She splashed some water on her face and reached for her towel, then froze at the horrified expression on my face. "What? Steffi, what?"

Jesus Christ, he really fucking did it. That SON OF A BITCH! That FUCKING SON OF A BITCH! "Tiffany, remember." I almost didn't catch her in time, as the memories came crashing back.

I woke easily to the sound of the alarm clock. We'd always been early risers, Tiff and me. When we were kids, it was helping with the chores, now it was early morning exercises. I called across the room as I rolled out of bed, "Up 'n at 'em, sis." I threw on a robe over my nightie, squealing at the cold floor as my toes hurriedly snuggled into bunny slippers. Grabbing my towel I tossed a second towel onto the Tiffi-shaped lump under her covers, and headed off to the communal bathroom to have a pee and splash some water on my face. Tiff shuffled in groggily a few minutes behind me, scratching her head through her tousled hair, and I grinned at her in the mirror. "Lazy sleepyhead!"

Tiffi made a face at me and headed into a stall. "Steffi honey, you are entirely too chipper in th' mornin'." she groused. I blew her a raspberry and we both giggled. Every morning, same ritual, sometimes she was the sleepyhead, sometimes it was me. She came out and I watched her in the mirror as she comfortably hip-bumped me to make room and began her own morning routine at my sink. There were other sinks, but that's the way we were. We just shared without thinking, it was mine, so it was hers too. She splashed some water on her face and reached for her towel, then froze at the horrified expression on my face. "What? Steffi, what?"

Jesus Christ, he really fucking did it. That SON OF A BITCH! That FUCKING SON OF A BITCH! "Tiffany, remember." I almost didn't catch her in time, as the memories came crashing back.

"What are we gonna do? What the hell are we gonna do?" It didn't really matter which of us had asked the question this time, as we jog-walked along the park trail. We'd both been asking it ever since the bathroom. We needed a place to talk. The bathroom had been too public -- we weren't the only early risers in the dorm -- and our room seemed claustrophobic, we felt antsy, we had to keep moving, to be doing something. So we threw on some running clothes -- well, Tiffi did, I just had to find clothes that matched, and put on some chapstick, it was the minimum 'appropriate makeup for the occasion' -- and off we went, into the semidarkness of the autumn morning, our breath crystallizing in the chill.

As I broke back into a run, I wondered if it was our new bodies. They were undeniably fit -- incredibly so. I'd never been this fit as a man. Active, yes, I'd been a field archeologist, you don't do that from a desk. I'd hiked a great deal, kept in reasonable shape, but these bodies were tuned. Between gymnastics, dancing, and cheerleading, there wasn't a muscle group neglected, and over top of the muscles were some very pleasing curves. Perhaps these bodies just had to run. I glanced at Tiffi, beside me, picking up her pace to match mine. I grinned at her and stretched my legs, increasing speed, defying her to keep up. The feel of my heart racing, lungs pumping, muscles flowing, was exhilarating. We flew into the home stretch, grinning like fools. Tiffi had the inside path around the last curve, winning by a step. We collapsed onto the frosted autumn grass by the dorm entrance, laughing like, well, schoolgirls, while we tried to catch our breath.

Our wind returned remarkably quickly, and we couldn't stay on the cold ground. Soon we were back on our feet, doing impossibly limber stretches as we warmed down from our run. Tiffi -- well, Tom, started. "Well, what do we know? Did Jacobi even get what he wanted?" I shook my head. "Steffi has no idea there even is an Archeology Department. I guess it couldn't hurt to find out -- but I'm not going anywhere near there. We can check the campus web site, maybe. I think something changed, though -- do you remember leaving his office?" Tom shook his head, "I remember he took his hands off the disks, and it was all a blur. Then the alarm went off this morning."

I nodded, "That's about how I remember it, too. When he changed Bridget -- the Dean, " I corrected myself, "she got up and left the office. I'm thinking, after he changed us, there was no office. Reality changed, and that wasn't his office anymore. So the magic just slipped us straight into our new lives."

I was automatically following Tiffi's lead, matching her stretches and contortions as I considered our situation. Damn, that magic had worked a number on us. As twins, my body was an identical copy of hers -- somehow, I knew the magic was going to be quite literal about that. Twins tend not to stay truly identical. Most identical twins come to physically differ a little over time, thanks to life's little traumas -- a fall out of a tree here, a bicycle accident there -- and no two people ever follow the exact same path through life, even if they wanted to. So by the time they leave home and go off to college, they're fairly well differentiated, even if outsiders don't spot it at first. Somehow I was sure, Tiffi and I were identical, down to the last freckle. No scars or blemishes on our perfect skin, after all, we'd literally just been born yesterday. And aside from the conditions of the spell -- which I didn't want to think about right now, or ever -- I was pretty sure our lives were almost carbon copies. Same teachers, same friends, same events. Sure, Tiffi had been prom queen -- but I'd been nominated, too. And I'd won a beauty pageant -- not a big one, mind you, it was just the county fair -- but Tiffi had been second runner-up. Not the same boyfriends, but I'd bet high school jocks are all the same, anyway, at least in Texas.

So, looking at Tiffi was even more like looking at myself than for most twins. Jacobi's spell had made us cheerleaders, but the magic had decided we were flyers. Flyers are the ones at the top of the pyramids, and get tossed into the air to do flips and other stunts. They have to be small and light: Tiff and I were barely five feet two inches tall, and weighed just a smidge under 100 pounds. (I knew the exact mark on the scale, between 99-and-a-half and 100.) From my perspective as a former six-foot-tall guy, we were tiny.

The magic may have shortchanged us for size, but it hadn't stinted us anywhere else: chestnut hair falling in luxurious waves down our backs (tied up in high ponies for the run), big, deep brown doe-eyes, and (from my male perspective) delightfully kissable lips framing perfect white smiles. A fair complexion with the healthy tan of an outdoorsy girl. Long, smoothly muscled dancer's legs, and curves to make a bikini model jealous. Even in a sports bra, the jiggle was distracting. Oh, I'm a wet dream all right. If only he'd left it at that.

