around the lake, I start to think.

So, I ask myself, what exactly is the problem?

Let's start easy and work to the hard part.

First off, a group of people has been spying on me all winter. So what is wrong with that?  It is not like I was doing anything wrong. Yeah, but isn't that invasion of privacy? Maybe in a way, but I've done it myself.  What guy hasn't checked out a girl for like forever before getting the nerve to talk to her or ask her out? I remember checking out Allison McIntyre in 7th grade.  I figured out where she lived, who she hung out with, what her favorite soda pop was, what her favorite TV show was and more long before I had the guts even talk to her at school. I suppose that some folks would call that stalking, but everyone does it.  As near as I can tell, girls do it more than boys when they have the hots for someone. The object of their desire is often the last to know.  In a way, the Lab's interest in me is similar; it is just that their methods are much more sophisticated. They were just checking out a potential relationship. Okay, I won't worry about this issue again. I can understand what they did and I can live with it.

Dang this skirt! It seems to get hung up on every piece of foliage in the forest! The sandals aren't much good on this path either. My legs are getting scratched up by the brush.

A more difficult problem is that they turned me into a girl without my consent.  What is so bad about that?  First of all, while I never wanted to be a girl, it doesn't seem so bad once you're there.  Heck half the world deals with it.  It's just a different perspective, right?  Also, importantly, the condition, in my case, is only temporary. In a way, it is a kind of adventure.  No, the real problem is not that they turned me into a girl, but that they did it without asking for my consent.  That is a real problem.

I am pretty sure that the head of the security team should be called on the carpet for jumping the gun.  Somebody should at least give the decision maker a piece of her mind.  I'd gladly volunteer for the job.

As much as I hate to admit it, though, that first night in the store really served two useful purposes.  For the security team, it was a great test of my character–which I passed. Evidently they felt better about the second unauthorized transformation after analyzing my response to the first one. For me, I got a small, though confused, taste at what was to come and had a week for my subconscious mind to work on it–with a little help from my family and friends.  The experience awakened a curiosity in me that I had never had before.

So besides the principle of the thing, there was no harm done. As we say in pickup basketball: no harm, no foul. I guess I can let this issue go too, but I still want word to get back to the team that they must watch their step.

Okay, so now we are left with the really big problem–Laurie.

By now I am about half way around the small lake–actually you could call in a big pond.  I stoop to pick up a handful of small stones, then sit down on a fallen log by the lake, taking care to smooth my skirt under me this time.  While I continue my pondering, I toss the stones, one by one, into the lake.

Laurie. 

The dilemma.

Does she love me or does she love me not?  I feel like I should be plucking at a daisy.

Let's look at the facts.

First off, she only noticed me because she was assigned to observe me. Am I that featureless as a guy that a girl has to be assigned to me to notice me?  I've never had much luck getting noticed by girls. Not even my sisters. That is a deflating thought. I guess the guys on the cross country running team are not exactly babe magnets. I have never understood why the prettiest girls go after Neanderthals, but they do. A stray thought crosses my mind, that maybe I can find out why they do, now that I'm masquerading as a girl. That could be useful information.

Now, just because she was assigned to check me out doesn't necessarily mean that her feelings for me are fake. She is a pretty good actress if they are. But would she put herself on a shelf for a year just for an assignment?  Maybe, if the pay was good enough. I just don't know. There is only one person who really knows for sure. I look across the lake at the cabin and wonder what she is thinking.

Now, it is true that we have kept our relationship pretty low key physically. Is this because she can only act so well and is repulsed about taking it further? That is possible, but actually, it was I who proposed keeping it that way. I like to keep things under control so as not to complicate life. Does that decision just make her job easier, or is she genuinely just a good girl that wants to stay that way? Again, there is only one person to ask and she is sitting in the cabin across the lake.

Where can we go from here? Obviously we can't play boyfriend/girlfriend this summer. Even if she was into girls, a lesbian relationship would have the same emotional baggage as the heterosexual one we have been putting off until we are ready to handle it. I don't think that either one of us is ready for that yet. That means, at best, we can be best friends this summer. Best girl friends doesn't seem like the right term either. I'm a guy with a girl's body as a disguise, after all. I guess that means that we are just best friends, leaving gender out of it.

I run out of stones, so I continue picking my way around the lake.

