This story is part of a trilogy, the first portion is more like a horror story, and the 2nd and 3rd portions have the TG in them.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

***

Part Two

-Eight-

A young acne-laden teen sat beside his bike and watched the workers run the slip scoop at the water's edge. At 14, he looked forward to the day when he could get a job like the one he was watching. A local crew had been contracted to dig out a portion of the river so a suitable structure could be erected to span its width. The bridge was heralded to become a gem for the city, grand and gleaming for all visitors to see.

Micah was well out of the way, positioned high above the working machinery. He was seated on the edge of the sidewalk which actually spanned the entire work site. He had always held a fascination with the heavy equipment, but as yet, never dared to venture down near its operation.

As the enormous scoop swung around and deposited the mud and river soil at the edge, something caught Micah's eye. He stared for several seconds, and saw a sparkling glint among many, many pounds of murky slush. Gradually, almost secretly, he worked his way toward the pile. Staying hidden, he kept himself out of sight when the slip-scoop came back around, afraid that the operator might either see him or worse, hit him.

Micah was thankful that the object had slid toward the bottom, for its nearness made retrieving it and getting away that much more feasible. As he worked closer, he noticed that the strange object had ridden down the surface of the wet slurry further, and slid slightly out into the grass. Keeping hidden, he stole his way to the bottom of the pile and quickly grabbed the item. As soon as he had it in his hands, he raced out with it and returned to his bicycle.

He carefully examined the object. Filth-caked almost its entire surface, making it resemble a giant, muddy chicken leg...although it was flat, perhaps only an inch thick on its narrowest side. The slimy mud slid down onto the youth's hand, dripping in great plops onto the sidewalk beneath his feet. Micah carefully pushed his bike across the road to a gas station where he snuck to the side of the building. He turned on their garden hose, and began to carefully wash the grime from surface of the object.

After closely inspecting it, the handle seemed to be made from some type of wood. It was rotted from ages of resting beneath the water. As he carefully sprayed the handle's porous surface, it became evident that the object was crudely carved, but as yet he was unable to tell what it was.

He rolled it over and began to spray one side, when more of the soft, rotten wood was exposed, then he rotated it to the opposite side and began to remove the grime he found there. As he worked back and forth on each side, another boy rode up and stopped, staying just out of the reach of the water's spray.

"Whatcha have?" he asked as he studied the object in Micah's hands.

"I don't know, I found it," he said as he continued spraying.

The other boy sat silently and continued to watch. Slowly, its surface became exposed, yet it was still quite dirty.

"Looks like a chicken leg...run over by a dump truck," the boy laughed. "Where is it from?"

Micah smiled, "A chicken leg...that's the same thing I was thinking." Finally he dropped the hose and turned off the water. "I found it by where they are building the new bridge."

"So...now what?" the boy asked.

"I guess I'll take it home and try to figure out what it is." Micah tried to push it into his pocket, the strange object was too wide at the top to go in one way, and too long to ride in his pocket the other way comfortably on the bike. He ended up pushing it into his belt, leaving it hang out of the bottom like a sword. "I guess that'll work," he said to himself.

"You know..." the other boy said as they began to ride, "it looks sort of like my mom's hand mirror, only it's a bunch bigger."

"It can't be, Ian, the glass isn't shiny enough! I think it's an old hair brush with the bristles missing," Micah decided.

"Those old mirrors didn't use glass. I remember reading in a book once that they used polished metals like silver or something for them. I'll bet that's what it used to be," Ian said, sounding to Micah like he was so sure of himself.

"Maybe. Can't silver be polished to a shine?" Micah asked as he slowed his pedaling down so the other boy could catch up.

Ian looked at the dullness of the object, "I think it may be too far gone. You may have to use one of those burnishes like we have in art class. You know the ones that those kids doing the jewelry have, that they rub on the metal to shine it up."

Micah shrugged; whatever he decided to use, would have to wait until he got home.

-Nine-

Micah entered the house and began to climb the stairs toward his bedroom with Ian, when his mother stopped him. "What are you two up to this time?"

"I found this at the construction site and wanted to clean it up." Micah held out the object he found.

"What do you suppose it is, Mrs. Kennecott?" asked Ian, eager to be proven right on his theory of it being an old mirror.