Tiffi had finished her stretching and was watching me, looking worried. Tom spoke with her voice. "So, do we run and hide? I don't think I can. The minute you're out of sight, Tiffi won't remember a thing." I sighed and nodded. "Yeah. And as soon as you're out of sight, I have to be Steffi. She won't leave Tiffi. Plus the spell's got us locked in pretty tight, school, dance, teaching, and working, I doubt we could quit any of those. Not to mention tryouts -- oh lord, those are today! -- if we make the squad, I don't know how we'll manage. Practices, training, games... we're not going to have a minute of spare time." A Steffi-memory popped to the surface, and my eyes grew wide. "Ohmigod. Bridget's wedding! Dress fittings, the rehearsal, I have to throw her bridal shower!" Steffi-panic merged with Steven-panic in my voice.

Tiffi had wrapped me in her arms to comfort me before either of us knew what had happened. I glanced at her in surprise. "Tom?" She grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, still me. I just... reacted. It seems neither of us can stand to see baby sister upset." I took a deep breath, and let it out, slowly. I felt safe and protected in my big sister's embrace. I kissed Tiffi on the cheek and laid my head on her shoulder, feeling the hysteria subside a little. Damn, this feels good. "Thanks, sis. I needed this. I guess I'm mostly Steffi, now, even when the old me is in control. I feel like... she's letting me drive right now, but she's right here in the passenger seat, with one hand on the wheel."

Tiffi kissed me affectionately on the head and gave me a quick squeeze before releasing me. "I feel a little bit like that, too. But for me it's like..." She stops, searching for the words. "I'm not Tom, changed into a girl. I'm Tiffany Burke. I'm a college girl from Texas. I've always been your big sister. But right now I'm a girl with the memories of an old man." She placed her hands on her breasts, cupping them. "Having these things would freak Tom out, but they feel perfectly normal to me, they're part of who I am. I was fifty-seven years old, a professor for chrissakes. I should be a basket case, but for some reason I'm not. Tiffi's still driving, but I can tell her where I want to go. If I don't tell her, she decides. She's like she's someone I know, someone close. I don't feel what she feels about something, but I know how she would feel. Tiffi would do this, Tiffi wouldn't like that. Does that make sense?"

I nodded. "What about... when we're not together?" She looked away, her voice troubled. "I don't know what will happen," she said, simply. "Maybe I just go to sleep, until the next time." The next question worried me, but I had to know. "Would it be so bad... if...?" She choked out a laugh, "If I just went on with my new life? Wound up with a husband, two and a half kids, a dog and a white picket fence?" She was silent for a moment. "Tiffi would like that a lot, and I guess I wouldn't matter. But it won't happen. Remember the disks. That was the last time we'll ever remember seeing them. The spell will make sure of it. But we saw them both."

I replayed the scene in my head, and blanched. "Your disk, I remember -- oh, god, it wasn't destroyed, like Bridget's." She nodded bleakly. "We're in the same boat. I can't believe Jacobi will just leave us alone. Either we get control of the disks -- or he'll use them again."

In the distance, the clock tower in the quad began to chime. Tiffi shuffled nervously. "We... we better get moving, we've got classes in a hour." She smiled sourly, "that's not much time for us girls, now." I hesitated, knowing that once inside the dorm, in the morning chaos of young co-eds preparing for the day, we'd be separated, and Tom would be gone. Tom must have realized the same thing, because Tiffi took a deep breath, turned, and was up the steps and inside before I could speak. As soon as she was out of sight, I was Steffi again, and I hurried up the steps, pulling the scrunchie out of my ponytail, and letting my hair fall free.

Tiffi was right, an hour was hardly any time at all. With Steffi in control, I found I was anxious about the time, too, so I tried to stay out of the way and let her do her girly thing. We dashed back to our rooms and stripped off our sweaty running outfits -- Tiffi's wound up on the floor, I used the hamper -- threw on our robes and grabbed our bath stuff, and headed for the showers. Fortunately, we were still early enough to beat the rush. Washing long hair was a tedious process, but Steffi had done it a million times before, and I lathered, rinsed, and conditioned without a second thought. Long wet hair was heavy, especially when you weigh next to nothing. Our towels seemed huge wrapped around our small frames, as we scurried back to our room, Tiffi happily greeting and chatting with the other girls in the hall as we went, and I was content to be in tow.

Dressed in our underwear -- I found I preferred feminine lacy things, Tiffi was happy with plain cotton for everyday wear -- we unwrapped our hair and commenced to brush, and blow dry, and brush some more. That lengthy chore over, Tiffi slipped on a pair of tight bootcut jeans, a cutoff tee shirt, and a hooded jacket, put her hair back into a ponytail, and pulled on pair of western boots with a medium heel. She grinned at me as she slipped in her favorite pair of earrings -- a dangly native American-style turquoise pair -- and headed out the door. "I'm off to breakfast, I'll bring you somethin', sis."

I sighed and shot a dirty look at her back as I rubbed moisturizer into my skin -- as if this brand new body needed any -- and debated what to wear. Why couldn't I have been the tomboy? The weather looked sunny, the reports were calling for a warm Indian Summer day. I found that I had settled on a denim skirt and a white blouse, with a soft pink angora sweater I could tie over my shoulders. I fussed with my hair in front of the mirror for a minute, finally just pinning the thick curls back with a floral banana clip as a concession to the time. Makeup was a little blush, some eyeliner and mascara, soft grey-blue eyeshadow, and a touch of lip gloss. A quick rummage through the twin's communal jewelry collection produced a heart pendant on a gold chain to nestle at the top of my cleavage, some medium-sized hooped earrings, and a gold-colored bangle bracelet to complete the look. I smiled at our reflection, and Steffi and I shared a mental high-five. I may have to be girlie, but damn, I can work it.

Tiffi had returned with an apple, a slice of toast with a little jam, and a small juice container with a straw. I was wondering where the rest of it was, but I found I was satisfied with just the toast and juice, putting the apple in my purse for later. Some high-heeled wedgies, a spritz of perfume and a quick check of my lip gloss, and Tiffi and I were off to face the day, purse and book bag slung over my shoulder. Outside, Tiffi gave me a quick hug, and a last reminder. "Don't forget, toots, tryouts at 4:30." And with that she was off, hurrying across campus to her class.

