Slow Justice
by Ellie Dauber

"Mr. Foreman, have you reached a verdict?" The jury foreman rose. He
was an older man in a plaid work shirt and jeans. He looked nervously
about the court room, his eyes never resting on Jenny or her parents
sitting nervously behind the District Attorney's desk.

Jenny Benton was a slender seventeen year old, her blonde hair done in a
pony tail that hung down well below her shoulders. She wore a pale blue
blouse with matching skirt and belt, light blue sneakers with matching
socks, rather than hose and heels. The outfit was intended to make her
look even younger and more vulnerable than she was.

Jenny was attractive enough, if a little too thin. (She was a late
bloomer whose body hadn't yet caught up with those of many of her
classmates.) Now her eyes were filling with tears behind her silvered
glasses.

"We have, Your Honor. In the matter of the State versus Russ Walsh, we
find the defendant 'Not Guilty'." There was pandemonium in the court
room. A few people, mostly women, looked shocked, but most of those
present cheered. A few men broke into the "Ellwood City High Fight
Song".

The Judge pounded his gavel for silence. After a moment or two, most of
the noise stopped. The Judge faced the jury box. "Thank you." he said
sourly. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you are dismissed with the
Court's thanks. Case dismissed." The judge banged his gavel for
emphasis. Then he rose and left the court room, a look of disgust on
his face.

Jenny was sobbing, holding her face in her hands. She heard her mother
get up to talk to somebody. Then she heard an "Ahem", and looked
through her fingers. It was Russ, an insincere smile on his face. He
was about six-two and looked like he had just stepped out of a Norman
Rockwell painting. His chestnut hair was cut short and fashionably
styled; his tanned and muscular body dressed in a sport brown sports
jacket and slacks, a "sincere" tie in the Ellwood City High school
colors over an off-white shirt, and dark brown loafers. His dark gray
eyes seemed cold and empty of any emotion.

"I -- my lawyer -- um -- thought I should come over and tell you that
I'm not mad at you."

"Not mad at her," Jenny wanted to scream. As it was, she trembled,
hardly able to speak.

Now Russ bent low, patting her hand as if trying to console her. "Next
time, be more cooperative. I'm the big football hero. Who'll take the
word of a bimbo like you over mine."

He had raped her! Then, when she had gotten the courage to go to the
police, he'd not only denied it, he'd gotten two other members of the
team to lie for him. He admitted taking her out, but he said that he'd
left her off at the McDonald's about 9 PM. He claimed that she had
demanded that he go steady with her, threatening to cause trouble if he
didn't. Nobody had heard their conversation, but Max Snyder and Billy
Jackson said that they'd run into him at the arcade. The three claimed
to have spent the rest of the evening playing video games.

And he'd gotten away with it. The jury had taken the word of the boy
who had just lead his school's team to the state football championship
over a mousy little girl who seldom dated. He'd even had the nerve to
say that he'd liked her. He said that he had been attracted to a shy
girl who didn't go after him like so many of the girls in the school.
He'd been shocked when she tried to blackmail him, and he hoped that she
could get counseling for whatever was bothering her.

The bile rose in Jenny's stomach. She grabbed for her purse and ran for
the court room doors without a word. She was still crying ten minutes
later in the Lawyers' Lounge when she heard someone calling her name.

She looked up, her brown eyes filled with tears. Someone handed her a
lacy handkerchief.

It was one of the Weaver sisters. Three woman who'd lived in a large
house at the edge of town for nobody knew how long. They never seemed
to age, always appearing in their late thirty or early forties. On the
few occasions that anybody asked, they claimed it was a combination of
good genes, clean living, and enough money to afford a really good
cosmetologist.

Jenny recognized the woman as Chloe Weaver. Chloe had been a leader for
Jenny's old Brownie troop. She was a dark blonde, about 5 ft., 5, with
a still trim figure, her hair trimmed into a short wave of tight curls.
She looked like a well-to-do business woman, attractively dressed in a
navy business dress, pale hose, and matching navy heels. Her jewelry
consisted of a broach that looked like a stylized silver spindle, a
couple of matching bracelets, and pearl earrings.

Now she stood over the young girl smiling encouragingly. "I know, Dear.
He wronged you, and the Law let him get away with it."

"Why? Why did they do it, Ms. Weaver."

"People can be very foolish, Dear. They want to believe the people that
they admire. Even when they should know better."

"And now he'll get away with it." A thought suddenly occurred to her.
"Oh, Ms. Weaver, now that he got away with raping me, he'll be even
worse, and nobody will ever believe me again. Not about anything."

"Jenny, I've known you since you were eight years old. I believed you
in the court room, and I'll always believe you -- and believe in you."

"Thank you, Ms. Weaver. I know my parents feel the same, but to the
rest of the town, I'm a fool -- or a tramp -- or both."

"Nonsense. Time heals everything. Threads may break, but the healthy
one will come back, stronger then ever. It's Friday afternoon. You go
home, and I promise that things will be better on Monday." She sat down
next to Jenny and hugged her. Jenny was surprised at how comforting it
felt.

"Now, I hear your mother and father out in the hall, calling you. You
go home with them, have a good rest, and see if I'm not right."

Jenny rose and handed back the handkerchief. "I'm not sure I believe
you, but thanks for making me feel better." She walked out, leaving
Chloe Weaver alone in the Lounge.

"Nice promise," said Leslie Weaver suddenly appearing beside her. "How
do you intend to keep it?" As always, she carried the knitting bag that
was almost a town joke. She was no taller than her sister, but with a
more lush figure and long brunette hair that draped halfway down her
back. She wore a pale pink knit dress, dark hose, and low heeled
sandals.

"There's always my way," said Andrea Weaver, also materializing. She
held a small gilt nail scissors in her hand. Andrea was taller and
slimmer than her sisters with jet black hair done in a tight bun, a few
loose curls framing her round face, and dark eyes. She wore a white
blouse with a black cameo at the throat, a knee-length black skirt with
matching hose and shoes.

"No," said Chloe. "I think a re-weaving is called for. I'll get
started on him Sunday night. I have something special in mind."

"I think I know what you're planning," said Leslie. It's a bit of a
drastic change in the pattern, but I think it's only fair."

"Are we agreed then," asked Chloe.

"It should be more interesting than just a simple cut," said Andrea.
"Cut 'it' off, rather than cut him off." She snipped the scissors
dramatically, a strange smile on her face. Laughing, the three women
disappeared from the Lounge.

****

Late Sunday afternoon, Russ, Max, and Billy were tossing a frisbee in
Highmore Park. It was a warm day for late Fall, and the three boys were
dressed in nothing warmer than sweat shirts and jeans.

"So what are you doing now, Russ?" Billy asked.

"About what?"

"About that bitch, Jenny. She could've cost you that scholarship to
State, if anybody'd believed her story."

"Hell, man," Max said, "Who's gonna believe the word of that little
mouse against the great Russ Miller, boy hero and football star?" All
three laughed.

"Well, my lawyer said not to go anywhere near her. I figure to wait a
little while -- you know -- keep mum. Then I'll make like I'm sorry she
felt so desperate to be popular that she tried to trap me into dating
her. Maybe one of you can say something nasty about her, and I'll
defend her. Nobody's gonna want to have anything to do with her. She be
alone and confused. I'll bide my time. Cozy up to her. Take her out
again and -- finish what I started." He made a fist and thrust it
forward in a short jab to illustrate his point.

"Russ Miller," somebody -- a woman -- called. "May I see you for a
moment? The three boys looked around. Chloe Weaver was standing near
them under an oak tree, though they hadn't seen her approach through the
mostly opened space of the park. The three boys stared at her
appreciatively. She wore a brown blouse and slacks outfit that, while
not overly tight, did nothing to hide her attractive figure and long
shapely legs. With her tight mass of blonde curls, she looked like a
slightly older Meg Ryan.

Russ strutted over, a big dopey grin on his face. He'd heard stories
about older women being sexually interested in high school jocks. He'd
also seen Ms. Weaver around town. For an old broad, she looked pretty
hot. Even if she wanted him for some other, simple errand, he'd do his
best to try and wind up in bed with her. And if he didn't, well, he
could always claim that he had.

"You wanted me for something, Ms. Weaver?"

"Yes, Russ. I wanted to give you one last chance to admit what you did
to Jenny. "

"How did -- what do you mean, what I did? I didn't do anything to her.
The jury said so."

"We both know that the jury was wrong. You raped her, then you and your
friends lied about it. Admit it now, and I'll see that your punishment
is minor. Deny it again and --- "

"Admit it! Admit what? Lady, if you had any real proof, you'd have
shown up in court with it." Russ was mad now and didn't care that he was
admitting the truth to this meddlesome bitch. "I thought you might be
interested in a little fun, but I don't think you even know how."

"'A little fun!' Why you impudent child. You've been strutting around
thinking with your prick for years. Well, threads can be rewound with a
different warp, my lad. You just threw away your last chance, and now
you won't have your little 'Johnson' to think with for much longer." She
made a sudden gesture with her arms and grabbed him suddenly at the
shoulders. He felt what seemed like a mild electric shock go through
his body, and he grimaced, closing his eyes. When he opened them, Chloe
had disappeared.

Russ shook his head trying to figure out what had happened. Then he
walked back to his two friends.

"What you go over to the tree for, man," Max asked.

"What you mean? 'Old lady Weaver' called me over for something."

"Old lady -- oh, one of those Weaver broads. They're no older than my
Mom," Billy said. "They're a hellava lot better looking, though."

"That's for sure," Max said, "but I haven't seen any of them since we
got here. You sure you're okay."

"Yeah," Russ said, running his fingers through his hair. His skin still
tingled from whatever that Weaver woman had done to him, but the
sensation was fading. "I guess I'm still a little stressed out from the
trial."

"Hey, man," Billy laughed. "What stress? You won, didn't you? Now,
think fast." He tossed the frisbee towards Russ, and the game began
again.

****

That night, Russ had a strange dream. He was standing in a room that
looked like a temple from HERCULES or XENA. The Weaver sisters were up
on some kind of platform wearing flowing white robes. He tried to move
or to say something, but he was unable to do either. It wasn't that he
was paralyzed, he just didn't seem to want to badly enough.

Chloe Weaver stepped down from the platform and walked over to him. She
was carrying some sort of a top hanging down from a mass of loose wool,
spinning slowly and twisting it into a thread. She stopped the top and
set it spinning in the opposite direction.

"Behold your life, Russ Walsh. The thread unwinds to take a new shape.
Poor Jenny's trial lasted five days, so your life will take that long to
find its new way. You will know what you were, what you might have
been. But no one else will."

Now Leslie Weaver came down from the platform to stand beside her
sister. "And as the thread of your life takes its new shape, the
pattern of your life will itself reshape to match that new form. The
changes will happen as you sleep. You will know that it has happened,
but, to your friends and your family, everything will have always been
as you find them anew each morning."

Russ's body began to tingle again as it had that afternoon. He felt
himself changing beneath his clothes, but he couldn't tell into what.
Then he saw his pajama top moving as something grew on his chest. He
pulled open the top to see two shapely breasts, areolas big as half
dollars, growing larger even as he watched. He heard the Weavers
laughing as he changed. He screamed and woke up.

It was almost 7:30 by his bedside clock, and the room was half lit by
the rising sun. It looked different somehow. It took Russ a few
moments to realize that his framed sports trophies from a childhood of
Little League and Pee-Wee Football championships were missing from the
walls, replaced by posters of a couple of rock stars he'd never much
cared for.