She took it from her son and turned it over and over in her hands. "I haven't the foggiest idea, boys."

"I think it's a mirror," insisted Ian.

"I suppose it could be, but the glass isn't reflective at all," she observed. "Although, I do remember the old ones...really old ones were polished silver or some such thing. You might be able to clean it up some."

Ian smugly grinned at Micah. "See...I told you so!"

While his mother handed the object back, Micah shrugged and grinned at his friend. She started to turn then stopped herself, "Before I forget again, Micah, your orthodontist called. Your appointment has been moved to next Friday. Doctor Guzman had to juggle his schedule a bit because of some personal matters."

"That's fine, I'm in no hurry anyway," he replied over his shoulder, as Ian and he started up the steps again.

"So...you getting braces?" Ian asked as they pushed the door to Micah's bedroom open.

"Have to. Besides having an overbite, I got these four teeth that need straightening and one right here that's growing right over the other one." Micah pointed toward his crooked teeth on the bottom and the one strange dual growth on top.

"They'll have to pull that one like they did my sister's...man, that sure sucks for you!"

Micah sighed. "Now you know why I'm not in any hurry to have them work on it!"

They carried the strange item to Micah's desk. Micah handed it to Ian while he cleared off the items to make suitable working space. Ian stood quietly waiting and watching as Micah cleared the desk.

"Awww dude, are those your glasses?" he teased as Micah folded the ear pieces over and pushed them into a glass-case. Micah scowled at his friend and took his finding and laid it on the desk.

As soon as his hands were free, Ian retrieved the glasses from the case and put them on. "You must be as blind as a bat!"

"I'm not blind...jerk!" Micah snapped defensively.

"They're as thick as a magnifying glass!" he laughed and held out his hand before him, trying to touch objects nearby.

"I have an eye problem," Micah growled as he snatched them from Ian's face.

"You don't seem to be having any problems now!" Ian laughed as he watched his friend push them back into the case.

"I'm wearing my contacts. When I get to be eighteen, my mother said that dad and she will pay for me to have lasik surgery."

"Sure sucks to be you!" Ian kidded.

"At least I don't have any trouble seeing eye to eye with the girls!" Micah had enough of Ian's teasing and decided to strike back where it counted, his height.

"Bite me!" Ian snapped. "Mom says I'm just a late bloomer."

"Your dad's what, like 5'9 if he's lucky...and your mom is something like 5 foot nothing? Heck, your sisters only a tad shorter than you are!" Micah was laughing at his friend, "Your chances of growing much more aren't likely!"

"What the hell! You aren't any taller than I am asshole!" Ian folded his arms and glared. "Your mom is just as tall as you are now! And my sister is almost THREE inches shorter than me right now...jerk!"

"But my dad is over six feet!" Micah reminded him. "The chances are that I'll get a whole lot taller than you...when we're full grown!"

Ian continued glaring. "Butt face!"

"Asshole!" Micah shot back.

Finally after a giant moment of silence, Ian asked, "So what're you going to use on that thing?"

Micah shrugged, "I'm not sure...I may try some silver polish on the metal, to see if your theory is remotely correct."

"It is." Ian replied.

From down at the bottom of the stairs, Micah's mother called up. "Ian! Your mother has supper ready. She says you need to head home now."

"That blows," Ian sighed. "Talk to you tomorrow?"

"That'll work," Micah answered, "I'll let you know if I had any success with trying to clean this thing."

"Cool," Ian headed toward the door, "Tomorrow then?"

"After lunch," Micah replied without looking up from the object on the desk, the only reason he knew Ian had left the room were the softening steps going down the stairs.

From the kitchen he heard Ian say, "Smells good, Mrs. Kennecott!"

"Thank you, Ian."

"See ya later! Tell Mr. Kennecott I said hi!" His voice echoed as Micah heard the door to the outside close.

-Ten-

After supper, Micah was helping put items away for his mom, as his father was loading the dishwasher.

"I'm done," the boy announced.

"Thank you, Micah. You may be excused." His mother ruffled his dishwater blond hair and smiled. The boy began to walk away.

Micah paused, "Before I go...I was wondering if we had any chrome or silver polish?" His eyes darted between his parents.

