(Caution: This story talks about violence, gender bigotry, and personal relationships. Brad’s life is now being transformed. Is it guilt or desire; probably a combination. Brad is finding himself with feelings about Randy that would have been very repulsive. He’s seeing their friendship and himself in a new light. )
Mom says, “I’m glad Mr. and Mrs. Thomas were thinking. I was worried, you hadn’t called. You’re staying there tonight and we’ll see how things are tomorrow. You be good and don’t be any trouble and call me tomorrow before you try coming home.”

“Mom, tell Mrs. Thomas I can get myself home.” She conveys with no doubt about it, I’m to stay.

I’m surprised as we watch a movie that Randy is putting an arm around me and cuddling. His sister and brother are there for a while and his Mother is in and out. But no one is surprised by Randy’s attention to me.

Finally, we go up to his room to play some e-games. First, his Dad is there blowing up a cushioned mattress and next his Mom making the bed with sheets and blankets. Even before his Mom has a chance to leave Randy gives me a kiss.

“Since you didn’t bring anything to wear, I suggest one of Randy’s oversized shirts will need to do.” She’s looking at Randy mostly, “Now don’t go getting carried away.” As his Mother leaves Randy suggests I change.

I say, “Randy, it is not even ten, what if we don’t want to stay in the room?”

“We can go out of the room my folks won’t mind. Neither of us planned for this, but it will be a chance to talk about things without being disturbed.” Randy has out a football jersey and a baseball shirt from a nearby university. I take both; they go down to above my knees. Neither is long enough but I settle on the football jersey. And we’re back to our games. One time when I have a good lead near the end Randy pulls the light hair on my legs to distract me. It takes him a third time before I drop my control and pounce on him.

Randy is unfazed by my hitting him as he just holds of my arms to control me. I must have been talking back to him too loud as his Mom and Dad are at door. I’m embarrassed as Randy has a hold of me and I’m almost in his face. “He’s taking advantage of his being older and bigger than me; if I were his age it wouldn’t be so bad.”

‘Really,” his Mom says, “if I remember right, you’re both sixteen and there are only seven months or so between you.” I sit up and stare at him having thought he’s over a year older. “Randy’s built more like his father and you take more after your mother, but even your dad’s side of the family is not that big.”

I first thought she’s saying I’m more girl-like but it is true; Grandma Lincoln is the only one with a big frame. Nonetheless, I’m feeling like a girl in comparison to Randy. Mrs. Thomas comes over and helps me up off of Randy. Randy stands and he’s an extra five inches above us. “You should get some slacks you can wear 3” heels under,” whispers Mrs. Thomas. I stare at her hoping she’s not serious, but I cannot tell.

“Randy, your father would like you to help to shovel some of the snow so it is not too deep to handle when the storm is finally done.” Randy changes to go outside.

Mrs. Thomas left the room but is back in a few minutes with a black pair of jeans and quietly asks me, “Before Randy goes out to shovel snow with his dad, ask him to get a pair of Justin’s boots for you, I think they should fit. Then please come out to the kitchen and help me if you’re willing.”

Randy already had himself dressed and was going out the door when I asked, “Randy, your mom said I should try on a pair of boots Justin wore, where are they?” Randy’s stunned but quickly turned to his closet; rumbling through a few things he came out with two pairs of boots. He then leaves the room without looking at Brad fearing he might embarrass him.

Brad focuses on the slacks, starts putting them on and realizes they were a little long. The pant legs were either boot cut or flared, but either way that is what the boots were for. The jeans were snug enough Brad tucked himself in, not wanting to catch that skin or hair in the zipper. The Jeans felt a little different but he manages to get them on, zipped up and buttoned. He reaches for the boots and is putting them on before he notices they’re feminine looking. As he forces his feet in he feels the toes going further down than he could get the heels of his feet. “Mrs. T the boots are going to be too short. I can’t even get my heels all the way down.”

Mrs. T is quickly in the room hoping Brad didn’t have them off, and he hadn’t. She kneels, “It’s okay honey, let me tie them up. This will help you to be closer in height with Randy.” I sit watching Mrs. T tying the laces of the boots. Randy hurries into the room and seems shocked to see his mother putting the boots on me. His voice is raised, “Mom, I told you not too! I told Brad I wouldn’t force this stuff on him.”

I’m quickly worried that his getting angry with his Mom will put my relationship with her back to square one or worse. I quickly speak up for her, “Randy, don’t get angry with your mother. She knew I’m upset you’re so much taller and I asked for her help. If you want to be angry then do it with me.” I smile being proud of how convincing I am. Mrs. Thomas pulls down my pant legs over the boots and helps me keep my balance as I stand.