"What the hell," he said jumping out of bed. Then came the second
surprise, the room was bigger. No, he was smaller. A good three or
four inches shorter than his former six-two. And when he looked in the
mirror over his dresser, he realized that he was no longer the muscular
"hunk" of the day before. He was still in fairly good shape, but there
was no real evidence of the years of daily work-outs that he'd used to
get and keep his body in shape.

His chestnut hair was a bit longer, hanging down over his ears a little.
Even his face looked a little different. The bump on his nose, the
result of a bad play in a school yard football game when he was twelve,
was gone.

The really strange part was that his pajamas fit him as if he'd always
been this size. Opening a dresser drawer, he had the feeling that the
rest of his clothes would be the same.

Russ got another shock when he stripped off his pajamas. His body was
not only as slender as he had thought, but it was also almost completely
hairless. All that was left of a mass of body hair that got him the
nickname "Kong" was a thin patch on his chest and a few sparse hairs on
his arms.

He dropped his pants to check out his legs, but never looked down that
far. His penis looked smaller. He'd never actually measured it, but it
did seem to have shrunken some. Maybe -- he grabbed a Penthouse from
where it was hidden in the middle of a pile of sports magazines and
opened it to the centerfold. As he stared at the picture and -- to
quote the old joke -- "took things well in hand", he could feel himself
getting stiff. He continued stroking, bringing himself near to climax.
Then he looked down again. He was definitely smaller, even when fully
erect.

Especially when fully erect. What had happened to him? He vaguely
remembered some sort of dream; him and the Weaver sisters. People
always said that they were some kind of witches. They must of done it.

He'd been in some crazy room. One of them -- no, a couple of them had
said or done something, but he couldn't really remember what. And the
more he tried, the vaguer the memory got. Finally, all he could remember
was that there had been a dream, and that the Weaver sisters were in it.

His mother knocked at the door. "Russ, you had better hurry. The bus
comes in thirty minutes.

The bus? Russ usually rode to school with Billy and Max. Then a new
memory popped into his head. No, he didn't. Billy and Max were jocks,
the stars of the football team, and he was just a third rate scrub.
Wasn't he? He remembered being the quarterback, winning the
championship. But he also remembered having to work hard just to get on
the team and barely hanging on as third string lineman.

Russ resolved to figure things out later and dressed for school.
Breakfast was waiting downstairs, cereal, milk, and juice instead of the
protein drink he normally had drunk. "Mom, where's my proto-mash?"

"His mother looked up from her coffee. "Did you want to try one of
those weird supplements, dear? I don't think I know it."

"It's a training table drink," he said in surprise. He'd been using it
for two years instead of eating a regular breakfast, and now his mother
had never heard of it.

"Are you thinking about going out for the basketball team again this
year?" His father asked. "I think I've read about that stuff, but I'm
not sure how much good it'll do."

"Try out?" He made it sound like that would be a problem. He was a
three letter man, football, basketball, and track. "No," said a new
memory that suddenly popped into his mind. He had played JV basketball
his freshman year, but hadn't really been good enough for the varsity
squad. After half a season on the bench, he'd been dropped. He had been
on that year's football team, but now he was third stringer who had only
played in four games. And without him -- or who he used to be -- the
team hadn't gotten past the district play-offs.

Things were getting really strange. He still had all his old memories,
but they were beginning to feel like they were about somebody else.
Whenever something came up, a new one popped into his head, and they
seemed as real -- no, more real -- than the old ones.

He was still trying to resolve the two sets of memories, when his mother
looked at the clock near the stove. "7:45, dear, The bus will be
coming by in five minutes. You'd best get ready." Russ took one last
drink of milk and stood up to get his books. He was waiting at the curb
when the bus came.

The bus was about two-thirds full when Russ climbed on board, and he was
walking back slowly, looking for an empty seat. Suddenly he froze.
Jenny Benton was sitting two rows down from where he stood, calmly
chatting with Irene Roth. He'd expected her to skip a few days after
the trial, but she was just sitting there talking as if she didn't seem
to have a care in the world.

There was a seat in the row behind them on the opposite side, and he
went to it. Jenny and Irene hardly noticed him. as he walked by. Once
he sat down, he caught himself staring at them. Irene noticed.
Embarrassed, he turned away and watched the houses roll by,

"I think Russ Walsh has a crush on you," Irene said. She was trying to
keep her voice low, but Russ heard. He continued to look out the window
but listened closely.

"He's a nice enough boy, but I'm more interested in jocks. I've known
him since we were little, so I guess I might go out with him."

"Might," Irene said. "Jenny, you're so shy; you hardly ever date. It
took me a week to talk you into going double with me and Tom to the
dance." The two girls giggled, and the conversation turned to a
discussion of the upcoming school dance that Friday night.

Russ was astounded. "Nice boy?" "Might go out with him?" She damned
well _had_ gone out with him. Then she wouldn't cooperate, and things
had gotten way out of hand. Didn't she remember?

No, he suddenly realized. She didn't. There was nothing even close to
what he knew had happened among his new memories. In this crazy world
he'd woken up in, Jenny had never been raped.

That, at least, was the first good thing to come out of this weirdness.
If it had never happened, then she wasn't a threat to him any more. And,
if she "might go out with him", then there was a chance of nailing her
again. Maybe even getting her to cooperate this time. Russ decided
that maybe he'd just play along with whatever was happening.

He was smiling one of "old Russ's" smile when he got off the bus. The
smile disappeared when he noticed that there was no "1998 State Football
Champions" banner over the entrance door. No trophy in the case near his
locker, either. Russ' confidence was shaken, but he decided to ride
things out. He didn't have much of a choice anyway, but he was still
cocky enough to think that he could get his own life back.

There weren't many surprises the rest of the day. Fortunately, he was
taking the same classes as before. Doing better in history and English,
too, it seemed. And his new memories included that extra knowledge, so
he could keep up in those classes. He still had the same friends, too,
though the relationships had changed.

Max and Billy, for instance, had gone from being his best friends to
more casual acquaintances. They'd still all grown up together, but they
were still successful athletes and hung out with the other jocks in the
school. Since, in his new history, he had just managed to make the team
he was tolerated by them, but hardly a part of their clique.

On the other hand, he had been accepted by what the jocks had called
"the straights", the regular kids who made up the majority of the
students at Ellwood City High. He'd grown up with most of them, too,
but he'd always preferred to hang out with the other jocks.

At Lunch Period, a group of "straights" had called him over to join
them. Again, a new memory popped into his mind. These were the friends
he normally ate with: Al Sachs, Steve Porter, Rick Klein, and Ted
Grossman.

Russ slid into the booth, unloading his tray and putting down it in with
the others in a stack at the far end of the table. In a few minutes, he
was joining in the conversation, joking about the upcoming dance.

"You taking anybody?" Steve asked.

In his old life, Russ had pretty much had his choice of any girl at the
school. He'd even suggested picking one and asking her to be his
"steady" to help his case at the trial. His lawyer had said no, that it
was too obvious a move. For the same reason, he hadn't asked anyone to
go to the dance. He'd planned to ask someone by today. He just hadn't
gotten around to asking, when this -- whatever it was -- happened.

He wasn't "King Jock" any more, but he was still Russ Walsh. He must
have asked somebody. He waited for a new memory of who the lucky girl
was in _this_ version of his life. None came. "I don't think so," he
said, shrugging his shoulders. He decided to change the subject, more
unsure now of what he had become. "How about you guys?"

Ted was going with Ellen Weiss, and Steve had asked Becky Landers. The
others were going stag, and Rick suggested that they meet at Al's and
ride over together.

"Gee, I don't know," Al said. "If I get lucky, I don't want to have to
get a ride home with you losers."

"As if," Rick said. They all laughed, and the three boys agreed to the
idea. That settled, they started arguing over who would be the wild
card teams in the upcoming NFL play-offs. When the bell ending the
period rang, they went to their separate classes, promising to meet
later.

Nothing too much out of the ordinary happened to Russ the rest of the
day. He spent an hour or so after school looking for the Weaver
sisters. He still remembered a little about the dream, and he was sure
that they were responsible for whatever had happened to him. He was
equally sure that he could get them to give him his old life back. But,
no matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of them. Still,
somehow, he had a felling that they were nearby. They were hiding from
him somehow, watching him. And laughing.

Still, he went to bed that night thinking that the surprises were pretty
much over.

**** ~ He was wrong.

An alarm clock woke him the next morning at 6:45. An alarm clock? He
hadn't used one in years, relying on his natural body clock most
mornings. The surprise came when he reached out to shut the damned
thing off.

His arm looked thinner than he ever remembered it. Now he was wide
awake. He jumped out of bed and stared at his reflection in his dresser
mirror. He was another three inches shorter and skinny as a rail with
straight lusterless brown hair now hanging down past his shoulders.. He
pulled off his pajama top and stared at his new body. It was bad enough
being skinny -- and hairless, he noticed -- but there wasn't any muscle
tone either. Just a mass of pale, pink flab. Oh, Lord! He was a geek!

He looked around the room. It was pretty much the same as yesterday,
just a couple more rock posters on the wall. He must have been a real
fan. There were three or four t-shirts for the same groups in his
drawer. He put one on, plus a pair of black jeans. He still looked
pretty much like a "straight", no earrings or tattoos, hair long rather
than razor cut into strange designs. But now he was definitely leaning
towards "rocker", rather than jock.

He closed his eyes and tried to search through his new memories. He had
a feeling that they had changed the same time that his body had, and he
wanted to see if he could catch any more revisions. But he still
remembered agreeing to go to the dance stag with Al and Rick. He felt a
little more in control, knowing somehow that, if his memories hadn't
changed, then what he remembered was still true.

He decided to try and make the best of it and went down to breakfast.

Things went pretty much the same as the day before. He was still in the
same set of classes, still had lunch with the same bunch of friends.
Then came seventh period. Gym.

The old Russ loved gym. He was the star athlete, the coach's pet, and
it gave him a chance to show off in front of the rest of the class.

But that was his old life. The new Russ Walsh was a short, out of
condition geek. He could barely keep up, when they went through the
warm up drills. He panted and puffed like a train and had to stop a
couple of times. It got worse when they counted off sides for a game of
volleyball. He still remembered all his old moves, but his new body
just wouldn't do what he told it to.

The score was tied, 20-20, no thanks to him. Max Snyder was on the
other team. He hit the ball towards Russ, a high arching shot that
seemed to take forever to get to him. Russ tried to return it low,. He
did hit it, but the ball headed right for the net. At the last instant,
Billy Jackson jumped in front of it. Billy hit it straight up, then
spiked it over the net for the winning point.

As most of the team gathered around Billy to congratulate him, he looked
at Russ and mouthed the word, "Asshole!" Russ felt like one, too, and
he turned away unwilling to meet Billy's glare.

He was still thinking about the shot as the boys dressed for their next
class. Damn it, this wasn't fair. He should have been the hero, not
the goat. And why did it have to have been Billy who'd saved his ass
and won the game.

He heard his name and suddenly realized that he'd been staring at Billy
who was getting dressed about four lockers away. Billy had caught him
at it. "What're you looking at, faggot? You want to start something?"
Billy made a fist and waved it in his direction. "Or maybe you just
want to come over and blow me?"

The old Russ knew he could take Billy in a fight. He'd proved that last
summer, when the two had fought over a girl both wanted. It took some
effort, but Russ had won. And he'd celebrated his victory with the girl
that night in an old cabin near the lake.

But now a new memory came into Russ' mind. There had been a fight last
summer, but it was when Russ' bike had fallen over and scratched Billy's
car. Billy had won easily, leaving Russ with a black eye and a number
of bruises.