My classes led me in the other direction. I discovered that I knew where I had been sitting in each class, and recognized a few of the students in the nearby seats, giving them a friendly smile as I settled in. Nobody seemed to know each other terribly well, but it was just the second week of classes, so there'd only been a couple of lectures so far.

My classes were pretty much rote, academically; yesterday, I'd been a doctoral student in Archeology, after all. Being an attractive young woman was the far more enjoyable lesson. I knew I was on display, wherever I went, but Steffi had grown up with that, and I found I was pretty comfortable with the idea. I enjoyed being in this body, its strength and suppleness and grace. I loved the weight of my hair, feeling it brush against my neck. The click of my heels and sway of my hips and the jiggle of my breasts as I walked.

I was disturbed to discover I was checking out the guys, and enjoying it, but according to Steffi's memories that just seemed to be normal female behavior, not part of the spell. I hoped I was a little more subtle than the guys who were checking me out, but judging from the spit-takes, the urgent elbows into a buddy's ribs, and the unabashed gaping, that wouldn't have been hard. Being approached by an attractive guy right now was the last thing I needed. It frightened me that Steffi was looking forward to it -- I might be too timid to come on to a cute guy, but if he came on to me, Steffi would definitely be interested. The Steven part of me wouldn't even get a say unless Tiffi were around. The last part of the spell still rang in my mind, and it terrified me.

Lunchtime found me in the Campus Center cafeteria, with a salad, a carton of milk, and the apple from my purse. Sitting alone would invite a come-on from every male in the area, but the spell had made me shy and apprehensive about approaching strangers. Finally, I took a deep breath, and nervously approached a table where a girl I recognized from one of my classes sitting with a couple of her friends. "Hi there. Mind if I join y'all?"

The girl looked up and flashed a friendly smile. "No, not at all. Stephanie, right? I'm Deb." I set down my tray gratefully and grinned as I slid into the seat. "That's me. My friends call me Steffi. Pleased to meet you." Deb introduced her friends as Carol and Anna, and before long we were chatting like old friends. Anna made a show of inspecting the scant contents of my tray. "You sure you can eat all that?" I pretended to pout. "I know, right? I only wanted the one piece of lettuce, but they made me buy the whole plate!" I grinned, then relented. "I'm going to the cheerleader tryouts this afternoon, it's best to keep it light when y'need to be doing backflips and aerials and such." Anna nodded and was about to concede the point, when I heard a familiar voice. "Steffi!"

I looked up and spied Tiffi rapidly navigating the maze of tables. "Tiffi!" I waved, and stood up to give her a hug as she arrived with her own tray, laden as lightly as my own. I turned to the table, "Tiff, this is Deb, Anna, and Carol. Ladies, this is my big sister Tiffany." I was practically bubbling, it was unsettling how much better I felt having Tiffi close by, and I could tell she was happier, too. We shared a giggle and enjoyed the startled expressions on the other girls faces. We twins get that a lot. Carol was the first to recover. "Ummm, It looks to me like you're the big sister." she observed. I glanced at Tiffi, momentarily confused, then laughed. "Oh! Heels. Every inch helps." I grinned abashedly, popping one foot up behind me in a girly pose to show the wedgie sandal. "Tiffi's the older one, I'm just the baby." Tiff rolled her eyes, this was an old routine for us. "Seventeen whole minutes. I'm so much more grown up." We seated ourselves and the rest of the lunch was happy girl talk.

Eventually it was time to head to our next class. It turned out Anna and I had English Lit together, and we'd just never met. It wasn't too surprising, considering there were over a hundred students in the class. We stood, and I gave Tiffi a little wave goodbye. "Let's try to be back in the dorm by three, and we can warm up and go over the routines before the tryouts." she suggested. I nodded, and -- after a quick compulsive visit to the little girl's room to touch up my face -- we all picked up our purses and book bags. With a last wave to Tiff, and best wishes from the other girls for the tryouts, Anna and I set off to the English lecture hall, grousing good-naturedly about reading lists. I suddenly realized Steven had been in control ever since Tiffi had joined us, and yet I'd been content to be Steffi. I wondered if that was significant.

Three o'clock found us back in our dorm, getting changed and packing our gym bags. We'd both chosen similar outfits, in the school colors: cotton cheer short-shorts and half tops over sports bras, with spare outfits in the bags, just in case. Our hair was brushed to a shine and in high ponytails again, tied with ribbons to match our outfits, and I'd done our makeup, for a minimal look that brought out our cheekbones and eyes. Tiffi could do her own makeup, of course, but she liked me to do it and I found that I enjoyed making her up. We had plenty of time, but quiet time before competition was a luxury, and we intended to make the most of it.

I sat cross-legged on my bed, eyes closed, holding Fraidycat, the oldest and most beloved of my stuffed animals in my lap (Of course I have a stuffed animal collection now, I'm girly). My iPod played the music I would use for my routines -- one dance, one gymnastics -- and in my mind's eye I was picturing each step, and twist, pirouette, and flip. Tiffi had finally cleared the floor of her clothes, and was doing simple yoga stretches, listening to her own music, and mentally rehearsing her own routines.

Tiff and I were old hands to competition, having grown up competing in dance, gymnastics, and cheerleading. We'd long since learned that being twins could be a liability; if we dressed and performed alike, we'd look like a Vaudeville gimmick, and no serious coach would give us a second thought. To avoid that, although our outfits were in school colors, she wore the home colors, mine were the away colors. Our routines were equally difficult, but quite different, so as not to cause any confusion in the minds of the judges. We would try not to audition consecutively, as well. If we managed to make the team before anyone noticed we looked alike, so much the better.

I debated calling Tom forward, but we didn't have a lot of time, and I really had no new ideas to share. I worried that if I called up Tom, Tiffi might lose her focus, too -- she was the one under the compulsion to try out for the cheerleading team, and I didn't want to add to her stress. Even though I had the freedom to do what Steven wanted while Tiffi was around, my options were limited; I couldn't leave Tiffi's presence, or I'd lose that control and just be Steffi again. For now, it was just easier to go with the flow.