"I'm pretty sure we don't have silver polish, but I think I have chrome polish in the garage...are you planning on cleaning up your bike?" his father asked as he closed the door to the dishwasher.

"Micah found an old thing down at the construction site and wanted to see if he could clean it up," his mother replied for her son.

"Oh? What type of old thing?" his father wondered aloud.

Micah replied, "It's like an old junky mirror or something. I just want to see if it's possible to put the shine back into it. So, where did you say that chrome polish was?"

"It's a small, white plastic jug on the second shelf of the cabinet, just above the motor oil." He then added, "Make sure it finds its way back there when you're done with it!"

Micah smiled, "I'll put it right back in the only clean spot on the entire cabinet...the exact spot it was taken from." Without any more words between them, the boy had disappeared behind the door to the garage.

His father looked at his mother. "Is that son of ours trying to say that my shelf is dusty?"

She snickered, "I do believe so, dear."

Finding the polish was no effort at all, and moments later Micah was standing before the object in his bedroom. He quickly read the directions on the polish, shook the plastic jug vigorously and then sat it aside. After a few minutes of scrounging, he pulled a pair socks with holes in the toes from his drawer.

Once again he returned to the table, shook the small jug and opened the lid. The smell was pretty intense, and it forced him to open up a window. With great gusto, he set all of his attention upon the item he found.

After almost two minutes of scrubbing the polish into the dull metal, he took the other end of the sock and began to wipe away the excess. The remaining solution was allowed to dry into a dull sheen, effectively clouding out any results. Impatiently, he waited the allotted time before he could buff it.

Putting everything aside, he hurriedly ran down the hallway and used the bathroom, figuring that would give him the time needed for the solution to do its thing.

About three minutes later, he returned to his room and took up the remaining clean sock. Putting it to the metal's surface, he began to rapidly buff out the dull chemical. When he was confident that it was gone, he removed the sock and studied its surface.

Unfortunately, he couldn't see any reflection. Before giving up, though, he thought he'd try polishing it, at least one more time.

Again he tried the process. This time, though, instead of an ordinary sock to wipe on the polish, he decided to use some very fine steel wool with polish on it. After another quick trip to the garage, he returned with a baggie full of the fibrous metal. Laying his find flat upon the desk, he then scrubbed hard at the metal's surface.

Waiting again was agonizing! After several minutes he picked up his wiping cloth and began to buff away the dried polish. He shuddered with excitement as he could almost make out his own reflection in its cleaner surface.

"Just one more treatment of that stuff in combination with the steel wool; and I think that'll do it!" He decided as he looked his treasure over.

-Eleven-

The garbage truck outside awoke Micah from his sleep. It was okay because the boy didn't sleep very well anyway. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, yawned and glanced out the window. Near the driveway was a large truck with a huge mechanical arm shaking out his parents' trash bin.

His sleep wasn't anything special, but he had a weird dream. He thought about it, trying to remember anything about it that he could.

He recalled a decrepit, old woman...a young and beautiful girl, and an old hand mirror like the one he found. The girl was a real piece of work - today many would just call her a bitch because that was exactly what she seemed to be. She had involved herself in a murder, and then played it off as it was nothing!

He looked toward the old mirror while he thought about his dream. The old woman had a sister who was a witch or something...and that witch put a spell on the girl's mirror. The spell was designed to sap the girl's youth and beauty and leave her hideously deformed. It came true as the girl slowly became a gross hag. She became so enraged by what was happening and ended up going after the witch, killing her, too, in the process. Both ended up drowning...and then the dream was suddenly over and he woke up.

Micah shrugged away the realistic dream, assuming it was brought on by finding the mirror only the day before. Deciding that the finding of the object probably made him have a dream in an attempt of explaining how he came to find it...it seemed a simple enough explanation, but it was highly unlikely.

Micah drew the curtain, then sat down on the bed and yawned. He stretched and scratched his scalp, then decided to go take a quick shower. With only a cursory glance toward the old mirror, he stepped into the hallway in his boxers and headed toward the bathroom.