Russ actually found himself shaking. "Um, no, Billy. I -- I was
feeling pretty stupid for messing up that shot and wishing that I was
half as good an athlete as you are."

Russ still knew how to get to one of Billy's weak spots, his ego.
"That's all?" he asked Russ.

"Yeah. Just -- just wanting to be like you, man."

"Well, I don't see any chance of that happening, but even a geek like
you has a right to dream." A few of the other boys had heard the
exchange and were waiting for the excitement of a fight. Most laughed
with Billy -- and at Russ -- and went back to getting dressed.

Russ took a few seconds to calm himself and did the same. The rest of
the school day was petty much the same as always. After school, Russ
went looking for one of the Weaver sisters, but he was as unsuccessful
as the day before. And just as sure that they were around and watching
him.

*****

He felt different somehow when he woke up the next morning. He took a
quick look around the room. It was pretty much the same as the day
before. The main difference seemed to be that, for some reason, his
pajamas had changed from dark brown to a pale yellow. But the feeling
persisted, so he got out of bed to look at himself in the mirror.

He was still a skinny runt, about 5 foot 6, now, with hair down to --
no, this morning it was past his shoulders. And it looked thicker, too,
and chestnut again, rather than a dull brown. Or maybe it was his face.
His face was thinner, with higher cheek bones. His eyebrows looked
thinner, too, almost as if he plucked them.

His arms seemed smoother, less bony, as if there was some more fat under
the skin. His hands were smaller, but his fingers seemed longer
although more slender.

Russ began to wonder just how far the changes went. He had trouble
unbuttoning his pajama top. He was so nervous that he didn't realize
that the buttons were now on the other side.

He slid off the shirt and stared at his chest. His nipples, they were
bigger now and on dark brown aureoles that were as big as half dollars!
And those were centered on -- no, it couldn't be. It just couldn't be.
He had tits! Little ones, barely A-cup, but tits! And his waist was
narrower. It was as if --

Frantically, Russ reached down into his pants. _It_ had to be there! He
felt around for his penis, his testicles, but they were nowhere to be
found. His fingers moved slowly through his pubic hairs, stopping at a
pair of lips on either side of a narrow opening. He gently pushed in a
single finger. He knew only too well, from the experiences of his old
life, what he was feeling: labia, a vagina, a clitoris. No, _his_
clitoris. He was a girl.

Wide awake now, Russ looked around the room. There was a full length
mirror on the bathroom door that hadn't been there the day before. He
-- no, she -- ran over to it and dropped her pants. The girl staring
back at her from the mirror was slender, almost too slender, with small
tits, narrow waist and hips. Her legs were pretty good, though, and the
face was kind of cute. If she'd seen her in the right outfit and with a
little make-up, the old Russ would definitely have given her a second
look. Maybe even try to get her into bed. But the new Russ -- hell,
this girl _was_ the new Russ.

Now she looked around the room, knowing that there had to be other
changes. There was a white quilt embroidered with red roses on her
bed, and she noticed that her dresser and end table, which were too low
to have seen while she was lying in bed, were painted white as well.

There was a knock on the door, and her mother called, "Rose, honey, are
you up?"

"Yes, Mom," she said, startled at her new alto voice. "'Rose'? well,"
she thought, "it was close enough to her real name that she'd be able to
answer to it." Then she looked down and realized that she was going to
have to get dressed. As a girl.

She walked over to the dresser. There was some make-up on a small tray
on top. The underwear drawer was half full of panties, mostly plain
cotton or trimmed with just a little lace. There were only a couple of
bras. She didn't really need one with her small breasts. Instead there
were some girl's undershirts with narrow lacy straps.

Russ pulled out a pale blue undershirt and slid it down onto her body.
She could feel the cotton brush against her nipples and tried to ignore
how pleasant it was. She stepped into a pair of matching panties and
pulled them up to her waist. The material was cool against her skin.
The sensation of the cloth flat against her groin reminding her again of
the loss of her manhood. She pulled a pair of socks from another drawer
and sat down on the bed to put them on. There was no way she was going
to try to put on the panty hose or, worse, stockings.

There were no other clothes in sight. Whatever else she was in this new
life, Russ decided that, at least, she was neater than she had been. She
pulled a "rocker" t-shirt from the dresser and walked over and opened
the closet door. She wasn't ready to wear any of the dresses or skirts
that she found there. She knew that she would have to eventually, if
she couldn't get her old life back, but she was willing to wait.
Instead, she chose a pair of jeans, and she grabbed two light blue
sneakers from a shoe rack on the door. She was ready in a moment.

Just as she was about to go down for breakfast, a new memory rushed into
her head. Make-up. She'd forgotten to put any on. She didn't want to,
but she didn't want to answer a lot of questions about why she hadn't.
Fortunately, the memory included the knowledge of how to use the stuff
and of what was the minimum she could get by with.

He pursed her lips and applied the gloss, as if she'd been doing it for
years. A little blusher on each check, and she was ready. No, her hair
needed a quick comb. That done, she inspected her work. She had been
right. She did look cute. She shook her head in disbelief and went to
breakfast.

Twenty minutes later, Russ was waiting outside when the bus came. As
she climbed on, she heard her new name. "Rose," Becky Landers called.
"Over here." Russ had known Becky since second grade, even dated her
for a while when they were both freshman. But it turned out that she
didn't really like jocks. "Her loss," he'd figured at the time. Now,
it seemed, they were best friends. Russ said "Hi" and sat down besides
her.

"Are you going to the dance," Becky asked.

"The dance," Russ thought and shuddered. Earlier in the week, she
hadn't had a date. Did she have one now, or, worse, did she have a
steady? she waited for a name to come into her head, but all that came
was the memory of not dating much. "Thank heavens," she thought. Aloud
she said, "nobody's asked me."

"I'm going with Steve, of course," Becky said, "but I know that a lot of
girls are going without dates. Why don't you?"

"I don't know."

"C'mon, it'll be fun. Besides, if the boys see you there, especially if
you put a little work into how you look, they'll start asking you out.
You really are too cute to not date, you know."

"I'm -- I'm just not interested in boys," Russ said truthfully.

"Oooh, maybe I should be nervous sitting here next to a butch girl like
you," Becky said. Then she giggled. "I'm sorry, Rose. I shouldn't be
teasing. I know you're not gay. Just shy."

Russ was beginning to feel really embarrassed. "Can we drop the whole
subject, if I promise to think about going to the dance?"

"Okay -- did you see those dresses on the MTV fashion show the other
night?" Russ spent the rest of the ride dodging questions about the
show. Once in a while, the answer to something Becky said came into her
mind, but she was seriously handicapped by the fact that most of what
she knew about female clothing was ways to coax the female out of them.

As before, Russ discovered that she was still taking much the same set
of classes. The exception was fourth period, just before lunch. Without
thinking she walked into her Auto Shop class. Mr. Slavin looked up from
his desk. "May I help you, young lady."

"Young lady." The thought suddenly came into Russ's mind that she had
Home Ec this hour. She stood for a moment, trying to figure a way out.

"Look, young lady, whatever you might want to say to your boyfriend --
whoever he is -- will have to wait. You have to get to your class, and
I'm about to start teaching mine."

"I -- I'm sorry," Russ said, feeling her face flush with embarrassment.
She turned and ran from the class. Home Ec was about half way down the
corridor, and Russ entered the room just as the bell rang.

Ms. DeWitt had already begun. "So nice of you to join us, Ms. Walsh.
Please take your seat." There was a single empty seat in the room,
thankfully not very far from where Russ was standing. She took it
quickly, as Ms. DeWitt handed out papers. "Today, I want to review the
results of Monday's pop quiz. Most of you did well, I'm happy to say,
but there's always room for improvement."

She went on for most of the hour, going through the quiz question by
question, pointing out problem areas, making suggestions, even telling
an occasional joke to make a point. She was so good that Russ paid
attention and actually found herself learning something.

Becky was in the class with her. She came over after the bell had rung
to end the period. "So, how did you do?"

Russ realized that she hadn't noticed. She looked quickly at the paper.
"Eighty seven," she said. "I missed a couple of those questions in part
2."

"They were tough. Hey, c'mon, we only have twenty-five minutes for
lunch." Becky grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the cafeteria.

Irene Roth was saving a table for them with, of all people, Jenny
Benton. Russ wasn't sure how to react. Jenny just smiled at what, in
this new reality, were two of her oldest female friends. "Go with the
flow," Russ thought and sat down.

Lunch was general girl talk, a lot of it about the dance. Who was going
with whom, and what everybody was wearing. Becky tried to draw Russ
(Rose) into the conversation but wasn't very successful. "That girl is
just too damn shy for her own good," she thought to herself. Russ had
kept still more because she hadn't known what to say than because she
was too shy to say it.

To Russ's amazement, Chloe Weaver was waiting for her after school. She
wore a knee length knit beige dress with dark brown open-toed shoes with
a two inch heel. A gold pin in the shape of a spindle with small
matching earrings were her only jewelry. "I understand that you've been
looking for me, dear," she said with a smile. "I thought you might want
to discuss some of the things that have been happening in your life
lately."

"You're damned right I do," Russ all but shouted.

"Please, not here." Russ tried to argue, but she found herself unable
to speak. Chloe lead her over to a bench near the side entrance to the
school. she wanted to stay where she was standing, but found herself
compelled to obey. Chloe looked her up and down, then sat on the bench
motioning for her to join her. "The thread is rewinding nicely, you're
becoming quite a pretty young lady."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you deserve it for what you did."

"I never did anything to you."

"Not directly, but I do resent you."

"What?"

"First of all, Jenny is my friend, and I resent what you did to her.
More to the point, I resent that you used your good looks and your
status as a football hero to escape from what would have been a just
punishment. Most of all, I resent that you were totally unrepentant
about it."

"So you changed me into this." Russ's hands gestured at her slender
female body.

"Oh, you haven't finished changing yet. You don't remember your dream
from Sunday night, do you?"

"Dream?" Suddenly the memory of the dream flooded back into her mind.
She remembered the room, the Weaver sisters being there and looking so
strange, and, worst of all, she remembered what Chloe had said. "Five
days. You mean it's going to get worse. I'm -- I'm only half done?"

Chloe smiled. "I waited until today to talk to you. Waited until the
rewinding had truly started. You are a female now, but barely so. By
Friday, you will have become as female, in mind as well as in body, as
you were a male."

"In mind? You mean that I'll forget who I was?"

"Oh, you'll remember, although no one else will. No one else does now,
as you may have noticed."

"Then what? You don't mean that I'm going to start liking boys?"

"Of course I do, but that's not all that I mean. Think back on how you
acted today. Was the old Russ ever as shy, as easily embarrassed, as
you were today?"

"' Not all you mean'," Russ thought. "It's damn well enough." Then she
thought about how she had acted. She had been shy. In fact, a lot of
her reactions had been decidedly feminine, back to the way she'd so
easily convinced herself to wear make-up.

"I see you begin to realize your fate."

"Please, I'll do anything you want. I'll apologize to Jenny, admit what
I did to her."

"But, Rose, what have _you_ done to Jenny that do you have to apologize
for?" Chloe stressed the name. "No, you'll take your punishment. Just
as your friends will be punished."

"My friends? Who? Why?"

"Max Snyder and Billy Jackson were willing to help ruin Jenny's life out
of friendship to you."

"Are they going to become girls, too?"