As four o'clock rolled around, pulled on fleecy sweats over our skimpy clothes, filled our water bottles, and grabbed a couple of apples each from the dining hall. Slinging our gym bags over our shoulders, we set out for the short walk to the Athletic Center.

At the AC we found members of the cheerleading squad in their uniforms, ready to direct us to the sign-in table. This year's squad had already been chosen, mostly. The members returning from last year's squad had started practices in late summer, before the school year started, the same time as the football team. It made sense; they both had to be ready for the same opening game, which was a week from Sunday. Today's tryouts were for the freshmen year, to fill any positions left by the members of the team who had graduated the previous spring, or who had simply decided not to return. I figured most of us who made it past the tryouts would pad out the dance team, until the coaches could see where we could fit into the stunt and gymnastics routines, and get enough practice under our belts so they were confident we could perform the routines safely and well.

At the sign-in desk, other members of the squad took our applications and were directed into the gymnasium proper, to wait in the bleachers. Judging tables had been set up in different areas for the different parts of the tryout. The gymnastics area had floor mats set up for the routines, while the cheer and dance areas just had lots of open space.

Like most of the others there, we had too much nervous energy to just sit, so we dumped our bags, stripped out of our fleecies and just milled around, pretending to stretch and warm up, but really just checking out the competition. Everyone was in full cheerleader mode, in case the judges were watching: big smiles, warm, friendly introductions, and heartfelt best wishes for the tryouts. An outsider might have been surprised to discover that it was mostly sincere, but you have to be a certain type of person to want to be a cheerleader. That's not to say we couldn't be competitive bitches, too, but we'd save that for the floor. Besides, when you were trying out for a job that involved being tossed into the air and -- in an ideal world -- caught, it wasn't smart to piss off any potential catchers.

There were about fifty girls, plus about a dozen guys, most of them looking fit and trim in shorts and tight tee shirts. More than once I caught myself checking out a firm butt or a nice set of abs. Most of the girls were taller than Tiffi and me, but there were a few other potential flyers.

Sharp at 4:30 an officious-looking woman with a clipboard strode to the center of the gym, and blew a whistle. "Welcome, people! As you can see, there are a lot of you, so we'll get right to it. You'll be divided into three groups, each group will start at one of the judging areas, and when each group has been judged, you'll rotate to the next group. The list of those who pass the first cut will go up tomorrow. Those of you who make the cut will report to cheer practice on Monday, and we'll see how you fit into the squad. We'll make our final cuts after practice on Friday. I apologize for the compressed schedule, but we have an unusually large number of spots open this year, and our first game is only a little over a week away. Any questions?" There were always questions, and I rolled my eyes impatiently. Finally the cheerleader squad came out to divide us into groups. Tiffi and I hooked our pinkie fingers together and blew each other a kiss for luck -- a competition ritual we'd been practicing since we were little girls -- and Tiff moved off to join a separate group.

Like most tryouts, it was a lot of waiting around, while other people did what it wasn't your turn to do yet. As a potential cheerleader, you were expected to encourage your potential teammates, and it was exhausting to remain upbeat and energetic throughout the evening and still have the focus necessary to execute your own routines. I hit my gymnastics routine spot-on, and my dance routine and my cheers seemed to have been well received, so I felt I had done the best I could do. Of the girls I had seen perform, I judged three or four were serious competition, with the build to be flyers, although none of them were as small as Tiffi and me. I had no idea if they even needed flyers. If they didn't, our small size put us at a disadvantage. I managed to catch Tiffi's dance, and she looked awesome -- and of course by then she'd made a crowd of friends to cheer her on, too. Not to say that I wasn't being friendly towards the other girls, too, but Tiff did it so effortlessly. She was a natural leader.

Of the guys I'd seen, a few were here to leer at the girls and wouldn't last long. At least one had been escorted out already. The others were more serious about it. They were probably here for the girls, too -- male cheerleaders generally aren't gay -- but they were probably smart enough to realize that their odds would greatly improved if they actually made the team. To be fair, several had the builds to be good cheerleaders, not too husky, leg and arm strength, and good looking to boot. Some were very good looking. These were potential bases: individuals with the strength to hold a formation together, or to toss helpless little flyers into the air, and catch them in their big strong arms.... Shit! Where did that come from? I was afraid I knew.

Tiffi flopped down beside me, sipping from her water bottle, and digging an apple out of her bag. "Which one do you like?" she asked, snuggling up next to me and trying to follow my line of sight. "Blue shorts?" She made a face. "Bleah, I think I caught him checking out the guy in the red stripes, over there. Not that I blame him, though." I giggled, "Tiffi! You're awful." I nudged her. "So, how'd it go?" She grinned and took a bite of her apple. "I think the gymnastics went okay, and the dance felt good. Cheers were okay." I stole a sip of her water. "Your dance was awesome." I assured her. She gave me a pleased grin. "Really? Your floor routine looked perfect." I smiled modestly. "Yeah, it was." She gave me a good-natured swat. "So, who's the competition?"

I pointed out the girls I'd noticed and we compared notes for a few minutes, before there was another whistle, and the clipboard woman announced, "That's it for tonight, people! Thank you all for coming, names will be posted in the hall by end of day tomorrow. If your name is on the list, report to cheer practice on Monday." She ceded the floor to one of the uniformed cheerleaders, who called out "The Cheer Squad invites you all to a social hour at Mulligans! Nine thirty, don't be late!"

Tiffi and I looked at each other. The unspoken message was that this was when the cheer squad would meet their potential teammates socially, so they could make their own recommendations to the list. Attendance would mandatory.

Shit, Mulligans. Bridget. I need to talk to Tom.

I sighed and checked the time. "It's 7:30 now, let's go get something to eat, first. I'm starved."

Naturally, Tiffi had acquired an entourage, so eventually there were six of us bundled against the chill air, walking to the Campus Center to see if the cafeteria was still open. Fortunately for my rumbling tummy, it was.

