This is a spoiler for my story "A Bikini Beach Summer". Please read that one first.

A Visit to Bikini Beach
by Daphne Xu

This is a spoiler for my story "A Bikini Beach Summer". Please read that one first.

Disclaimer: The Bikini Beach universe and its principal characters are copyright 2001 by Elrod.

Any comments about Bikini Beach, how it works, what it does, by characters other than Anya or Grandmother are potentially non-canonical and wrong. As this story is told from a particular point of view by the protagonist, this includes comments by the narrator. The protagonist, and thus the narrative, are what the protagonist believes or interprets from what he is experiencing. Thus some of the mechanics of BB are biased by the protagonist's view and experiences. Furthermore, because of the particular viewpoint of the story, those errors often won't be corrected. When the errors are corrected, the correction will often be disbelieved and rejected.

Furthermore, none of the legal advice, statements of the law, or legal procedure given in this story should be taken as representing the law or practice in the real world.

Monday, July 28, Mid-Afternoon

As Tracy Miura turned on the shower in the men's changing room at Bikini Beach, he thought back on that day and the previous day's events, and the summer past, in his usual state of despair and self-torment.
. . . . .

Jill Denison was a popular cheerleader at Westside High, a very pretty redhead. Tracy had had the hugest, most horrid crush on her ever since he'd first seen her in a cheerleading outfit and briefly spoken with her in band class. It was a hopeless, despairing crush, until someone told him that girls wanted to be pursued. A couple humiliating public rejections later, he caught her alone a few days after graduation from high school. All the pent-up lust, embarrassment, anger, hate, jealousy, and desire simply exploded. The consequence was his first and only sexual experience, and Jill's death.

The horror of what he'd just done hit him. He'd killed someone. He'd killed someone he loved! She was gone, she no longer existed, she was dead! How could he live with himself? Thanks to him, someone's life was ripped away and her family irrevocably ruined!

He somehow made it home, and somehow his parents found out. His parents promptly shipped his little brother Bruce off to Aunt Yuko's. They kept him a prisoner at home the rest of the summer, not even allowing him a visit to the Temple. He managed one suicide attempt despite his parents' near-constant watch over him, but that only brought in his paternal grandparents to double their vigil.

Tracy never figured out whether they were protecting him from being caught by the law or killing himself, or trying to avoid public shame and loss of face.

Meanwhile, shortly after the murder, the police arrested Tim Anderson, a black young man who had graduated from Westside High with him. They held Tim in jail for weeks, but then suddenly released him on bail.

The police came for Tracy only a week later, Sunday afternoon. It was way too late, he thought to himself. As he was booked into jail at the police station, an overhead television announced the murder of Tim Anderson. To his surprise, several officers applauded Tim's murder, apparently not realizing that Jill's actual murderer was even then and there being booked for the crime!

Tracy spent the night in jail -- probably as pleasant a night as any he'd spent at home as a virtual prisoner. They let him spend Monday morning and early afternoon in the jailhouse library. They took him to the courthouse that mid-afternoon.

He was dreading meeting his parents, but his contacts turned out to be Aunt Yuko and a tall distinguished-looking man. Tracy still couldn't do anything but look down in shame -- especially since Aunt Yuko was more like a cousin than an aunt, being only a few years older -- a very pretty cousin. He was still handcuffed from the trip there, but the three of them were in a private room.

"Tracy, this man is Jonathon Smith, your defense attorney. It is critically important that you trust him, and do exactly as he tells you."

"Greetings, Tracy. I am pleased to meet you," said the lawyer, holding out his hand.

"Hello," mumbled Tracy. He still couldn't look up at him, although he did manage a weak handshake with his handcuffs on.

"Ms. Higuchi," said the lawyer. "Please leave us for now. Tracy may be more comfortable if you are not here. Furthermore, I wish to be on the safe side, and avoid inadvertently waiving Tracy's attorney-client privilege."

"Of course, Mr. Smith," answered Aunt Yuko, as she left.