"No, as my sister says, lesser crimes weave a lesser pattern. A pattern
you are responsible for. With no Russ Walsh, there was no championship
game. No scouts saw the three of you play, so no scouts offered any of
you college scholarships."

"Then what happens to the guys."

"According to my sister, Max was going to be a fairly successful
business man, and Billy was going to go into semi-pro ball, eventually
becoming a successful college coach, and then a well-known TV sports
commentator. Now, Max will be a salesman at Sears. Billy gets to drive
a delivery truck, though he does also coach Little League."

"They'll hate me."

"They'll never know what happened, what they would have been, if you
hadn't done what you did. And they hadn't helped you get away with it."

"It's horrible. I never meant to ruin their lives." Russ found herself
about to cry.

"But you had no qualms about ruining Jenny's." She noticed the look on
Russ's face. She pulled a small silk handkerchief from her purse and
handed it to her. "Want to cry? Good ahead, dear. It's only natural
for a girl to cry when she's upset."

Russ was stunned at the enormity of what had happened, what was going to
happen. She took the handkerchief from Chloe and sat quietly dabbing at
her eyes. Gradually she gave into emotions that had been bottled up
since the first changes on Monday. Her sobs grew louder. The tears
flowed. In a few moments, she was crying openly on Chloe's shoulder.
She felt the woman's arm wrap around her, patting her on the back.

"There, there, dear," Chloe said rocking her gently like a small child.
It felt good, Russ thought. Too good.

"No," Russ said, squirming free. "I'm not a girl, and you can't make
me act like one!"

Chloe smiled. "Not a girl? Look at yourself, my dear." She gestured
at Russ's body. "And I'm not making you do anything, but look at how
you're acting right now? Your emotions are becoming as female as the
rest of your body. Your reactions a moment ago, indeed, your reactions
right now, are hardly those of a boy."

"Go away. Leave me alone."

"Very well, my dear." Chloe stood up. "You won't be seeing me until
the thread has completely rewound. Enjoy the next two days."

Russ looked up. "What? What's going to happen?" But Chloe was
completely gone. Vanished without a trace, leaving Russ alone on the
bench.

*****

Russ had a hard time getting to sleep that night. She knew that
something would be changed by morning, and she was afraid to guess what
that change would be.

She found out quickly enough the next morning. When she sat up in bed
to look around the room, she felt a weight on her chest. Looking down,
she saw that the yellow pajamas she had put on the night before had
changed into a yellow nightgown. Two breasts, much larger than the day
before, pushed out the front of the gown. Her nails seemed a bit
longer, too, and they were covered with a pink polish.

Curious to get a better look, she got out of bed and walked to the
mirror on her bathroom door. The nightgown hung down almost to the floor
hiding her figure. She pulled it off over her head, noticing as she did
that her chestnut hair seemed even thicker and longer.

Yes, her hair was definitely longer, hanging down almost to her breasts.
She pushed the hair back with an automatic -- and very feminine gesture.
Her breasts were bigger: a B-, maybe even a C-cup. Her waist was higher
and a bit smaller. Her hips were wider, and her butt rounded and firm.
"Pretty cute," she thought to herself, looking back over her shoulder
into the mirror.

She stripped off her panties. They weren't the plain cotton ones of the
day before. They were still pale blue, but now they were a silky nylon,
cut higher and trimmed with white lace.

She stepped into the shower, being careful to tie a long cloth that was
hanging near the tub around her hair to hold it together and help keep
it dry. Picking up a bar of herb scented soap, she began to lather her
new curves. Her body was much softer now, firm but somehow yielding.
The sensations when she began to rub her breasts were amazing. Russ had
to force herself to stop and move on down her body.

She bypassed her crotch for a moment, lifting each leg in turn to the
edge of the tub to apply the soap. Her breasts were still tingling a
little when she finished her legs and finally got to her crotch. When
her fingers, covered with the gentle lather, began to rub against her
vaginal lips, they began to tingle as well.

It felt so good! Russ became curious as to what it would feel like to
really go at it. She rinsed the lather off her hand and slipped a
finger inside. Russ had been fairly experienced. He had known how use
his hands to make a girl feel good, and now the transformed Russ used
that knowledge on her own body. The finger inside her found her
clitoris and began to caress it, while her other hand reached up and
began to play at her breast.

She arched her head back and began rolling her hips in time to the
motion of the finger. Jolts of electric pleasure shot through her body.
She began to moan.

Russ closed her eyes. She tried to pretend that she was still male.
That the female body she was touching belonged to somebody else, a
beautiful girl who was lovingly touching her own, still male body. Russ
imagined that it was Jenny she was feeling up. A picture can into her
mind. But the naked girl was herself as she'd been in the mirror a few
minutes before. And the boy was Billy Jackson, naked as she remembered
seeing him in the boys' gym on Tuesday. They were alone on a bed. He
was doing those wonderful things to her body, and she was reaching down
to fondle Billy's prick. She smiled as it grew firmer and longer in her
hand.

No!

Terrified at the thought, Russ pulled his hands away from his body. He
reached down and shut off the hot water. The shower turned cold,
washing away much of what she had been feeling. Still, as she stepped
from the shower, there was a feeling of incompleteness, almost a hunger,
down in her crotch.

Patting herself dry with a fluffy towel didn't help her with the
feeling. She'd never imagined that taking a shower could be such a
sensual act. She picked up a duster of bath powder from tray that
hadn't been there on the counter by her sink the day before. The powder
was cool on her body with a lovely floral scent. She dusted herself all
over, trying very hard not to notice the jolts of pleasure when she
rubbed it across her nipples or down at her groin.

Finishing in the bathroom, she went back into her bedroom to get
dressed. The room had changed as well. The curtain on the window were
now white with lacy frills. A make-up table was tucked in the corner
next to the dresser, which now had an assortment of small stuffed
animals and dolls on its top.

There were still posters on the walls, but they were of different
groups. Russ caught herself staring at the drummer of one group.
Yesterday, Irene Roth had been talking incessantly about him at lunch.
Now Russ felt her nipples beginning to tingle. "Great," she thought,
"now I'm acting like some lovesick little chick."

Russ opened the dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of silky pink
panties, girl's boxers trimmed with a lacy froth on each leg. She
stepped into them and pulled them up around her hips. The soft cloth
felt incredible against her skin. She found a matching bra -- no
undershirt would be suitable for her new, bigger breasts -- and stared
at it for a moment, uncertain how to put it on. Then another memory
surfaced. She put her arms through the straps and leaned forward,
nesting her breasts in the cups. Her arms reached behind her, and she
fastened the hooks as if she had been doing it for years.

Panty hose or socks? Russ knew that, if she chose hose, the memory of
how to wear them would pop into her head. But she'd also heard girls
describe wearing them as a sensuous experience. And after the assault of
female sensuality that she'd had to suffer through this morning, the
last thing that she wanted was more, especially all day long. She chose
a pair of pale green socks and slipped them on her feet.

As she walked to the closet, another reason for socks occurred to her.
Panty hose meant heels. Even if her trick memory told her how to wear
them, she just wasn't ready for anything that overtly feminine.

But what was she ready for? Yesterday, the closet had held mostly jeans
and girl's slacks. Today, it was crammed full of skirts and dresses.
Russ looked at them, wondering how she'd look in this or that one. In a
few cases, she found herself remembering. how well she looked. That pink
mini, for instance, the boys had really liked -- no!

"None of that," Russ thought, shaking her head to clear her thoughts.
She chose a green blouse and brown plaid slacks. She dressed quickly.
Except for the buttons being on the other side, these weren't much
different from what Russ had always worn. She had to smile when she
looked in the mirror, though. The slacks showed off her narrow waist and
wide hips.

It did need something. No girl ever seemed to come to school without
some jewelry. There was some jewelry in a glass case among the dolls on
the dresser. She put a wide gold bracelet on her left wrist. A gold
chain hung down from her neck and rested between her breasts.

Unfortunately, they always wore make-up, too. Russ sat down at the
make-up table and turned on the lights around the mirror. New memories
told her what each item was and how to use it. She sighed. If she had
to, she had to. A little mascara on her eyes, some blusher for the
cheeks, and a pale pink shade of lipstick, and she was ready.

Like the day before, Becky Landers called Russ over as she boarded the
bus. Becky was excited about the dance Friday night, joking and
giggling about her date with Steve Porter. Her excitement was catching,
and by the time the bus got to the school, Russ was giggling along with
her.

From what Becky said while they rode to school, Russ got the impression
that she had a date for the dance, too. She tried to remember who it
was, but nothing came. That worried Russ. She'd gotten to depend on
those crazy new memories to help her blend in. Then it occurred to her
that the new memories only came when she needed the information for some
reason. "I guess I don't need to know that yet," Russ thought.

She found out why when the bus parked, and kids began to get off to go
in to class. Al Sachs was standing near the parking space. When Russ
climbed off, Al called her over. He took her by the hand and gave her a
little peck on the check. "How are you this morning, babe?"

Russ wasn't sure how to react. "Um, okay, I guess."

"What's the matter? Hey, you're not mad about last night?" Al sensed
that something was wrong, though he could hardly know how wrong Russ
thought things had become.

"What about last night?" Russ waited for a memory to tell him, but
nothing came.

"Look, I'm sorry. I wanted to come over, but my dad needed my help at
the store. It was help him or not get the car tomorrow night." He put
his arm around Russ' waist, pulling her close. "You _do_ want to have
the privacy of a car tomorrow night, don't you?"

Russ felt her nipples tingling. "Oh, shit," he thought. But the
feelings running through his body felt so good. "I guess, so," she said
aloud.

The five minute bell rang. Al gave her another peck on the cheek.
"Gotta go, Babe. See you later." He dropped his arm and ran off.

"You and Russ planning something for the dance," Becky said nudging Russ
with an elbow. "Or maybe for after the dance?"

Russ felt her cheeks flush. Embarrassed, she looked down towards the
ground. "I guess so."

"M.m., he's cute. I won't ask now, but I'll expect a full report on
Saturday."

"We'll see," Russ said, still blushing. Then, desperate to change the
subject, she said, "right now, we'd better get to class." The two girls
ran into the building.

The day went by in a blur. She was still in the same classes, so the
schedule wasn't much of a problem. Even having to take Home Ec instead
of auto shop wasn't so bad. Ms. DeWitt was a pretty good teacher, even
if the class was one she really had no interest in. Then came seventh
period and with it, gym class.

Russ was walking towards the Boys' Gym, when Becky called her. "Aren't
you going in the wrong door, Rose? I know that I've thought about
peeking in from time to time, but I never thought that you'd have the
nerve to try." She giggled. "We'd better hurry. Coach Vorhees hates
it when girls are late."

"Girls," Russ thought. "I'm going to get into girls' gym. Cool, first
good thing since this craziness started."

But it wasn't cool. It was just gym. Russ was surrounded by some of
the prettiest girls in the school. They were taking off their clothes,
baring their lovely bodies to her. And it was no more exciting than
when the old Russ had been in the boys' locker room.

He stared at Kelly Jackson, Billy's cousin, for a couple of minutes.
Kelly had what a lot of boys considered the sexiest body in the school.
Narrow waist, long shapely legs, and a set of tits that a lot of guys
thought had to be half plastic. She'd dated college boys since her
sophomore year, so even the old Russ hadn't had a chance with her.

Now Russ was standing next to her. He watched her free those glorious
breasts from a skimpy black bra that was so sheer it was almost
transparent. They looked real now, but she found that she had no
interest in touching them. Kelly noticed her staring. "What's the
matter, Rose? Never seen what a real girl looks like."

