DANNY Part 3 by Roberta J Cabot This is a story about Daniel, a guy with a unique talent and an even more unique problem: A great singing voice and the looks of his gorgeous sister. And about how he and his buds handle his problems with the school bully when he dresses up as a girl in the annual Halloween costume contest, how he and his family deal with his having breasts, and how he deals with getting turned on by his would-be girlfriend.  And how he ends up as the female lead singer for a high-school pop band. Never a dull moment with Batch Fourteen, and Dan & his gang.

Author’s Note: I started writing this December 2005, soon after I discovered the now-defunct Fictionmania site (which I just found out recently was resurrected), and I decided to try my hand at writing Transgender Fiction. And it took me this long to build up the courage to actually upload it for others to enjoy (or not — your option heheh). I have resurrected what little I have of my old story, and though I am by no means a real writer, I hope to finish the rest of the story asap. I first uploaded it in Crystal’s StorySite, and, though still incomplete, I was convinced to try uploading it in Topshelf as well. Feedback would be most appreciated, so I do hope people write me back through my site-registered email address.

I am by no means a real writer so I hope you will forgive any grammatical and literary flubs that you see. Further, given that this little piece had close to five years of gestation, many of the cultural referents will be off - for example, many of the songs used in the story are not current but in the story they’re treated as if they were, yet at the same time other songs are really current songs. I hope you will forgive the temporal mismatch here, and try and enjoy the story despite this.
Apologies also if the quoted lyrics are wrong — I got most of them off the net, or from my own memory — I didn’t get them off official sources.

So, without further ado, here we go with the story. Hope you like… (Don’t forget! Feedback please!!)

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

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In Part Three, we sit in on one of Danny’s gigs with his band, “Unlimited Bandwidth,” and finally learn about what caused Danny’s “condition.” So, that’s what Batch Fourteen is!
 
 
Nine: Singing
 
 
***** (Danny) *****

As I started playing, the guy at the booth slowly brought up the sound. I kept on repeating the opening chords until the audience quieted down. I leaned into the mike and started to sing, trying to make my voice sound like Alison Krauss.
 
 

"Baby, now that I've found you  I won't let you go.  I built my world around you  - I need you so,  baby, even though you don’t don't need me now…"

 
 
It sounded a little off, so I pitched my voice into a higher, baby-doll voice, and tried to put myself in the right frame of mind.
 
 

"Baby, now that I've found you  I won't let you go.  I built my world around you  - I need you so,  baby, even though you don’t don't need me.  You don't need me.  Oh, no…""

 
 
That sounded better, I thought.

I played the chords in a slow 3/4 beat, Dale keeping pace with me perfectly. "Mm-mmm," I hummed sexily, and then sang the next stanza.
 
 

"Baby, baby, when first we met.  I knew in this heart of mine  that you were someone I couldn't forget.  I said, ‘right,’ and ‘to bide my time.’"

 
 
I looked towards our regular table, and caught Nikki’s eye. She gave me that dreamy smile of hers, and I just about melted.
 
 

"I spent my life looking for that somebody  to make me feel like new.  Now you tell me that you want to leave me,  but darling, I just can't let you..."

 
 
I stretched out the last word, and I started plucking the bridge on my junior Strat. I looked at my fingers, concentrating so I wouldn’t make a mistake. I sensed Nikki’s and Morgan’s eyes on me, and I felt goose pimples up and down my arms.

I stepped back, and Betsy moved forward and started playing in that dreamy way she did back in Mongo’s garage. Except for Betsy’s violin, you could have heard a pin drop.

Dale and I kept pace with her, and then I sang the second stanza again.
 
 

"Baby, baby, when first we met.  I knew in this heart of mine  that you were someone I couldn't forget.  I said, ‘right,’ and ‘to bide my time.’"      "I spent my life looking for that somebody  to make me feel like new.  Now you tell me that you want to leave me,  but darling, I just can't let you..."

 
 
Dale harmonized with me at the end of that line, and Betsy segued in with her violin, just at the heels of our singing, and she brought us home.

"Now that I found you…" Dale sang/whispered.

"I built my world around you," I harmonized with him.
 
 

"I need you so, baby,  even though you don't need me now.      "Baby, now that I've found you  I won't let you go.  I built my world around you…"

 
 
We repeated the refrain a few times and we faded the music away.
 

*          *          *
 
After a few beats, the applause thundered down. Betsy looked at her fingers. "I can’t believe I did it," she whispered.

I hugged her around her neck. "You sure did," I said, and gave Dale a big thumbs-up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the rest of the guys standing by our table, clapping and hooting with the rest. I waved the rest of the band up, and they climbed up the stage. There were a lot of catcalls and wolf-whistles as Janet and June took their positions. They giggled, and Janet shook her fanny at the crowd, setting off more howls.

Janet grinned, gave me and Betsy a one-armed hug, kissing us both.

"Sorry about being late," she whispered. "Tell you about it later."

"I’m sorry, Janet," I said. "We needed to start and this was the only song we could play from the playlist without you guys…"

"Forget about the order of the songs, Danny." She waved away my apology. "You did good. Now, what do we play next?"

I grinned. "How about ‘Runaround?’" Janet nodded and I mouthed "runaround" to Dale, Mongo and June.

I took the mike off the stand and shook the wire out on the ancient mike. Janet slid her hand down her guitar’s fret, and started to play, Dale pacing her note for note, with Mongo keeping in time and laying a rhythmic backbeat. For the harmonica portion, Betsy took over with her violin instead, playing quick and sharp, almost like a hillbilly hayseed with a fiddle. It sounded great! I waited for my cue, and then started to sing, copying the intonations and cowboy-like twang of Blues Traveler. If Kate Pierson was a member of Blues Traveler, that is.
 
 

"Oooh, once upon a midnight dreary,  I woke with something in my head.      "I couldn't escape the memory  of the phone call and what you said.  Like a game show contestant with a parting gift,  I could not believe my eyes  when I saw through the voice of a trusted friend  who needs to humor me and tell me lies…"

 
 
I sang so fast, I was out of breath. "Yeah, humor me and tell me lies!"

I took a breath and continued to sing.
 
 

"And I'll lie, too and say ‘I don't mind.’  And as we seek so shall we find.  And when you're feeling old I'll still be here,  but not without a certain degree of fear.  What will be for you and me,  I still can’t see,  think, won’t believe.      "But you!  Why’d you wanna give me a runaround?  Yeah, it’s a sure-fire way to speed things up,  but all it does is slow me down."

 
 
I was laboring to catch my breath.
 
 

"Shake me and my confidence  about a great many things.  But I've been there - I can see it cower,  like a nervous magician waiting in the wings  of a bad play where the heroes are right  and nobody thinks or expects too much.      "And Hollywood's calling for the movie rights,  singing ‘hey babe, let's keep in touch.’  Hey baby, let's keep in touch!      "But I want more than a touch  - I want you to reach me and show me  all the things no one else can see,  so what you feel becomes mine as well,  and soon, if we're lucky,  we'd be unable to tell what's yours and mine.  The fishing's fine.  And it doesn't have to rhyme  so don't you feed me a line!      "But you!  Why’d you wanna give me a runaround?  Yeah, it’s a sure-fire way to speed things up,  but all it does is slow me down."

 
 
Betsy took over, playing her violin like a girl possessed, stomping around, her violin tucked under her chin. It gave me the opportunity to catch my breath and to wipe my face. I held my mike away from me as I panted. But the break was all too short, and I had to start singing again.
 
 

"Hello there, bombardier,  this is the pilot speaking,  and I've got some news for you:  It seems my ship still stands no matter what you drop,  and there ain't a whole lot that you can do.  Oh, sure, the banner may be torn  and the wind's gotten colder…  perhaps I've grown a little cynical…  but I know no matter what the waitress brings,  I shall drink it and always be full.  Yeah,  I will drink it and always be full!      "Oh, I like coffee and I like tea!  But to be able to enter a final plea:  I still got this dream that you just can't shake  - I’ll love you to the point you can no longer take.      "Well, all right! Okay! So be that way!      "I hope and pray that there is something left to say.  But you!  Why’d you wanna give me a runaround?  Yeah, it’s a sure-fire way to speed things up,  but all it does is slow me down.  Oh, you!  Why’d you wanna give me a runaround?  Yeah, it’s a sure-fire way to speed things up,  but all it does is slow me down…"

 
 
Thank God, it’s Betsy’s turn again! I held the mike down by my side, and panted. I was practically dripping with sweat.

Betsy, and Mongo on the drums, went wild. Betsy hammed it up for the audience. The girl was a natural.

The sound mixer faded away the sound, and we all stood and ate up the thunderous applause. Betsy ran into my arms and hugged the stuffing out of me. When she pulled away, her face was wet, and the front of her dress was spotted with drops of sweat. From me. I could just imagine Betsy going "ewww!" but she didn’t seem to mind. She was actually leaning her face against mine, not minding getting wet.

I looked out to see the audience in standing ovation. It was great!
 

*          *          *
 
When I could breathe normally again, and the people calmed down, I signaled the guys to start playing one of our slow songs, "Waiting in Vain," and Betsy started playing a long D-note on her violin.

Janet started playing the semi-complicated guitar intro, with Mongo accompanying her with tapping on the drum’s rim. I was glad for the longer intro, and I caught my breath some more. But, soon, I had to sing again, keeping my voice a little low and just a touch raspy, like Annie Lennox.
 
 

"From the very first time  I rest my eyes on you,  boy, my heart said,  ‘follow through.’  But I know now that  I'm way down  on your line.  But the waiting thing  is fine.      "So don't treat me like a puppet on a string,  'cause I know how to do my thing.  Don't talk to me as if you think I'm dumb.  I wanna know when you're gonna come.      See      - I don't wanna wait in vain for your love…  I don't wanna wait in vain for your love…  I don't wanna wait in vain for your love…  'Cause summer is here!  I'm still waiting there…  Winter is here and  I'm still waiting there!"

 
 
Janet and June started to harmonize with me, with a soft beat from Mongo and a good background melody from Janet, Dale and Betsy. June had switched her keyboard to a soft synthesized trumpet sound. I segued back in.
 
 

"Like I said,  it's been three years since  I'm knocking on your door.  And I still can knock some more.  Ooh boy! Ooh boy!  Is it crazy love  - I wanna know now  - for I to knock some more.      You see...      "In life I know there is lots of grief.  But your love is my relief.  Tears in my eyes burn,  tears in my eyes burn  while I'm waiting…  while I'm waiting for my turn!      "See      - I don't wanna wait in vain for your love…  I don't wanna wait in vain for your love…"

 
 
I repeated the phrase over and over. I looked over to Nikki, and Danielle and Joanne were poking her. Nikki just smiled my way.
 