I am pretty sure that Laurie at least likes me as a friend. I have dreaded the day when she will suggest that we be 'just friends'–the kiss of death for any romantic relationship. My Dad has told me that it is more than likely that I will hear that phrase more than once before I find the girl that wants to spend the rest of her life with me as much as I want to spend the rest of mine with her. In fact, I am likely to use it on a girl or two myself.  It is best not to rush into situations which you will later regret.  Sex being one of those situations. He tells me that, contrary to what Hollywood would have us believe, sex is an emotional hand grenade best used within a well developed relationship. So far I have believed him. So chances are, Laurie is not THE ONE, but I would certainly like to end up with a girl like her when I am old enough to settle down. Dad tells me that I have lots of time and I should date a few more girls before making a decision about whom to settle down with.  There are other things to worry about first–such as my education. This all sounds reasonable, but I am hoping right now that Laurie is the one.

Okay, so I am wandering a bit, both physically and mentally.

So what is the bottom line?

First, if she loves me then we can work through this summer as friends and learn more about each other in ways that we never dreamed of.  This could be a great relationship builder as long as we both know that my 'condition' is temporary.

Second, if she loves me not but at least thinks I'm a nice guy then we can work at being co-workers and maybe get to the point where we are just friends. I will end up with a heartache, but that would happen anyway. It would be better to end our relationship as friends than enemies. I am sure that a break up won't be fatal. It will just hurt a lot.

If it turns out that she has been leading me on only out of a sense of duty then, we'll just work at being colleagues. I haven't always liked co-workers in the past when assigned to groups for school and scouting projects, but we were able to get the job done. It would be tough but we could do it.

So–those are all the options I can come up with.

By now I have completed my circuit of the small lake.  Looking up at the cabin, I see the ladies standing by the picture window watching me.  I give them a little wave and get three hesitant waves back.  I beckon to Laurie to come join me.  It is time for our talk.

Laurie is more sensibly dressed than I am–she's wearing jeans and a nice T-shirt. Wise girl.

Soon she is attacked by the same insects that came after me.  Looking into the forest I shout, "Is there anybody out there that can spare some bug dope?"

A can comes flying out of the woods. Those guys hide pretty well. "Keep it, Chica," comes a voice from the forest.

"Thanks, guys," I called out in reply.

After dousing Laurie with Alaskan perfume, we sit together on the grass by the lake. I make sure to smooth my skirt under my tush this time.

After a couple minutes of quiet contemplation, Laurie tentatively asks, "Kris? Are you going to be okay? Do you hate me?"

Thinking for a couple of seconds, I reply, "Oh, I'm sure I'll be okay.  I don't know whether or not to hate you yet.

"Laurie?", I struggle to ask the big question, "has it been a sham? Have you been pretending to like me all this time?"

She is quiet for a minute before she starts. "Kris, I know you don't trust me right now, but I hope that you try to understand what I am about to tell you. I promise that I will tell you the truth."

Oh no–this sounds ominous.

After taking a deep breath she begins; "Last summer, Mom asked me to help her with a project at work.  She said that they were recruiting someone for a special job at the Lab and this person needed to meet a set of stringent criteria.  They had already identified four likely candidates. I was acquainted with two of them, but you and one other I did not know at all. I was given questionnaires to fill out on each one you.  I was able to answer most of the questions for the two that I knew, but had to find a way to get to know the other two of you before I could answer any of the questions about you.

"It was suggested that I take the math course because both of you were in that class.  The electronics course was suggested since you were enrolled in it and you were already a leading candidate for the job. I suspect that your lead was a result of high your grades and scouting experience. The electronics class looked like a good way for us to meet. I was qualified to take both courses, but they were not on my schedule. I am, as you know, more interested in history and political science than technical subjects. Anyway, I decided to take the classes. They would look good on my transcripts if nothing else.

"I must admit it was exciting to play the secret agent. I also admit that I used my feminine wiles on you that first month to get you to 'help' me with my math and electronics. The 'maiden-in-distress' move is particularly effective on you," she said with a sad smile.

Ouch!  That hurts!  I was suckered!

"Anyway, after a couple of weeks I was able to complete the first questionnaires and sent them in.  I didn't hear back from Mom's team for a couple of weeks, so I was thinking my job was done," she continued.

"After submitting the first questionnaires, I found that I was indeed a maiden-in-distress. I didn't particularly like either the math or electronics courses and was struggling. Your help was greatly appreciated. I'm not sure when it happened, but sometime in there as you were helping me, I really started to like you. You are a genuinely nice guy."