"No. I mean, I was just admiring your bra and panties. They look so
sexy, I was wondering where you got them." Russ blurted out what she
thought was just a line. Then she realized that it was true. She had
wondered where Kelly had gotten the matched set. More scary, she was
wondering how she'd look in something like that, and what -- oh, no --
what Al would think if he saw her in something like that.

"Victoria's Secret, but you've got to have the figure to wear them."

Russ actually felt the sting of the insult. "I think I look pretty
good," she thought."

"If you two have quite finished discussing your lingerie," Becky said.
"Ms. Vorhees is expecting us on court."

Russ already had on her sports bra and gym shorts. She threw on a
t-shirt from her locker and slipped into her sneakers. The old Russ
tied his shoes loosely, so he could slip into them like loafers in a
hurry. Evidently, the new Russ was the same. Russ was on the gym floor
just as Ms. Vorhees blew her whistle to start class. She had the
satisfaction of seeing Kelly come out a couple minutes later. Ms.
Vorhees was as tough as any of the male gym teachers. Standard
punishment was 12 push-ups per minute late. Girl push-ups, maybe, but
Kelly still had to do 24 of them, while the rest of the class watched.

Russ had a feeling that Kelly would be gunning for her, looking to
revenge herself for the embarrassment of the push-up. Nothing happened,
except once, when she glanced over and saw Kelly glare back at her.

Girls' basketball was just starting at Ellwood City High, and Ms.
Vorhees was still recruiting for the team. She split her girls into two
teams, so she could see what talent there might be.

Russ had learned to play the game by age seven, and she'd lettered in it
in her old life. But she discovered that, while her mind still
remembered the moves, her body just didn't want to cooperate. She
managed to get the ball at one point and was moving down court with it.
Kelly ran by, trying to guard her. She made a couple of quick moves and
reached for the ball. Russ moved to keep control, and Kelly's leg shot
out around her own. They both fell to the gym floor, and the ball
rolled towards the bleachers.

Russ was up in a moment. "You tripped me, bitch!" she shouted.

"You fell over your own two left feet, you cow."

Ms. Vorhees blew her whistle. "I don't know what this is about, but I
won't tolerate it. The two of you get dressed now, and we'll talk about
it later." She paused for a beat, then blew the whistle again. "All
right, the rest of you. There's still ten minutes of class left. Let's
see if any of the rest of you are any good."

The two girls went back to the locker room. They stripped and headed
for the showers without saying a word to one another. Russ watched
Kelly soaping her body, rubbing the lather across her breasts, down her
legs, in her groin. This was an image that she'd fantasized about --
hell, that half the boys in the school had probably masturbated to. And
now, nothing. She felt some arousal, but it was triggered by the
feelings she got rubbing the soap across her own female form.

Russ was tempted to do a repeat performance of her morning activities in
the shower, but Kelly was in there with her. The rest of the class
would be coming back into the locker room in a minute. She felt a
shyness welling up in her, killing any thought of self pleasure. She
left Kelly in the shower, dried off, and dressed.

Ms. Vorhees was waiting for her near the door to the gym. "Becky
Landers told me what happened. You shouldn't be arguing about something
as silly which of you has the better body. I'm sure there are enough
boys in this school doing that, anyway. For me, the important thing is
that you stopped and got to class on time. Kelly was late. It was her
own fault, but she seems to have blamed you. You can go to class, now."

"What about Kelly," Russ asked.

"She can consider the error of her ways while she's doing laps this
afternoon."

"Thank you, Ms. Vorhees," Russ said, smiling.

"Wipe that smile off your face, or you'll be out running with her."
Russ nodded in obedience and headed for her next class. She had the
sense to wait until she was around the corner from Ms. Vorhees before
breaking back into a smile

The old Russ had a bunch of chores around the house. Now it seemed that
washing the dinner dishes was added to the list. She was just
finishing, when her mother came into the kitchen. "You have company,
dear."

"Who?" Russ looked up from the plate she was rinsing. Al Sachs walked
into the kitchen.

"I came over to study with you, like we talked about at school" he
said. "I'm sorry if I got here early."

"That's all right, Al -- is it?" Russ's mother said. "I can finish for
her this once. In the future, though, Al, please don't come to see Rose
before, say, 7:15 to give her time to finish." She put on an apron and
moved to Russ' place at the sink.

Russ took off her own apron and dried her hands. "Let's go upstairs,"
she said.

"Let's not," said her mother. There's plenty of room at the dining
room table for the pair of you."

Russ realized what her mother had thought the two teens might do in her
room, especially with the door shut -- or even locked. She blushed at
the notion, even as she felt her nipples tighten and a warmth spread
through her stomach. Her body seemed to have the same idea, and it
liked the idea.

The pair didn't get a chance to go upstairs together, but they were left
alone at the table for the most part. They sat close, hips touching and
holding hands. Once or twice, Al leaned over and kissed her on the
cheek. One time, he even took a chance and kissed her on the lips. It
was a short kiss, but full of feeling. Russ felt her nipples pushing
against the material of her bra. There was a warm moistness in her
crotch and an empty feeling there as well.

Al went home about ten, kissing her again at the door before he left.
Russ went upstairs and changed for bed. The emptiness, the need Al had
aroused in her remained. Lying in bed she remembered how he looked, the
touch of his hand on hers. He had such a wonderful smile. She felt her
hand on her breast and pretended that it was his. The part of her that
was still the old, male Russ was screaming "No!", but she barely heard
it.

Her other hand went down to her crotch, pulling her night gown up around
her hips. She began rubbing her clitoris. The sensations got better
and better. She began to pump her hips to the motion of her finger, as
jolts of pleasure shot between her breasts and her pussy. Then they
radiated out through her entire body like a bolt of lightening. Russ
realized that she had experienced her first female orgasm.

But not her last. She kept caressing her body, lifted higher and higher
by the pleasure. She finally stopped when she heard her parents going
to bed. She lay there quietly, afraid to start again and have them
hear. After a while, she simply drifted off to sleep. Still smiling.

*****

Russ was awakened the next morning by music, one of those easy listening
stations that girls liked. She rolled over to find that her alarm clock
had been replaced by a small clock radio. That couldn't be the only
change. She decided that she might as well get the worse over with and
climbed out of bed to view herself in the mirror on the bathroom door.

As she walked over, yawning and scratching her head, she noticed that
her hair seemed even thicker. Longer, too, she thought, considering the
extra pull she felt on her scalp. She leaned in close to the mirror to
get a look at her face and hair.

She could hardly believe what she saw in the mirror. Her hair was a
mass of chestnut curls that framed her now heart shaped face and hung
down almost to her waist. Her eyebrows were shaped to narrow lines, and
her eyelashes seemed much longer. Her complexion was peaches and cream
perfect. Her lips seemed fuller, and her expression felt into a
natural, but very sexy pout.

She stepped back to get a look at her figure. The pale yellow night
gown of the night before was now a baby doll nightie that barely reached
down to her hips. Her hips seemed wider, too, and her waist narrower.
The nightie was cut low and barely contained her larger breasts. She
posed this way and that in front of the mirror, marveling at her new
figure. She felt feminine and sexy, and a growing part of her loved the
feeling.

"Fun as it might be," Russ thought, "this isn't getting me ready for
school. She walked over to the dresser, shucking off her nightie. The
panty was almost a thong, barely covering her crotch and held on by
narrow strings tied across her hips. She untied the strings and let the
panty fall to the floor.

The underwear in the drawer looked a lot more sexy than the day before.
Russ pulled out a pair of white, French cut panties that were so sheer
as to be almost transparent, except for a narrow, lace trimmed gusset
at the crotch. They looked very much like the sort Kelly Jackson had
worn the day before. She stepped into them and pulled them up to her
waist, feeling their silky coolness against her skin.

She had trouble finding the matching bra. She thought about going
without. "Give the boys a thrill," she thought and giggled. Then she
remembered the sort of jokes that guys made -- that she'd made -- about
girls who went braless, especially girls with a rack as big as hers was
now. She decided that she'd rather keep looking.

She finally found the bra in the back of the drawer. It wasn't quite as
sheer, with a pattern of swirled lace to hide her nipples. The bra was
underwire, lifting and separating her 38 D breasts for even better
effect. (She'd looked at the label before putting it on.) It was cut
low, too, so that her breasts looked ready to spill out.

Russ reached in the drawer again and pulled out a pair of smoky gray
panty hose. She sat back on her bed and slowly, carefully pulled them
up her long curvy legs. It took a little time. Not from inexperience,
but because she wanted to make sure that there were no sags or wrinkles.
That was hard to do with fingernails that were longer and more rounded
than the day before. She still had the same pink polish on her nails,
but now her toes were painted the same color.

She walked towards the closet, watching herself in the door mirror. She
had a nice feminine strut, her hips swaying invitingly as she walked.
Her legs looked good, too, but she knew somehow that they'd look better
in heels.

Russ took a frilly white peasant blouse and a short charcoal skirt from
hangers in the closet. She pulled on the blouse over her head, then
carefully pulled her long hair free and let it hang down behind her. She
stepped into the skirt and pulled it up around her hips, tucking in the
blouse. It was narrow at the waist, then flared out about her hips. It
was tight enough to show them off but not to make her look slutty. Well,
not too slutty. And it ended about half way between her waist and her
knees.

Pulling out a pair of dark gray pumps, she slipped them on her feet.
hey had two inch heels, and Russ wondered for a movement if she'd be
able to walk in them. She sat for a moment, waiting for a memory of how
to do so. None came. "Well, better learn," she said with a sigh and
stood up. She walked towards the make-up table half expecting to fall
and ready to catch herself.

To her delight, she found that she was comfortable in the shoes, walking
with the same feminine gait as she had barefoot. "I guess my body
remembers, even if my mind doesn't," she thought.

She sat at the table and reached for a hairbrush. A gentle combing got
a few of her stray curls into place. Her make-up was more sophisticated
this morning. A smoky eye shadow accented her eyes. The blusher was
joined by some highlighter that made her cheekbones look higher. She
dabbed a little perfume behind each ear.

She found a small jewelry box in a corner of the table and, curious,
opened it. Earrings. Russ touched her earlobe and felt a small hole.
No, her fingers told her, two holes. She brushed her hair back to look.
Yes, pierced ears. Mercifully, the memory that came to her was how to
put the earrings on, not the memory of the piercing. She picked a pair
of pearl earrings from the box and put them in the lower hole on each
ear.

On her way out the door, Russ picked a wide white gold bracelet from the
jewel box on her dresser and put it on her wrist. A matching chain went
around her neck. It was long enough to hang down to the valley between
her breasts, calling attention to them.

"Girl, you look hot," she said, catching a glimpse of herself in the
mirror. The thought scared her. A few days ago, she'd been Russ Walsh,
boy hero, terror of the football field and the date of choice for most
of the girls in the school. Now, here she was in heels and French cut
panties, ready to strut her pretty ass through the halls of Ellwood City
High.

The changes to her mind were as thorough as the changes to her body.
She was comfortable in her new body and her new clothes. She'd put that
body through its paces last night, and she'd enjoyed it. Well,
everybody enjoyed masturbating, didn't they? But she was suddenly
afraid of how much she'd probably enjoy letting somebody else touch her
like that. She had enjoyed kissing Al last night, and the way he
talked, they had plans to do more -- to go further -- that evening. Part
of her was still the old Russ and was repelled at the thought of sex
with a boy. But part of her, a big part, was Rose, and she liked the
idea. Her body seemed to agree with the new Rose. She felt her cheeks
flush and her nipples begin to tingle.

