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Author's Note: I came up with this one real quick. I wanted to do an April Fool's Day story and this one came to me. Its a quick short read but its a lot of fun. When I got to the end, I found myself not wanting to quit. So maybe I'll continue the story later. QUICK NOTE: I added a line about his school, showing how insignificant it is and how it doesn't matter to him or the narrative.
 

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"Come on, Sam," urged Tommy, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It'll be the best prank ever! You're the perfect guy for the job."

Sam grunted. He'd been here before. Tommy always came up with these crazy pranks and dragged him head first into them.

The first time was when they were eight. Tommy had convinced him to put a rubber snake in Aunt Marge's garden, right when she was planting her precious roses. She had screamed so loud it had echoed across the neighborhood. But instead of laughing, Sam had felt his heart plummet into his stomach as he watched her face turn beet red with fear. It was a look he never wanted to see again.

Then there was the Halloween when they were twelve. Tommy had talked him into switching their grandpa's dentures with a set of vampire fangs. The old man had spent the whole night gumming his favorite candy, unable to bite into it, and glaring at them from across the room with a suspicion that hadn't been there before. The prank had backfired when Grandpa had caught on and pretended to have a heart attack, giving both of them a taste of their own medicine.

Another classic was the time they'd swapped the sugar in Uncle Larry's coffee with salt. Tommy had laughed himself silly while Sam cringed, watching his uncle's face contort as he took a sip, but the lecture that followed wasn't worth the fleeting giggles. Sam had realized then that maybe pranks weren't as funny when you were the one facing the consequences.

So he could only imagine what crazy plan Tommy had now.

"Okay, okay," Tommy began, his voice low and conspiratorial. "You know how all my buddies are always bragging about all these hot dates?"

"No actually," Sam said, rolling his eyes, knowing that Tommy couldn't see. "I've never actually met your friends"

Sam and Tommy didn't live in the same town. They usually communicated through gaming, just like now. Tommy liked to talk about his friends but never thought Sam was cool enough to meet them.

"Well," Tommy continued, ignoring Sam's sarcasm, "my school's having an April Fools' Day dance in two weeks. I want to show them that I can get the most epic date ever."

"And you want me to help you find her?" asked Sam, confused. "Where does the prank come in?"

Tommy chuckled. "Here's the twist, Sammy boy. You're going to be the date. You're going to pretend to be Samantha, my cool cousin from out of town."

Sam's laughter caught in his throat. He stared at the screen, his avatar frozen in place. "You want me to do what?"

Tommy's grin widened. "Pretend to be a girl. You're perfect for it. You're smaller than me, you've got longish hair and you're well..."

Sam sighed. He didn't need Tommy to finish that sentence. Sam was very girly looking. Whereas his two older brothers took after their father, he had ended up looking like his mother. While he didn't get her Nordic height, he got her beauty, including the light blonde hair and icy blue eyes. When he was younger, lots of strangers used to tell his mother she had the most beautiful little girl they'd ever seen. It didn't get any better when he got older either.

"I'll still not sure how this is pranking your friends" he said, hoping to steer Tommy away from this crazy plan of his.

"Just trust me, Sam," Tommy said, his voice filled with excitement. "They're all going to be so shocked when I show up with a gorgeous girl, and then she turns out to be you! It'll be legendary!"

"What's in it for me?" he asked, still not agreeing to it but wondering if Tommy was willing to offer up something worth his wild.

Tommy didn't miss a beat. "How about I buy you that new gaming rig you've been drooling over?"

Sam's eyes widened. That was tempting, but the idea of dressing up and pretending to be a girl for an entire dance was terrifying. "I don't know, Tommy," he said, his voice wavering. "It's pretty extreme, even for one of your pranks."

"Come on, Sam," Tommy cajoled, "you know you've got the looks for it. And think about it, the gaming rig, man! You'll be the king of our online battles."

Sam knew that Tommy wasn't just flaunting his wealth; he was also well aware of Sam's pride. Despite his reservations, he couldn't deny the allure of the gaming rig. It was the one thing he'd been saving for, but his part-time job at the local convenience store wasn't cutting it. Plus, Tommy had a knack for making everything sound like an adventure.

Sam weighed the pros and cons in his head. On one hand he'd be getting a brand new gaming rig but on the other hand, was the humiliation worth it? In the end though, the pros ended up outweighing the cons. Mostly because he didn't actually live in Tommy's town, so anything went south he could go home and never think about it again.

"Alright," Sam finally said, swallowing hard. "But if this goes south, you're buying me something even better than a gaming rig. Like, a lifetime supply of video games or something."

Tommy laughed. "Deal. You're the best, cuz. This is gonna be the best prank ever!"