"Please, take a seat," said the lawyer. As both Tracy and the lawyer sat, the lawyer continued, "Our immediate task is to have you released on bail, and make sure you get a trial. Later, we shall have the liberty to discuss your defense at our leisure.

"For you, the most important thing to do at the hearing and before and after, is to remain silent if anyone other than the judge asks you a question or speaks to you. I will speak if necessary.

"Addressing the judge, the proper mode of address is, `Your Honor.' In most cases, if the judge asks you something, you should say, "I refuse to answer, your honor," or "My attorney will address that, your honor," or something similar.

"However, there is one important question that you may have to answer yourself: your plea. If the judge asks how you plea, and doesn't accept my answer in your behalf, your answer is, `Not guilty.'"

"But I--" began Tracy.

"That doesn't matter now. We can discuss the case at leisure later, and you may change your plea to guilty. For now, it's 'Not guilty.' Got that?"

Tracy sighed. The attorney wouldn't understand, he thought to himself.

"Occasionally, the judge will ask if you understand something. Glance at me, and if I indicate you may answer, then go ahead. It's important that you do understand if you say so. If you don't, I will try to inform the judge that I will explain it to you, or the judge will try to explain again. I'm thinking of bail conditions, where violation could get your bail revoked. But there may be other situations."

They talked some more, and then they left the room, and officers escorted them to a courtroom, a courtroom full of interested observers.

The judge reached Tracy's case shortly, and Tracy and the attorney sat at one of two tables in front of the judge. The judge was wearing a black robe, and sat on at a high bench looking out over the courtroom.

The prosecuting attorney spoke at length, and Tracy could barely understand the complicated language spoken, both by the prosecutor and by his defense attorney occasionally interrupting. He heard phrases such as "capital murder", "knowingly or intentionally causing the death of Jill Denison during the attempted aggravated sexual assault." DNA was mentioned several times.

It took a while, but finally, the judge turned to Tracy and asked, "How do you plead, Tracy Miura?"

Despite his attorney's instructions, Tracy was about to answer, "guilty," but the attorney preempted him by answering, "Not guilty, your honor."

The judge accepted the lawyer's plea on his behalf, and there was further discussion. Eventually, the judge ordered him released on an enormously high bail amount, and imposed certain conditions.

"You understand the conditions, Mr. Miura?" asked the Judge.

Tracy glanced at the attorney, who nodded. "Your honor, may I repeat my bail conditions, to make sure that I understand?"

"Certainly, Mr. Miura." Tracy noticed a brief smile.

"I must remain at home, except for court appearances and attending the temple my family normally attends. I must commit no further offense."

"That is correct. You understand that your bail may be revoked, and all money forfeited if you violate those conditions, correct?"

"Yes, your honor."

After a little more discussion among the attorneys and the judge, the judge ordered Tracy's handcuffs removed and Tracy freed on bail.

Finally, "All rise!" The judge departed from the bench.

His lawyer and Aunt Yuko escorted Tracy out of the courtroom, and down to Aunt Yuko's small car. He shook hands with his lawyer, who said, "I will see you again, shortly. You did well today."

Aunt Yuko got in the car and drove off.

After a few minutes, Tracy realized they were going the wrong way. Instead of going home, they were heading out of the city.

"Aunt Yuko, where are we going?"

"To Bikini Beach -- that's a water park your sis-- um, your brother and I frequent. It's quite pleasant."

He noted her slip of the tongue, and remembered briefly that Bikini Beach was a water park for girls, but he had a more urgent issue. "You do realize, we are violating the terms of my release -- right at the very start even!" he said bitterly.

"Don't worry about it," answered Aunt Yuko.

Tracy simmered in silence, thinking that perhaps this violation would get him back in jail where he belonged.

This being mid-afternoon, the line to the ticket booth was short. The saleslady was an elderly woman, with a visage both stern and gentle.

"Good afternoon, Grandmother," said Aunt Yuko. "As we discussed earlier, I would like a lifetime membership for my nephew Tracy." Grandmother looked straight into his eyes, and it seemed she was examining his very inner soul. Was she aware that he had raped and murdered a girl a couple months ago? There was no way they would allow him a membership here. She would probably summon the police, and they would return him to jail, and revoke his bail.