Then even newer memories came to her. Yes, Al had been there last
night, but only to study. He was much better in math than she was, and
she'd asked him to come over to help her prepare for today's quiz. She
was going to the dance with somebody else. But who? That she didn't
remember. "Great," she said in despair. "Now I'm playing mind games
with myself. It just gets better and better." She closed the door
behind her and went down to breakfast.

Al was waiting near the bus stop when Russ' bus got to the school. He
was coming over as she stepped off. "Maybe I am going with him after
all," she thought. Aloud she said, "Hi, Al."

"Oh, um, hi, Rose. You ready for the test?"

"I guess so. Thanks for the help last night." She was waiting for a
kiss, but none came. Al suddenly smiled and stepped around her. He
took Jenny's hand, as she stepped off the bus. The two kissed quickly
and walked towards the school building hand in hand.

"That is so sweet," Russ thought watching the two of them. She hugged
her books and sighed. "If only -- if only _who_?" She knew that she was
dating somebody in this new reality, but her mind stubbornly refused to
tell her who it was.

"Give you any ideas, Babe?"

Russ turned towards the voice. It was Max Snyder, leaning against the
side of the bus and positively leering at her. "What do you want?"

Max actually looked hurt. "Gee, can't a guy say 'hello' to his girl
without her jumping all over him?"

"His girl?" Russ thought. "Shit!" Now the memories came. She and Max
had been dating since the middle of football season. Considering some of
the stories Max had told the old Russ, she was just as glad that she
couldn't remember any details.

But if her mind didn't remember, her body did. She felt it tingle, and
her nipples begin to stiffen. She caught herself smiling and feeling
sorry for the way she'd greeting him. "I'm sorry, Max. I'm just a
little out of sorts today."

He took her hand in a surprisingly gentle way. The tingling sensation
got stronger. "That's okay, Hon," he said. "Gee, it hope it's not your
time of month or anything. I mean, with the dance and all tonight."

"Oh, God, not that," Russ thought. "I am in no way ready to have a
period." But she suspected that her trick memory would have warned her
if she was anywhere near her "time of month".

She shyly shook her head and said, "No, I just really haven't been
myself this week." Boy, was _that_ the truth! "I'll be okay."

The five minute bell rang. "We'd better get going," Max said. "I wish
I could walk you in, but you know how far apart our first period classes
are." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and ran off towards the far
side of the building. Russ walked in the nearby door, heading for her
own class. She felt good. Maybe she was wrong about Max.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly. Russ was surprised at how
well she did on the quiz. The way she remembered their study session,
she and Al had spent more time cuddling than cramming. But in today's
reality, she also remembered that they'd spent several hours just doing
math. Time after time, the memory of how to answer a problem simply
popped into her head when she needed it. She didn't expect an A, but
even a B was better than what the old Russ had done. Even a C would
have been better, and she was sure that she'd done at least that well.

All any of the girls could talk about at lunch was the dance that night.
Who was going with whom, and what they were going to wear. A few of the
girls had gotten new dresses, even if it was just a Friday "mixer",
rather than a "formal" dance, and were being mysterious. Russ didn't
remember what she was wearing, but she did remember seeing a dress in
her closet wrapped in a plastic bag from Lorraine's, one of the better
dress shops in town. That had to be a new dress, but she wouldn't know
what it looked like until she got home after school, so she just dropped
what she hoped were generic hints.

Russ had been home about fifteen minutes when the phone rang. It was
Max. "Hi, Babe. I wanted to see if you were feeling any better than
this morning." The only class that Max and Russ -- the old Russ -- had
had together was Auto Shop, and now that was gone. They had different
period lunches, too. She hadn't seen him since that morning.

She felt a warm feeling all through her body. He cared! Evidently
there was more to her old friend than the jock that Russ had grown up
with. "I feel fine, Max. Especially now that I'm talking to you."

"Great. What time should I pick you up? The dance starts at 8, you
know."

"Umm, 7:30 sound okay?"

"Sounds fine. Hey, I'd love to talk, but I know you've got a million
things to do to get ready for me -- for the dance, I mean. I'll see you
then." He hung up without another word.

"Well, that was romantic," said Russ, hanging up her phone. She had
been wanting to talk. She'd never liked girls that gushed at a guy over
the phone, but now she had felt the need to do just that, to share her
excitement with the boy she liked. Her new opinion of Max dropped a
notch.

Still, he was right. She did have a lot to do. She went back to her
room and stripped out of her clothes, tossing everything into a wicker
hamper near the closet. Then she sat at the make-up table and used cold
cream to remove every trace of make-up from her face,

Russ ran water in the tub, letting it get comfortably hot before turning
on the shower. Pulling the shower curtain across the tub, she stepped
in. The shower now had one of those pulsing showerheads, and the waves
of water shooting over her body felt absolutely wonderful. She lathered
herself with the same herbal soap as yesterday, taking extra time on her
larger breasts.

Even as one hand moved the soap slowly around her large nipples, the
other moved down to rub against the lips of her vagina. A long finger
reached up to caress her clitoris, while another slipped inside moving
in the same steady rhythm. Jolts of pleasure shot to every part of her
body. Her knees grew weak, so that she had to lean against the wall to
keep standing. Her hips rolled to the motion of her hand, as her vagina
began to pulse.

Her head went back, eyes closed, mouth open. She heard herself moaning
and hoped that the sounds wouldn't carry over the noise of the shower.
Last night, she had thought of Al Sachs while she'd masturbated, but
now the image of Max Snyder came into her mind. He was there with her
in the shower. It was his hands on her breast and in her pussy. He was
bringing her higher...higher...high -- a lightening bolt of pure sexual
energy shot through Russ, setting off every nerve. She stopped the
motions of her hands and sank slowly to the tub floor, lost in the
physical joy of her orgasm.

As the water washed over her, Russ had time to think about what she had
just done. This was the second time she'd had an orgasm as a girl. And
enjoyed it, reveled in it. The first time, she could excuse that as
curiosity, taking her new equipment out for a test run. But this second
time, it was getting to be a habit. She was getting used to her female
sexuality. What was worse, she found herself curious about what it
would be for real. What it would be like to have sex as a girl -- with
a boy.

She shook her head as if to clear it and stood up. Since her hair was
already soaking wet, Russ decided to wash it. There was a bottle of
herbal shampoo in a little basket hanging from the showerhead. She
poured some into her hand and began to work up a lather. As she worked
the lather through her thick curls, it occurred to her that this was the
shampoo/conditioner that advertised itself as "an organic experience"
with those commercials that suggested that you could almost bring
yourself off using it. Well, she'd already done that. Now if it would
just clean her hair.

Russ finished her hair, turned of the shower, and stepped out. There
was a pile of thick towels on the counter. She wrapped one around her
hair, planning to dry it later. She used a second towel to pat herself
dry. Her skin was so much softer now that she couldn't rub it dry the
way she had as a male. She also was careful around her nipples and
vagina which were still sensitive from her activity in the shower.

She finished and tossed the towel in a hamper near the sink. Picking
up the duster of floral scented bath powder, she sprinkled on herself
and carefully rubbed it in. Again, she was careful rubbing her breasts
and by her crotch, not wanting to, well, distract herself again. There
was a short pink bathrobe on a hook on the door, and she slipped it on.
It was fluffy like a towel and reached most of the way down to her
knees.

Then she unwrapped her hair. It hung down straight, heavy with the
weight of water and even darker than its usual chestnut. Russ plugged
in the portable hair dryer, set it to "maximum dry", put in the drying
comb and turned it on. It seemed to take forever, but working from the
top of her head down to the tips that hung almost to her waist, she
eventually got the hair dry. She could smell the gentle scent of
flowers from the shampoo, brought out by the dyer heat.

She decided not to do anything with her hair, which was now a mass of
curls. She liked the way it looked. "The bedroom look," she thought
and giggled. Damn, she was definitely ready to see what sex was like as
a girl. Knowing Max's alleged history, his locker room bragging, there
was a good possibility of that -- as far as Max knew in this new reality
-- it had already happened. She also knew that there was a good chance
of it happening for her this evening. Well, whatever happened happened.
She applied some deodorant and went back to her bedroom.

Russ had left the robe on, expecting the room to feel cooler after the
heat of the shower. It was. She saw goose bumps on her slender bare
arms and felt her nipples grow erect. Though, this time it was from the
cool air.

She reached into her drawer and pulled out a matching panty and bra set,
off-white satin with English lace trim in a white rose design on the
gusset of the panties and the cups of the bra. It was actually a three
piece set. The matching garter belt was in the other drawer with her
stockings and panty hose. She pulled it out along with a pair of sheer
dark gray hose.

Russ fit the garter belt around her, marveling at how narrow her waist
was now, and hooked it into place. The four straps hung down, brushing
against her thighs and over the curve of her lovely rounded butt. She
stepped into the panties and pulled them up, twisting to get them past
her hips, marveling at the cool feel of the satin against her bare skin.
She had to reach inside the panties to straighten a couple of the garter
straps and make certain that all four hung out from beneath the panties.

Then she sat down on the bed and picked up one of the stockings . She
bunched it up and carefully pulled it up her leg. Checking once or
twice for any sags or runs, she stood up and hooked the front of the
stocking to a garter. Then she twisted at the waist and bent her knee
to attach the back to a second garter. She repeated the process a
moment later with her other leg.

She took off the robe and stood still for a moment enjoying the new
experience of wearing stockings. She felt them pulled tightly on her
legs, the garter straps rubbing against her bare thighs, They felt like
fingers caressing her skin, and she felt herself getting turned on
again. Her nipples were growing erect, sticking out "Just like two tiny
little pricks," she thought with a giggle.

The bra was strapless. She rested the cups on her breasts, leaning back
as she expertly reached behind her to fasten it. The bra was cut low,
and she reached in, positioning each breast, so that they were lifted up
and looked even bigger. Her nipples brushed against the lace and satin,
making her tingle delightfully.

There was only a little time now till supper, so Russ used it to do her
nails. Polish remover got rid of the light pink color. She found
press-on nails in a drawer in the make-up table, helped by the new
memory that they were there. Once they were attached, she trimmed and
shaped them to a rounded half inch extension of her own nails. She then
applied a deep red polish, blowing gently on each nail afterwards to
help it dry.

About ten minutes later, when her mother called her for supper, the
nails were dry. Russ put the robe back on, closing it around her and
tying it tightly at the waist. It wouldn't do to flaunt her sexy
undies in front of her parents. There were a pair of fuzzy pink
slippers near the bed. She stepped into them to protect her stockings
and went down to super.

The meal went well enough. Both her parents worked; her mother in the
records office at the hospital; her father at an insurance agency. They
talked about their days, sharing a few jokes about "Life in the Office"
that Russ had heard before and wasn't particularly interested in.
Eventually, her father asked, "So tonight's the big dance that you've
been talking about all week."

"It's just a Friday mixer, dear," her mother said. "Are you going with
Becky and your other friends?"

"If I've been talking about it 'all week'," Russ thought, "I must have
said who I was going with." Her mother's inability to remember almost
anything he said had been a constant complaint of the old Russ. Some
things didn't change. "I have a date," she said aloud. "Max Snyder is
taking me."

Now her father perked up. "Hey, I saw him at that one football game you
dragged me to. He's not bad. If your team had had a good quarterback,
they might have gone a lot further than they did."

Russ sighed. The team did have a good quarterback. Her -- him -- her
when she'd been a him. This change was really getting to her, and being
reminded of what she'd been was killing all the new pleasure of being a
girl. She wanted to change the subject, and she _certainly_ didn't want
it brought up again when Max came for her.