 

"'Cause summer is here!  I'm still waiting there...  Winter is here  and I'm still waiting there!"

 
 
I never realized how sweet June’s voice was, as she and Janet harmonized with me. June’s synthesized horn sounded very realistic, and mixed well with Janet’s, Betsy’s and Dale’s playing.

"Like I said,"

Janet and June harmonized as backup voices.
 
 

"I don't wanna,  I don't wanna,  I don't wanna,  I don't wanna,  I don't wanna wait in vain…      "It's been three years since  I'm knocking on your door,  and I still can knock some more.  Ooh boy! Ooh boy! Is it crazy love?  I wanna know now…  like I said…  tears in my eyes burn…  tears in my eyes burn…  while I'm waiting,  while I'm waiting for my turn,,,      See…      "Ooh boy! Ooh boy! Is it crazy love ?  I wanna know now…  For I to knock some more…  In love I know there is lots of grief,  but your love is my relief…"

 
 
Janet’s and Dale’s guitar, Betsy’s violin, Mongo’s soft backbeat and June’s tambourine faded away as the sound guy progressively lowered the volume. And, if it was even possible, the applause was longer and stronger. What a rush!

Janet grinned from ear to ear. "Love Thang," she mouthed.

June hit the first chords for the intro, accompanied by Mongo. Janet got everyone to clap to the beat.

"Whooo!" I yelled, and the crowd cheered. And soon everyone was grooving to the beat. We followed it up with Robbie Williams’ version of "There She Goes," and ended the set with "Dreaming" by Aurora. I had fun with that slower song because it wasn’t hard for me to play while singing - no complicated plucking. Betsy took the place of the horns section, and I don’t know what she did, but she made it sound like there was more than one of her. Because the pitch wasn’t so high, everyone also got to harmonize.

We were usually contracted for two sets, but most of the time, the people wouldn’t quit cheering and we’d have to do a third set. And that night was no exception, except for the fact that the cheering was louder and more boisterous than usual (It was probably due to Betsy). Early on in our gig with Mario, we’d established a sort-of signal — Janet would look to him with raised eyebrows, and he’d give a nod, saying we’re okay to do another set. We wouldn’t do another set if it was gratis, something Janet insisted on as she’d argue we were professionals and should be paid for our work. Mario normally wouldn’t want to pay for another set, and it was rare that he’s give us the nod, but the regulars picked up on it, and would clamor for more, booing and hissing at Mario if he didn’t let us.

Mario was in a particularly bad mood tonight and shook his head. But with the added attraction of Betsy, the audience wasn’t taking no for an answer. The inevitable booing and hissing got louder. Janet shrugged and gave a gesture to the audience that said, "what can we do?"
 

*          *          *
 
As we slung off our guitars and were about to step down off the stage amid a hubbub of disappointment, a girl half shouted across the floor, "Mario! A round of drinks here!" With the unspoken implication that she was ordering so he’d bring them back.

The people quieted down a bit, digesting that little sound bite when another girl exclaimed, "Can I get a menu here?"

"Hey, us too!" another one shouted, and fairly soon everyone was clamoring for service. The implication was very obvious to everyone, including Mario, but he was playing dumb.

We were just settling into our customary table, placing our orders of sodas and other teenager-friendly drinks with Tina the waitress, when a big guy in jeans, a check shirt and a cowboy hat said loudly with a very obvious cowboy twang, "Yeah, another round for me and my buds, too, Jack." He didn’t need to shout — his voice was as big as he was. And when Mario waved acknowledgement of the order, the cowboy said in his bull voice, "and if you don’t bring those kids back up there, you are as dumb as you look and we’ll walk out the door right now!"

This was greeted with cheering and clapping.

Mario, with his white shirt, sleeves rolled up, stringy tie already lying limply from sweat, and an apron already stained from previous nights of spills and other accidents, was scratching his head in consternation.

"Let them play!" a tall girl with an enormous chest stood up and started chanting. "Let them play! Let them play! Let them play!" With typical mob mentality, the kids took up the chant.

"Let them play! Let them play! Let them play!" The entire place was echoing with the chant and the rhythmic clapping. "Let them play! Let them play! Let them play!" Me and the guys were smiling like fools, looking around at our fans. "Let them play! Let them play! Let them play!"

Mario raised his hands in surrender. "All right, all right!" he shouted and the chanting petered out.

"Kids," he said, projecting his voice so everyone would hear. "Can you go on up and play another set? I’d surely appreciate it."

The place roared with cheers and clapping, and we stood up to go to the stage. I looked at poor Mario. He was just being a businessman, after all, and he was being made out to be the bad guy. I ran up to him, giving him a sweaty hug and a loud smack on the cheek. "Thanks, boss!" I said loudly, hamming it up.

The crowd laughed and clapped, cheering Mario. Still playacting, I giggled merrily and ran back up the stage. I slung my guitar strap over my shoulder, and blew a kiss Mario’s way, which was greeted with more laughs. At least now people will look to Mario as a good guy, a hero even, for "allowing" us to play some more.

"Thank you kindly, sir," I said in an exaggerated Louisiana drawl in the direction of Cowboy Hat, and curtsied. Everybody laughed delightedly, and Cowboy Hat stood up, took his hat off and bowed gallantly. I curtsied again, and everyone clapped.

"Are you ready to rock?" Janet yelled, and the crowd cheered.

I yelled a rebel yell, and Mongo launched into the drum intro of The Spin Doctors’ "Two Princes."

We did our "by popular demand" gimmick, passing the little derby hat around again, and it was a hit, just like always. We also finished off the remaining songs from our pre-prepared "repertoire."
 

*          *          *
 
After an unbelievable total of twenty-five songs, we decided to end it for the night. But, instead of our usual Michelle Branch song-ender, we used an old song that I heard from my dad’s collection of old VHS TV programs. It was something we practiced before and Janet and I took turns signing the four lines to song "May tomorrow Be a Perfect Day," (we weren’t even sure if that was the name of the song) and at the end of the four lines, the whole band went, "Good night everybody!"

Everyone laughed and gave us a standing ovation. Dale, Mongo and June played out the rest of the music, and ended the night.

Most everyone who stayed went over to shake our hands and said thanks or good night. We lounged around the half-empty restaurant, dead tired from an incredible four sets. It was two in the morning and all that were left were the habitual night owls and hangers-on who didn’t want the evening to end.

While we waited for Janet to settle with Mario, Danielle borrowed my Palm Pre earlier and called up mom, and made our excuses. It was a good thing it was Danielle who called. As it is, mom didn’t make a fuss and just told us to be careful, have a good time and to call her if there were problems.

Some of the people still in the restaurant drifted to our table and talked with us, several of the girls making goo-goo eyes at Dale, and even Morgan. What was troubling me was that I thought a lot of them were directed at me. I chalked that up to my imagination, but I couldn’t help but notice the catty, jealous looks they were throwing Nikki’s way as I casually snuggled with her, our arms over each other’s shoulders. That was probably just my imagination, too.

Some of the girls, giggling, asked for everyone’s autograph. One of these stood out in my mind — a very pretty blonde - as she made it a point to ask for mine. I smiled in delight, put down Nikki’s electric pink hankie I was using to wipe my sweaty face and neck, and signed the little coaster she got from one of the tables. "To Cindy - thanks for being there! Danny," I wrote in my usual crabbed penmanship. "Here you go, and thanks for staying for our show, Cindy. Come again."

She’d been gazing at me lovingly as I wrote, which was a little unsettling. After I was done, she took the pen and coaster, smiled delightedly, and ran back to their table and friends.

"All right, settle down, stud," Morgan joked. "Just another groupie. One of several, I am sure, for a rock star like you." He snickered.

"Cut it out, dude. I never had groupies, before. Gimme a break." And I smiled. "Y’know, I can get used to this."

"Don’t get used to it too much, dude," Nikki elbowed me, giggling.

I turned to her and gave her the tickle torture, and I had her gasping in short order.

Soon we settled down and snuggled into the large leather sofa that we were sharing with Morgan and Betsy — the two of us in the middle, with Betsy on Nikki’s side and Morgan on mine. I leaned forward to grab Nikki’s pink hankie and I couldn’t find it. I assumed Nikki got it, so I just got some paper towels from the dispenser on the table and continued mopping my brow.

"Dude, you’re gross," Mickey said. I threw one of the soggy tissues at him, and Joanne deftly intercepted it.

She wagged a finger at me. "Now, now — play nice."

"Yes, mommiiie," I said in a cutesy little-girl voice, and everyone burst out laughing.

I wanted to just crash but everyone wanted to go out for a bite. I reluctantly agreed, and everyone started the packing up. "Five minutes?" I asked, and Janet nodded agreement. So I continued to veg on the couch until guilt would chase me up.

After a while, Betsy shook my shoulder. I had fallen asleep. "Danny, my love," she whispered into my ear. "Time to get up." She leaned to me and gave me a sisterly peck on my temple.

I fluttered my eyes open. "Huh?" I said succinctly.

"You’re so pretty," Betsy said, gave me another kiss and pulled me to my feet.

Janet sauntered over. "You up for some food, champ, or would you rather go home." She ruffled my hair.

"Whatever," I said, and sleepily looked around for Nikki. It was like telepathy, and Danielle came over, dragging Nikki. I promptly draped an arm over her and we walked out of the restaurant, hips softly bumping — mine, Nikki’s and Danielle’s, and everyone else sort of trailing behind.
 

*          *          *
 
We ended up in a Bennigan’s, one that was surprisingly still open for patrons. As the hostess came over to ask for some ID, Janet told her point-blank that we wouldn’t be drinking anything alcoholic. Mickey groaned at that, and Joanne gave him a friendly hug. Mick tried to squirm out of it but Joanne was pretty strong and was determined not to let go. We all dissolved into laughter, and followed the hostess to an out-of-the-way booth — two adjacent ones, actually. And we all sat down and ordered up. Janet told everyone it would be the band’s treat, which was greeted with a loud cheer. "But just this once, okay? There’ll be few repeats of this, if ever." Everyone laughed at that.

I ordered a pretty big meal — chicken wings for a starter, and then chicken fajitas with all the fixings, fried potatoes, clam chowder in a big mug and bottomless iced tea. Everyone looked at me. "What!" I asked. They all shrugged. And when our food came, Danielle’s order turned out to be bigger than mine. "What!" she exclaimed, in a voice remarkably similar to mine’s just a few minutes ago. Everyone laughed.

As we dug in, I spied two girls giggling and looking our way. I nudged Nikki and pointed at them. "Weren’t they at Mario’s?"