I am noticeably taller and find I’m looking at Randy’s mouth as he walks to me. Mrs. T quietly whispers “Thanks” and leaves the room. I look back to Randy and my eyes quickly are fixed on his lips. He’s talking but it is like I’m in another world. Then he says, “So how do you like it?”

“They’re nice,” I say.

“What are you talking about,” he asks? With that, he gives me a shake, and I’m back to reality. I’m back to realizing the boots have thick soles and high heels.

“I’m sorry my mind went somewhere and your lips are right in front of my eyes. Your Mom was trying to be nice to me and if you got angry it would be my relationship with her that would suffer.” Emotions start to catch up to me and as my eyes begin to water Randy pulls me to him in support.

“So you think my lips are nice huh?” I feel him lift my chin and as I see his eyes I close mine knowing he’s going to kiss me; his embrace and the kiss are warm and I relax. His tongue is gently upon my lips until I open them ever so slightly. I know I should feel grossed out but I don’t. I try to speak instead I’m getting more tongue. The warmth of kissing him back comes so easy to enjoy. I became warm all over.

I push back away from him, “I should go help your mother in the kitchen.” I step back smoothing my clothes and trying to brush my hair with my hands. My top is only an undershirt. “Do you have a sweater I could put on?”

“O’ that’s probably why Margie handed me this.” He hands me a light blue sweater that I put on. It’s nice, soft, and looks good with the slacks. There’s a light fragrance that awakens me to realize it is probably his older sister’s.

He asks, “You don’t mind wearing them and the boots and all?” I feel foolish but I’m determined he’s not to know.

I say, “No, that is not it. I don’t want to offend your sister Margie, your dad or mom.”

“Except for the rat nest, your hair looks like you will be fine. They’ll just think under the circumstances you decided to be my girlfriend for the day.” I pull out a comb and Randy gets a small styling brush. He does a better job than I would with just my comb. “Here look in the mirror and if it’s okay get going to Mom.”

I look in his mirror and my long hair now has a feminine touch to it. Then again head to toe I am looking more girl than a boy. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Get going or I’ll try some makeup.” Hearing that, I’m out the door going to the kitchen.

I pass Mr. Thomas who doesn’t say anything as I into the kitchen with Mrs. T and Margie. Margie smiles, “You look pretty for a boy. You better wear an apron though.”

Mrs. T looks, “You do look very nice dear.” She digs in a drawer going past one or two aprons and the one she comes up with is definitely more girl. “Thank you, Brad, I do hope you’re comfortable with the way you look.”

She asks, “Would you please mix up the pancake batter?” I’ve never done it and I’m afraid of doing something wrong. Luckily the instructions are easy and it ends up being fun. “Very good dear,” Mrs. T says taking the bowl from me. “Would you please now help set the table; making sure to put out the napkins, syrup and whatever else is needed. Just ask Margie where things are and I think you will be around here more often.” I smiled at Mrs. T and I was sure she knew I appreciated her kindness.

Once I’m done I go find Randy and his dad sitting in the living room. Standing next to Randy asking, “Can I see part of the sports section?” Randy pulls me down into the chair with him, “Just sit here and read along with me, I won’t bite.”

Once I’m in his lap, Mr. Thomas looks up from his newspaper. “And I thought you weren’t sure about being seen as his boyfriend?” I know I’m blushing as things are moving too fast in a way I did not anticipate.

Margie comes up to me, “Would you like some makeup? I’m too young but if you’re going to look like this I think you should wear some. It would help you look even prettier.” How do I tell a girl, I’m not interested in being prettier when I look as I do? I’m saved by Mrs. T calling for our help to put the food on the table.

With Mrs. T putting out the last of the pancakes, we’re all called to the table. “Brad, would you sit over here next to me? I think there needs to be some room between you and Randy so he can cool down.”

During the meal, Margie asks, “Do you have a girl’s name like Justin did?” When I tell her no I’m hoping that would end that discussion. “Would you mind if I helped you to pick one?” I remain quiet trying to think something I can ask Randy or his dad about sports.

“Brandi would be good,” Margie says with a smile. “It’s like Brad with just the ‘n’ and ‘i’ added. I also like Brianna, Tiffany or Aubrey?”

“I’d rather not be Brianna, Tiffany or Aubrey…” Margie jumps back in, “Okay Brandi it is. Mommy, do you think that’s a pretty name for her?”