"This is all on you," Sam pushed.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure no one knows you're not a girl" said Tommy reassuringly and then they continued their game like the conversation never happened.

The next couple of days, Tommy didn't bring it up again. Sam was sure his cousin had completely forgotten about the bet and he was relieved. As much as he wanted the new gaming setup, he didn't want to dress up as a girl for a whole night. He could almost feel the tight dress and the pinch of high heels, the discomfort and fear of being found out. But the silence from Tommy was like a cool breeze on a hot day.

But then, two days after the bet, as Sam walked out of school with his backpack slung over his shoulder and the sun shining down, he saw it. A sleek, black car with tinted windows, parked right outside the school gates. The kind that looked like it belonged in a music video or a movie premiere, not at a school pick-up. And leaning against it, like she had stepped straight out of a magazine, was a stunning young woman. She had long, curly hair that fell in soft waves down her back, and she was dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that emphasized all the right curves. Sam felt his heart jump into his throat as she pushed herself off the car and walked towards him.

"Sam?" she called out, her voice like honey over a microphone.

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, his heart racing. The woman looked like she belonged on a runway, not at his school.

"Hi," she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "I'm Carrie Snow. Mr. Morris hired me to help you with your transformation."

Mr. Morris? Very official.

You've got to be kidding me, he thought. Tommy was really taking the prank this far?

Sam walked over, feeling the eyes of his classmates on him like a spotlight on stage. He took Carrie's hand awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"I know this is unexpected," she said with a knowing smile. "But don't worry, I'm here to make sure you look and act the part. Mr. Morris has a plan, and I'm here to make it work."

"You don't know this is just one big joke, do you?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Joke or no joke. I've been paid well. My job is to make it work, no questions asked" she said with an award winning smile. "I'm a highly skilled professional".

Sam looked around nervously. "But, what if someone sees me?"

"Honey when I'm done with you, not even your own mother will recognize you" she said confidently.

Sam eyed the car, then at Carrie. He took a deep breath and slid into the back seat. As she climbed in beside him, he felt a strange mix of excitement and dread. He'd never been in a car this nice before, and he definitely had never had a professional makeover artist at his service.

Once they were both in the car, Carrie pulled out an iPad. "Alright, let's get started," she said with a smile that was somehow both reassuring and a little bit scary. She tapped on the screen a few times before turning it to face him. "Here's the plan. We're going to start with your hair. I've got a few options that I think will suit you, and we'll go over makeup, clothing, and how to walk and talk like a girl."

Sam stared at the screen, his mind racing. There were pictures of different hairstyles, makeup looks, and even a diagram showing how to sit and stand "like a lady." He swallowed hard, trying to imagine himself in any of those situations. "Okay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tommy has gone crazy for a prank, he thought, thinking this was too much already.

"Your hair is perfect for this," Carrie said, her eyes lighting up as she scrolled through the images. "We can add some extensions and style it in a way that complements your features. Trust me, by the end of this, you'll be unrecognizable."

With a sense of trepidation, Sam nodded and the car pulled away from the curb, smoothly navigating the streets to the outskirts of town. The salon was nestled between a chic boutique and an artisanal coffee shop, and as they pulled into the lot, Sam felt his anxiety spike. He had never stepped foot in a place like this, and the thought of being the center of attention was more than a little overwhelming.

"We're doing all this now?" he asked, shocked and nervous.

She gave him a strange look. "Of course we are sweetie. The faster we do this, the quicker you adapt." She patted his hand. "How much have you been told?"

He shook his head. "Only that he wanted to prank his friends and offered me a new gaming rig for helping him pull it off."

Carrie frowned and bit her lip, but said nothing more.

The salon was like nothing Sam had ever seen. It was all chrome and glass, with plush chairs and the faint smell of hairspray and vanilla. The staff looked like they'd stepped out of a fashion magazine, each one more stylish and put-together than the last.

As soon as they walked in, the chatter stopped and all eyes were on them. Carrie strutted to the front desk like she owned the place and said a few words to the receptionist who looked at Sam with a mix of curiosity and pity. She probably thought he was a lost soul who had stumbled in looking for a miracle makeover.

"This is Samantha," Carrie announced, her voice echoing through the salon. "And she's going to be the belle of the ball."

The stylists' eyes widened in unison as they took in Sam's usual laid-back attire—a faded band t-shirt and ripped jeans. One by one, they turned their full attention to him, whispering among themselves and casting sly glances in his direction.

"Oh, honey," cooed one of the stylists, her hair a perfectly coiffed waterfall of blonde waves, "you're going to look amazing once we're done with you."