He heard his mother downstairs. His father had already left for work long ago, so Micah was relatively sure that he'd be able to have a long, hot shower. He tossed his clean boxers down and pulled out a towel once he was inside the bathroom. He turned on the shower and waited for it to grow warm.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, he was slightly but happily surprised that his acne appeared to be clearing up. Micah grinned and deftly retrieved his toothbrush and planted a small dollop of toothpaste upon the bristles, and began to brush.

There is always a moment when you have finished brushing that you give yourself an exaggerated smile in the mirror, which Micah did this to himself. He leaned in closer to the mirror, and he noticed that his four bottom teeth that had been so crooked were now slightly straighter. The two big teeth at the top were even less overlapping than they had only been just yesterday.

"Cool!" Micah gasped as he studied his reflection. "If this keeps up, I won't have to have anything pulled!"

Micah's voice sounded a bit odd to his ears, but not really enough to concern him. He decided it must be from a combination of the powerful chemicals in the polish and sleeping with his window open.

"Hello....hello?" he said aloud, deciding that if it was anything, it may be only a tad higher.

"That's all I need... he said to himself as he stuck his hand into the shower to test the water. Reverse puberty!"

The boy scrubbed himself with his body soap, starting at his head and working his way downward. He quickly rinsed and gathered up the shampoo - it had a clean apple scent which he enjoyed very much. Squirting it into his hand, he flipped the cap closed and placed it onto the shelf inside the shower. In only an instant, his hands were coursing through the thick lather, building into a rapidly increasing helmet of foam.

He began to shiver, the water seemingly cool to him. Micah turned up the heat and pushed his head beneath the spray, scrubbing and rinsing the foam away as he did. As soon as he finished, he cranked the handles to the off position and opened the door.

On the outside, the bathroom mirror was covered with a vaporous fog, almost impenetrable to see through. Using a hand towel, he cleaned away the surface so he could see his reflection.

In the mirror, as he was combing out his hair he paused in mid stroke, noticing something strange about his underarm. He leaned in and examined the area thoroughly. His hair there was more sparse than he remembered, and what was there had become lighter...almost blond. A quick examination of the other one proved to be similar.

"What's the deal here?" he asked aloud, ignoring the strange softness evident in his voice.

Shaking his mind free from its newest puzzlement, he began to dry himself off. When his towel arrived at his legs he again paused, what met his eyes was also oddly different from the dark hair he remembered prior to his shower. Now each follicle seemed thinner and lighter blond in color. His eyes quickly bolted into the mirror, toward the hair on the top of his head. There was a strange wave to it, and it definitely was lighter! Micah hurriedly drew his boxers up his legs and draped his towel around his shoulders, and headed toward the bathroom door.

As he stepped out into the hall, his mother had been vacuuming and was now unplugging the cord from the wall. Micah stopped in the hallway and waited for her to coil up the cord. "Mom, do I look any different to you?"

She let her eyes drift over him, "Have you been getting into my hair lighteners again? It looks nice, honey, but you should ask before you use them the next time" She bent down and hung the cord from the handle. "Now Micah dear, if you don't mind...I have to lug this back downstairs and finish the living room."

"Sure Mom, okay." He sighed as he turned and walked toward his room in confused silence. Behind him, his mother carried the cleaner down to the first floor.

When he returned to his room, he stood before his mirror and sighed. "What's happening? Maybe...I'm just imagining things. But...mom saw it too!" He grabbed his cutoffs and quickly pulled them up his legs where they just barely covered his boxers.

Micah walked over to his dresser and picked up the mirror, it seemed to not be as damaged as it had appeared just yesterday. It actually looked somewhat salvageable to the boy. Micah rotated it over and over in his hands - the dried wood seemed to have become more rigid as it dried that almost seemed like new. He rolled it back over and looked into the reflective surface. He had really worked wonders on it last night, his image in it was much clearer than he remembered.

He sat it back down and pulled a shirt from his dresser, which was directly beside his desk. The tank top he chose fit loose, the arm holes extended almost to his waist.

He shook his head as he sat down at his desk, absently running a finger over his lower lip while thinking. If he and his mother could perceive the subtle changes, what would happen when Ian came? Would his best friend give him grief about them?

He rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers against the desk, trying to decide what he should do. Again, his eyes were drawn into the ancient mirror. Micah picked it up and examined the edges where the reflective surface was held into the handle's frame. As his gaze scoured the edging of the mirror, he couldn't help but return again and again to his face's reflection. Something about his eyes seemed different? But what was it?