Her mother rescued her. "You and your Sports, Stan, I don't want you to
embarrass poor Rose by gushing over the boy when he comes to pick her
up. Or drag him off to talk football, while she waits to go to the
dance."

"Okay, okay, I promise. Do I get to meet the boy, or are you going to
lock me in my room when he comes?"

Russ wasn't listening any more. What had she just said to herself?
"The new pleasure of being a girl?" Yes, she finally had to admit it.
She was enjoying being a girl, and she wasn't sure that she'd want to
change back, if Chloe Weaver gave her the chance. This was something
that she'd have to give careful thought to.

But not right now.

It was almost 6:40. Max would be there for her in less than an hour,
and here she was sitting in her undies eating supper. She pushed the
plate away and stood up. "I have to get ready for the dance," she said.

"But you're not done eating."

"Mom, I don't have time to finish. Besides, there'll be food at the
dance." Russ turned and ran up to her room. Normally she would have
had to do the dishes, but her mind told her that mother had agreed to
let it go. She would have to set the table the next two nights to make
up for it, though.

She tossed the robe onto the bed and took the clothing bag out of the
closet by the hanger. Carefully, she pulled the bag up and off over the
hanger. The dress came with a short jacket that she took off the hanger
and laid aside. The dress itself was absolutely lovely, a long
strapless white sheath trimmed in swirls of silvered sequins. It hung
beneath the hanger attached by three padded clip hooks.

Russ unhooked it from the hanger, laying it carefully on the bed. She
stepped out of her slippers. Then she unzipped the dress and took it in
her hands. She bent over and stepped into the dress. It moved sensually
up her legs, and she had to squirm and twist to get it past her wide
hips. She pulled it up and over her ample breasts. It reached just
high enough to cover her bra, leaving much of her bosom displayed.

Russ reached behind her and found the zipper. With a surprising
expertise, she pulled it up. The dress was tight. It clung to her
narrow waist, calling attention to her feminine curves. It made her
stand straight and forced her to inhale slightly. Her breasts rose,
looking ready to spill out.

She stood before the mirror and smoothed the dress on her hips. The
white of the dress went with her creamy skin, while the sequin swirls
subtly called attention to her hips and breasts. Russ replaced her tiny
pearl earrings with dangling shapes of silvered metal. She took a small
silver locket on a chain from the top of the dresser and placed it
around her neck, taking her time to keep the chain from tangling in her
hair. The locket hung from her neck resting just above her breasts and
dramatically calling attention to them.

She sat at the make-up table. She applied a bright red lipstick to her
mouth, pursing and pouting her lips to see the effect. Dark violet eye
shadow made her eyes look larger, deeper, and mysterious. Mascara
lengthened her already long lashes. And a final application of blusher
and highlighter made her face appear narrow. She looked into the
mirror. Staring back at her was a mature and sexually desirable young
woman, not the demure and feminine high school senior Russ had become.

There was perfume on the table, as well. She picked a floral scent that
would go with the fragrance left in her hair from the shampoo. She put
a dab behind each ear, then on the side of her neck. She had the
feeling that there was more she wanted to do. She stared at the bottle
for a moment, then took the applicator and made a long stroke in the
cleft between her breasts. "So wicked," she giggled. "Max'll love it."

But her parents wouldn't. A streak of stubbornness that she didn't know
that she still had asserted itself. She picked up the jacket from the
bed and put it on. It concealed her lovely bare shoulders and how low
much of her bosom the dress revealed. It also made it hard to tell just
where she had applied the perfume.

She stood and looked at herself in the door mirror. She looked good,
damned good. The dress hugged her every curve, but wasn't so tight as
to be vulgar. And it was high enough to show plenty of leg. They were
long, slender, and gracefully curved, and Russ knew that they'd look
even better in heels. She turned this way and that looking at herself.
She looked better and better from every angle. She felt a new feminine
delight in how good she looked, and, even though she didn't realize it,
this delight was the reason she was now smiling at herself.

She picked out a pair of white shoes with three inch heels from a shoe
rack on the closet doors. "These puppies are going to be tough," she
thought. She didn't doubt that she would find herself able to walk in
the shoes. It was the thought of standing, walking, even dancing in
them for several hours that bothered her. She decided to give her toes
a break and sat on the bed, the shoes besides her, listening to her
radio.

About fifteen minutes later, she heard the doorbell. She put the shoes
on and waited by the door to be called. Something, a memory that was
more than just a memory, told her that it was better to make an
entrance.

"Rose," her father's voice came from downstairs, "your date is here."
Russ hurried out the door and down the hall, stopping just before she
got to the stairs, never even noticing how easily she was walking in
heels.. Then she slowed to a graceful walk that continued as she came
down the stairs. Max and her father were waiting at the bottom, both
smiling.

"Hi, Ba-, um, Rose," Max said. "You ready to go?"

"Honey, you look beautiful," her father said. "Hold on a minute." He
went into the next room, coming back a moment later with a camera. He
pointed to the wall by the stairs. "You two stand there while I get a
picture."

Russ felt embarrassment well up inside her. "Oh, Daddy, please. We
have to go."

"Daddy"? where had that come from. Russ had never called her father
that, not even earlier in the evening. But now the word came naturally
to her.

"Okay, just one," her father said, pointing to the wall again.

Russ looked at Max. He didn't seem happy about the delay. She walked
over to the wall and motioned for Max to join her. "Please," she
whispered to Max. "He promises -- only one."

Max sighed and came over to stand next to her. "Only one," he said.

Russ's father snapped the picture. He began advancing the film for
another, saying, "How about a 'saver'?"

"Stan," her mother said. "You promised only one." She handed Russ her
outer coat and motioned for them to leave. The pair were out the door
before her father could seriously protest.

"I'm sorry about the camera," Russ said as they walked to Max's car.
"You know how parents get."

"Pain in the ass," Max replied as they reached the car. "He knew we
were in a hurry." Russ walked around to the other side. She stood
there waiting for something. But what? "Get in already," Max said.

Russ realized that he'd been waiting for Max to come around and open the
door for her. It was another reminder of how her behavior was changing
to match her new body. She got in the car, and they drove off.

Max didn't say a word as they drove to the school, except to occasional
curse at another driver. Russ tried to start a conversation, but he cut
her off with a grunt each time. Besides he had a heavy metal tape on,
blaring out over the car's speakers.

He parked near the school building and got out without a word. Russ
watched for him to come around and open her door, to help her out.
Instead she saw him striding towards the school. She jumped out and ran
to him before he even missed her. She took his hand as they walked into
the building. It felt good. Sure he was a little gruff, but she knew,
deep down, that he liked her as much as she liked him.

The school service club had set up a check room near the gym. Russ
handed the girl on duty her jacket as well as her outer coat. She
looked at Max as he took the tags for their coats. He was smiling and
staring at her, or rather at her bare shoulders and the amount of breast
showing above the top of her dress. She felt a mild glow of
satisfaction thinking about how much he liked what he saw -- how much he
liked her.

The gym was full of people and music. There were a few of the jocks
standing near the door, and Max went over to talk to them. She stood
alone for a minute listening to the music. The she saw Becky and Steve,
Jenny and Al sitting at a table nearby. She went over to join them.
"Hi," she said.

"Hi, yourself," Jenny said. "Where's Max?"

"He, um, he's talking to somebody he saw when we came in. I'm sure
he'll be over in a minute." She sat down, positioning herself so she
could watch the group Max was with while she talked to her friends.

But Max didn't come. Russ watched him talking to the other jocks for
about ten minutes. The others at the table were beginning to fidget.
They wanted to dance, but they didn't want to leave her alone.

Finally, Max split off from the others. He looked over to where he'd
left Russ and scowled when he didn't see her. He looked quickly around
the room and saw her sitting there. He came over. The band began a new
song just as he reached the table. "C'mon, let's dance," he said,
ignoring the group at the table.

"I'm talking to my friends," Russ said. She wanted to just go with him,
but a little of the old Russ asserted itself.

"Oh, yeah. Hi." He made no effort to start a conversation or sit.
"Now can we dance?" It was less of a question than an order.

Russ felt her resistance melt away. "Later," she said to those at the
table. She stood and let Max lead her to the floor. She looked back,
feeling a little guilty, but she was relieved to see both couples
following them.

Max and Russ danced together for more than an hour. Every dance. Most
of the music was fast. At best, couples touched hands on occasion.
Mostly they stood facing one another moving almost independently to the
music. But there were enough slow dances to please those who wanted
them.

During those slow dances, Max held her as closely as one could get away
with at a chaperoned high school dance. Russ found that she enjoyed
feeling her strong arm around her waist as he lead her around the floor.
Her breasts were pulled against his chests, flattening slightly from the
pressure. Her whole body was tingling and her nipples were fully erect,
pushing against the satin of her bra. Once or twice, he pulled her
really close, and she could feel the growing erection in his pants
pushing against her groin. She felt a yearning down there, and a
moistness growing from the anticipation.

A slow dance was just ending. Russ had been resting her head on Max's
shoulder, and he'd been breathing softly on her neck. As the music
stopped, he took her by the hand saying, "C'mon, let's go get some air.
It's getting kind of stuffy in here."

Russ smiled and let him lead her from the gym. She suspected that fresh
air was the last thing on his mind, but her body was screaming at her to
do something, to satisfy the hunger that Max's skilled hands has
awakened.

Max turned his head this way and that, making certain that they weren't
being watched. Then he lead Russ down the hallway to the locker rooms.
Russ had no real concerns. The locker room doors were padlocked at
night.

Max stopped at a wooden door next to the locker rooms, the Equipment
Room. "Being offensive team captain has some advantages," Max said,
taking his keys out from his pocket. "I had a spare key made before I
turned in the original at the end of the season." He opened the door
and went in, leading Russ in behind him. Then he shut the door behind
them and locked it.

Russ was surprised. In the old reality, she'd been offensive captain
and had the key, but she'd never thought of using it like this. She
hadn't realized that Max was so smart. She was proud of her friend's --
her boyfriend's -- ingenuity.

The door had a frosted window. No one would see them inside, but there
was enough light for them to see within the room. A narrow window in
one wall must have been near one of the school lights. A second shaft
of light lit up the back of the room.

Max took her by the hand again. He lead her past racks of football
gear; boxes of basketballs, footballs, and soccer balls; and a shelf of
baseball bats. Back to where the wrestling mats were stacked. He
pulled a couple mats off the stack and piled them onto the floor.

He came over to where Russ was standing, took her in his arms and kissed
her. She pressed herself against him and opened her mouth. His tongue
took the invitation and entered, playing with hers. His hands reached
down to massage her firm, rounded bottom. Her arms were around his neck
pulling him down closer to her. She felt an itch growing in her crotch
and rubbed herself against him, trying to fulfill this new hunger.

He suddenly dropped his arms and stepped back. "We can do this better
with a few less clothes," he said smiling at her. He took off his
sports jacket and draped it over the remaining stack to mats. She put
her purse down near it, smiled back, and stepped over to undo his tie.
It felt good to be helping him, somehow, knowing that she was pleasing
him. As she leaned in to unknot his tie, he reached behind her and
pulled the zipper halfway down the back of her dress.

She felt his fingers walk gently up the small of her back. It tickled,
and she giggled softly. Then his fingers found the clasps of her bra.
He unhooked the bra and drew his arm back around, still holding the one
bra strap between his fingers. "Here you are, Babe," he said, handing
it back to her as if it were a trophy.