"Does anyone know what spots are open?" one of Tiffi's new friends was asking as I followed Tiff back to the table with my veggie lasagna and a carton of chocolate milk. Tiffi shook her head as she sat down. "Hard to say. I chatted with one of the girls on the squad for a bit. They had a bunch of the squad graduate, and apparently there's a few injuries, too. So she's not sure if they'll go with a smaller team this year, or take on a lot of freshmen." She flashed me a smile. "They're definitely short on flyers, though." I cheered and slapped her a high-five.

We needed to rush dinner a bit so we could head back to the dorm and get ready to go out. As hungry as I'd been, half of my lasagna was all I'd needed. I think I mostly lived on sunlight, now.

Back in the dorm, we were pressed for time, but I had to talk to Tom. "Tiffany, remember." Tiffi froze for a moment, and then shook her head. "Damn, you've had a busy day." I was busy stripping off my clothes and getting ready for a run through the shower. "We haven't got much time, we have to be at Mulligan's in an hour." I threw on my robe, and began sorting out what I was going to wear. Something in me was craving a long, leisurely bubble bath. "What do we do about Bridget? Do we wake the Dean?"

Tiffi had stripped and was in her robe as well, it appeared Tom was letting Tiff do her thing. She was rummaging through her drawers, looking for a clean bra and panty set. She finally tossed a red t-shirt bra and a pair of cotton undies on the bed. "Why bother?" she asked dejectedly. "It's not like she'll be very happy about it, and there's nothing anyone can do for her."

I'd already chosen a bra and panty set in black, in a lacy floral pattern, laying it neatly on my bed, and was sorting through the clothes in the closet, looking for inspiration. "Well, I don't know if she'll want to, but she could help us. With her disk destroyed, Jacobi can't do anything worse to her. Which isn't much incentive, I guess." I admitted. "But, " I paused, meaningfully. "she can touch the disks. Tom, if we want her help, we have to at least talk to her." I settled on an drapey off-the-shoulder tee in a cream shade that went well with my chestnut hair, and matched it with a pair of skinny jeans. Tiffi decided on a black denim mini and a football jersey-style croptop. "I don't see what she can do." she muttered. I began pinning my hair up to keep it dry in the shower. A thought struck me.

"What does Tiffi remember from our conversation this morning?" Tom thought about it, then shrugged. "Not much. It's not a gap, or anything she'd panic over. She remembers the run, but thinks that whatever we talked about, wasn't important enough to remember." I puzzled it over. "I wonder if the magic added that, to keep Tiffi from noticing you. That'd be a quick path to the crazy house." She shrugged, "It's as good an explanation as any."

I pressed on. "What do you remember between then and now? What's it like for you?" She sat on her bed and grinned ruefully. "Well, I suppose it's better than I expected. I remember it all. I am Tiffany, li'l sis. I'm not just trapped inside, like you are. What happens to me, is happening to Tom, too. Tom's still experiencing and remembering everything. I don't have any separate thoughts, no separate identity. When Tom's at the front, it's just... a big chunk of memory becomes more important. But everything that's happened since we were changed, that's part of Tom's memories, too." Her eyes widened as a realization struck.

"This morning, Tiffi's feelings, her likes and dislikes, her memories, they all felt second-hand, like they belonged to another person. But even after not even a day, they're closer. I remember what Tiffi thought, how she felt, why she did something, today -- those are my memories, too. In a week, a month, a year's time, my most recent memories will all be walking, talking, thinking, being Tiffany. The memories of an old college prof might not disappear, but they'll get farther and farther away..." She went quiet for a moment. I sat down beside her and gently took her hand. "You like that idea."

Her eyes were downcast, and her lip started to quiver as she nodded. "I'm sorry, sis." I put my arm around her and pulled her gently to my chest as the tears came, and big, racking sobs. "It's okay, Tiffi sweetie, it's fine, it's fine. I like being Steffi, too. It's who I am, now." We clutched at each other and rocked gently on the bed. My own tears were sliding down my cheeks now. "I don't blame you for wanting to be happy. I want my big sister to be happy." Tiff was always my rock, her distress tore at my heart. I buried my face in her hair. "We'll figure out something, I promise," I whispered. I just wish I knew what.

I rocked Tiffi and we just let our frustrations out and cried for several minutes. Eventually Tiffi heaved a last shuddering sigh and straightened, reaching for the tissue box. "Damn," she grimaced, dabbing at her eyes. "So much for your makeup job. " I half-sniffled, half-laughed, and she passed the tissues over with an affectionate nudge. I blew my nose, making a rather un-ladylike sound. "We should really get moving." Tiffi nodded and pushed me off her bed and onto my feet. "Off to the showers with you, baby sister." Heaving an exaggerated sigh, I droned, "Yes, big sister," and proceeded to shuffle slowly to the door. She stood up behind me and swatted at my backside. "Trudge faster!" she commanded, and I squealed and scampered off to the showers, with her in hot pursuit, the two of us giggling like fools.

We'd become separated for a moment in the hallway, so I knew Tiffi was just Tiffi again. I wondered why she thought we'd been crying, but I wasn't going to ask, in case she'd blotted the whole episode out. I didn't know what to do about Tom. Was it selfish to call him back?

Occupied with these thoughts, I hung my robe on the hook and leaned into the shower stall to turn on the water, only to shriek loudly and leap back, clutching the shower curtain around me for protection. Tiffi stuck her head out of her own stall. "Steffi! What is it?" I pointed towards the daddy longlegs in the drain. "Spider," I squeaked. Bugs. I'm afraid of bugs. I am such a girl.

Spider dispatched, we showered quickly and sped back to our room. I'd soaked a couple of washcloths in cold water, and made compresses to help our puffy eyes. A little extra attention to our makeup helped to hide the evidence of our cry. Dressing quickly, Tiffi fretted about the time while I selected the right pair of dangly earrings, a choker necklace, and some plastic bangles. I pinned my hair at the nape of my neck with a leather barrette, Tiff left hers free. She pulled on her beloved Western boots, I slipped into a pair of strappy heels -- I'd be the big sister again, the taller one, anyway -- a little dab of perfume, grabbed our jackets against the chill, and we were off.