Sam felt his cheeks heat up as he took a seat in the chair. Carrie had gone full director mode, pointing and whispering instructions to the staff that hovered around him. They moved with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, each one knowing their place and their job. He watched as they began to transform him, snipping and styling his hair, adding in the extensions with a deft touch that made it seem like they were weaving in magic threads. The way they talked about him, like he was a project to be fixed up, made him feel both oddly special and incredibly uncomfortable.

The stylist who was working on his hair, a man named Antonio, was especially chatty. He kept asking Sam about his "style," and Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from correcting him. He mumbled something about liking to keep it simple, hoping that would be the end of it. But Antonio was relentless, his hands moving faster than Sam could think. Within minutes, Sam's hair had been transformed into a cascade of light blonde waves that creepily matched his original hair color.

The makeup artist, a young woman with emerald green eyes named Bella, began to work her magic next. She applied foundation so lightly that Sam couldn't even feel it, and then painted on eyebrows that were perfectly arched and just a shade darker than his own. She tinted his cheeks with a blush that made them look naturally flushed, and highlighted the bridge of his nose. He watched in the mirror as she applied a glossy pink lipstick that somehow made his mouth look fuller. It was like watching an artist paint a portrait, except the subject was his own face.

When Bella was done, Sam was shocked.

The boy staring back at him from the mirror was gone, replaced by a girl who looked eerily similar to the ones in the magazines he sometimes caught his mom reading. His eyes looked bigger and bluer, his cheekbones more pronounced, and his lips full and inviting. He felt like he was looking at a stranger, someone who could turn heads and make jaws drop.

The stylists and makeup artists stepped back to admire their work, their expressions a mix of amazement and amusement. Sam couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was like he had been photoshopped into existence. He reached up to touch his face but stopped, not wanting to mess up the perfection in front of him.

"Excellent work as usual," said Carrie as she walked over, giving Sam a big smile. "Excellent work indeed".

"It was all her," said Bella, beaming. "You found a diamond that only needed a bit of polish".

The compliments were flying around like confetti but Sam was feeling more like a wax figure than a person.

They left the salon and headed to the next stop on their list. The specialty shop was nestled between a high-end bakery and a jewelry store, a small, unassuming door with a tasteful gold plaque that simply read "Boutique Enchantée." Carrie pushed the door open, and Sam stepped inside, the bell chiming a delicate melody. The place smelled faintly of lilies and something else, something sweet but with a hint of something... magical.

The store front made it look like a high end fashion store but for some reason he sensed something else. The woman behind the counter gave Carrie a knowing look and a nod. Then she led them to a room in the back, a room that Sam realized most normal people off the street had never seen.

Carrie led him in with a wink, and Sam felt his heart rate spike. The room was filled with what looked like underwear, but as he looked closer, he realized they were actually padded bra inserts and hip pads. He swallowed hard as the reality of what was about to happen set in.

"Don't worry, darling," Carrie said, her voice soothing. "This is all part of the illusion. We're going to give you the curves of a goddess, without any of the commitment."

Sam felt his face flush as the woman from the counter, who introduced herself as Mademoiselle Chantelle, brought over a selection of garments and padding that looked like they were made of the softest fabrics. He'd never thought about wearing anything like this before, and the idea was both fascinating and unsettling.

"She's sixteen" announced Carrie, "We need something subtle. A modest bust and hips, just to give her the illusion of being the beautiful young woman you see before us"

Mademoiselle Chantelle nodded, her eyes scanning Sam's body with the precision of a sculptor. She pulled out a set of hip pads and a bra with padded inserts. "These will do," she said with a French accent that sounded like a lullaby to Sam's ears. She had him strip to his underwear and began to measure him with a tape measure that was as soft as silk.

Carrie stopped her. "I'd like the breasts to be a bit more permanent. The glue on ones, I need her to get used to it"

Mademoiselle Chantelle nodded, her gaze unwavering from her task. She pulled out a set of glue-on silicone breasts and measured them against Sam's chest. "These should be sufficient," she said, her voice as calm as if she were discussing the weather.

With the same confidence that had filled the salon, she began to apply the pads and breasts, explaining each step as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Sam felt his face burn hotter with every piece of fabric that touched his skin, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to admit how out of place he felt.

Once they were done, Sam put on his clothes from before. Things felt off, they didn't fit the way they fit before.

"Let's go," said Carrie, leading him out of the room. "The next phase is waiting for us."

They arrived at a sprawling shopping mall, a place Sam had only visited a handful of times with his mom. The kind of place where the stores had names he couldn't pronounce and the prices had too many zeros for his comfort. Carrie strutted through the gleaming corridors like a celebrity, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

They entered a store that was a sea of pastel colors and glittering accessories. The saleswomen looked like they were plucked straight out of a teen magazine, all perfect skin and bubbly smiles. "Welcome to Pink Whisper," one of them chirped, and Sam felt his stomach do a flip.