Nice guy!? Another bad sign. The term 'nice guy' is right up there with 'let's be friends'. I am starting to get depressed.

"You'd be surprised how hard it is for a girl to find a guy that she can trust.  Someone who is not just trying to get into her panties all the time," she says. "You are different. You are the kind of guy that a girl can take home to meet her parents. You also treated me like an equal and with respect. No guy had ever done that to me before. I knew that you were interested in me, but I have been suspicious of male intentions since Pam's troubles, so I was careful to keep things platonic and was happy to learn that you wanted the same."

Pam is one of Laurie's best friends and is a single mother at the age of seventeen.  The story, as I understand it, is that she was dating some Neanderthal and he convinced her that he was truly in love with her. One afternoon when they were alone at her house after school, she finally relented to his pressure and had sex with him. By sundown, the Neanderthal, had spread the word about his conquest.  The next day at school was a living hell for Pam. She was branded as a slut and all the sleaziest guys were trying to get their piece of her.  It wasn't too long after that that she found out that she was pregnant and she had to let her family know.  It wasn't fun, but fortunately her parents were there for her and helped her through the crisis.  The caveman refused to take responsibility for anything so it took court action to get him to help pay for the baby once she decided to keep it.  Pam is now struggling with taking care of a baby boy and trying to get through high school.  She has few friends and no social life.  This is not what she dreamed of for herself at this point in her life.  It is a sad, but is an all too common tale.

We know others of our peer group that are engaged in sexual activities, but they all seem to be carrying around a lot of emotional baggage with them. Particularly the girls.  It is our observation of these problems that has kept us from the next level in our relationship.

Laurie continues, "I never told you this, and it must not go any further, but after that first day back at school, Pam tried to commit suicide because she felt so bad.  Her mother found her passed out on the floor of the bathroom with an empty bottle of pills beside her.  They were lucky to get her to the hospital in time.  I spent the weekend at the hospital crying with her.  She told me more about the actual experience with the caveman.  He had been pressuring her for weeks to have sex.  He told her that if she loved him as much as he loved her that it was the right thing to do. She eventually fell for the argument. When they were making out at her house after school one day, she finally let him feel her up.  One thing led to another and it took only minutes for him to heat up; before she knew it, he was practically tearing the clothes off her.  She tried to get him to slow down, but all he could think of was to get his thing poked inside her pussy. He was rough and came fast. It was a painful experience for her and he didn't seem to care. All he could say after he was done was that he couldn't wait to try it again.  He had no regard for her feelings. He didn't even stick around, he just got dressed and left with a big smile on his stupid face.  She felt violated and used.  It wasn't at all like she expected. She locked herself in her room and cried her eyes out that night. Then, the next day when the whole school seemed to know what happened, she really fell apart. The caveman had the nerve to ask her if she was up for another round after school.  It was obvious that the jerk didn't care about her, just about satisfying his own animal lust.

"Anyway, after that weekend with Pam, I decided that my first time would be different. Some of the girls I know who are sexually active tell me that I'm a dreamer and a hopeless romantic. Sex is just sex but I don't see it that way.  I want it to be something special. It's been my observation that sex without friendship and true emotional bonding seems to destroy relationships instead of building them.

"What's great about you, is that you seem to understand that. Oh, I can feel you get aroused when we are kissing–I get aroused too–but you keep it under control.  You respect my feelings.

"As I got to know you more, I came to trust you and like you a whole lot. Is it love? I hope that true love is something like what I feel for you, but we are still young.  As we are constantly reminded, it is likely that our hormones have more control than reason at this point in our lives.  I figure that there's lots of life left to live and I have some big goals. I don't want to do anything to complicate or compromise the future, so I want us to take our time and just enjoy the ride. If it works out for us, I'll be very happy, but if not, hopefully we will each find something even better and still cherish the time that we've had together. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"What I think you are saying," I say softly, "is that you connected with me because you were told to, but found that you liked what you found.  However, we are just good friends at this point."

"Well," she says sheepishly, "maybe a little more than just good friends. And I don't want to lose that, though I think that we might after what has happened to you if you can't forgive me.  Let me finish the story. There are a few more things that I feel bad about that you need to know."

The heartache is growing, but at least she is not saying that she maintained the loving facade when she actually didn't like me.  That seems like a small victory.