Mulligan's on a weeknight was only semi-crazy, which means the back room was closed to keep the front room entirely crazy. The noisy crowd was mostly students, of course; all of the tables and booths were occupied, and much of the space in between, as well. There was a DJ presiding over a tiny dance floor, but nobody seemed constrained to actually dance within its boundaries, and the result was elbows flying, hips bumping, and toes stepping everywhere. The thumping beat of the music vied with raucous voices for domination, it was chaos in motion, it was infectious; you either loved it or you didn't stay.

We waved to Bridget as we came in, and squeezed through the crowd towards her. Bridget had just finished delivering a round to a table in the far corner, and as she saw us she waved excitedly back and waded through the crowd towards us. She navigated the shifting maze of bodies with an ease that I envied; of course, she'd had a lot of practice -- and being built like an operatic valkyrie didn't hurt, either. She had a good eight inches and probably sixty pounds on us. None of it excess, really, just... big. Big hipped, broad shoulders, generous bosom, rusty-orange hair braided loosely down her back, and an open, honest smile that somehow involved her entire face, for an effect that was greater than the sum of the parts.

She bravely accepted the hugs of the terrible twins head-on, wrapping her arms around us to give us a squeeze of her own. "How're ya doin' Bridge? Good crowd tonight." Bridget grinned brightly, "Can't complain, the tips're good. Da's working the bar tonight, it's good to see him get out." She released us to give us the once over. "Lookin' hot, as usual, babes. What's the occasion?" We explained about the social hour, and she nodded. "That must be the bunch in the back room, we opened it up special for tonight, they said they were expecting a crowd. Stella's working back there. Make sure you say hi to Da!"

We gave her a finger-wave and turned towards the bar, as she called after us. "Oh! Tony's coming by later, with some of his work buddies. Jake'll be there, you can meet the best man!" I rolled my eyes and pretended not to hear. As her maid of honor I supposed I'd be seeing a lot of the best man, but her teasing tone implied she was playing matchmaker. I need that like a fish needs shoes.

At the bar Bridget's dad had seen us coming. He pointed at his cheek. "Tiffany and Stephanie Burke! You girls look ravishing, come and give your old uncle a kiss." He was a big, cheerful, red-faced man, stocky and tending to fat, the wispy remains of his red hair combed over from ear to ear. He'd been pensioned from his factory job a few years ago, after an accident had left him with a damaged hip, and a painful limp that prevented him from getting out much. There'd been some insurance money, enough to invest in a minor share of the bar.

We laughed and dutifully gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "It's great to see you too, Uncle Brian." Technically he wasn't our uncle; he and Daddy had been in the same unit in the army, and our families had been close for as long as Steffi could remember. Which explained how we were Bridget's best friends, and worked Friday nights here. I was in awe of the magic's ability to weave us all together. This is the power of a god. Even one that's been forgotten for a thousand years.

Uncle Brian smiled, satisfied at receiving his toll. "Now you girls go have fun. I'm busy. Go, get on wit' ya."

We made our way to the back room, giving Stella a little wave as she hustled past us with a tray of drinks. This room was about the same size as the front room, with a capacity of maybe a hundred people on a busy night. Half the room was still cordoned off, which left plenty of room for our group, and kept us from drifting apart into separate islands. The music was piped into this room, too, loud enough to make sure that all conversations happened at full volume.

About half of the competitors at the tryouts seemed to be here, with a few more trickling in behind us. There were twenty or so members of the cheerleading team, wearing team polo shirts for easy identification, slipping between the knots of conversations, smiling, greeting, introducing, taking their measure of us. We stepped inside, peeling off our jackets, and looked around for a couple of seats at a table or a booth. Tiffi's friends from dinner had already acquired a booth, and they waved us to join them, so we slipped in to the outmost seats, facing each other. When Stella came by, Tiffi made the international gesture for two club sodas with lime, which involved placing her lips next to Stella's ear, and shouting "TWO CLUB SODAS WITH LIME, PLEASE."

The six of us chatted girl talk for a few minutes as we waited for Stella to return with our drinks, our eyes roving the room for especially cute guys or particularly sleazy outfits. Two of the girls were sure they wouldn't make the cut, and we did our best to reassure them. The rest of us were just cautiously optimistic about making the list. I found my body responding to the music, doing a little chair-dance in my seat, and Tiffi grinned at me. Finally Stella returned with our drinks, and Tiffi stood up and tugged me out of the booth. "C'mon, sis. Time to schmooze." We took our drinks and headed for the nearest group of people chatting, and I trailed along, and smiling and making light conversation (mostly starting with "Oh, you're twins!") as Tiffi worked the room.

Finally, we caught up with Dani, the cheerleader who'd announced the Social Hour invitation at the tryouts. It seemed she was the women's team captain, and she introduced us to Hector, the men's captain, a very well-assembled Latino with sparkling dark eyes, and teeth that flashed against his olive skin. Although they didn't make it obvious, the two of them seemed to be an item; I found that I was picking up on a myriad of details: how they were standing, the eye contact each made with the other as they spoke, subtle touches at the elbow or hip. To Steffi all of these things were as clear as a billboard. Steven would probably have missed the billboard.

"The two of you will make the cut, for sure, " she confided. "All the flyers will make the cut, but the coaches loved you." We blushed and made appreciative noises. "Why are you short on flyers?" Tiffi pressed. "They can't all have graduated, can they?" I heard the real question she was asking: What did you do with your last flyers, drop them?

Hector heard it too. "We lost one to graduation, and one took a nasty fall this summer -- rollerblades, not cheering -- and won't be back this year. So, we need to replace two flyers for sure, but the coaches thought they saw enough talent at the tryouts to maybe expand the team. It depends how things go at practice, of course." He grinned, "I promise, we work hard at being safe. We'll take good care of you." We pretended to be skeptical but magnanimously agreed to give him the benefit of the doubt.