Nikki turned around to look. Spotted, the two girls shyly looked away, still acting giggly. "Hey, yeah." She turned to me and whispered conspiratorially, "do you think they followed us?"

Mel looked over. "Isn’t the strawberry blonde one the same girl that asked for your autograph, Danny?"

I looked back. "I think so."

"Well, now we know Danny’s hit the big time," said Dale.

"How do you figure that?" asked Joanne.

"Well, you know Danny’s in the bigs if he already has a stalker." Everyone laughed.

Janet waved the two over. "Janet!" I hissed. "What do you think you’re doing?"

"Well, those two seem lonely. I’m sure they’d appreciate a bite. And, besides, fans are important."

I thought of it just for a second. They were obviously following us, and they DID stay until the end. And they looked harmless enough. I waved them over as well. Cindy was pointing at herself incredulously. Janet waved again and the two girls squealed. They jumped up and rushed over.

Mike moved aside to give the girls room, which scrunched Jerry against Mongo. "Hey, dude!"

Mike shushed him, and turned to welcome the two girls. "Welcome, ladies," he said expansively.

The girls sat down giggling.

"Hi, girls," Janet said. "Cindy, is it?" Cindy nodded. "And who’s your friend?"

The other girl giggled. "My name’s Anna? I’m, like your biggest fan?"

"Hi, Anna," I said. "Do you know everyone?"

"Ummm, no, actually?"

"Well, this is Nikki and this is Janet. Over there’s my sister Danielle, with Betsy, June our keyboard player, Drew, Mel and Joanne."

Assorted "hi’s" and "hellos" greeted this little rollcall, and then I started on the guys.

"That’s Dale our base player, Mongo our drummer, Morgan, Jerry and right beside you is Mike."

"Hi," Mike said in what he thought of was a suave voice.

Anna nodded to him, and turned back to me. "I can’t believe we’re here with you guys? You guys are great? We’ve been coming over to Mario’s every Saturday for weeks now. We haven’t missed any of your gigs since you started the Derby Hat thing?"

"I’m glad you like our music," Janet said.

"Well, we’re a bit disappointed? None of our songs have ever been picked?"

"I’m sorry. It’s the luck of the draw, I guess."

Anna looked at Janet a little quizzically.

"I mean, I’m sorry you haven’t been lucky."

"Oh, that’s okay. Like, it’s not your fault?"

Good god, I thought. What an airhead! Her valley-girl intonations were starting to grate. I was about to lose it, and switch to Bimbo Betty mode just to make fun of her, when I caught Danielle glaring at me. I gave her a sour look made a patting gesture and nodded.
 

*          *          *
 
As the dinner progressed, I was surprised that I actually started warming up to Cindy and Anna. Though they were clearly a pair of stereotypical flighty mall girls, they did put a different dimension to what we were doing as a band. I saw from the eyes of a fan the impact we had on people. If just for the fact that these girls represented what people thought of us, it made them interesting to me.

Besides, they were both cute as hell. Mike tried to chat them up, but they only had eyes for the band, apparently, and since he wasn’t part of the band, he wasn’t worth noticing.

"So where do you girls go to school?" I asked Anna, trying to make conversation.

"Well, we’re both juniors? And we live right near the neighborhood? It’s how we found out about you guys — we were in Mario’s having dinner, when you started your set?"

"Yeah!" Cindy said. "I remember that! That was when Marie and Billy were with us!"

I looked at Nikki, trying not to laugh, but Nikki was also on the verge. No help there.

"Ah, that’s great. But where do you go to school?"

"We go to the same school," Cindy said, and Anna agreed. "We tried for cheerleader, at our school? But I guess the other cheerleaders had it in for us. We didn’t get in."

Anna gave Cindy a little hug. "That’s okay, Cindy. They’re all prejudiced bitches."

"That’s too bad," I said. "But where do you go to school?"

"It’s just a drag, the whole high school thing. Everyone’s sooo immature!"

"Totally," Anna echoed. "So immature."

And it was like that the whole night. Though just an idle question, they never did answer it, though they eventually volunteered the information on their own. Apparently, they went to a high school a couple of blocks away. We didn’t know the school, and I didn’t know anyone who went there. In a way, that made me feel better because my singing "career" will still remain unknown to the kids I knew.

During one of the infrequent lulls, Cindy brought up something that they were apparently reluctant to bring up. "Y’know, Anna and I, we wanted to ask you guys something."

"Who, us?" I gestured to Nikki and myself.

"We were wondering, and I hope you guys don’t take this the wrong way…"

Nikki and I looked at each other. "Well, just spit it out."

"Anna and I were wondering if the two of you were, y’know, like together?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, are you guys going together? Like, are you an item?"

"Ahhh!" Nikki and I said, almost simultaneously, finally understanding.

"Why, yes we are," I exclaimed almost comically. "Nikki’s my one an’ only, the sunshine of my life, the wind beneath my wings…" Nikki playfully hit me over the head with a menu. "Hey!"

Nikki giggled. "What Danny’s saying," Nikki said, "is yes, we are going together."

The two girls giggled. "That’s a relief," Anna said. "I told Cindy that you were probably together, but we weren’t sure."

"Well, we are," she said. "Why is it a big deal?"

"Well, that’ll break a lot of hearts."

I giggled. "You’re exaggerating, girl. Lil ole me?"

"Well, sure! You’re real hot, you know."

"And, you know," Cindy said, "there are very few girls that openly like girls."

"Huh?"

"You know? Lesbians like us?"

Nikki and I looked at each other.
 
 
Ten: Batch Fourteen
 
 
***** (Danny) *****

I stayed in bed the following day, too depressed to get up. Danielle knocked on my door several times asking me to come out for lunch, but I didn’t respond and just holed up in my room, thinking of my current situation. Sometime in the afternoon, Danielle called to say that they were leaving for a while and that there was food in the oven.

I wasn’t hungry, and decided not to respond. I heard the door close and dad’s car start up. I stared up at my ceiling, my thoughts chaotic and jumbled. I was wondering if this will ever be over. What was I — a guy or a girl? At the restaurant, everyone accepted me as a girl. And it was fun, to be so accepted and liked. In my life I was never so accepted, except by my folks, and Morgan and my buds. Not even Danielle, at least not until recently.

It was wonderful, until I was forced to focus on my current situation, and actually think about what all this meant. And last night really did make me focus.

I was desperately in love with Nikki, and I thought that she loved me, too. But after last night, maybe what she loved in me was me as a girl. In a way, it didn’t really matter — so long as she loved me. But in a way, it did. And as I thought of who and what I really was, of what I would be in the future, of having a family — it did matter .

I felt lost.
 

*          *          *
 
Much later, at just about dinnertime, the others returned. Mom knocked on my bedroom door and said they brought home some take-out Indian food, and if I got hungry, I should just come down.

Just before dinnertime, I went downstairs and asked Dad to make an appointment for me with Dr. Roberts, and see if he was willing to see me on a Monday, but Dad beat me to it, and said he already did.

"When you weren’t coming down, we were worried and wanted to come upstairs and find out what was wrong," dad said, "but we decided not to.

"Danielle told us a little bit about last night. She also called Dr. Roberts, and he had told us to come over. We decided to go to his office without you. When we were there, he told us a lot."

I looked at him. "What did he say?"

He put a hand on my shoulder. "I don’t want to say anything, Dan. I might not say it right, or I may get it wrong. It’s best that you talk to him directly."

I was about to protest, but he stopped me. "Your appointment is for tomorrow afternoon, after school. Save your questions and wait for tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at school and bring you to the hospital." I saw something in his eye, and knew he wanted to do the right thing. I trusted my dad, so I didn’t ask anymore. I nodded mutely, turned went back to my room.

The following Monday, I floated from class to class, not really interested in anything. Morgan and the others noticed and asked me if anything was wrong but I said I was OK and tied to act more normally. Danielle fended them off and made them leave me alone.

True to his word, Dad picked me up. Danielle gave me a sisterly kiss, and Nikki hugged me around the neck. I kissed her back and got in Dad’s car.
 

*          *          *
 
Dad brought me to the hospital and walked me directly to my appointment with Dr. Roberts. When we got there, there were no more people in his clinic’s little waiting room, and Dr. Roberts’ nurse-receptionist was closing the office down. It was already passed 5PM after all. We heard Dr. Roberts call out from his examination room, and I went in. Just before I went in, Dad gave me a hug and left. "I’ll be back, son. Have a good talk."

So I went on into the little examination room alone.

"Well, Dan," he began. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, Doc," I said, and warily looked him up and down. I didn’t speak anymore, and waited.

Dr. Roberts had me sit down on the examination table and he did a short medical exam: looking down my throat, looking at my eyes and ears, checking on my heart and breathing with his stethoscope — the usual stuff.

"Well, Dan," he said afterwards. "Everything seems OK. As I expected."

"Yeah, Doc?" I said, and warily looked him up and down. I didn’t speak anymore, and waited for him to talk, wondering what this was about. Truth was, I was scared. To death.

When the silence started becoming unbearable, he cleared his throat and ushered me into his office.

"Well," he said as we both sat down. "I guess it’s time for the truth."

He cleared his throat again, reluctant to begin. "Let me start by saying that I am not who you think I am."

I sat up at that.

"Don’t get me wrong. I am a real doctor, but I don’t work for the hospital. I work for a pharmaceutical company that did an experiment oh, about sixteen or seventeen years ago. That also goes for Dr. Jessup your psychiatrist, and Eleanor your dietician.

"When you and your sister were conceived, your mom was participating in human trials for a new drug." He held up his hand. "No, it wasn’t anything like in the X Files or anything like that. It was just a new hormone-based diet pill. The particular drug used in your mom’s trials was the last batch in a fourteen-batch production run of the drug.

"As soon as we found out that your mom was pregnant with you and your sister, we pulled her out of the tests. And that was it for your mom. Anyway, about the drug, the short story is that the experiment had gone bust. At the end of the test protocols, all of the test subjects didn’t show any weight reduction nor any other effects. The program was discontinued, and all samples of Batch Fourteen were destroyed. Also, the documentation and the formula were lost in the merger of our company with its German competitor in the late eighties. It just wasn’t that important to the company’s bottom-line so no one bothered to keep track of the programme.

"Now, moving closer to the present - just two years ago, people going through some old files found some sketchy references to the project and we re-discovered your mom’s participation in the first two months of the 14th batch of the program, and that on the third month she was pregnant with you two.

"Eleanor informed the company authorities, and we followed up on all the Batch 14 test subjects we found listed — the few names we could glean. No one seemed to have been affected in any way. No one, that is, except your mom.