“Brandi’s a pretty name but I’m not sure Brad wants a girl’s name.”

“That’s silly do you think she wants to dress up and go out like that as Bradley?” Everyone including me has a good laugh.

The wind has kicked up and all the weather reports are telling people not to travel. It is now five in the afternoon when the phone rings and my Mom is calling. Margie got the phone, “Yes, Brad’s here but we’re calling him Brandi because of how pretty he is. Yes, we had four or five names and he chose Brandi over the others. Do you think Brandi is a pretty name? He said He didn’t have a girl’s name, but he looks as pretty as one.” She finally gives me the phone.

“Hi Mom,” I answer with a soft voice. “No they’re treating me nicely and Mrs. Thomas and I are now very good together. She reminds me more of you now that I know her better… I slept in Randy’s room on one of those neat air mattresses… That’s how I’m looking like I am. All I can wear of Randy and Mr. T’s stuff is wearing his football jersey like a nightshirt.”

“Mom, I think I have been behaving really well. You can ask Mrs. T if you want. I think they were already planning that I would need to stay another night. Randy’s older sister Cheryl is also staying at her friend’s house.”

“Mrs. T, my Mom would like to talk to you to make sure it’s alright if I stay here.” Mrs. T takes the phone and I go back to leaning against Randy as we watch TV. We are practically snuggling as the Thomas house is older and cooler than ours.

The lights flicker on and off up to the time we are to go to bed. Mrs. T urges me to take a hot shower. She lays out a pair of Cheryl’s pajamas for me to wear. “You might want to sleep in the bed with Randy in case the power goes out while you’re sleeping.” Mr. Thomas speaks up, “That does not mean sleeping together the other way.”

Mrs. T comes in to say goodnight. “Brad, I can’t take it; come over here and I will pin up your hair for the night. It is much too nice to treat it like a regular guy’s head of hair.” It doesn’t look nice, but it does feel better than having a head full of curlers. Mrs. T stays around talking until Randy says “Mom, Brad’s a boy; he’s just being nice listening to you.”

While it is pretty true, I’m not really listening, but I kind of enjoy being treated like a girl. Randy doesn’t mind I’m a straight boy acting like a boyfriend. Huh, both are partly true more than I would like to admit.

Mrs. T turns out the main light as she leaves but a small lamp lights the room enough for Randy and me to carry a conversation. Randy takes enough bobby pins out to run his hand and fingers through my hair along one side. “I’m glad your hair is still long and it feels nice.”

I say, “You know those are not endearing words to another boy?”

“I hope things are changing for you. Like you seem,” he’s moving closer to me, “more comfortable being kissed.” It isn’t just him kissing me, our bodies’ are touching and the feelings of being kissed by Randy engulf me. With his hands still on the side of my face, he holds me with a kiss; my free hand reaches for his waist but rest upon the front of his lap. I relax and let it gently fall, not thinking where it might land.

I am embarrassed yet I don’t pull away. Both my lips and hands are comfortable where they are. “Randy, you said you’d tell me how you see me as attractive? Is it that I have long hair?”

Randy smiles, “I do like your hair but I also find you physically attractive. I like your butt; you have pretty eyes and they’re very expressive when you smile or are happy. The most attractive part isn’t your appearance; it’s how comfortable I am around you. It’s when I feel comfortable enough to be weak and vulnerable around you.”

Randys says, “You probably don’t remember when my Granddad died a few years ago; you came over shortly after I heard he died. I was crying in my room because I didn’t want people to see me cry. I wanted to act big, but you saw my tears and you didn’t mind. We talked. There have been three or four times like that. You were a good friend to play and do things with me even though they were not your favorites. I can have more fun doing things with Gordy. But he doesn’t have your heart. I feel good when I hug you, you make me warm inside.”

He said, “It hurt so much when you were one of the punks to attack us. If you hurt us again, I don’t think I could lo… I don’t think I could really like you or forgive you ever.”

I was fighting tears, but when Randy was about to say ‘I think it was “love me” then I quivered’ I wanted him to hold me or me hold him. “Have you forgi…” I lean over and kiss Randy. I did not mean to swoon but once his arms held me and he returned the kiss I melted like butter. “I’m sorry Randy; I expected you to run, I should have known better.”

“It was wrong any way you looked at it.” Randy’s looking at me; I feel the anger of his statement, but also the love he has for me. Instead of saying anything I stroked the side of his face, hoping he wouldn’t push me away. We were there silent for a while, “I don’t deserve you, but I am glad I am here. I feel Randy’s right hand come up my nightshirt. He pauses and moves his arm underneath me and begins to lift me. He moves me to the center of the bed and begins to remove my panties.