Grandmother handed him the membership card. "Take good care of it, and remember to shower -- it's a Bikini Beach requirement."
. . . . .

Tracy was now showering, in the swimming trunks Aunt Yuko had brought for him. The shower was the most relaxing, soothing, smooth that he'd ever experienced, and it only served to worsen his morose mood. He kept his eyes closed.

The shower turned off spontaneously. He felt strange all over -- he'd shrunk, his chest had swollen into breasts, his waist had narrowed, and his male privates had disappeared, replaced by female privates. His legs and arms, feet and hands, all felt peculiar. His swimming trucks had shrunk to a bikini bottom -- a minuscule version of the briefs he sometimes wore.

He could tell all this without opening his eyes.

He left the shower room and looked into the mirror, expecting to see pretty much what he saw: a pretty young teenage Japanese-American girl, definitely younger than himself -- perhaps the age of his kid brother Bruce -- wearing only flip-flops and a bikini bottom. Almost a young version of Aunt Yuko. If Bruce often came here, this explained Aunt Yuko's slip of the tongue earlier. He couldn't imagine Bruce being a girl, though. In other circumstances, he knew, he'd have died to see Bruce as a girl.

A pretty lady entered, apparently about the age of Aunt Yuko, but taller. "Hello, Tracy. Grandmother doesn't allow topless swimming here, so here's your bikini top." She tossed it to her.

"You changed me into a girl," Tracy said, tying the top about his breasts. "Why not a one-year-old baby, or better yet, a ninety-year-old woman? You have no idea what I did! The poor girl!" She burst into tears, something she'd never done previously as a teenage boy, no matter how buried in guilt and despair he'd felt. She only barely felt the lady take her in her arms, letting her cry against her bosom.

"Tracy, Tracy, you realize you answered your own question. Grandmother and I know what you did. We also know that you have been guilt-wracked, desperately, suicidally remorseful for it ever since. Your parents have kept you imprisoned at home, to prevent you from turning yourself in to the police or killing yourself."

"Meanwhile, someone else, totally innocent, has been in jail for a long time, and then, just yesterday, murdered," answered Tracy bitterly.

"That," replied the young lady in her own bitter tone, "was our fault. We blundered, compounding the crime, making it even worse than yours. We have to repair it. Hence we transform you to young Bruce's twin sister. We did consider the newborn-baby girl option, and would have used that if you'd complained, been defiant or self-righteous, self-justifying, about Jill's murder.

"We've also shifted reality. Seventeen-year-old male Tracy never existed; Bruce has grown up with his twin sister Tracy. Jill was never murdered, and is alive and well now. Likewise, Tim was never arrested for the murder, never had to be released on bail, and never murdered. And an acquaintance of yours, Peter Cuttington, whom you have forgotten, was never falsely accused of the murder and transformed by Bikini Beach into a nine-year-old girl."

"I must admit to being skeptical, although I wouldn't have believed that a boy could be changed into a girl like this before," said Tracy.

"Unfortunately, this reality shift has to include transforming your memories, as well as everyone else's memories, to match the new reality. If we allowed you to continue to remember, even softening your memory, you would continue to experience bouts of despair, depression, anxiety, fury -- possibly even suicide -- over your memory of the crime. Within ten seconds of leaving this changing room, you will forget everything and recall only the new reality. Enjoy your stay at Bikini Beach, Tracy." With that, the young woman turned and departed.

Tracy stood there for a moment, wondering what was in store for her now. Would she really be turning over a new leaf? After a moment's nervous reflection, she exited the changing room, and stopped to look at all the water rides visible in the distance, as well as the half-naked girls and women all around.

Aunt Yuko approached in her bikini, and Tracy ran over to meet her. Tracy was happy to spend the evening with Aunt Yuko, but was a little disappointed that she couldn't play and spend time with her Bikini Beach girlfriends. But today was Monday, and the girls only met together on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. This evening would be quality girl-girl time with Aunt Yuko.

The END