Russ leaned over and laid it on the top of the stack of mats. As she
did so, the top of the dress slipped forward, and she had to move
quickly to keep it from falling away, from exposing her breasts. The
cool air hit her erect nipples, and she gasped at the sensation.

The feeling made her stop for a second. There could be no doubt as to
what was gong to happen if she let it. Did she want to? Deep within
her, there was still some of the old Russ Walsh shrieking "NO!" and
pounding against the bars of the magical cage that had him imprisoned
inside her mind. She could hear him, but the voice was faint.

Yet, there was another voice, too, the voice of the person that the old
Russ had become, Rose Walsh. "Do it," she was saying. "You want it.
You _need_ it." Her voice was getting louder. "Listen to your body, not
to a past that no longer exists."

"Listen to her body?" Her body was practically screaming at her. Russ
realized that Max was kissing her again. He was using one arm to pull
her in close to him. His other hand was doing "spider fingers," gently
tickling the side of her neck. She moaned and opened her mouth to let
his tongue back in.

The kiss lasted a delightfully long time. Then Max pulled away. She
was about to say something, when he began kissing his way down her
throat. Her hands dropped to her sides, allowing the top of her dress
to slide down on her breasts. Both nipples were now fully exposed.

Max's mouth moved down below her neck. His hands reached up and pulled
the top of the dress away, revealing her full breasts. His mouth moved
to her left breast, sucking and licking at her nipple. His hand went to
the other breast. His fingers massaged the breast while his thumb
gently rubbed the nipple back and forth. Russ' arms went around the
back of his head, pulling his head -- his marvelous mouth --in closer to
her.

Jolts of pleasure shot out from her breasts to every part of her body,
especially to her vagina. She was conscious of how warm and wet it felt
down there. She needed something; needed to fill the growing hunger
that she was feeling down there. She knew what she wanted and she
grabbed for it. Her hand cupped Max's erection through his pants. One
finger slowly ran the length of it. It twitched slightly at her touch.
"He wants me, too" she thought, delighted at the thought.

There was no hesitation in her mind, now. And none of the repulsion of
having sex with a boy that she'd felt in her earlier fantasizing. The
old Russ was still there. Still screaming. But she could barely hear
him.

She stepped back from Max, smiling at the look of confusion on his face.
"This dress is in the way," she said. She zipped it the rest of the way
down and wriggled out of it. When his confusion gave way to a broad
smile, she smiled back and put an extra wiggle into her efforts to get
it past her narrow waist and broad hips. He liked that. She could
tell. She carefully laid the dress on the stack of mats next to her
bra. Then she stepped out of her heels and laid down on the two mats on
the floor.

Russ raised her arms, inviting Max to join her. He frantically pulled
off his shirt, popping one button. Then he simply dropped his pants to
the floor. He stepped out of them, stepping out of his shoes at the
same time. Her eyes tracked down his large, muscular body, lingering
for more than a moment at his massive erection that pushed against the
fabric of his boxers.

Max laid down beside her and resumed sucking at her left breast. He
took the nipple of her other breast and rolled it between his finger and
thumb. His other hand reached down to below her waist. He ran a finger
up and down against her vaginal lips through her panties. Russ's
breathing became shorter and shorter, her whole body was trembling, and
her juices were soaking through the panties.

Russ reached down and pulled his hand away. With her other hand, she
began frantically pulling at Max's shorts. "Please," she panted, "I
need you."

"But I'm right here, Babe." Max was smiling. Teasing the girl, getting
her so hot that she begged for it was almost the best part of sex. You
get her hot enough and she'd be willing to do anything for you -- or to
you. Rose was hot enough. Now he'd just see what he could get her to
do.

"No," she said. "I mean -- oh--"

He had his hand inside her panty now. One finger was moving around her
labia, teasing at the entrance of her vagina, while another reached up
to pluck at her clitoris like a guitar pick.

Her head went back, her mouth open. She could hardly talk now, moaning
more than saying words. Her hips began to pump to match the motions of
his fingers. Her hands reached up to rub at her breasts.

Then he took his hands away.

"No," she said. "Please, why did you stop?"

"Did it feel good? Do you want me to go on?"

"Yes, oh, please, yes!"

"Before I can make you feel good, Babe, you've got to make me feel
good." He pulled down his shorts and held his erect cock. "Suck it,
Babe."

Russ stared at Max. Was he serious? She'd accepted her new, female
self, been ready to have sex with him. But this? It was degrading,
awful. The small voice of the male Russ seemed to become a shout. "No!"
he was saying. "Don't do it."

But there was another scream. It was her female body. Max had aroused
it expertly, and it definitely, urgently, needed to be fucked.

Max sensed her hesitation. He reached down and began to message her
pussy through her panties. Her body arched, rising to meet his hand.
Her hips were moving to match the motion of his hand. "Uh -- uh --
okay," she gasped. "I'll do it." She sat up and leaned forward,
positioning herself for what she was about to do.

"No." His voice was cold. His hand stopped moving.

"What? But I thought you -- "

"Beg me." His hand began to move again, sending bolts of pleasure
through her entire body.

Russ had no choice. She had to do something. "Please -- uh, please,
let me suck your -- cock."

Max smiled. "Say, 'pretty please'. Tell me what you want to do."

This was horrible, but her body's hunger gave her no choice. "Please.
I need to -- uh -- suck your cock; to have it in my mouth; to -- uh
--make you cum in my mouth."

"Okay," Max said. "But you better be good, or that's the end of it."

Russ was desperate. She sat up and leaned over him, taking his cock in
her mouth. Her hair felt down over his crotch. She felt his cock
reaching towards the back of her throat, tasted the salty sweat on it,
and fought down the impulse to choke. She remembered what she'd liked
as a man and tried to copy it. Her mouth moved up and down the length
of it; now taking it deep in her throat, now almost taking it out. As
she moved her tongue swirled along it, tickling the sensitive underside,
licking at his foreskin.

Now it was Max's turn to moan and buck his hips. She felt his cock
begin to twitch. She wasn't ready, no matter how desperate her body
felt, to have him spurt in her mouth. But when she tried to move her
head away, he put his hands on her head, forcing it to stay where it
was. She tried to swallow it all, not to gag, but she wasn't quite fast
enough. She coughed and some of the jism oozed out her mouth. It ran
down onto her hair and dripped down on his crotch.

Finally, he was done. He leaned back, releasing her head. She sat up
and swallowed the last of what was in her mouth.

"That was great, Babe. As a reward, you can come over and lick me
clean."

She stared at him. "You need to get fucked. I need a little
encouragement to get back into the mood." His voice went cold again.
"Do it!"

She had no choice. She leaned forward again and began licking at his
limp cock. "What am I doing," she thought. But her body was still in
need, and this was the only way to get him to satisfy it.

As she licked, she noticed that his cock was getting hard again. That
was good. She wanted -- she needed -- him hard. She ran her tongue the
length of his cock, leaned in close to lick once or twice at his balls.
Yes, yes! He was ready. She stopped, not wanting him to ejaculate
again unless it was inside her.

Russ leaned back on the mats. "There," she said. "Now you do me."
She lifted her butt and slid her panties down her legs. She bent her
knees and leaned over, pulling them off over her feet and putting them
on the floor near the mat. Then she lay back on the mats and waited.

"On your knees, bitch."

"But you promised."

"Oh, I'm gonna fuck you, but we're gonna do it doggy style like the
bitch you are." He glared at her and raised his arm. "Move."

"Oh, God," she thought. "He'll hit me if I don't. And I need it so
bad."

She turned over and got down on her hands and knees. "Is this okay,"
she asked. Then, afraid of what might happen -- or not happen -- if she
didn't cooperate, she sobbed, "Please, Max. Please fuck me like the
bitch I am."

"That's what I like to hear," he said. "A bitch who knows her place."

He moved behind her. His cock slid along her vagina tickling against
her nether lips. She moaned and began to move her hips to match the
motion as he moved it back and forth. "Hold still," he said, stopping
the motion. She bit her lip and forced herself to stop moving.
"Better," he said.

His cock slipped inside her and began moving. It was glorious! Her
whole body was ablaze with sexual energy. "Can I -- uh -- can I please
move," she begged.

"Do it," he said. He was rocking his own hips, and she began moving to
match his rhythm. Her head rocked back and forth. Her eyes closed. She
could hear moanings from far away and only barely realized that she was
the one moaning. She climbed higher and higher, her vagina pulsing as
she discovered the incredible joy of the multiple orgasm. There was no
here, no now. She had no body. She was only a vagina, filled with
Max's magical cock that was shooting jolts of purest pleasure out to
every pore of her body.

Suddenly, she heard Max grunt. She felt him spurting jism, it felt like
buckets of the stuff, into her. He stopped moving, and she felt his
weight on her hips and ass. Then she felt him pull out of her and heard
him fall back onto the mats.

She collapsed down onto the mat, rolling over onto her back. She still
needed him, but he was just laying there smiling. Hell, he was
practically asleep. She sighed and caressed her body. Slowly, she felt
herself cool as the need gradually left her.

Russ looked around. There were some towels on a table nearby. She
managed to reach out and grabbed one. They were clean and folded. She
gently wiped her vagina, trying to lean forward, to let all of the
fluids, hers and his, leak out and onto the towel. When much of it was
out, she tossed the towel away and grabbed two more. She sat up on one,
and wiped at her hair with the other. She'd get to a bathroom as soon
as she could, but she didn't want to have to walk around the rest of the
dance with Max's jism leaking out of her pussy and drying up in her
hair.

By now, Max had revived. He grabbed another towel and wiped himself
down. As he did, he stared at Russ. "Pretty good, Babe," he said.
"We'll have to do this again some time."

They both dressed in silence. Max didn't see the need to say anything.
Russ was too humiliated to speak. And she had to make sure that her
hose weren't torn, or that she had his jism on them. The result was that
he was dressed and tying his tie, while she was still putting on her
bra.

"It'll look better if we don't get seen leaving together," he said,
moving towards the door. "Meet me at the gym in five minutes." He
opened the door quickly and darted out.

Russ was alone. She felt abandoned and not a little scared. Scared to
be caught and scared of what Max might do if she wasn't back at the gym
in time. She was just pulling up the dress past her wide hips when she
heard a voice.

"How does it feel, Russ?"

She looked up. It was Chloe Weaver, standing before her in the flowing
white robe that Russ suddenly recognized from her dream the Sunday
before. "What, what do you mean?"

"I said that you'd be properly punished. The old Russ Walsh was a
domineering little prick who used girls as sex toys."

"You mean like Max just treated me."

"Exactly. And to a certain extent, you enjoyed it."

"Is that what it's going to be like from now on?"

"Only if you choose to let it be. I remade you into this new person,
and my sister reset the pattern so you would see what you had done to
Jenny. The female needs that you experienced will remain, and Max knows
what he got you to do in here tonight."

"And he'll want to do it again."

"Yes, and a part of you will want him to do it. But another part of you
_may_ be strong enough to resist."

"If I do -- if I resist, will you change me back."

"Oh, poor, poor Russ. No, a life thread can only be worked so much.
You'll be Rose Walsh for the rest of your life."

"Yeah, Rose the Bimbo."

"Probably. You can change that if you want, but I'm guessing that you
won't. That's your real punishment. You know why you became what you
are, and you know how to change it, to make something of your new life.
But you just won't be willing to work hard enough to avoid it."

With that Chloe disappeared. Russ finished dressing and snuck unseen
out of the equipment room. But as she walked back to the dance,
hurrying to make Max's deadline, she thought she heard Chloe Weaver
laughing.

The End.

Copyright Ellie Dauber, 1999.