Initially, we wanted to find out if there were any problems from the drug, and to try to protect the company from any lawsuits. We found your mom and all the others completely healthy. Any possibility of cancer was ruled out. After all, it was more than fifteen years ago - anything like that should have come out already.

"For more than a year, we’ve been keeping all test subjects, including your family, under observation. And we found nothing out of the ordinary. Normal people and normal lives. But we took special interest in your mom.

"As per our tests and your mom’s medical records, your mom was more than just healthy. It seems that, in her case, Batch Fourteen worked!"

I was listening closely. This was all news to me. But the idea I was getting wasn’t too good.

"It seemed that, despite the fact that your mom had an obsession about dieting, her weight had remained in the ideal weight range for her age, height and build the whole time we had her under observation. Eleanor did some calculations by comparing her eating habits with calorie and other weight tables. By all rights, Eleanor estimated that, because of her constant dieting, your mom should weigh no more than eighty pounds tops!

"Needless to say, you and Danielle showed the same symptoms. Clearly, you two were also affected by Batch Fourteen.

"Now, we compared her to you and your sister. Both of you eat a lot. Eleanor says that the two of you eat way too much than what is good for you, and should be well past the two-hundred-pound mark! But, like your mom, your weights have also remained in the ideal range for your age, height and build. Eleanor did experiments and, through your prescribed diets, increased your caloric intake. Both you and your sister were only slightly affected.

"We now know that Batch Fourteen has affected your metabolisms in such a way that your bodies will maintain your ideal weights, whether you eat too much, or too little, or when you’re sick, you’re well, sedentary, exercising, whatever. On a side note, about your eating habits - the reason why you and your sister eat too much is largely psychological. Because your bodies have let you get away with it, and you didn’t have any reason to control your food intake, you and your sister never developed any psychological inhibitions to eating."

I wanted to tell Mom, Dad and Danielle, but Dr. Roberts seemed to have read my mind. "I’ve already told them everything I just told you. They’re probably at home, waiting to talk to you. Your dad is passing by later to pick you up, by the way."

"But what about my breasts?" I asked. "What has this got to do with…"

"I’m getting to that," he said. "We believe that Batch Fourteen also affected the production of sex-related hormones in your bodies as well as adrenalin and other chemicals that effect metabolism, such as Ghrelin and Leptin. But primarily the so-called female hormones. And it’s likely that the reason your weight is in control, and your metabolism is the way it is, is because of the balance of hormones in your bloodstream."

I pointed mutely to my chest.

"Right, right," he said. "Now, the reason for your condition is that, despite the fact that you are biologically a boy, your body has been changed and now produces the necessary amounts of female and other hormones to affect metabolism in the way that it has. Just like your sister and your mom.

"However, since you are also a developing boy, you are also producing male hormones. And we have found out that your body is automatically producing just the right balance of chemicals to continue the weight control and yet not affect the natural development of your male sex organs. Which is something that transgender patients have problems with: male transsexuals who undergo female hormone therapy find that their sex organs become smaller and, eventually, non-functional. Not you.

"Now, an unfortunate effect of Batch Fourteen, unfortunate in your case at least, is that you are now developing secondary female sex characteristics. Not all of them, mind you. Just less body hair, softer skin. And breasts. And to a noticeable extent, your skeletal structure and figure. But for your sister and your mom, the effects on them are completely natural since they are female."

I sat up straight for that news.

"Anyway, the pills that we’ve been giving you are a cocktail of different chemicals designed to increase or supplement male hormone production. Our original plan was to counteract the effects of the female hormones with more male hormones. But since your system seems to be self-regulating, your body just produces more. The pills therefore haven’t done anything at all, least of all to help reverse the effects. Not to mention that any more hormones may actually put your health at risk.

"The thing that we can’t figure out is where the new hormones are coming from. If it were just your sister and your mom, we would have assumed that it came from the, umm, regular organs and glands. But with you, we now know this is an incorrect assumption. With you, many of these glands aren’t even present!"

He sat back, and looked at me with a little bit of tiredness and sadness. "These past couple of years have been quite, umm, interesting. And it is a little disappointing that we are ending up with nothing to show for it."

He stood up, picked up a folder. "So. This is what we will be doing. We are discontinuing your drug therapy. We have found nothing on how Batch Fourteen changed your body, your mom’s or your sister’s. The company is discontinuing the research because we think no amount of further research will show anything more than what we know now: we don't understand it and we can't replicate it. So we are going to stop wasting money."

"I am now thinking that the reason Batch Fourteen worked in your mother’s case was because she was pregnant. The drug, coupled with the changed metabolism of a mother carrying a child, plus her own particular genetic makeup, was probably the reason it worked on her."

He sat back and sighed. "And, if this is right, then the chances of us replicating the effect are next to impossible."

He handed me the folder in his hand. "What you have there is a release form to be signed by you, your parents and your sister, releasing the company from any liabilities relating to Batch Fourteen, and to keep quiet about it. Also in there is an agreement to provide you and your family any kind of medical assistance that you may need for the remainder of your lives — sort of like full-coverage medical insurance. We will also continue to retain Dr. Jessup and Eleanor, and they will stay with you for the remainder of the year, so that we can be sure that you adjust all right.

"Aside from that, we are providing your family a small cash settlement, and are providing you and Danielle a college scholarship to any college or university of your choice."

I looked at the papers. "Doctor. That’s all okay. But I don’t want to remain this way for the rest of my life. Can’t anything be done?"

He sat down beside me. "Dan," he began. "We don’t know. But we are doing everything we can to help you adjust. Know that there are pluses to all of this. You will probably not age as much physically. You will never become overweight. Or underweight, for that matter. You will have no coronary problems - nothing related to heart problems, I mean. Also, I am sure you have noticed that you’ve been unable to develop better muscle definition. Know that this will probably be the case no matter how much you exercise. But also know that your muscles will be developing normally even without obvious muscle definition. If you exercise a lot, you’ll end up being a lot, lot stronger than how you look."

He suddenly smiled, like a person with a secret that he’s been itching to tell. "We have also done some chemical extracts and tests of skin samples from you, your mom and your sister, and found something present in your samples that are not in theirs. We think that’s because they’re women. You see, some of the chemicals we extracted from you seem suspiciously like pheromones - real honest-to-goodness human pheromones." He grinned like the proverbial mad scientist, and I just had to laugh.

He then looked at me a little hopefully. "Eleanor brought to my attention a study she unearthed by a researcher looking into human pheromones. In the study, she said that the human sense of smell is not as strong as they are in other species. That’s why modern humans do not react as strongly to pheromones the way other mammals do. Even so, we still produce these pheromones even if we don’t respond to them as well.

"Anyway, Eleanor said that the markers the paper described are chemically very similar to some of the hormone components in your skin and in your sweat, which you seem to be producing in relatively high amounts. Dr. Jessup, Eleanor and myself have so far kept this little secret from the company, as well as your family because we suspect it’s another thing that we won’t be able to replicate, and the interest that this would surely generate would just make it more difficult for you and your family. But!"

He put his hand on my shoulder again. "Just on the off-chance that your ‘pheromones’ are real and we can replicate the active chemicals, I would like to continue getting samples from you regularly. Mostly some samples of your saliva. Some blood, sweat, and…"

I laughed. "And what? Blood, sweat and tears?" Dr. Roberts laughed, too.

"That’s right."

"Sounds like a lot of hogwash to me. I haven’t seen any difference in how others treat me. I haven’t suddenly become some stud that,…" I thought of my friends. Mom and Dad and Danielle. Could it be…

Dr. Roberts continued. "You wouldn’t have noticed because your body has just only recently started producing these chemicals. Your late entry into ummm… "female puberty" seems to have started it, and the medication that we’ve given you seems to have accelerated the process. And you’ve started to produce the chemicals in quantities that even our dulled sense of smell will detect it."

"You mean,…"

"Yup, the increase in male hormones that we’ve introduced seem to have triggered the effect."

"But now that I’m not taking the pills…"

Dr. Roberts shook his head. "Sorry, Dan. Your glands, or whatever they are, have been triggered, and we can’t stop it. But they would have been triggered naturally, anyway. We just sort of triggered it ahead of schedule."

"So, what can I expect? Would I suddenly become irresistible to girls?" I grinned, and I suddenly thought of Morgan and the others, and my grin faded. "Or, oh God! Will it affect boys instead of girls? Jesus, I don’t want to attract guys!"

Dr. Roberts was nodding. "That’s a good question, Dan. Given that it’s triggered by male hormones, it’s logical to assume that this is a pheromone that targets females. ‘Course, we don’t know. Eleanor says it could be a generic kind of pheromone, affecting females AND males."

"You don’t know…" I echoed lamely.

He grinned. "You’ll know soon enough if it works. And how it works."

I felt sad. "I’m so messed up. And I have breasts… I’ll look like a girl forever."

He put a compassionate hand on my shoulder. "If you want," he said gently, "we can do some plastic surgery on you and give you a mastectomy. I don’t recommend that, of course, because any kind of unnecessary surgery is not good for the body. Also, we don’t know how you will be affected, with your age and your unique body chemistry and all..."

I buried my head in my hands. "I’ll be this way forever…"
 

*          *          *
 
In the end, I decided to sign the papers. The doctor said that I should talk to the family first, and we should all decide and sign together. So, I put it away in my pack for the moment. The doctor left me in the waiting room and I sat waiting for Dad. It was good to be alone for a while. It gave me time to think. I felt so helpless. The fear and sadness threatened to close over me again. But I resolved to fight it. The doctor said there were some pluses. I’ll concentrate on that. And more exercise. That will help. And with my gigs with the band and the radio shows, I don’t think I’ll have much time to brood about this. I absentmindedly fondled my right breast through my shirt and sports bra.

I thought about Mom and Dad and Danielle. They did not waver, and have kept me steady through all this. I mustn’t let them down. I made a new resolve, and to quit wallowing in this grief. I will not give in.

During the ride home, Dad tried to draw me out. I smiled at him wanly, and told him I was okay. He looked at me, put a friendly hand on my shoulder and nodded.

"You know," I said.

"Yes. All of it, I think."

"So, what do we do now?"

"Well, first thing is that you have some decisions to make. And whatever they are, I’ll back you up one hundred percent. Us guys have to stick together."

I looked out the window. "Us guys," I whispered.

Dad slammed the brakes. The guy in the car behind us leaned on his horn. Dad pulled over, and waved the other car passed.

He switched on the hazard lights and turned off the engine.

He turned to me. "Now what’s that supposed to mean?"

I was crying softly. "I don’t know," I said. "Am I a guy? I got tits…"

He pulled me around. "Now stop that! What’s happening to you isn’t your fault. Nor your mom’s. Nor anyone else’s for that matter. Look at me." I was staring down at my lap, and stifled a small sniff. Dad shook me violently. "Look at me, goddamnit!"

