I had just turned twelve. A late bloomer, I had only a bit of peach fuzz hair above my smallish cock and overall still had the body of a little boy. There had been nothing particularly unusual about my childhood, except one time I had a dream in which I was a girl - I wore a pink dress, white leggings and black Mary Jane shoes. I went to the potty and peed sitting down. That was all.

Back to when I was twelve, it was summer, and I was spending a week at my aunt's place in another town while my parents stayed home. My aunt was divorced and lived with her three daughters, the youngest being an 11-year-old called Leslie.

Nothing very memorable happened until a few days after my arrival. We were walking home to my aunt's house, with me and Leslie lagging behind a little. We walked past some teenage boys playing soccer. I've never really been into sports, but I glanced in their direction and I noticed one of them in particular, an Indian boy of probably about fourteen. He wore a yellow t-shirt and white shorts, which looked good against his mahogany skin. I noticed his muscular, hairy legs, and wondered what he would look like shirtless.

I looked away when I noticed Leslie looking at me. Nothing else happened until a couple of weeks later, when Leslie and I (my older cousins rarely hanged out with us) had gone to the woods and I'd stupidly fallen into a puddle. Worse, when we got home my aunt explained she'd just put my clothes in the washer, so I didn't have any clean clothes, as she didn't immediately expect me to need any.

"Can't he just wear something of mine while he waits? It's not like I have cooties, and he'll get mud all over the place if he doesn't change."

My aunt nodded, and turned to me.

"It's just clothes," she said.

I mumbled something. But she was right, and there wasn't really much choice. She herself fetched something for me. It wasn't too bad, a plain white t-shirt, purple pants and white socks, and I was still wearing my briefs. At least it wasn't panties and a dress.
I went upstairs to watch TV with Leslie. She asked me if I wanted to play truth or dare first. I agreed and asked to choose.

"Truth," she said.

"How many boys have you kissed?"

"A few. Three, I think."

"Who?"

"Hey, it's my turn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"OK. But... I don't know, I don't think you'll dare do this."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Never mind. I mean you'd never agree to do it."

"You're saying I'd chicken out?"

"I think you would."

"Well, I'll prove you wrong."

"Well, James... "

"What? I won't chicken out," I said, even though I wasn't feeling at all confident.

"I dare you to dress like a girl."

"Uh... well, I already am, sort of."

"I mean a girly girl. You're dressed like a tomboy."

"You mean... a dress?"

"Yeah. And the rest."

"The rest?"

"Panties and stuff. Are you chickening out? You're already dressed like a tomboy, so you're kind of halfway there anyway."

"Err..."

I couldn't chicken out after all I'd say. And she was right, I was already halfway there anyway.

"Perfect! I'll go find something."

I'd not even said anything.

A few minutes later, I was standing in front of a mirror. I was wearing pink sandals and a white summer dress and, yes, panties. As I was a little taller than Leslie, I was showing a bit more leg than she would. With my short hair and so forth I looked like a tomboy who decided to put on a dress one day, but I didn't look like a boy wearing a dress.

"Now, we need a girl name for you."

"Huh? You only dared me to dress up."

"Yeah, but there's no point if you act like a boy wearing a dress. Nobody's going to know anyway."

"Well, OK. What about... Jasmine?"

"That's a nice name. So Jasmine, we need to have a girl-to-girl talk for you to really get into character. Don't chicken out on me now."

"Erm... OK."

"Great! So tell me, Jasmine, what kind of boys are your type? Don't tell me you're a gay girl."

"I'm not, but I, well..."

"Good. So what kind of boys do you like?"

I thought of the boys I'd seen playing soccer. I thought of their hairy, muscular legs. I imagined them playing bare-chested, I imagined their lean, well-toned chests and their hairy armpits. In my mind's eye, I stared at the bulges in their shorts as I felt something like butterflies in my stomach.

"You know what can help you get into character? Just saying 'I am Jasmine, ' trust me."

She took my hand. I as a bit annoyed at having been distracted from my daydream, but I couldn't tell her that.

"I am Jasmine," I said reluctantly.

I felt an odd tingling sensation all over my body. I closed my eyes and felt my body shrink somehow, and the clothes I was wearing shrank with it.

When I opened my eyes, in the mirror I saw a little girl of 7 or 8, her black hair braided, dressed in a smaller version of the dres I'd been wearing, showing her latte-colored legs.
"What..." I said in my high-pitched, little girl's voice.

I lifted up the dress, and pulled down my panties. There was slit on my hairless crotch, and no dangling bits. I really was a girl. I pulled up my panties.

"How....?"

"Do you believe in magic, Jasmine?"

"I guess I have to now?"

"Yep. At least, I don't have a better explanation. Well, my name used to be Jeremy, and I used to be in high school. Then one of the girls convinced me to have a makeover, and to say 'I am Leslie.' That was about a year ago."

"But I remember you when you visited last summer, and the summer before that and...."

"When the magic changes us, everything else changes too. People's memories. Birth records. Old photos. Only the girl being turned and the one turning her remember."

I began getting glimpses of memories that went with my new body. I knew I was now 8 and my name really was Jasmine. I knew my dad was now a black man, hence my skin color. I knew I'd been taking ballet lessons. I had memories of playing with dolls and of doing my nails. I remembered taking swimming lessons wearing a purple bikini.

"Jasmine, one day you'll find someone like us - a girl trapped in a boy's body. You have to do the same as I did, convince her to say her real name, and she will turn into the girl she is inside."

"But what if... I get it wrong?"

"You won't, you'll just know. And the magic only works if she really is a girl, even if she doesn't know it yet or can't admit it even to herself, it's good magic. It might be a grown man, it might be a baby boy, but there's a girl inside."

"When did you know? With me?"

"The other day, when you were staring at the boys playing."

"Was I that obvious?"

"Yes. Of course, you could've just been a gay boy, but I had a feeling you weren't a boy at all. So I got you to play truth or dare, then I just knew I was right. So here we are."

"Are there, you know, boys like us? That can turn girls into boys?"

"No idea."

"Leslie... thanks."

Other memories came. I "remembered" in two weeks' time I'd be a flower girl at a cousin's wedding. I couldn't hold back any longer, I began crying tears of joy and gratitude. We hugged.

That was ten years ago. Leslie is now happily married, and several months pregnant. As for me, I'm in high school and dating the football team quarterback.

But tonight I'm babysitting. I was babysitting a boy called Tommy, but that has now changed. I'd noticed there was something about the way he moved, afraid of letting his natural feminine demeanor show, but still it showed sometimes, if you looked carefully.

Anyway, I did what I had to do. Tommy, now Tammy, seems shocked by her reflection. The mirror shows a little girl, a redhead with pigtails wearing a white dress, cute as a button. A Punky Brewster lookalike, but with coppery hair.

She's just pulled down her panties to check that her transformation really is complete. Maybe we all do that when it happens.

"But..."

"Now, Tammy, don't worry."

I explained about the magic.

"I'm a girl... I really am a girl now..." she muttered.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes!"

She giggled with girlish glee. I smiled a little mischievously.

"And wait 'til you discover boys."