I am in the center of his bed and he leans over and gives me a warm passionate kiss. “I can't believe I'm doing this, I have never done anything like this. If you don’t love me, I don’t really want to do it unless you do.” He lifts my hips placing a pillow underneath me. He opens a tube of gel, putting some on two fingers. I can smell that there's fragrance as he spreads it on me. I seek to raise my bottom and I get my legs around his waist as he pulls me toward him.

My male ego is crying no, but there is a growing sense not to fight. I’m not sure if he sees me as a man or a woman. It's not important by now I feel loved. Then I’m surprised as he pushes me away and says, “I’m sorry.”

I'm confused about what was happening, “I don’t understand did I do something wrong?”

“I could see by your expression you were just letting me do it. I don’t want to do it unless you love me.”

“But I wasn’t fighting it or pushing you away. It seems kind of creepy but I was willing to try it. I have read on the internet about guys making out and I tried doing it right. What did I do wrong?”

I reached up to get my arms around his neck and pull myself up to him. I give him a warm passionate kiss, pulling him back down upon me. He is comfortable with this. It is the first time he is lying on me. I thought he would feel heavier, maybe crushing. But he’s warm and his weight is manageable, more like a warm heavy blanket. He grows hard again and I can feel that part of him between us.

I feel him rolling off and I try to roll with him hoping to be on top, but we end up facing each other as our legs separate and they are now tangled together. “I’m feeling more like a girlfriend than a boyfriend; is that okay?” His eyes look browner; I hope it’s just the light as they look hazel to greenish usually. I like them more that way.

Randy smiles, “I like you like a guy, but it is good to hear how you feel about yourself?”

“O no, I’m not a girl!” Randy smiles again with a bit of a laugh.

Again I think with his size that his weight should me crushing me, but it is his warmth that I like. His head is snuggled against me caressing an earlobe. I did not feel tense like before, I'm enjoying being next to him so much I am bursting and my body feels an explosion of feelings. Randy rolls over pulling me on top of him and holding me close. My body shakes with excitement as a wave of joy rolls over me.

“I not so sure Brad, you seem more like a girl to me; if you were a girl what might your name be? ...The Lord knows I hope you’re a boy. I’d have some wrestling to do if you’re a T-girl.” I’m looking at Randy for some sign that he’s joking. I want so much to be able to say either way boy or girl: ‘there used to be no way I was going to ever say, I love you.’ But I find I can’t really say that I don't.

‘There was a time or two I thought about if I were a girl, what my name?’ Randy is looking at me; I’m not sure what to say but I close my eyes as I know what to do. With two hands framing his face I am lightly kissing his precious lips. 'I’m wishing I had lipstick on; too bad he wants a boy.' Randy is wrapping an arm around me. Words and thoughts are taking a vacation as it is just us now.

This time my body quakes, this has happened once before when I was alone. I feel I should be embarrassed, but Randy is another boy and he knows what is happening. He just pulls me close, nibbles on an ear and says nothing. I feel like a younger child looking up to Randy and his warmth helps me to relax as I feel his caring. This kiss grows in its passion, it’s over too soon and I drift in thought, knowing I’m in his arms. It is six thirty when I wake and slide out of Randy’s arms and to the bathroom to clean myself.

There is a knock at the bathroom door to the hall. The door opens a crack and a robe and some clothes are pushed in and the door closes. It must be his older sister’s robe, a pair of jeans, a pair of underpants but they’re a girl’s. There are two tops one kind of looks like an undershirt but it has lacy shoulder straps. I know Mrs. Thomas did not give me any orders of what I had to do nor any questions about what happened. I’m glad of that and I feel it is okay to accept her gesture though I’m not quite sure of the implications.

I don’t really need the robe but I’m more comfortable with it over the girl clothes for now. Once I’m dressed I make my way to the kitchen; taking a hairbrush with me. Mrs. Thomas pulls a stool to the middle of the kitchen and has me sit on it as she brushes out my hair. “Brad, are you alright?” She hands me a cup of tea.

“Yes, Randy was so nice to me and when I finally fell asleep it was a good sleep. I felt warm and safe in his arms.” ‘Oops,’ I look to Mrs. Thomas afraid she’d be angry. I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. “A good man can make one feel that way.” She pauses, “Do you mind if you look a little prettier?” I’m not sure how to answer after all I’m a boy, but now like feeling like a girl. But I think she knows Randy doesn’t feel that way…

To Be Continued…

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