"What! What do you want from me!"

Dad held me by the chin, and spoke to me sternly.

"You are the same person. You have not changed. You are the same boy that your mom and I conceived. You are the boy that we love, and will do anything for. Through all of this, we have stayed by you, and supported you. And we will keep on loving and supporting you. I know that this is hard for you. I don’t know if I can be as brave as you, if I was in your place. I am proud, damn proud of you."

He handed me a handkerchief, and I blew my nose. My dad continued. "I think the doctors covered everything. And now that we know what we’re up against, I think we can plan better. Know this, son." He looked into my eyes. "Whatever happens, I will be here for you. I love you son. So much."

I cried harder. Through my tears, I reached for him, and gave him a hug. Dad laughed a little. "Now, stop it, you crybaby. People might see us and start wondering." I laughed a little shakily.

"OK," I said. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, and blew my nose again. I gave him a small smile, and he tousled my hair. He started the engine, and pulled back into traffic. After a little while, almost under my breath, I said, "I love you, Dad." He squeezed my shoulder again, and smiled gently.

"I love you, too, carrot-top."

I took a deep breath. "I think we should sign." I said.

"Yeah." He said. "Best to accept what’s happened. And signing the documents sort of means that. Is that what made you decide?"

"I guess, yeah. Sort of accept the responsibility. You think you know me so well, huh?" I smiled at him to show I wasn’t being a brat.

"Damn straight!"

"So what am I thinking now?"

"That you’re hungry, and what’s for dinner."

Maybe he can read my mind.
 
***** (Danielle) *****
 
Mom and I were in the kitchen, each eating a bowl of ice cream - hers a small one and mine a big humungous one. We were talking, and wondering what it all meant. When Dr. Roberts told the whole truth about batch fourteen, the both of us were just short of jumping for joy, but when Dad angrily pointed out that we should be thinking what this all means for Dan, we felt shame.

An hour ago, Dad had left to pick up Danny at the hospital. They should be back soon. Mom was asking me how I felt about what’s happening to Dan.

"I don’t really know what he’s going through now, or what he’s thinking or feeling," I said. "But I will do what he wants. I’ll give him what he needs." I looked up at my mom. "He’s my brother. I love him."

Mom gave me a big hug. "Me, too," she said. "Thank you for saying that."

"If he goes for the mastectomy?"

"Then, we will all support him in his decision."

"OK." I reached up to hug her back. "I love you, Mom."

"Oh, baby. I love you, too. Don’t worry. It’ll be OK. Trust me."

We hugged each other out there in the kitchen for the longest time.
 
 
Eleven: Support Group
 
 
***** (Danny) *****

In the end, the family decided to postpone any kind of surgery. After all, as my Dad said, no one’s tumbled to any of my changes yet, so there’s no real rush to do anything. Mom called Dr. Roberts up and told him about our decision. Dr. Roberts agreed, but told her that, if at any time in the future we were to want to do the operation, they can proceed, with just a day or two’s notice. In a way, I felt relieved because I was scared of any kind of operation.

In the following days, Mom asked Danielle’s help to surf the net, and to look for certain types of "foundation garments" that suited someone in my condition. They used my little Sony Vaio, and I tried to ignore them as they whispered to each other while clicking away. They used Mom’s credit card to buy the stuff, and a lot of parcels started arriving the following week.

Mom cussed a lot, finding out that much of the stuff was useless in hiding my boobies. What they did was actually emphasize them: The tight tees and tanktops that I tried on not only didn’t help to flatten my chest, but actually made them more noticeable. Mom and Danielle looked at me as I modeled the latest one - an off-white tanktop-like shirt made out of some sheer satin-like material, and Danielle wolf-whistled. "God, Danny, you’re so sexy!" I looked at myself in the mirror. The tight shirt stuck to me like a second skin, and emphasized my perky breasts (I was now a smallish c-cup) and narrow waist. They also gave the suggestion of flaring hips as they flowed down my flanks. Damnit!

When I turned to them, intending to make a joke and hide my growing embarrassment, they had funny, sort of glazed-over expressions on their faces, and I did not like the implications of that.

"Can I borrow that shirt sometime?" Danielle suddenly asked.

"Hell, you can have it! You won’t see me dead wearing this." I skinned it off and threw it at her. I turned to Mom, who was looking at my naked chest, with that look still on her face. "What?" I said abruptly, more nervous than irritated.

That sort of snapped her out of whatever it was. She shook her head and walked out of the room.

I looked at Danielle, and she held the shirt bunched up near her nose while she looked at me with that same expression. Was she smelling the shirt? I couldn't help but think of what Dr. Roberts said, and it made me nervous, but also a little turned on. Turned on?...

Mom called her and she stepped out into the hallway. I turned and put on one of my nondescript white sportsbras, and dropped a loose t-shirt over it. I put on a sweatband and went to look for Dad, thinking maybe he’d want to play backyard basketball for a while. It wasn’t too late for a short game.
 

*          *          *
 
As usual, Dad had an easy time making his shots, whereas I had to fight for every basket I made. But surprisingly, after barely twenty minutes of playing, I was ahead. Dad seemed oddly distracted and I was actually ahead by 6 points. Dad abruptly called it quits and left me there. I then thought of Dr. Roberts' words, and I shivered a bit in fear. Please, let it not be IT. Not Dad.

With the game apparently over, at least I had a chance to cool off. Wearing a bra under a shirt was a little warm, and I was very sweaty. I went into the house and had a shower. I dropped my sweaty clothes in the little laundry basket near the bathroom door, stepped in, closed the door and turned on the water. After the refreshing shower, I went to my room, wrapping myself in a towel like a girl. ‘Course I didn’t wrap my hair like a girl’s, though. As I stepped out of the steamy shower, I casually noticed that my sweaty stuff and the other clothes in the hamper were gone. Mom or Danielle probably took them to be washed. But the hamper wasn't even half full.

I went downstairs to the basement, and found the washer running. I felt relief seeing that, and wondered at my relief.

I went upstairs and knocked on Danielle's door, intending to borrow her hair drier. She opened her door, hair disheveled, most of the buttons on her blouse undone and handed me her blow drier with a big smile. I could just glimpse passed her shoulder at her bed, rumpled bedclothes strewn all over it.

Sometimes this twin brother/sister pseudo-ESP does come in handy, I thought to myself, as I often do when these odd kinds of coincidence-type things happen (and they've been happening more frequently, lately). I gave her a smile of thanks, and she gave me a little wet kiss on the cheek and slammed the door. She must be in one of those moods. I chuckled and thought my apology through the door for interrupting her fun even as I heard the bedsprings start creaking.

Then I stopped dead in my tracks. Weren't those clothes on her bed my shirt, bra and shorts?... Oh, no...
 

*          *          *
 
In the following days, Danielle had started showing Mom some, umm, unusual websites that had some specialty clothes of the, umm, exotic kind, and Mom started buying a lot of the stuff. They were both giggling and I was intrigued. I tried to look over their shoulders but they shooed me away. I grumbled, but they ignored me and continued clicking happily away.
 
*          *          *
 
The next Saturday, several new packages came via courier. Mom and Danielle dragged me to my room and asked me to model again. First was a sort of a bulky, flesh-colored girl's one-piece swimsuit-like thing. Danielle showed me how to put it on. I stepped into the flesh-colored suit, pulling it up over my legs and torso, and then snaking the straps over my shoulders.

I looked in the mirror, and it did help a lot. Amazingly so. It did flatten my chest a little, but what was left was molded to look like a lightly-muscled man’s chest under a tanktop, and unless someone poked me, no one would be the wiser. Danielle handed me one of my button-downs, and I pulled it on. It looked good! I looked like a semi-buffed Arnold Schwarznegger wanna-be.

"Lookin’ good, handsome," Mom joked. I smiled at them both. Then I noticed Danielle had that look again, and it made me nervous.

Mom brought out several other shirts that were just like the first, in various colors and material.

I pointed to some of the packages that they didn’t unwrap. "What about those?" I asked.

Mom and Danielle giggled. "We’ll show them to you later," she said.

I went to hug her. "Thanks, Mom," I said. She hugged me back tightly, and kissed me on the forehead. I barely felt the padding — it felt quite comfortable. I was relieved by that, and thought that this would work.

"Anything for my baby boy," she said, and didn’t let go.

"Uh, Mom?" I started getting uncomfortable with the extra-long hug, and then suddenly, Danielle hugged me from the back.

"Guys? I can’t breathe!" They just giggled.

I wore the white one under one of my button-downs, and Dad commented during dinner - "Looking good, son."

But he clearly had other stuff on his mind. He brought up some of the practical aspects of my situation. "For the past months," he said, "we’ve been working on the problem alone. It would be good for some people - people we trusted" he stressed that point, "to know about this. Besides, it would be good for Dan and Danielle if their close friends knew about it."

"What’s the point?" Mom asked.

"I had a long talk with Dr. Jessup," he said, "and she said that it would be good for the kids to develop a sort of support group - people that were near their own age that they can talk to about this."

"I thought that the drug company didn’t want to let people know," Danielle said.

"The company is okay with it so long as we don't mention their name. Besides, Dr. Jessup said that it’s worth the risk if it helps you two adjust better, and have some friends to talk to about it."

"But what if this gets out, and people make fun of my babies," Mom huffed at Dad, with glaring eyes and crossed arms. Danielle and I rolled our eyes at the word "babies."

Dad shrugged. "It’s something that can still happen, anyway. The kids just have to be careful which friends they tell it to."

I looked at my dad. "If you think that’s the right thing to do, Dad," I said.

"I think so, kid," he said, and gave me a little punch on the shoulder.

Danielle protectively put her arm around me. I hugged her.

"’Kay…"

Mom and Dad agreed to be out the coming Saturday, just in case we wanted to bring our friends home to talk or whatever. They’d be back Sunday lunchtime. Danielle and I winked at each other.

"It’s not like that, kids," Dad said. Danielle and I giggled.
 

*          *          *
 
I called Janet and asked if we could cancel the gig for this Saturday. She wasn’t too happy with that, especially with the lost income. "Please, Janet," I said. "I’ll make it up to you." Janet relented.

"OK, Danny-O," she said. "And don’t think I won’t collect."

We decided to have early dinner with the guys in a restaurant instead, and to talk there. And if we felt like it, we’ll go back to the house after.
 

*          *          *
 
On Saturday, I finished up my early-morning radio program, with lots of calls from listeners. As usual. After the program, I went to the market and bought some chips, dip, sodas and other munchies just in case we do end up inviting everyone home. Danielle made her special fudge brownies. Kosher brownies, unfortunately.