By this time the event was winding down; we said our goodbyes and grabbed our coats, and headed through the front room, towards the doors. It had been an exhausting day, physically and emotionally, not to mention my first as a girl. I was hoping Tony and his friends hadn't shown yet, so we could make good our escape. The front room was every bit as crowded and noisy, which should have provided cover, but my hopes were dashed when Bridget waved energetically at us from across the room. I sighed inwardly and followed Tiffi as she waved back and changed course for the corner booth.

Bridget had finished her shift, and was wedged into the back of the U-shaped booth next to her fiance, clutching his arm around her shoulders, snuggling into him and looking altogether proprietary. Tony was tall and gangly, with unruly dark hair, a constant cigarette between his fingers, and a wispy little goatee that I had always found annoying. It broke my heart to know what was in store for her. Would it be a kindness to wake Isabella? She won't thank us.

"Hey, you two, why dontcha get married already?" Tiffi teased, as we slid in next to her. Bridget's eyes were bright. "We were just talking about you guys. Tiffany, Stephanie, this is Alex, and Jake. It's about time the wedding party finally met!" I looked dumb. "Wedding party? There's a party? Ooooh, I love parties! Who's getting married?"

Alex was seated opposite Tiffi, a husky guy of average height, probably a football lineman when he was in high school. He kept darting looks at Tiff and me, and then back out to the crowd. He threw us a little wave, "Uh, hi. Pleased to meet you." Steffi had seen that kind of behavior before and found it mildly annoying; as an ex-guy I recognized the symptoms. Two very pretty girls, up close. We're scaring the hell out of the poor guy. He cracked a smile as Bridget threatened to crown me with Tony's beer bottle, so I dared hold out some hope that he might loosen up before Bridget and Tony sailed off for their honeymoon.

Jake was, well... not bad. Dusky skin and Roman nose advertised his Mediterranean heritage, and his unkempt dark hair curled naturally against his head. He had one of those carefully groomed half-shaved looks, that as a former guy I knew was harder than just shaving, and when he smiled his teeth were just uneven enough to give his face character. He wore a denim shirt, unbuttoned over a white tee that emphasized a broad chest. His sleeves were rolled up over muscular tattooed arms. All the better to hold you with, my dear.

He stood up to shake hands with Tiffi, and then me. "Bridget's told us so much about you both. How long have you been twins?" he asked, sincerely . I blinked in confusion. "Well, I... we --" and then blushed hotly as he grinned and the rest of the table erupted into laughter. Big sister poked me in the ribs, "DUH!" I slapped my palm to my forehead and joined in the amusement at my expense, and waited for my color to fade.

Something deep in my belly twinged a little at my embarrassment, and spread tingles through my body. I shouldn't be enjoying this. Not this way. Way off in a distant part of my mind, alarm bells started to sound.

Bridget was nudging at Tiffi to let her out of the booth. "Let's dance!" Jake was on his feet and offering his hand to help me out of the booth before I could think twice, and Tony was pushing Alex to slide down and let him out. Tiff was close behind me. I knew she was enjoying the music, the same as I was, and she looked expectantly at Alex, who smiled shyly, not daring to look directly at her. "Uhm, w-would you like to dance?" She took his hand with a grin and dragged him onto the floor, with Bridget and Tony close behind.

Jake led me on to the floor. I tried to stay close to Tiffi and Bridget, but in the press of bodies, it was impossible, and Steffi took control. He wasn't a bad dancer, for a guy, and I found it easy to lose myself in the music. I had a dancer's trained body and feel for the rhythm, and I was a sexy young woman, and I was enjoying what the combination was doing for us both. After a couple of songs I saw Bridget whisper something to the DJ, and flash a grin and thumbs-up to Tony as she rushed back to his arms. The DJ bent over his mic and announced he was slowing it down, "for the lovers out there."

Jake took my hand and pulled me in close, the other hand around my waist. It was incredibly arousing to just focus on following his lead, responding completely to his will as we swayed, and spun, and dipped. I could tell he was enjoying it too, and that gave me an extra thrill, to please him. Inside my head, Steven was pressing the panic button, but the magic had made sure it was disconnected.

With the next song, he pulled me against him, his hands at the small of my back. I looked up at him with a half-lidded smile, and placed my arms around his neck, my breasts pressed to his body, and lay my head against that broad chest. His arms wrapped around me, holding me, guiding me, controlling me. Owning me. That thought sent a tingle down my spine that somehow wound up increasing the warmth deep in my belly, and my breath caught. I knew where this could be headed and that scared me plenty; but what terrified me was I didn't want it to stop. Just a dance, it's only a dance. Tiffi's just over -- I couldn't see her in the crowd.

With the next song his hands slowly strayed down my back and rested on the curve of my behind, then began gripping and kneading as he pulled me closer. My eyes widened at his clumsy grope, but widened further at the erotic rush that accompanied it. I pressed myself into him, crushing my breasts between us as my nipples began to swell and ache deliciously. I rubbed them against him as we continued to dance, and the intense, tight feeling of excitement in my belly moved down between my legs. Your body orgasms more easily and more intensely than most women's. Oh god.

He squeezed me so tightly I had to breathe shallowly, then wound his fingers painfully into my hair and pulled my head back, grinding his lips to mine with bruising force. I was startled, but the hurt blended with arousal, became exquisite. My only reply was to close my eyes, and accept his probing tongue, trying to caress it with my own. My pulse had begun to race, and my breath was coming quickly now. I moaned into his kiss.

By now the music had changed, and he turned me around, so we were dancing front-to-back, still wrapped possessively in his arms. I could feel the prominent bulge in his pants, and did my best to slide sensually against it when I could. Our dancing had caused us to drift to the edge of the room, and he turned us slightly, to face the wall. Thus concealed, his hand drifted up inside my loose shirt, slipping my bra up and cupping my naked breast, and I placed my hand over his and held it there as he squeezed it tightly enough to elicit a whimper. When he began stroking my nipple, it was an electric shock; my eyes flew open and I gasped. His lips were next to my ear, his voice a warm breath. "Oh, yes, you're quite the party girl, aren't you? You like this, don't you?" He rolled my swollen nipple between his fingers, just a little. "Say it. Tell me you like it."