Suddenly he knew, and his eyed widened in shock. "Oh, God!" he gasped. "My eyes are blue now!" He quickly laid the looking-glass down and pushed it away. "No way in hell do I have blue eyes…" Hesitantly he returned his gaze into the big mirror upon his door; he needed to know for sure. It was true; his once brown eyes were now a pale and stunning, crystalline blue!

Micah gripped the door and leaned inward, his blue eyes questioning and troubled. "How is this possible?" he cried out softly, too shocked to think!

He began to pace, from time to time returning his gaze into the mirror on the door. "Shit! How can this be happening?" he squeaked, his voice becoming frantic and shrill with fear. "It's freaking impossible!"

Micah leaned against the door's glass in frustration, his forehead resting upon its reflective surface just below his arms. Looking back at him was a pair of the clearest blue eyes he had ever seen, framed within expressively long, curved dark eyelashes. The hair upon his brow had equally lightened up to match that which made up, his now wavy hair.

He backed away, still leaning against the mirror but trying to take in his entire face. "My...my hair looks longer yet!" It was true; his hair was just beginning to touch his shoulders, curling slightly at the ends, where it came into contact with his skin! "No freaking way!" He cried as his gaze was drawn to his arms, most notably his underarms.

"Now I'm stinking bald in my armpits!" he gasped, backing away further. He held up an arm and looked into the mirror with panic; he had no hair anywhere on his armpit. "Ian will think I've shaved!" he cried out once again to his reflection.

Running his off hand over his smooth armpit, he felt his heart skip with fear. Even his fingernails had changed, becoming more oval and sticking out, just slightly past his fingertips.

"Okay...okay...okay... he stammered, trying not to hyperventilate. I've got to calm down. There has to be some sort of logical explanation...I just have to figure out what!"

From the stairwell, Micah heard his mother's voice calling, "Micah, honey, Ian is here!"

The youth sighed deeply, "Maybe Ian will have an answer."

-Twelve-

"Hey dude, what's..." Ian stopped short, placing his book-bag filled with video games on the floor as soon as he saw his friend sitting at the end of his bed.

"Close the door; I don't want my mom to see..." Micah frowned and pointed behind Ian, toward the open door.

Ian quickly pushed it shut and slowly walked toward the bed, "What the hell is going on, Micah?"

Micah looked up at his friend, a sadness showing in his eyes that Ian had never seen before. "I was hoping you could tell me..."

An enormous amount of time passed as Ian studied his friend. Finally the boy spoke, "When did you start..."

"Changing?" finished Micah.

Ian's eyes drifted down his friend's smooth legs...then, quickly away and toward the window. "Uh, yeah."

"I first noticed them this morning!" Micah frowned and stood, folding his arms in frustration. "The changes have been coming on pretty regular!"

Ian didn't say anything. But inwardly, he believed that Micah's legs resembled those of a girl! Even since he arrived, the muscle tone on his friend had become more slender and feminine.

"What the hell am I going to do?" Micah cried and turned away from Ian so he wouldn't see him cry.

"We'll figure it out, Micah!" Ian responded, but he didn't believe it. Even now, Micah's hair was now more blond than it had been only moments earlier. His complexion had completely cleared, making his skin smoother and more radiant looking.

Ian realized that he had to get Micah out of the house, before any further changes happened. He pushed the changing boy his sandals, "Put these on. We've got to go over to my house!"

"I'd have to ask my mom first," Micah sighed again, looking toward his door.

Ian couldn't help but notice how soft Micah's voice had become since they'd last spoken yesterday. He realized that Micah couldn't face his mother like he was, afraid that she'd rush him off to the hospital as soon as she saw him.

"I'll go down and talk to your mom, and you grab your stuff and get ready to go!" Ian started for the door and paused, "You work your way outside...I'll see if I can get permission for you to spend the night!"

"What about YOUR parents and sister?" Ian asked.

"They left this morning for the lake. Dad wanted to get one last day of fun in before he had to bring in our boat." Ian quickly stepped toward the door and placed his hand on the knob and hesitated, looking back at his friend caught somewhere in the middle of an unexplainable transformation. He wanted to have the answers for his friend, but nothing came to mind as he waited for Micah to leave with him.