Mom and Dad had already left so we had the house to ourselves. Mom told Danielle to not wait up for them on Sunday because they might not be home for the entire weekend. I giggled at that.

In the afternoon, I called around to get the band and my buds together. Danielle called up her girlfriends. We decided on that Italian restaurant where we had that talk with Mrs. Piper. Morgan met us at home, left his bike in our garage, and rode with us to the restaurant.

When we were all there, we were ushered to a large booth well away from the patrons were still there. It was actually two booths that Danielle got the busboys to put together. She also warned the Maitre d’ that our bunch would be quite noisy, but will try not to make too much of a mess. He nodded and smiled indulgently

"I’ll try and seat any new patrons coming in away from your group," he said.

Danielle smiled. "Thanks so much."

"No problem, little miss. Mrs. Piper said to take good care of you and your sister. And we don’t mind. Glad to help."

We looked at each other and shrugged. Seems Mrs. Piper had a lot of pull in this restaurant. Nevertheless, I still shook his hand before we went and joined our friends. Best to keep on the maitre d’s good side.

The guys were horsing around, as usual, excited at the thought of a free fancy meal in a fancy restaurant. Dale brought a gorgeous twelve-string, mother-of-pearl shining in the fluorescent lights. He was softly playing a love song, serenading Danielle and her girlfriends, almost. The girls giggled and tittered.

I surveyed my immediate circle of noisy fiends, and smiled a small smile of exasperation and affection. I then thought of the reason why I asked them here for, and shuddered in a mixture of fear and embarrassment. I took a deep breath. Danielle looked up at me. She suddenly got up and sat beside me. She gave me one of her big-sister hugs, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "You sure you want to do this?" she asked.

"Dad’s right. I think I have to tell them. Besides, I don’t like keeping stuff bottled up inside. This’ll be good for me. For us."

"What if I were the one to tell them?"

I looked at her with shining eyes. "Thanks for the offer, Sis. But I think I should be the one."

"I love you," she said quietly.

"I love you, too," I said, and gave her a little squeeze.

I cleared my throat twice to get their attention, and they quieted down.

"Umm, thanks, guys, for coming."

"Food, food!" cried Mickey, which got him a playful whack on the head from Kyle. "Hey!" The others laughed.

Morgan made some patting gestures, and the guys quieted down.
 

*          *          *
 
I smiled as I surveyed my friends, and aside from the girls being a little giggly, they seemed to be paying attention.

"Me, Danielle, and my mom & dad, have decided to tell the people closest to us about something that’s been happening to the family. And since you guys are our closest friends…"

The guys started becoming more serious. Morgan straightened from his slouch, and Nikki leaned close. "What’s wrong?"

I looked at Danielle, and she gave me a little nod of encouragement. I took a deep breath, and began.

"It started a long time ago…"

"In a galaxy far, far away…" Mickey interrupted.

Morgan gave him a very strong whap on the head. "Goddamnit, Mickey," Morgan growled.

"Okay, okay!" Mickey said.

I started over and told them the story Danielle and I agreed to, that Mom volunteered for an experiment with a drug company when they were newly married, (something that kids sometimes do to earn a quick hundred), and that we were affected by the drug.

"What, are you guys radioactive or something?" Dale joked, and made everyone giggle nervously.

"No, you dope!" I laughed, and explained that the drug was supposed to be some harmless diet supplement, but it affected us - me mostly - and induced some changes. We didn’t tell them about the metabolism thing, or the name of the company. We were subtly relieved that they didn’t come up. What did was troubling enough as it is.

"You got tits?" Mickey exclaimed "No way!"

Morgan stood up.

"Goddamnit Mike. One more time and I swear…"

Mike made a locking gesture on his lips, and threw away an imaginary key.

He turned to me. "So? What? What does this mean? Do you have cancer or something? Are you dying?"

"No!"

"So what, then?"

"Nothing! It’s just that my body’s not exactly a normal guy’s. I got breasts, and, and… other things…"

Mel leaned over. "Other things? What other things, exactly?" she asked.

"Nothing much more than that, actually," Danielle said. "Daniel has what they call secondary sex characteristics. Female secondary sex characteristics. Softer skin, less body and facial hair, and less muscle definition. As well as the breasts."

"How about that voice of his?" Dale asked.

"Nope, that’s different. Dan got that from an operation he had when we were kids."

"That was when he had that accident at your cousins’?" Morgan asked. He knew the story.

"Yup."

"Oh. Okay."
 

*          *          *
 
Everyone suddenly wanted to know about the accident, and I told them all about it, and the problems I had growing up because of my changed voice. Everyone felt sorry for me, and Danielle looked at me in mute apology. I patted her hand.

After a while, everyone became quiet. And then Mongo softly asked, "How about, you know…" he gestured vaguely at my crotch. "Well, to put it delicately, do you still have, umm, a dick?"

I was so embarrassed. "Yup, everything normal in that department."

"Do you still like girls?" Janet asked.

"I like ‘em fine. Nuthin’s changed there, too."

Everyone looked at Nikki, and everyone went, "oooh!" Nikki and I both blushed.

"Cut it out, guys," Morgan exclaimed, and looked at me. I was a little scared by his intensity. "So?" he said. "That’s it?"

"Well, yeah… You guys had to know. And it’s better to know now. But I’d appreciate it if you tell me how you feel about this. I wouldn’t blame you if you’d rather not hang around with a freak like me. I’ll understand." I tried not to cry. I looked down at the table in shame, and I felt Morgan standing beside me. I looked up to his face.

"I’m still here, bro," he said softly, only me and those near me able to hear. He laid his hand on my shoulder. "And I’m always gonna be here. We’ll always be buds. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Nuthin’s changed. You’re no freak."

"Thank God for that." I almost sobbed.

"Buck up, kid," he said, in a louder, normal tone of voice. "We’re your friends. We’ll stick by you." He looked at the others. "Ain’t that right guys?"

There was a chorus of Yes's and Sure's.

"And we will keep this a secret, right?"

The others agreed, and they all crowded around me and Danielle.

"Told ya," Danielle laughed, eyes shining bright, arms around my neck.

The girls hugged me, and then hugged Morgan.

"That was so sweet of you," Drew said to Morgan, and hugged him. Over her shoulder, Morgan winked at me. I grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Umm, didn’t someone say ‘Food’?" Jerry asked, and everyone broke up.

"Right!" I said, and gestured to the nearest waiter. Soon, everyone had ordered up. Danielle and I both ordered what we had that first time - angel hair pasta with the house sauce, german sausages, pepperoni and peppers. Most of the girls ordered small helpings of various kinds of pasta, while the guys ordered bigger servings. Betsy, true to form, ordered a simple chef’s salad and a small white wine (surprisingly, she wasn't carded - probably under instructions from Mrs. Piper). June watched her like a hawk and tried to copy her every move. She was fascinated by Betsy, a fact that Betsy didn’t feel comfortable about. She nervously grinned at June, pushed her glasses back by the bridge, and continued to pick at her food like a bird.
 

*          *          *
 
The normalcy of the scene floored me, and I couldn’t believe that nothing had changed between me and my friends. Then I noticed some furtive looks thrown my way. I shrugged them off, thinking that it’s normal for my friends to be curious.

But it was too good to last because, after a while, almost all the guys stood up to go to the men’s room at almost the same time, with the exception of Morgan and Dale.

We all wondered what was up, so, after a while, I went and followed them.

"Where are you going?" Morgan asked.

"Got to go to the bathroom," I said.

As I got near the men’s room door, I heard Jerry say distinctly, "Bullshit!" I then heard some mumbling, which sounded like Mongo in full-lecture mode. This was followed by a burst of sound like an argument in progress.

I pushed open the door and stepped into the men’s room. The discussion abruptly stopped, like a light that was suddenly switched off. I went and relieved myself in one of the urinals, and as I relieved myself, I heard them mumbling behind me.

I went to the sink to wash my hands. "’Sup, Mike?" I asked.

"Umm, Dan," Mikey began. "The guys and me, we’ve been talking…"

"Yeah?"

"The thing is, Dan," Kyle began and faltered.

"The thing is," Jerry repeated. "We don’t completely believe your story. We don’t not believe you, ‘cause we don’t think that you’d make up all this crap just to fuck us over. Mikey maybe. Not you."

"Hey!" Mike exclaimed, but Jerry shushed him.

"What I guess we’re saying, Dan, is that, well… we need to see."

"See what?"

"Umm, your stuff. Your new stuff, I mean."

"Yeah, Dan." Mongo said. "The only thing I can think of to cause what you claimed happened to you is if you’re on hormone therapy. And there are certain effects that hormone therapy can’t hide."

"And you need to know this, why?"

Jerry gestured with his hands palm up, and shrugged. "Sorry, Dan. We just want to know…"

"I'm no fag," I said. "do you think I'm a fag?"

"We just wanna know, Dan."

Though a bit angry, I shrugged. "I guess I asked for this," I said, and started unbuttoning my shirt. They went to the door to block anyone from coming in. I threw my shirt on the counter and then pulled my bra over my head, my hair catching on the straps and pulling it over my shoulder. I faced them, my upper torso partially covered only by my hair. "Well?" I asked sarcastically, hands on my hips. "You like what you see?"

"Holy," Mike said. "You weren’t kidding." They stared at me a long time, and then slowly approached me, staring at my chest.

I started sweating nervously. "Guys?"

Kyle looked at my tits with his mouth open, and suddenly poked me in the left tit. "Ouch!" I said.

"Jesus," Kyle said. "It’s real!"

"Of course it’s real!"

"You know," Jerry said conversationally, "you look really sexy like that."

"Jesus! You’re a perv, Jerry."

"But you do!"

"Drop your pants," Mongo said suddenly, out of the blue.

"Huh? No way!"

"Cool it, bro. We won’t do anything funny. We just wanna see."

I bowed to the inevitable and dropped my pants. I then bent over and pushed down my jockeys.

I faced them, with hands on my hips, a little sweat of fear or nervousness trickling down my short ribs. "Happy now, you perverts?"

They looked me up and down, slack-jawed. They had that look that Mom and Danielle sometimes had when they were looking at me. I became more nervous.
 

*          *          *
 
Mikey whistled. "Good God, Dan. You’re gorgeous!"

"What?" I said belligerently, trying to hide my sudden fear. "You gay or something?"

"Jesus, Dan," Mongo said. "You’ve got the biggest pecker I’ve ever seen! You’re definitely not on female hormones."

"Mine’s damn bigger than yours, that’s for sure, you queer!"

"Sorry Dan… I didn’t mean…"

Suddenly, Dale and Morgan pushed open the door.