"After the first month or so, you and one other person were the only ones still in the running for the Lab job.  The other person is a real girl and I better not tell you who she is. I was game to have an excuse to move forward with getting closer to you at that point since I had come to realize what a rare find you are. Over the winter I filled out a number of other questionnaires on the two of you and, as I did so, I was starting to feel like a traitor to you as my feelings for you grew.  I was assured that the information was going to be used for a good purpose and I was actually helping you to attain a great honor. The past few months, most of the questions have been about you instead of the other person, so I figured that you were becoming the favored candidate for whatever was up. I began again to worry more about what was happening and was again reassured that something good was going to happen.

"Well, imagine my surprise that Friday morning a week and a half ago, when Mom took me to work with her.  Something urgent was going on.  A panel of people quizzed me on every aspect of your personality and character.  They wanted to know the details of our relationship and didn't believe me at first when I said that it was not sexual.  This went on for over an hour, then I was left to wait in my mother's office for several more hours with strict instructions not to contact anyone.  I had to ignore your messages.

"By early afternoon some decision had been reached and it was decided to include me in the process.  I went before the panel again and was asked if I was willing to help with a project that involved national security and could possibly save the lives of many people.  What could I say?  Who wouldn't like to be a part of such a thing? So I said yes. That is when they told me of the plan to transform you into a girl to work at the lab on a secret assignment for the summer.  It sounded so unbelievable, but it didn't take a rocket scientist figure out if they could do that, that this was an undercover assignment of some sort. I argued with them, that if they had to transform you, at least they could make you a different male.  They said that that that wouldn't work but wouldn't share with me the reasons.  I suspect that it is because a girl might find it easier to work into the confidence of whoever the bad guys are.

"They did tell me that they had planned to do the transformation a week later when school got out, but that circumstances had caused them to move up the schedule and they didn't have time to ease you into the role. They also said that there was still a chance that they could go back to the old schedule, but that we had to move that night to do the initial work in case they couldn't. They wanted me to help by outfitting you with a basic wardrobe.  They felt that having someone around that you trusted would help you with the transition. I was told that I couldn't tell you what was going on since there also was a chance that they might pull the plug on the whole assignment and they didn't want you to know what was happening if they did.  They were aware that the outfitting would be a temporary transformation and could be made to appear to be a dream.

"I agreed to help for a number of reasons.  First, I wanted to be there to help you.  I knew that this was going to be hard for you and I knew that you would need a friend. It was going to happen even if I didn't help.  Next, as I thought about it, I figured that we could turn this into a test to see if we liked each other for who we are and not just for our genders.  I figure that if we can still be friends after taking sex out of the equation, then there is hope for greater things for us.  Sorry, Kris, I know that I am being selfish here, but I want us to be the best of friends for who we are, not for what we can do to each other.

"If it is any consolation, I did try to convince them to let you know beforehand what was to happen, but somebody on the committee was really against the idea. I told them that they could trust you to be discrete but nobody listened to me. Sorry.

"I felt that the best thing that I could do for you was to be there to help you with the change as best I could.  I doubt that you would have liked to work with some cold analytical bitch who is more interested in the mission than you. I was willing to take the risk that you'd hate me so that I could help you. The same can be said for our mothers and Marla.  Does that make any sense?"

I nod affirmatively as I ponder on this wild story.  It is not much wilder than anything else that I've experienced lately and it fits with what I've been told.

When I don't immediately answer she asks, "Can we still be friends?"

Can we still be friends?  That is the big question.  I look into her pleading eyes looking for any sign of deception.  I don't see any.  I see a girl who has just cleansed her soul. The tears are there to prove it and her makeup is a mess.

So, it looks like condition number one from my private ponderings is the correct answer.   That means that we can at least try to be friends.  As much as I would love to hate her right now, friendship feels like a much better option.

I still feel bad that her initial 'interest' in me was motivated by the assignment, but at least I am sure now that her current affection for me is genuine.

"I think so," I reply, "but it'll take some time for me to trust you fully again. I like you a lot and I was hoping that you really liked me too. I've been having my doubts about that."

"Kris," she says with hope in her voice, "I do like you–a lot. I would prefer to have you as a male friend, but I like that we are going to be able to spend the summer together after all. It will be a unique summer. I'll just miss the making out!"

"Me too," I say sadly as we share a sisterly hug.

Laurie's tears have changed to tears of relief.  I find myself crying too, for the identical reason.

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Thanks go to Gabi for her patient efforts in trying to teach me English! This story reads so much better for her efforts.