Slowly turning to face the mirror, Micah sighed at his reflection. "God help me..."

As Micah passed him and walked into the hall, Ian picked up the mirror from where the overwhelmed boy had left it. For some reason, he thought the answer to Micah's problem might just be the mirror...and if there was any way for his friend to return to normal, they just might need it. He quickly pushed it into his book-bag, zipped it shut and slung it over his shoulder, following Micah down the stairs.

Micah's mother was busy vacuuming the floor. After very little begging, Ian got the official 'okay' from Micah's mother to take him to his house for an afternoon of gaming. After a quick kiss from her son while she was still preoccupied with the chore, the two friends quickly left for Ian's house.

-Thirteen-

While they rode their bikes toward Ian's, Micah shuddered at the unfamiliar feeling of his longer hair blowing from the wind caused by their ride. He knew he had to figure out how to stop the strange changes from happening to him!

Once inside the house, the boys headed toward Ian's bedroom. As soon as the door closed, Ian turned to face his friend. "I know you don't want to hear this, but we've got to see how far you've changed."

"I can tell you right now," Micah replied fearfully. “Too damn far!"

Ian pointed to the tank top that Micah was wearing, "Pull it up some." Micah did, revealing his waist.

"Has it always been skinny?" Ian asked, pointing toward Micah's narrow and tapered waist.

"Yeah, but not like this!" Micah was completely baffled. "What could be causing it to happen?"

Ian studied his friend with extreme scrutiny, "You said that all of this started this morning?"

"Yes."

"Maybe it has something to do with that old mirror?" Ian reasoned.

"I guess anything's possible...at least, I believe that now!" Micah ran his hand through his hair in frustration, and walked toward Ian's mirror and studied himself further.

Micah sighed and walked back to Ian's bed and sat down. To him, he couldn't help but notice that Micah's legs were even more feminine than when they were back at the other house. His fingers too were seemingly more delicate, with shapely oval nails extending past their respective tips.

"It's the mirror...I'm positive of it!" Ian spoke with certainty.

"It's just an old mirror!" Micah groaned afraid to admit that he thought it too.

"Maybe it had a curse on it?" suggested Ian.

Micah recalled his dream and the fact that in it, the old witch threw the mirror into the lake. Could it be that it wasn't a dream, but rather a bizarre retelling of the mirrors storied past?

"Do this...stand up facing me and wait for sixty seconds," Ian asked his friend.

"Why?"

"Just do it - I want to test out a theory." Ian's voice was sure and confident, so Micah stood up and moved to where Ian was pointing at the floor.

"Face me." He reminded Micah. The boy turned to face his friend; there he waited out the sixty seconds.

After the allotted time passed, Micah shrugged and sat back on the bed. "Okay, what was that all about?"

"Okay, you just stood there and faced me for sixty seconds and nothing happened. Now try facing the mirror for the same time...but keep your eyes closed."

Micah gave his friend a strange look but moved in front of the mirror, then closed his eyes. Again he waited the allotted time before sitting down. "Satisfied?"

"Nothing happened, but hang on...we're not done." He again motioned for Micah to stand where he was pointing. "This time, for the next sixty seconds…stand here facing the mirror. Keep your eyes open though." Ian reminded him.

As Micah stood before the mirror, he studied his overall image. Reflected in the mirror was some sort of effeminate boy. As he focused, he noticed the wall behind him moving slightly upward; each second that passed it moved a fraction of an inch higher. The appearance of the wall's movement would have been imperceptible to Micah normally. However, when he fixed his eyes upon a specific area of the wall, he could actually see its movement!

"The wall is moving!" he said aloud, to the reflection of Ian in the mirror. Ian looked backward toward the wall behind Micah.

"It isn't moving..."

"Ian, I'm seeing it with my own eyes! It's moving!" Micah responded sharply. "You have to be blind if you aren't seeing it!"

Ian turned back around and studied Micah's reflection; if it were possible, it almost appeared that Micah was slightly shorter, by almost an inch. Ian stepped up and glanced toward his clock. "How long has it been?"

"Forty seconds," replied Micah.

