Mississauga, Ontario,
August 1st, 2007

Rachael and I played some pool in the teen drop in center. We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, she wasn't comfortable being in that type of relationship while I was still looking for Master, but that didn't keep us from being best friends. Since most of Sam's old friends were out of town for the summer, or in the case of Bobby, Frank and a few others, pissed that I had beaten up Bobby, we had explored the city some more finding new places to hang out and meeting new people.

As far as these acquaintances knew, I was just a normal kid. Only Rachael knew the truth, and we didn't talk about it very often. Instead she helped show me how to act, explaining things I didn't understand, and we both made sure we had a fun summer.

“What games do girls like to play?” I asked, as I lined up the white ball.

“What do you mean? Board games, computer games?”

“Computer games. Like what would a girl like to play on her phone?” There was a click as the white ball hit the ten ball sending it into the corner pocket.

“I don't know. If I had a phone like that, I guess something that is quick and doesn't need a lot of time to figure out. Lots of colours. A puzzle game of some kind, maybe one where you have to rescue something cute,” Rachael said listing things off. “Why?”

“I want to make a couple of games and sell them online, maybe on Facebook and the I-phone.”

She leaned over the table, showing off her nice butt for me, and drew the pool cue back. “You can do that?”

“Oh yeah, it's easy,” I boasted. “I just need to know what people would like, and girls like their phones more then boys, so they're the better market.”

She sank her ball, and moved around the table to figure out her next shot. “Why do you need to sell games? You already have enough money.”

“I want to make sure that whatever happens Mom has money available, and if I make a bunch of games and form a small company, I can hire people like her and your parents, so that you guys won't have to worry about money. And I can actually use the money without having to worry about anything.”

Her next shot went wild. “You're serious?”

“Yeah. I might be able to convince Mom to move to Karedonia where she could use my money easily, but I don't think your parents would. So this way I can help everyone. I figure one game a week will be good.”

She gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, you're the nicest person I've ever met!”

When she called me a person, I couldn't but to smile. I was making her happy so I had to be doing something right, and if I was so wonderful they wouldn't suspect I was different at Whateley.

“Hey! If you're not going to play, I'm taking the table,” a voice I'd become all too used to said.

“We're playing, you can have it after we're done, Scott,” I told a teenager who looked like he was eighteen and solid muscle. He seemed to consider the drop in center his personal domain.

He stepped up to the pool table. “No I think you're done now.”

I moved to get in his face. Rachael was having a good time, and I didn't want him getting in the way. A small hand grabbed my hand before I moved. “Come on Sam, it's not worth it. Pick your battles,” Rachael told me.

“Yeah, Sam. Listen to your girlfriend,” Scott sneered.

I tried not to show my confusion. Scott's tone was insulting, but what was the problem with listening to a girlfriend? Even though she wasn't my girlfriend, she was smart and had a lot of good ideas. Shrugging I followed her to a couch where some kids we knew were talking. Rachael joined in their discussion, while I pulled a small notebook out of my pocket and started writing. I had an idea for a matching game, and taking Rachael's suggestions, I thought it would be pretty quick and easy to make.

“What's that?” an older but very skinny kid called Neal asked, looking at my notepad.

“It's a computer code for a game I want to make. Right now I'm writing the basic instructions that will be used to actually play the game,” I told him. As I explained what each line meant, his expression became more and more confused.

“How can you understand all of that?” he asked.

“It's not that hard. You just need to learn how a computer thinks. It's like doing math or science, learn the basics and it's easy.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, whatever man. I'll be happy playing the games, I don't think I'll ever understand how they work. I'm getting a drink from the store, anyone want anything?” People handed him money and what they wanted and took off. I went back to my work.

Fifteen minutes later, Neal was back and handing out drinks, when Scott came over and grabbed the last drink in the bag. “Thanks Neal I was getting thirsty.”

“Hey man! That's mine.”

“Now it's mine. What you going to run and tell on me like the fag boy you are.”

Neal wilted under Scott's glare. For some reason none of the guys ever wanted to ask for help, which was why Scott got away with so much. I stood up and pushing my body fairly hard, ripped the bottle of pop out of the bully's hand. “Here you go, Neal.”

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” the big guy snarled.

I let adrenaline enter my bloodstream, and loosened my muscles so I could move easily. “You stole his drink. I'm giving it back to him. I've seen you being an asshole for the last month, and I'm sick of it. So I'm not going to let you do it again.”

“What are you going to do to stop me fag lover?” his finger poked my chest.

“If I see you bullying someone I'll stop you. And you said earlier I have a girlfriend, so how can I be a fag? You're the asshole who seems interested in guys so much.”

His large fist curled into a fist and slammed into my stomach. He wasn't a good fighter, relying more on his size, so he telegraphed his movement. I simply tightened the sheathe of muscle just beneath my skin and let him hit me.

I had to step back a foot, but that was my only reaction. “Is that the best you got?”

Enraged, he rammed into me, at least he tried. I stepped out of his way, bringing my arm up and clothes lining him. His feet kept going as the upper half stopped dead. His clumsy fall would have had him hitting the table, but a quick yank of his shirt and a throw, sent him backwards so he slid under the pool table.

“Are you done? I don't want to hurt you.” I said, walking over to him.

At that moment the people in charge of the drop in center came running in. “What's going on here?”

I lifted my shirt, showing the bruise on my stomach. “Scott tried to steal Neal's drink, and when I got it back he punched me. He's ok, I didn't hurt him, just kept him away.”