***** (Morgan) *****

I couldn’t stand it anymore, and stood up and went to the men’s room. Dale followed. I kicked the door open. "What the fuck’s going on here?" I yelled.

The guys all suddenly brushed passed us, and rushed out of the bathroom. And then we saw Dan standing there, no shirt on, and with his pants around his legs.

I looked at him with mouth agape, and stared. In that split second, I saw him in my mind’s eye, frozen in time. I saw how smooth his body was, no hair at all except in the pubic area, and very fair. With his hair casually thrown over one shoulder, he looked like some wild and beautiful amazon.

His torso was narrow like a girl’s, his breasts just perfect. He had slim, graceful arms that hung down his sides. His waist was too narrow for a guy but very sexy if it was on a girl. His hips flared out, sort of a cross between a girl's and a mature woman’s. But his butt, and those legs… wow! Later on, I would not remember seeing his dick. Was I just not looking, or did it just not fit the picture I was seeing, so my brain sort of edited that out?

Dan pulled up his shorts and pants, and it broke me out of whatever spell I was in. I shook my head and turned around. Dale had fled, the same as the others.

I turned back to Dan. "You okay, Bro?"

"I’m fine, Morgan. Just embarrassed as hell. Listen, you go out and I’ll follow. I need to be alone for a bit just now."

"Okay, man. Meet you outside." I went back to the booth. I glared at the guys and sat down.

"So?" Danielle asked.

"Dan’s fine, if that’s what you’re asking."

She moved to go after him. I pulled her back. "Dan said he wants to be alone for a bit. Give him a little space."

Danielle looked toward the door, and then at me. "Don’t worry about it, Danielle," I said.

"Oh… Okay."

Nikki pulled on my sleeve. "What happened in there, anyway?" she asked.

I gestured towards the guys. "Why don’t you ask them?" They looked at each other guiltily, and didn’t say a word until Jerry cleared his throat.

"Dan," Jerry said, "is telling the truth. We saw."

The rest of the guys all goggled at that.

"What?" Janet asked. "What happened? What?"

Mickey sheepishly gestured. "We, umm… made him take off his shirt." The people gasped in a chorus of dropped cutlery. June had a forkful of pasta midway between plate and mouth. "And his pants…" Janet and Nikki simultaneously leaned forward.

Danielle stood up in anger and outrage. I pulled her down hastily. "Don’t make a scene, Danielle," I said to her sotto voce.

"He was wearing a bra under his shirt. And he has tits! Like he said."

"And, it’s real, all right," said Kyle.

"How would you know?" Janet asked, a little too interestedly.

"I poked her left tit." The guys gasped.

Danielle stood up and went to Kyle. He looked up, and she slapped him, so strongly that his head snapped around.

She gestured at the others. "We thought you were our friends," she said, her voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. "You will stay away from my brother," she said. "You will not see him or talk to him in any way. Do you get me?" There was a long silence.

In the awkward quiet, Mongo cleared his throat. "Danielle, you can’t blame us for…"

She turned to him. "I can, and I do! You will stay away from us. Period!"

She got her and Daniel’s things, and walked to the restrooms.

***** (Nikki) *****

I rushed to follow Danielle.

"Nikki, wait!" Drew called. The other girls were just behind me catching up. When I got to the Men’s Room door, Danielle was calling through the door.

"Dan, honey?" she said. "You okay?"

"I’m fine, sis," Dan answered. "Just embarrassed."

"Are you alone in there?"

"Yeah…"

"I’m coming in."

"No! Umm, give me a few seconds. I’ll come out."

I put my hand on her shoulder, and we waited for Dan to come out.

After a bit, Dan opened the door and stepped out. He seemed to be OK, but he had obviously been crying. Danielle gathered him up in her arms.

"I’m not feeling too good, Danielle," he said.

"That’s all right, Dan. Let’s go home. Never mind those jerks."

"But someone has to take care of the bill…"

Danielle sighed. "OK, I’ll take care of it." Dan handed her his credit card. I didn’t know he had one before. "Nikki," Danielle called to me and I took over taking care of Dan. I held on to him as Danielle went to take care of the bill. He was cold and shaking a bit. She felt so soft and vulnerable, I couldn’t help but want to cuddle and protect her. I mean, him!

Morgan came up to us, and I held onto Dan more fiercely, not wanting anyone to get close and hurt her, him. Whatever.

"Listen, Dude." He said. "How about I drive you guys back to your place. Is that okay?"

Dan smiled ruefully. "Thanks, dude. I don’t feel like driving, right now." He held the keys out to Morgan. I snatched it away.

"Thanks, Morgan," I said. "But I’ll drive."

He patiently held out his hand. "Can you handle a stick-shift?" I thought that over, and finally handed him the keys, but held onto Dan. Later on, I had to wonder why I acted that way. Was I jealous or something?

Danielle came back and we walked to Dan’s car. Me and Danielle sat in the back, with Dan sandwiched in the middle. Janet sat in front, and Morgan in the driver’s seat.

The other girls went with Joanne in her mom’s minivan, and we were soon off to Dan’s house.

Morgan parked in the garage, and Joanne parked behind Dan’s car in the driveway.

We plunked Dan in the middle of the couch, and Danielle and Drew went to the kitchen to get some chips. No one really finished their dinner, and we all were a bit hungry.

Dan sighed, and put his face in his hands.

I knelt in front of him and took his hands away from his face.

"It’s all right, Dan. You’re with friends. We are not judging you. Whatever you may be, however you look, you’re our friend and we care about you." The rest echoed me.

"Thanks, Nikki. That means a lot." Drew and Janet hugged her from both sides. Him, I mean!

He swiped his arm across his eyes. "Oh, Jesus." He shook his head, and cleared his throat. "Listen, I’m just gonna change clothes - my shirt’s all clammy. You guys make yourselves at home."

"I’ll go with you," Morgan said, and they went up the stairs.

***** (Morgan) *****

Dan opened the door to his room and went in, and I followed. He got some clothes from his dresser and went to the bathroom, presumably to take a quick shower, like he always does. I laid down on his bed, grabbed a magazine from his bedside table, and absentmindedly leafed through it. Discovery Magazine. Yuck.

I looked around. The room looked like it always did, but it felt different now somehow. How, I don’t know. Maybe because of Dan’s little announcement, I’m starting to think of him differently. I looked around again, trying to find some traces of overt femininity, and could not find any. I wanted to go through his dresser but I resisted the temptation. I tried to calm down and waited for Dan to finish his shower.

***** (Danielle) *****

I got one of the bags of chips, ripped it open and dumped the chips into a bowl. I brought it out to the living room and found the girls clustered on or near the couch gabbing away. When they saw me, they all suddenly became quiet.

I deposited the chips on the table and sat on the carpet, legs crossed. Drew came in and put the two six-packs of Coke Light by my bowl and sat down beside me.

"'Sup?" she said, oblivious, opened a can and popped in a straw.

They were all looking at me.

Mel cleared her throat.

"Umm, Danielle?" she asked. "What Dan said, and what the guys saw... Umm, were they all true?"

I sighed. "Yes, Melanie. It's all true."

Betsy stared at me wide-eyed. "It is?... Golly..."

"Golly? Did you actually say 'golly?'" Janet quipped. Everyone giggled and Betsy blushed crimson.

Janet hugged her in apology, and Betsy hugged her back. That sort of broke up whatever tension was building. Which was probably Janet's intention. She's one smart girl. I like her.

"So tell!" the nosey June asked. "Is he, like, the same?"

I thought about it. "Well, yeah, I guess pretty much the same. But I've been noticing lately that he's a lot more sensitive. More considerate, you know."

Nikki was looking at me with wide open eyes. "Like how? Give us a for-instance."

"Well, if I'm in the bathroom, he doesn't pound on the door screaming as often. And he doesn't rush me when we go to school together."

"But that's nothing, Danielle," Drew said.

"I guess," I said. "I know I'm telling it badly. But it's how he is now - the whole him." I looked to Nikki, who was nodding with me. "You know what I mean, Nikki. Right?"

Nikki nodded. "Danielle's right. He's gentler and more thoughtful."

Joanne giggled. "I think you're just saying that 'cause you looove him!" she crooned.

We all giggled, and Nikki playfully threw a cushion at her.

Drew sighed. "I guess I know what you girls are saying. And, y'know, if he was born a girl in the first place, I'd want her as one of my girlfriends, too."

"Well, isn't he? I mean, he's practically one of us. Right?" We all murmured our agreement.

"But is he gay?" Janet asked. They all looked at me.

"I don't think so," I said. "Nikki?"

"Definitely not!" she cried, and stood up.

"OK, OK," Janet said. "Simmer down."

Joanne had a thoughtful look. "Hmm... But are you sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure," Nikki answered. "... at least I think I'm sure... I've felt him many times when one or both of us were getting, umm frisky. It's easy enough to know if he's turned on... You know..."

She trailed off in embarassment, and we giggled at her.

"He's not gay!" I cried. "He's crazy about Nikki! So how can he be gay?"

"Maybe it's the wrong question." Joanne said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Maybe the right question to ask is, 'is he a lesbian?'"

We all suddenly became quiet.

"You're crazy," Nikki said.

"But, you know," Betsy said, "now that I know, I'm starting to have trouble now thinking of her as a boy. I mean 'him'!" She paused in confusion. "Oh dear," she said.

"This is a mystery, girls!" Joanne said. "One that I want to get to the bottom of. And I have an idea just how to do it!"

"What? Drew asked.

"Sleepover!"

***** (Morgan) *****

I sat up when Dan came back wearing one of his patented checkered shirts, toweling his hair dry. He wore the unbuttoned shirt over a very soft-looking white tanktop, his breasts clearly outlined underneath, and had on a pair of baggy shorts. I had a hard time getting that idea through my brain - Dan having breasts. Yet, there it is. God.

I cleared my throat, and tried to sound normal. "Sorry you had to go through that, bro," I said. "The guys are jerks. Screw ‘em."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and put on a pair of sneakers. "Thanks for saying that." He finished tying his shoes and gave me a small, crooked smile. That same old smile that I knew so well. But I couldn’t help think that Dan wasn’t the same guy anymore - the guy that’s been my best friend since I can remember. But I knew intellectually that it’s all in my head. I have to try and cope, and remain his friend.

He gave my leg a little shake of friendship and gratitude. Why did I feel so awkward?

He continued to rub his hair dry, and tucked his right foot under his left thigh. I couldn’t help but notice that little spontaneous gesture. His leg was so incredibly fair and smooth - no hair at all. I could smell a faint scent of soap coming from him, laced with something else, Dan’s own special scent. I nervously pretended to read the magazine in my lap to avoid looking at him.