From the position Ian was standing, he could see into the side of Micah's tank top, right where the elongated arm-hole was located. Impossibly to the boy's eyes, he could actually see the beginnings of a girlish nipple expand! Behind it built a layer of fatty tissue! Together neither would have been noticed, but it altered at the very moment that Ian's eyes came into contact with it.

Ian quickly pushed his friend away from the mirror. "Dude, it's your reflection! If you don't see it, nothing happens...when you see any part of your reflection, you change! It's happening whether you are aware of it or not...and only when you're facing your reflection with your eyes open!"

"Like hell!" Micah snapped, hoping that what his friend suggested wasn't possible! After several moments he pushed past Ian and purposefully stood before his reflection.

Once again, his nipples started to expand further before Ian's eyes! He pointed it out to Micah. "There!"

Micah froze in stunned silence, as before his very eyes, his nipples began to gently push out his clothing! The longer he faced the mirror, the more they made known their presence! By the time he collapsed onto the bed, he was somewhat smaller than an 'A' cup, more like a prepubescent girl!

"It's my reflection?" he cried into the covers. "Do you realize how impossible it will be, to not look at my own reflection?"

"Pretty hard..." agreed Ian with a sigh.

"Impossible!" Micah cried even louder.

Ian reached for the door, "Stay here...and don't look at the mirror! I'm going to cover all our mirrors in the house!"

Micah watched his friend exit the room. Sitting up he stared into the mirror as it was reflecting back the closet doors, away from where he was seated. Glancing down, he could tell that nothing was happening. Slowly he stood up and inched his way toward the mirror, almost as if he were sneaking up on a wild animal.

Nothing happened until just a slight sliver of his arm appeared reflected in the mirror's surface. Once again his chest began to rise slightly! He quickly retreated toward the back of the room, well out of the way of the mirror's reflective reach.

Finally Ian returned, "There, I think I got them all."

"Not all..." Micah replied softly and somewhat sadly, pointing toward the big one in the room.

Ian quickly removed a cover from the end of the bed and tossed it over the mirror. He then turned again to face Micah. "I think you're safe..." The words trailed away almost as if the volume was turned down on a radio.

Before him sat Micah his longer wavy blond hair was slightly touching his shoulders. His sleek legs were tucked under him, as though he was trying to cram himself tighter into the corner for protection. Finally under the safety of the covered mirror, Micah slowly inched toward the edge of the bed, drawing himself closer with hands resembling those of a female...each nail extending almost a full eighth of an inch past the tip.

Micah stood up, and his cutoffs and boxers sliding to the apex of his hip. He mumbled, "My shorts don't fit me anymore."

"Mine won't fit you any better." He glanced toward his door. "As I see it, you need a bit smaller size. Mine or Dad's won't do..."

"Don't you dare say it!" Micah softly hissed.

"I have to, and you know it!" Ian snapped. "You have your choice of two, my Mom's or my sister's..."

"No way!" Micah cried. "I'm not going to wear any girl's clothing!"

He tried to push past Ian, but the first step he took; his shorts fell around his ankles and caused him to fall flat on his face. Ian said nothing; he just helped his friend back to the bed and left the room.

In a couple of minutes, he returned. "Here, put these on."

Micah looked down, and saw that Ian held his sister's jean shorts and underwear.

"No way!" he growled back. "You’ve GOT to be kidding!"

"I only wished I were! As I see it, the only one who'll know is me...and I ain't telling!" Ian tried to reassure his best friend.

Gingerly, Micah removed the items from Ian's hand. "I'll wait downstairs. Come down when you're ready."

Micah slid the unfamiliar items up his legs, they settled upon his hips like they were made for him. The only real difference they had was the higher cut upon the leg. He briefly paused as they finished their climb, even his own penis was hopelessly tiny in size, almost appearing like that of a 4-year old boy. With a deep sigh, he slowly drew up the jeans, "I'm turning into some sort of weak, sissy looking freak!"

-Fourteen-

Ian sat at the end of the couch flipping through the television channels with the remote, when he heard Micah coming down the steps. The flip, flip sound of his sandals announced his entrance. Glancing up he saw his friend's long, shapely legs as they descended the stairs, then slowly Micah entered his view. He was in trouble, big time! Micah’s hips had altered enough that they were nicely proportioned with the spectacular legs his friend had!