"We need a complete look," Carrie announced to the saleswoman. "Something that says 'trendy but not trying too hard.'"

Sam felt like a mannequin as they flitted around him, tossing dresses and skirts over his shoulders, holding up shoes and accessories for inspection. He had never been much for fashion, preferring his comfortable jeans and baggy t-shirts. But as they started to dress him in the chosen outfits, he couldn't help but feel a strange thrill.

The first dress was a soft pink that made him look washed out, so they moved on to a blue one that brought out the color in his eyes. It was short, showing off his legs more than he was used to, but the way the fabric hugged his new curves made him feel surprisingly confident.

"The hair on your legs is very fine but we'll get you a product to get rid of that" Carrie said as she handed him a top and skirt. "Try these next".

She all but pushed him back into the dressing room.

Sam stared at himself in the mirror. He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to this or if he was about to walk into the lion's den. He slipped on the skirt and top, the fabric whispering against his skin. He had to admit, the outfit was flattering. It was a strange feeling to look in the mirror and see a reflection that was both himself and not himself.

"How's it going in there?" Carrie called out, her voice a mix of impatience and excitement.

"Different" he said, looking at the girl in the mirror.

"Good," Carrie said from outside the dressing room. "Now, let's see if we can find some shoes to match."

Sam stepped out of the dressing room, feeling like he was in a daze. The skirt swished around his legs, and the top clung to his newfound curves in a way that made him feel... different. Like he was wearing a costume that was somehow more real than his own skin. Carrie's eyes lit up as she saw him. "Perfect," she exclaimed. "Now these"

She handed him a pair of strappy 2 inch wedge heels.

"You want me to walk in these?" he asked incredulously, holding up one shoe.

Carrie nodded. "They're perfect. You'll look like you're floating on air."

Sam took a deep breath and slipped his feet into the shoes, wobbling slightly as he tried to get his balance. The saleswoman, who had introduced herself as Tiffany, took his elbow and helped him stand up straight. "Walk," she instructed, her smile never wavering.

Sam took a tentative step forward, his muscles protesting against the unfamiliar footwear. It felt like he was walking on stilts, each step a potential disaster waiting to happen. The mall's shiny floor reflected the light like a lake, and he was acutely aware of every eye on him. He took a few more steps, each one more steady than the last.

"Walk like you own the place," Carrie instructed, her heels clicking confidently beside him. "Shoulders back, chest out, and remember to sway your hips."

Sam did his best to follow her advice, his heart racing with each step. The shoes weren't as bad as he thought, but he still felt like he was going to trip at any moment. The mall's gleaming floors stretched out in front of him like a runway, and he tried to channel the models he'd seen on TV, walking with purpose and poise.

Carrie watched him with a critical eye, nodding in approval as he managed to make his way down the aisle without face-planting. "Good," she said. "We'll work on your posture and gait tomorrow."

They spent the next couple of hours shopping, with Sam feeling more and more like a marionette being dressed and styled by a master puppeteer. They picked out clothes that ranged from cute and casual to elegant and sophisticated, all of which made him feel like he was playing dress-up in his mother's closet. The more they shopped, the more he began to realize that the prank was real, and he was actually going through with it.

The dresses and skirts were a whirlwind of fabric and lace, and the shoes... oh, the shoes. They were like works of art, but with a devilish twist that made Sam's feet ache just looking at them. Carrie had a knack for finding the perfect accessories, adding a sparkly necklace here and a dainty pair of earrings there, until Sam looked like a boy who'd been transformed by a fairy godmother with a sense of humor.

"Alright, Samantha," Carrie said with a satisfied smile as they exited the mall. "You're all set for tomorrow"

"What's tomorrow?" he asked reluctantly.

"Lessons" said Carrie as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You look the part and tomorrow we begin teaching you how to act the part"

They finally left the mall and Sam was driven home.

The driver, a burly man who had said less than ten words to Sam the entire ride, nodded and opened the car door for him. Sam stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of his house, feeling like he was in a dream. The sun had started to set, casting long shadows across the lawn.

"See you tomorrow, darling," Carrie called out as the car pulled away, leaving him standing there in his new heels and skirt.

Sam took one last look at the car before turning towards his house, the shopping bags cutting into his fingers. His heart was racing like he'd just run a marathon, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. As he approached the door, he saw his mother through the kitchen window, her silhouette outlined by the warm light from inside. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for what was about to come.

He stepped inside, and the moment his mother saw him, her hand froze mid-dishwash. She looked at him, then at the bags, then back at him again. "Sam?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Tommy," he said, as if it was the most obvious explanation in the world.

His mother looked at him with a knowing smile. "I should've known," she said, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "What's the plan this time?"