“You little shit!” a furious Scott yelled, lunging at my back.

Expecting it, I stepped out of the way, grabbed him under the arms, used his momentum to swing him in a circle and sent him back under the pool table. “Can you get him out of here? I think he's going to hurt someone and I don't want to hurt him.”

With threats of calling the police, the staff got Scott out of there, and things calmed down. I was warned to ask for help next time, not to take things into my own hands. I looked properly chastened and agreed. As soon as they were gone, I was swarmed by teens who were thanking me, amazed at what I did.

Neal was really grateful. “Thanks man. No one's ever stood up for me before.”

“It was nothing. I think you're my friend, and I help my friends.”

“Yeah, not a lot of people want to help me,” he said, looking down.

Putting my arm around him, I led him to a quiet corner, he seemed like he needed someone to talk to. “Why don't they want to help you?”

“You don't know?” he asked, seemingly amazed that I had no clue what he was talking about. I shook my head, and waited for him to explain. “Because they know I like guys.”

“Oh, that's why he called you a fag. Why would they care about that?”

“I don't know. But a lot of people don't like it,” he murmured kicking the floor and opening his drink.

“People are strange.” He looked kind of cute, not as handsome as Master, but nice enough. And Rachael had said boys moved faster then girls. “Want to make out?”

Pop flew out of his mouth and nose. I patted him on the back and handed him a cloth to wipe himself off. “So is that a yes or a no?” I asked.

**

Mom was working the afternoon shift at the restaurant that day. When I told Rachael that Neal was coming home with us, and we needed some private time, she seemed a little weird about it, but was polite. I really wanted to invite her to join us, but I didn't want her to get scared again, so I just walked her to her building.

Neal and I went up to my apartment, he seemed nervous. “Do you want a drink or something?”

“Yeah, please. So you're Mom won't be back for a while?”

“She'll be back in about four hours. Why?”

“Well I lost my last boyfriend when his Dad walked in on us... doing... you know.”

I came back with two drinks. “Great! So you aren't a virgin, that makes things easier.”

“Wait, you really want to... go all the way?”

Kissing his lips I smiled seductively. “If you want to, I want to.”

“That's going a little quick for me, but we could talk and maybe make out,” he said.

That was good enough for me, holding hands we headed for my bedroom.

**
August 2nd, 2007

I was sitting on the couch relaxing while Mom slept. She hadn't seen Neal last night, he'd left two hours before she came back, even though I told him we had time for another round or two. He promised to come back for another round later.

My body felt odd. I was used to having sex, feeling comfortable and going to sleep until Master was ready to play with me again when I'd wake up feeling exactly the same as before. We hadn't gone that far, but the kissing and holding each other had been nice, my skin still tingled at the thought of him touching me. It was actually kind of nice, a reminder of the fun time I'd had.

Using a penis wasn't entirely new for me. Twice Master had given me a body with a penis and a vagina, but in the computer it didn't feel much different then regular sex for me, but last night had shown me that what I'd felt before was very different than the real thing.

I still preferred being a woman, but being able to carry my lover, cradle him or her in my big strong arms, and knowing I could protect them if I needed to, it was a good feeling.

Trying to figure out the new sensations, I was surprised when their was a knock on the door. Rachael was spending the day with her parents, having a family day, and I didn't think Neal would risk coming over when my Mom was at home.

Opening the door revealed a cute Asian girl with a round face and long black hair, was standing in the hall, looking nervous and embarrassed in her blue skirt and t-shirt. “Hi Sam.”

“Hi Becky. Do you want to come in?” I asked.

“Yeah, I want to talk to you.”

I held the door open and waved her inside. She sat on a chair and I took my place back on the couch. “So, how are you?” I asked, trying to think of something intelligent to say.

“Been better. Just got back into town. You really don't remember me?” she asked suddenly.

Wanting to say yes, hoping it would make her feel better, I resisted and went with the truth. “Not really. I'm sorry. Does Bobby know you're here? He really likes you.”

She frowned. “Bobby doesn't tell me where to go. But why did you beat him up? He had some pretty nasty bruises.”

“He hit me first! He almost broke my nose, kicked me in the stomach and the face, and was about to kick me again. I was defending myself.”

“That's not what he said. What happened to you two? You were best friends. We were best friends.”

Looking in her eyes, I saw an echo of the pain I saw whenever I asked what Master and I had done to deserve being attacked. Trying to understand something that didn't make any sense. “I woke up with jumbled and missing memories. I met a girl on my first day back home, who I liked, and when I met up with Bobby and the rest I took her with me. We weren't dating then, and we aren't dating now, we're just good friends. Then I phoned you and you got really upset. So the next day, Bobby came over and tried to beat me up.”

Taking her hand, I tried to let her see how upset I was about it all. “I really wanted to stay friends with Bobby, and I do want to be friends with you.”

“Just friends?” she asked, her eyes becoming watery.

I didn't want her to cry. Biting a little bulge inside my lip, I opened my mouth slightly and let out a little chemical cloud of concentrated endorphins, oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine, exhaling them towards her face. “Maybe more. But not yet.”

“Ok, I can deal with that. I brought pictures of us, would you like to look them over? Maybe jog some of your memories,” she gave me a hopeful smile.

“Definitely,” I returned the smile.

As we looked over the pictures, she became more cheerful, and when she left a few hours later, she was on top of the world. Whether it was from talking to me, or the couple of doses I'd given her of my happy gas, I didn't know, I didn't care, I'd made her happy.