"You know," he said, "I’ve been thinking. To be fair, if I were in their shoes, I’d probably behave the same way. I mean, I’ve got breasts for god’s sake."

"You shouldn’t justify what they did, Dan. They were wrong."

"They’re our friends, Morgan."

"Exactly."

He raised his arms. "But, look at me. Can you blame them?"

"Did you change from what you were a few hours ago? I don’t think so. You didn’t change. They did." I was trying to react normally, but was finding it hard to be cool.

"I guess," he said. "But didn’t you think anything was different about me? Since my breasts started to grow, didn’t you notice anything different?"

"When did it start happening, exactly?"

He thought that over. "Well, I don’t exactly know. I guess I didn’t really notice, or wanted to notice. But I started to see or feel something wrong about the time when I started with the band."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Most of the people who went to our shows thought I was a chick. I thought it was my voice, but I started to wonder."

"Well, you’ve always looked a little like a chick, bro." I waved a conciliatory hand. "I’m sorry, bro, but it’s the truth. Remember Halloween?"

"God, yeah. How could I forget? Anyway, I had this crisis kind of thing, and my mom brought me to the hospital. I don't wanna get into that now, okay? But, at the hospital, they gave me a lot of tests, and they did find something - a chemical imbalance. They put me on some kind of medication. But after a while, they finally decided that the drugs weren’t doing anything for me. Aside from radical surgery, they concluded that there was nothing that could be done. This is just the way I am."

"How ‘bout Danielle? And are you considering the surgery?"

"I don’t know, really. I’m still thinking about it."

"And Danielle?"

"Danielle’s a hundred percent normal. Not like me." He looked away.

I gripped his arm. "Don’t, Dan. You are not a freak."

"But, I…"

"No, Dan. You. Are. Not. A. Freak. Period!"

"I’m not?" He was smiling a little.

"Well, I’ve always thought you were weird, dude. You know that." We both laughed. I took my hand away, the memory of the softness and smoothness of his arm lingered in my mind.

"No, dude," he said. "Seriously. What do you think?"

I thought it over, and decided to take the high road. "I didn’t think you were any different."

"Really?"

"Well, you had that voice thing, but you told me a long time ago that it was because of that operation. Other than that, you were pretty normal. Well, normal for a geek."

He hit me on the shoulder. "Ow!" I said, and he laughed. Jeeze, that really hurt. The little dude was stronger than he looked. And, having had my share of scuffles with the school's biggest bully, Tom Hennessy, I suspected that Dan could give him a run for his money. I rubbed my bruised shoulder and laughed along a little belatedly.

I sat up, trying to be serious. "How does it feel?"

"Having breasts, you mean?"

"Yeah. That and the rest of it."

"Well, I’ve noticed that my skin feels a lot softer since the changes started. And it’s a lot more sensitive. I don’t like scratchy and rough clothes anymore."

"Anymore?"

Well, before all of this, my clothes felt fine. Now, they feel rougher and coarser. I’m glad I have these short undershirt things that Danielle bought for me." He gestured at what he was wearing.

"Aren't they for girls?" I asked.

He shrugged. "It's either these or I wear bras all the time. I wear thin cotton undershirts all the time now, otherwise I'd rub my nipples raw."

My mind felt like it was running in first gear, and everything was in slow motion. He rubbed his arms up and down, like he was checking for hair. It was turning me on. God.

"Your chest…"

"It’s a whole lot sensitive, and I like to wear stuff that won’t pinch me. Actually, when my mom introduced me to bras, I found that it made me feel a lot more comfortable."

"It did?" I felt very uncomfortable with this kind of talk myself, but was fascinated just the same.

"Anyway," he continued, "I have to be careful of what kinds of shirts I wear now. Otherwise, my breasts and bra would become noticeable."

"How about not wearing one?"

He shook his head. "Not comfortable at all, if I was wearing a shirt or something. Like I said, they sort of rub me raw. And they make me itch. Also, when I sit and the shirt tugs on my tits, they can pinch. And if I don’t wear one, they hurt when I run around or when I’m doing something vigorous. Like when I jump down from the landing on the stairs. The jiggling looks good on girls, but all the tugging and bouncing actually hurt. Not much, actually, but they do. Enough for me to want some kind of support for 'em. Now I know why girls wear bras." He rubbed the tops of his breasts absentmindedly. I noticed, but tried not to. I was starting to get turned on in a major way.

"Do they feel good? When you rub them like that?" I asked him shyly, quietly.

He suddenly became aware of his hands, and hurriedly pulled them away.

"Ummm." He looked to the side, embarrassed.

"Well, do they?"

He looked at me, and shrugged. "Well, yeah, a bit. And sometimes it makes me sorta hot, you know what I mean?" He comically waggled his eyebrows like Groucho Marx.

I didn’t laugh. "They do?"

"Well, yeah… sometimes…"

We looked at each other in silence. And when the quiet became oppressive, he suddenly stood up and walked to the door.

"Let’s go downstairs, okay? Before the girls finish off the chips. I didn’t get to eat dinner."
 

*          *          *
 
I stood up and followed, glad that his back was turned to me. I could feel myself blushing. I tried to hide my growing erection.

When we got downstairs, the guys were there. They were clustered around in the living room near the front door, apparently reluctant to go further in. I noticed Dale standing apart from them, waving at me. The girls surrounded them, projecting a fierce kind of protectiveness.

"Listen," Kyle was saying. "We just want to talk with Dan, to apologize…" They saw us walking down the stairs. "Dan!"

Danielle turned and met us on the stairs.

"Danny," she said, "if you don’t want to talk to them, I’ll send them away."

He looked at the guys. "That’s OK, Danielle. I guess I’ll talk to them."

"You’re sure? Because I can…"

Dan gave her a hug. "I’m sure, Danielle."

Well, OK." She escorted him down, and I trailed behind.

"Hey, guys," he said mildly, as if nothing was wrong.

"Danny," Kyle said, and cleared his throat. "Danny, I’m, well we, are sorry for what happened at the restaurant. We don’t have any excuses for our behavior. We’re so sorry, Dan. God, we’re so sorry." He hung his head. The other guys murmured their apologies.

I looked into Kyle’s face and he was actually teary-eyed, by God!

Dan gave him a hug, and then thumped him on the back.

"It’s OK, dude. Really."

Kyle pushed away, and swiped an arm across his eyes. "What’s happening to me," I heard him mutter to himself.

"Don’t worry about it, Kyle. Thanks."

"Thanks? Thanks for what?"

"For caring."

"We’re your friends, man…"

"I know."

"Though, I don’t know why you want to be friends with us."

"Yeah, I ask myself the same thing, too. All the time."

Everyone laughed at that, and then he gave each of the guys a hug. I thought that over a bit. It’s not the sort of thing that a guy would usually do. But, for him, it fit. The others didn’t seem to find it out-of-character at all, too.

"We’ll leave. I know you must be tired. And maybe we can talk again later?" There was a soft, hopeful lilt at the end.

"Sure," Dan said. "Later."

"You girls, I mean, umm…" He was beet red in embarrassment. "I mean, you and the girls left so suddenly, you didn’t have a chance to finish dinner. So we had them doggy-bag your food." Mikey and the others brought out wonderful-smelling cardboard boxes and paper bags. The girls took them.

"So… see you later?"

"Sure."
 

*          *          *
 
The guys waved goodbye and left. Dale was the last to go out. He grinned, wagged his eyebrows and closed the door.

The girls burst out laughing. Danielle hugged Danny around the neck, and giggled into his hair. "Did you see their faces? It was so precious! Boys!" She giggled again.

I blushed furiously at that. I harrumphed, and the girls all laughed.

I decided to say my goodbyes, too. "Listen. I’ll be going, too. So see you guys?"

"Oh, poor Morgan." Drew giggled. "I hope we didn’t embarrass you."

I blushed even more, if that was possible. "Nahh," I said. "It’s getting late, and I need to get home. Otherwise, my mom will be pissed and ground me. Again."

"Okay, Morgan," Danielle said, and the others squealed, "’Bye, Morgan!"

I thumped Dan on the shoulder. "See you later, dude."

"What?" Janet exclaimed. "No hug?" I gave her a sour look, and went and hugged Danny. I felt his boobs pressing against me, and I started feeling turned on again.

"See ya, dude," I said.

"Hey, Morgan!" Drew called.

***** (Drew) *****

As Morgan was stepping out, I said, "Hey, Morgan!" He turned around. "Wait, I’ll walk you out." The girls went, "oooh." I waved them down. "Oh, shut up!"

Morgan waited just outside. I slipped my arm through his, and we walked to the garage. "I’m sorry," I said quietly.

"Huh? For what?"

"Well, the girls. I hope you’re not mad."

"Nahh. I've known you guys as long as I’ve known Danny. I’m used to it."

"Well, still. I’m sorry. You stood by Dan when the others didn’t. We should be nicer."

"Thanks, but it’s no big deal." He let go of my arm and got on his motorcycle. "He’s my best friend," he said simply. He put on his leather jacket and his helmet. "So, what are you girls planning tonight?" He rolled his bike onto the street.

"I don’t know, yet. It’s up to Danielle, really."

"Oh. Well, I hope you girls have fun." He started his bike with a roar. Well, a somewhat muted roar, actually - it’s only a 75cc, after all.

I raised the visor of his helmet, and was able to barely kiss the tip of his nose. "Drive safely," I said, and went to walk back to the house.

"Hey!" I turned around. Morgan switched off his bike, took off his helmet and walked to me.

"Yeah?"

He grabbed me about the waist, and swung me around. I gasped in surprise. He leaned over me. "You’ve got to do it right," he whispered in my ear, and kissed me. I mean, he kissed me! If it weren’t for his arms around me, I would have fallen. I swooned in this golden haze that I didn’t want to get out of. I could smell his masculine scent, and breathed in deeply. He had his hand on my butt, and I wriggled in pleasure. I didn’t know what was happening to me.
 

*          *          *
 
Eventually, we broke the kiss, and I tried to catch my breath. He was looking into my eyes, smiling this little-boy smile. I hugged him, and leaned on his shoulder until I felt I could stand on my own.

"Goodness," I whispered.

"Liked that, huh?" He said.

"Oh, yes."

"Well, I gotta go," he said.

"Jerk," I smiled sweetly.

"Can I call you, tomorrow?"

I nodded and gave him my number.

He got on his bike again, and drove off. And I dreamily walked back to the house.

As my head cleared a bit, I could hear the giggling coming from inside, and I remembered. Joanne said we were gonna have a sleepover!

"Oh, boy," I said, and hurried back.

end of part three

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