Sam took a deep breath and explained the whole prank, from the gaming rig reward to the professional makeover and shopping spree. She listened intently, her smile never wavering, until he finished with the upcoming dance.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked with genuine concern.

He shrugged. "Tommy didn't actually give me much of a chance to say No"

She sighed and shook her head. "Well take your new things to your room. You can give me a fashion show later if you want"

He said nothing and carried his bags up the stairs, carefully walking in his new heels.

When Sam reached the safety of his room, he dropped the bags on the floor with a thud, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway. He looked at himself in the mirror, taking in the full effect of the transformation. The skirt and top made him look like a different person, someone confident and poised, someone who knew how to handle themselves in a room full of strangers. He felt a strange sense of power, like he could do anything if he just pretended hard enough.

He found himself absently striking a pose, feeling sexy and pretty.

"Sam?" his mother's voice called from downstairs, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Dinner's ready!"

He took one last look in the mirror before changing back into his own clothes, his heart racing as he stuffed the bags into the back of his closet. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, feeling the fabric swish over his now-bare chest. His fake chest felt foreign and strange without a bra, so he put it back on with a weird sigh. He slipped on a pair of loose sweatpants and headed downstairs, his hair still cascading in soft waves around his shoulders and down his back.

When he walked into the kitchen, his two older brothers, Mark and Luke, couldn't contain their laughter. "Look at you, Sammie!" Mark said, slapping him on the back. "You're gonna break hearts little sis!"

Sam felt a blush creep up his neck, but he held his head high, letting the teasing roll off his shoulders. He knew his brothers didn't mean any harm; they were just trying to lighten the mood.

"Thanks, guys," he said, trying to sound nonchalant as he took a seat at the dinner table. His mother had made his favorite, spaghetti and meatballs, and the aroma filled the air with comforting warmth.

His parents exchanged a knowing look that made him feel a little self-conscious, but they said nothing as they dished out the food.

As they ate, his mother spoke up. "Sam, honey," she said, "you know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable with any of this."

"Or if you might be enjoying it..." added his father.

Sam took a bite of his spaghetti, chewing thoughtfully. He had to admit, the idea of enjoying this was a bit too much to handle. But he couldn't deny that the outfit made him feel... different. Good, even. "Thanks," he mumbled, his cheeks reddening even more under the scrutiny of his family.

"Seriously, Sam," his father said, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You've got the look down. Tommy's friends won't know what hit 'em."

"Thanks, Dad," Sam said, trying to play it cool. But inside, he felt a warm glow of pride. It was strange to get compliments like these from his family, especially when they were about his appearance.

His mother took a sip of her wine and studied him over the rim of her glass. "You really do look good, Sam," she said, a hint of wonder in her voice. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a natural."

The next day, Sam found himself sitting across from Carrie in a quaint café, a steaming cup of tea in front of him. "Now," she began, her eyes twinkling with excitement, "today we're going to focus on posture and voice. You want to be the kind of girl that turns heads, but not because you're slouching like a caveman."

For the next two weeks, Sam's afternoons were a whirlwind of tutelage. Carrie had a knack for breaking down the intricacies of feminine grace into bite-sized lessons, each one more surreal than the last. She taught him how to sit, stand, and walk with poise, his knees always together and his shoulders back, as if he were balancing an invisible book on his head. He practiced speaking in a higher pitch, adding lilts and inflections that seemed so effortless to the real girls at school.

The makeup lessons were the most intimidating. Sam had never been one to even consider the art of contouring, but under Carrie's watchful eye, he learned to sculpt his face with a palette of colors that seemed to have no end. He discovered the power of a good highlight and the secret to a smokey eye that didn't make him look like a raccoon. The smell of makeup remover and hairspray became as familiar as the scent of his own deodorant.

The more days that passed, the further he got away from being Sam and the more he started to become Samantha.

As for school, no one noticed because no one carried. There were so many students, he was just another face in the crowd. The only friends he had were online and nothing changed there. For one faceless person to disappear and be replaced by another, it barely left a mark.

Waking up in the morning, Sam felt a strange sense of déjà vu as he slipped into the routine of applying makeup and donning his new feminine attire. The act of sliding on a bra on and adjusting the silicone breasts had become almost second nature, and the way his hips swayed in the mirror when he put on the hip pads was no longer a source of amusement, but a fact of his new life.

He had to admit, there was something liberating about being Samantha. The way people treated him was different, the way they talked to him, the way they looked at him. It was like he had been granted access to a secret club, one that came with its own set of rules and expectations. And as strange as it was, he found himself enjoying the attention.

The day of the dance, Sam took a deep breath as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had become Samantha, and she was a creature of beauty and mystery. He picked up his phone and dialed Tommy's number, his hand shaking slightly. The line rang once, twice, and then his cousin picked up.