"Shit..." he sighed to himself.

Micah crossed the room and flopped at the other end of the couch, "What the hell am I going to do, Ian?" He threw his arms out, "I look like a freak!" His soft voice carried so much emotion that he even started to sound like a girl.

Ian said nothing, as his eyes were drawn toward the opening of Micah's tank top. There the unmistakable beginnings of breasts were forming, almost as they were waiting for the great onslaught of feminine hormones to build them into spectacular womanly orbs they seemed destined to become! He forced himself to look away, focusing upon the game on the TV after throwing the remote upon the coffee table.

"Cubs will lose..." Micah mumbled under his breath.

To Ian, Micah's comment seemed as an attempt to distract himself from the changes his body was going through. Even though it may have been intended as a distraction, it reminded Ian of what Micah had once been...sounding much like he used to, gave Ian a ray of hope. His friend responded in the only way he would have been expected to under the circumstances, "They always do..."

The two sat in silence and watched the game unfold. In the 8th inning, the Cubs had runners on the first base and third base with no one out. Ian glanced again toward Micah. He was watching, but seemed strangely disinterested.

After a while, Micah scooted toward the edge of the couch and sighed. Ian looked up. "What is it?"

"I don't know...the game just isn't interesting to me anymore." Micah put his elbows upon his knees and hung his head forward, resting it upon his hands.

Ian watched the TV again, by the 9th inning, the Cubs were leading but the Cardinals were threatening. He glanced toward his friend. "Shit!" he exclaimed and quickly pushed Micah back into the couch and shoved the coffee table away from them both.

Micah looked up, "What?"

Ian fell back into the couch, despair evident on his face yet he could say nothing. Before him sat his friend, with long blond hair almost to his waist! His breasts were very shapely and almost mirroring those of the young girls his age!

"The coffee table...the glass; you are watching your reflection!" Ian sadly observed in shock.

Micah looked down, his hair cascading toward his lap and over his breasts that protruded beneath his shirt. A cry caught in his transformed throat. With one hand covering his mouth he bolted for the door; as he threw it open, Ian tried to stop him.

"Micah! Wait, everything will be okay...don't leave!" His words echoed between the houses as his friend raced down the street. Ian felt his heart drop, for somehow he knew that the Micah he had known was gone for good, the changes would continue until the mirror's curse had run its course.

Ian searched the neighborhood for Micah. After several hours of searching in vain, he went over to talk to Micah's parents, describing to them what had happened, saying that Micah ran away, and he didn't understand why! He told them that something had been troubling Micah, causing him to suddenly run from the house. Inwardly, Micah knew his friends reason for running, but kept the strange secret to himself.

Micah's parents were stunned. They raced into Micah's room to see if he somehow slipped past them and was hiding there; he was not, nor was there any sign that he had been inside the house at all. Ian was really worried for his friend, because even more so, it seemed likely that his best friend was so distraught over the changes, he had resorted to running away! Now Ian's own desperation was setting in, he had to find his friend before he had an opportunity to harm himself! As Micah's parents were contacting the police, Ian slipped back outside to search for Micah once again. He knew there would be many questions, and he was prepared to answer them all...but would take great pains to not divulge the mirror's secret.

Ian raced back to his home, searching for Micah all along the way, yet found no sign of his friend. Once inside his house, Ian quickly climbed the stairs to his room and promptly hid the mirror in a gap in the floor...as far back as he could reach, just under a register vent. He often used this as a hiding place for his money, keeping it safe from his sister.

Ian knew the police would be checking his story, and he didn't want any chance of being linked to a suspicious disappearance like Micah's. He returned to the downstairs and began to call his friends. Desperation hounded him as he called one after another looking for Micah with no success.

Ian was afraid for Micah's safety, but also afraid of his own involvement in his missing friend. Even though he had no part with what had caused Micah to bolt for the door, nothing he could possibly say to Micah's parents would ease his fear of their anger, causing them to blame him.

In desperation, Ian slipped out in the cover of darkness later that evening, determined never to return to the community again. He felt blame in his part of Micah’s disappearance...deciding that without his friend, he could never come home again!