My voice caught in my throat at the sensation, but I shook my head, token resistance. His hand released its grip and went still. "If you don't like it, I'll stop. Tell me to stop." My entire attention was focused on the aching need in my breast, the sudden lack of sensation, the hunger for stimulation. I bit my lip, "N-no. Don't stop." I tried to press against his hand, but he wouldn't allow it. "Say it." he hissed, "Beg me to twist it, hard." I flushed with humiliation, and the heat between my legs shot sparks through my body. I was so easily broken, had no will to refuse him; that part of me was lost, driven out by need, a yearning to obey, to cede control, to submit. Give yourself to him. You know you want to. "P-please," I whispered, "Do it. Hard. Please." The shame of having to beg to be hurt increased my arousal even more, I was wet, and empty, and desperate to be filled.

When his fingers clamped down brutally and twisted, I convulsed as the orgasm tore through every nerve of my body, far stronger than anything Steffi had ever experienced in her short life. The pleasure swept from my core out to the tips of my toes and the ends of my hair, and reflected back again, wave after wave. The room went away as my back arched and my knees buckled and muscles deep inside me clenched and spasmed.

His strong arms enfolded me, kept me from collapsing on the floor and thrashing, until I was able to breathe again. I just begged a man to hurt me, so I could cum. In the middle of a crowded dance floor. This is who I am now. Zero to full-blown, mind-wrecking, nuclear orgasm in sixty seconds. That thought, plus the shame of the certain knowledge that I wanted him to do it again, set up a feedback loop: my debasement was such an erotic rush that I orgasmed again, barely able to catch my breath before I lost control for the second time.

Jake pressed the lump in his pants into me, and I pressed back mindlessly, rubbing against it, craving the feel of it inside me. He chuckled softly into my ear, "Ooooh, college girl liked that, didn't you? But you've had all the fun. What's in it for Jake? I think we need a little privacy." I nodded, unable to speak, my breath ragged. He placed his hand on my hip, and walked us down a short hallway, to a back exit. The crowded bar was a thousand miles away; I wasn't aware of anything except the two of us, the heat where our bodies touched, the insatiable need between my legs. I leaned heavily on him, weak and wrung out, wanting him so badly I could barely think.

We stepped out into the alley, and he slammed my back to the wall, kissing me hungrily. "You want it, don't you, bitch? If you want it, lift up your shirt and show me your tits." There was no thought of denying him; compliantly, I lifted my top and held it under my chin, putting my breasts on display; one he'd already slipped out of my bra, the other still restrained within the lacy black cup. With one finger, he flipped the bra off my covered breast and licked his lips. "Shimmy." Obediently, I shimmied slowly, swaying my breasts to and fro in the dim light, biting my lip as I watched him watch me. My nipples were intensely hard in the chill night air, areolas pink and full on pale skin. I whimpered as he flicked at them with his thumb and forefinger, and rubbed deperately at the crotch of my jeans, my arousal still increasing, finding no upper limit. "Good girl," he whispered, and I smiled, knowing I pleased him; the pleasure that gave me and the understanding that I wanted to be his good girl flooded into the rush I was getting from my humiliation and shame, and sent me over the edge for the third time, and the world dimmed again as my legs turned to wet spaghetti, and I rode waves of bliss as I slid down the wall to my knees.

I was dimly aware of the sound of a zipper, and then his hand was clenching my hair again, jerking my head up, and something was at my lips, insistent, demanding entry. I opened and accepted his cock with no question, my eyes meeting his, looking for his approval, desperately wanting to be his Good Girl. This wasn't where I yearned for him to fill me; but it wasn't for me to choose. Steven's guy-knowledge was inaccessible; I was a novice, unsure of what would please him. I swirled my tongue around his cock, lubricating it with my saliva, clamping my lips around it and bobbing my head as far as his grip in my hair would allow. His voice was husky, "Yeah, college-girl, that's the way..."

He pulled me closer, forcing his full length into me, almost making me gag. He felt huge in my small mouth, but I did my best to give him pleasure, watching his face for clues. His cock grew even harder as I sucked, and the night sounds of the alley were punctuated by my slurping and sucking noises, and his rhythmic grunting as he drove his cock down my throat. After a short time, he grew even more frantic, and after a few deep thrusts, he pulled all the way out, and with a triumphant grin, ejaculated ropes of sticky semen all over my face. I was caught by surprise, and he laughed at the startled look on my face; but then the rush of pleasure at bringing him to climax melded with my complete and utter degradation, and I slumped over onto my side in the filthy alleyway, curled up moaning and twitching in bliss like a junkie with a fix, as orgasm number four carried me away.

When the world came back into focus, Jake was gone. I just lay there, my cheek on the cold pavement; face covered in cum, breasts exposed, infinitely tired and numb. Steffi was in a state of shock, stunned by what had happened to her, her cooperation in her own debasement, unable to understand how she'd been so out of her mind with arousal that nothing else had mattered. The orgasms had run over her like trucks; compared to those, any of her previous orgasms had been butterflies. She wanted more, with an intensity that scared her, and she knew that each one changed her a little, made it harder to go back to being the person she'd been just half an hour ago.

A pool of light appeared in my bug's eye view of the alley and the music grew suddenly louder as the door to the bar opened. "Steffi, you out here? Jake left..." Tiffi's voice. If I'm quiet maybe she'll go back inside. Footsteps. "Steff? -- ohmigod Steffi! Oh god, ogodogod baby, what happened? Please be okay, please be okay..." Hands tugged me up into a sitting position, and tugged my shirt down, and a warm body squatted down beside me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her cheek to mine, rocking me gently, back and forth, back and forth. "Steffi, honey, talk to me, you'll be okay, baby, tell me what happened..."

I could feel her hot tears on my cheek, melting my cold detachment like an ice dam, and I began to sob soundlessly, releasing my own tears and fear and anguish. "T-tiffany... r-remember...." I could hear her breath draw in sharply, as Tom assessed the scene, but I was too far gone to help. I bawled and clutched my big sister like a little girl clinging to her last safe refuge in the world. "I-i-i just w-wan-na go hoooooome."