"Hey," Sam said, trying to keep his voice high and sweet, "It's your favorite cuz, Samantha!"

There was a few seconds of silence before Tommy's reluctant and strained laughter crackled through the phone. "Oh man, you're really going through with it," he said, sounding impressed. "How do you feel?"

"Totes amazing!" he said, hamming it up.

He could see Tommy rolling his eyes.

Good, thought Sam, I am after all a Monster of his his creation.

"Seriously dude?" asked Tommy.

He knew how much Tommy hated the ditzy girl routine.

Sam laughed. "Just fucking with you" he said but still using the Samantha voice he'd honed and perfected for the past two weeks.

"Alright, alright," Tommy chuckled. "I've got to admit, you're pretty convincing. Now remember the plan. You're going to show up at the dance, and I'll introduce you to everyone. We'll play it cool, let the rumors spread, and then bam! Pull the rug out from under them at the end of the night."

Sam nodded eagerly, his heart racing with excitement and nerves. "Got it," he said in his best Samantha voice. "I'm going to be the belle of the ball."

Tommy sounded nervous. "Just don't enjoy it too much," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Remember, this is all for the prank."

"Oh, I will," Sam assured him, his voice light and airy. He felt a strange thrill at the thought of the prank, the excitement of the unknown. He had never felt more alive. "I've got the shoes and the dress all picked out. It's going to be fab!"

Tommy chuckled nervously "Dude, you're really getting into this," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't know whether to be impressed or scared."

Sam couldn't help but grin. "I guess we're about to find out."

The hours leading up to the dance felt like an eternity as Sam painstakingly applied his makeup, making sure every stroke was perfect. He carefully slipped into the dress Carrie had picked out for him, a sleek silver number that hugged his new curves in all the right places. The fabric was cool and smooth against his skin, making him feel both elegant and terrified.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow through his bedroom window, Sam took a moment to appreciate the transformation. He had never felt so... different. So not like himself. He twirled in front of the mirror, watching the skirt flare out around him, the glittery fabric catching the light. It was strange, but it was also exhilarating.

He took a deep breath and grabbed his clutch purse, stuffed with essentials like his phone and a small bottle of makeup remover—because accidents could happen. With a final check in the mirror, he descended the stairs, trying not to trip in his heels. His family was gathered in the living room, watching a movie. His entrance was met with a mix of astonishment and amusement.

"Wow," his brother Luke said, pausing the TV. "You look... wow."

"No shit" said Mark a few seconds later.

"Language," their mother chastised without looking up from her book. When she saw Sam, he mouth hung open. "Samantha, sweetheart, you look gorgeous," she said before she could stop herself.

What she said hung in the air, all of them feeling it.

There had been a shift in the house these last few weeks, everyone present had felt it.

A second later, the doorbell rang.

Tommy.

The name alone sent a jolt of adrenaline through Sam's veins as he stared into the mirror, his heart racing like it was about to break free from his chest. The transformation was complete, and he was no longer Sam, the laid-back gamer; he was Samantha, the enigma about to crash the school dance.

With a final spritz of perfume that smelled faintly of strawberries and a spritz of hairspray that made his hair feel like it was made of concrete, Sam took one last look at himself in the full-length mirror. His legs looked endless in the silver dress, and his eyes, lined with dark liner and smoky shadow, sparkled with excitement and a touch of fear. He took a deep breath and whispered, "You got this, Samantha," before plucking up the courage to tell his Dad to open the door.

The door swung open, and Tommy's jaw dropped. "Dude," he said, his voice low and impressed. "You look... wow."

Sam blushed. "Thank you, Thomas," he said with a smirk.

Tommy chuckled. "I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"You're the one who talked me into it," Sam reminded him, his voice still pitched higher.

Tommy grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I know," he said, "but I didn't expect you to go full method actor on me."

The ride to the school was a tense affair. Sam felt the weight of the prank pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. The silence in the car was filled with the sound of his heart thumping in his chest and the swish of the tires on the wet pavement. Tommy sat next to him, his eyes flickering over to Sam's legs, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come.

How could this be his MALE cousin, he thought, his eyes lingering a bit too long on the clear breasts that Sam was now sporting.

As the car pulled up to the school, the nerves hit him like a ton of bricks. The lights from the dance reflected off the puddles in the parking lot, creating a disco ball effect that made the butterflies in Sam's stomach go into overdrive. Tommy took a deep breath, and they both stepped out of the car. He had to admit, Sam looked stunning.

The school's entrance was a sea of students, all dressed to the nines. The murmur of conversation and laughter grew louder as they approached, and Sam felt his heart rate spike. Tommy wrapped a casual arm around his waists, guiding him through the crowd as if they were old friends.

The gymnasium had been transformed into a glittering wonderland, with streamers hanging from the ceiling and a disco ball casting multicolored lights across the floor. The DJ's bass thumped in Sam's chest, setting the rhythm for the nervousness that had taken hold of him. Tommy led him to a group of his friends, each one looking more shocked than the last. "Guys, this is my cousin Samantha," he said with a smug smile.

The group of teenagers stared at Sam in disbelief, their eyes wide and mouths agape. One of them, a boy named Jake, took a step closer, his gaze traveling up and down Sam's body. "Dude," he breathed. "You're... wow."

Tommy chuckled, a smug look on his face. "I know, right?" He turned to Sam, his eyes gleaming. "Why don't you get us some drinks, babe?"

He smacked Sam on the butt and scooted him away.

Sam wanted to say something, but thought better of it. After all, this was a prank. He supposed now Tommy would make his way to a real girl. Good riddance. As much as he enjoyed Tommy's company as two male cousins might, he'd seen his cousin around girls. There was a lot to be desired there. He scoffed and wandered over to where the punch bowl was. As he walked, he noticed Tommy's friends watching. He also noticed that Tommy was done. Whatever little prank he wanted to pull had apparently been successful.

For awhile, Sam was ignored. He was fine with it. He wandered over to where there were some chairs and sat down. Now the rest of the night, he could make himself scarce. He watched Tommy from across the room, laughing and having a good time.

It was an hour into the dance when someone dropped into the seat next to him. He was one of the guys Tommy had introduced to him, but the name escaped him. The boy was tall with messy hair, a bit of a loner type.

“Hey," said the guy, running a hand through his hair. "Its Paul."

Sam nodded. "Sam."

"Oh I remember, hard to forget." said Paul with a pleasant smile.

Sam smiled back but he didn't really want whatever it is that Paul was about to send his way.

"Look, you seem nice, but I'm not..." Sam started but Paul raised a hand.

"Its amazing." he said, clearly not flirting. "I mean you're an absolutely, gorgeous girl".

"Thanks," said Sam slowly, sensing the inevitable "but" coming.

"Bu," said Paul. "I'm not really into that kind of thing. It's amazing though, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were a real girl."

There it was. The color drained from Sam's face. "What do you mean 'if you didn't know better?'"

Pau gave him a strange look. "THE prank," he said as if everyone knew. "Tommy told us he set it up weeks ago. He said he was going to prank you into coming as his date, dressing up as a girl. He wanted to see how long it would take for you to catch on. I mean he's been talking about it for weeks. How we were all supposed to pretend..."

Paul trailed off when he realized Sam wasn't in on the joke.

Sam was pissed. That fucking Tommy. That lying piece of shit.

"I'm gonna kill him!" he said, angry, ready to pounce.

He started to get up from his chair, ready to storm over and pound the shit out of Tommy for humiliating him like this.

Paul gently grabbed his arm. "Jokes on Tommy" he said with a laugh.

Sam was confused. "What do you mean?".

"You're kidding right" said Paul, gently getting Sam to sit back down. "Look at them. They all know you're a guy and yet, they can't keep their eyes off of you."

Sam looked around and sure enough, every so often every guy around was casting glances his way. They weren't subtle about it either. They were lusting after him. If Paul was right, then all of them still knew he was a guy and yet they all still wanted him.

He felt like he was in some sort of twilight zone. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to be the butt of the joke, not the object of desire. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He had to get out of here, had to tell Tommy that he'd had enough.

"The Belle of the Ball," whispered Paul into his ear. "Even Tommy".

Sam looked and sure enough, Tommy was even staring.

“What the hell?” he thought, confused.

Paul laughed. "Serves him right. Here he thought he was messing with you and in the end, you're messing with him. Classic."

Sam was torn between anger and the strange thrill of being desired by the same people he was meant to be humiliated by. Tommy was the prankster, but it seemed like the joke was on him tonight. Paul was still holding his arm, looking at him expectantly. "Come on, Sam," he said, "you've got to show them how to dance."

"What?" asked Sam, flabbergasted. "You know I'm a guy?"

Paul shrugged. "I don't see any guy. Besides, all of them are going to be so fucking jealous."

Sam bit his lip and reluctantly agreed.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of music and laughter. Paul turned out to be a surprisingly good dancer, spinning him around the dance floor with surprising grace. They danced to slow songs, their bodies pressed together, and fast ones, where they jumped and twirled to the beat. The whispers and stares from the other students didn't bother Sam anymore; he was too busy enjoying the thrill of the moment.

Paul was kind, attentive, and didn't seem to care that he was dancing with a boy dressed as a girl. He taught Sam the latest dance moves, whispering instructions in his ear, and making him laugh when he stumbled. The chemistry between them was palpable, and for the first time that night, Sam felt like he was truly living as Samantha.

As the night grew later, the dance floor grew more crowded, and the lights grew brighter, Sam found himself lost in the moment. He didn't care about the prank anymore; he was just a teenager having fun with a cute boy.

Tommy eventually came over, his eyes wide with excitement. "Oh my god! You're killing it!" he exclaimed, slapping Sam on the back, oblivious to the shift in Sam's demeanor. "I can't believe no one's figured it out yet!"

"Drop the shit. I know about the real prank" Sam coldly let out,, long past being annoyed.

Tommy chuckled. "A good prank is still a good prank"

There was something in his voice though, something in the way the color seemed to have drained from his face.

Who had really pranked whom tonight?

In the car ride home, Tommy's laughter echoed through the quiet night as he recounted the night's events, his eyes shining with mischief. "Can you believe how easy that was?" he exclaimed, slapping his kneel. "You thought you were pranking them, but the reversal. The look on your face, the looks on their faces. You know they thought I was fucking with them, they said there was no way you were really a boy."

Sam said nothing.

Tommy had the car drop Sam off at home. He tried to talk to him but Sam left without saying a thing. When he got into his house, his phone buzzed. At first he thought it was Tommy, texting to rub it in.

Instead it was Paul.

"Hey, I had fun tonight. I wouldn't mind doing it for real if you're interested?"

Wait, What?

Sam was shocked. When he agreed to give Paul his number, he thought it was a platonic two dudes sharing numbers to hook up for gaming or something. Did Paul just ask him out?

"Samantha is that you?" asked his mother from the living room.

"Yes Mom," he shouted, he was so used to being called Samantha it never occurred to him not to answer to the name.

"How was it?" she asked, standing in the living room entryway.

Sam shrugged and then told her what the real prank was. She frowned, mumbled "That little shit," under her breath before heading back into the living room.

He walked up to his room, his heels clicking on the floor, the dress feeling like a second skin. He reached his room, closed the door and absently started to strip. The dress slid off, the pads followed. He looked into the mirror, his heart racing. Who was he looking at?

The bra was next. He felt the weight come off his chest and took a deep breath. He threw the lingerie on the chair and slid into one of the nightgowns Carrie had picked out. It was short, sheer, and made him feel... different. He liked it. The fabric whispered against his skin, cool and light. He felt... pretty.

Lying on his bed, he stared at the ceiling, the dance's lights still playing across his closed eyes. The beat of the music echoed in his chest, and he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of loss as he laid there. The night had been a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, anger, and, surprisingly, attraction. But now, alone in his room, the reality of the prank hit him like a ton of bricks.

What did this mean? Where did he go from here?

In the morning, Sam came down to breakfast feeling a bit... off. His hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, the way Carrie had shown him, and he had on a pink tank top and shorts so small they might as well be underwear. The look was casual, something girls might wear when they didn't have plans, which was fitting since Sam had none.

He strolled into the kitchen, the floor cold on his bare feet. The scent of pancakes and coffee filled the air, and he felt his stomach rumble. His parents were at the counter, his dad flipping a pancake with surprising deftness, his mom reading the paper.

"Morning, Samantha," said his dad without looking up.

"Morning, Daddy" he said cheerfully, dropping into a chair.

His Dad walked over and placed a business card on the table in front of Sam. "Your uncle dropped this off last night," he said, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Carrie wants to talk to you about something."

Sam picked up the card, his heart racing. It had the name of a local modeling agency on it with Carrie's personal number scrawled on the back. "What's this?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Carrie thinks Samantha's got potential. She said you could be the next big thing," said her mother, not looking up from her paper.

Sam held the card up, but something dawned on him. "Wait, how does Uncle Frank even know Carrie?"

Sam's Dad smirked. "Who do you think hired her in the first place?"

Sam opened his mother to say something but then he remembered. THe whole time Carrie had said "Mr. Morris". He just assumed she was being professional when she was talking about Tommy. Now that he thought about it, she never did mention Tommy's name once. “No shit!” he thought, floored.

His uncle had sent Carrie. Which meant...

Sam's Dad chuckled. "Frank always hated Tommy's stupid bets and pranks. He knew what was going on, thought he'd turn the tables on his son for once."

It was then that Sam realized that Tommy had been flustered and flabbergasted all night long. Sure he had meant to prank Sam in the long and wrong, but he even admitted that all his friends thought Tommy was messing with them.

Sam smiled. So in the end, he was the one who accidentally flipped the prank on Tommy.

He held the card and really stared at it.

Who knows?

The End.

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF