Jekyllase is in the news again as several states are considering decriminalizing its possession; some referenda, such as Proposition 118 here in Oregon, would go farther, making it effectively an over-the-counter drug. It occurred to me that I could dust off a memoir I started writing some time ago, edit it to focus more closely on my experiences with jekyllase, and offer it to the public (anonymously, by necessity, as these propositions are not law yet) as a contribution to the debate.

One night in the fall of 1970, I came back to my dorm late after a date. It wasn’t a disaster, but it didn’t go well enough that I felt I could ask the girl out again, either. I was pretty sure she’d say no.

I unlocked the door of my room and stepped in, called out a casual greeting to my roommate, who I thought I saw at his desk out of the corner of my eye — then did a double-take when I looked straight at him, and saw it wasn’t Randall at all.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m Randall’s hyde,” the strange young man said, and went back to studying history.

“What?”

“Randall took a dose of jekyllase earlier this evening, just after you left for your date. It’ll wear off by morning, but by then I’ll get a lot of studying done — if you don’t keep interrupting me.” The whole time he was speaking, he didn’t take his eyes off his history textbook.

“So... wait, you took this drug and it transformed you somehow?”

“Yes. Or rather, as I said, Randall took it and transformed into me.”

The new guy was taller and skinnier than Randall. He was wearing Randall’s clothes, which didn’t fit him. His hair was red, and in a buzz cut, unlike Randall’s long, dirty blonde hair, and he was clean-shaven. Otherwise they were somewhat similar in features; you could believe they were cousins, or maybe even brothers, but the same person?

“So how are you different from Randall? And what’s your name?”

“Walter. Walter Wellman, III. And,” he said, closing his book with a finger held to mark his place, and finally turning to face me, “I am really tired of answering questions when I would rather be studying. If I fail to master this material, Randall may flunk out, lose his draft deferment and get drafted. Please ask all these questions of Randall when he returns.”

He really was a different person from Randall. Randall was always glad of a distraction from studying, and always happy to provide one when I was studying.

He opened his book and continued reading, occasionally making notes. I shrugged in bewilderment, finished my cigarette, and undressed for bed. Walter was still studying when I fell asleep.

---

The next morning, Randall was sleeping in as usual when I got up to get ready for breakfast and my early morning class. Afterward, when I came back to the dorm to relax for a while before my next class, I found Randall still in bed, but awake and smoking. He passed the joint to me and I inhaled, then handed it back.

“So what was all that last night about some new drug? Did you really transform into that Walter jerk?”

He made a face. “Oh man, don’t remind me about him. He’s such a drag. I wish I didn’t need him so much.”

“What’s up with him?”

“So jekyllase, you know, it turns you into an embodiment of some suppressed part of your personality, right?”

“No, I hadn’t — wait. Jekyllase? Is that related to the Jekyll and Hyde case?”

“Yeah, exactly. They thought Dr. Jekyll’s notes had been destroyed, but it turned out they were just lost, and they turned up in an attic in London a few years ago. You mean you never heard of it?”

“You’re my main source for information about drugs,” I said, taking the joint and inhaling a couple of times. “And you never mentioned it until now. But I remember seeing a documentary about Dr. Jekyll on TV when I was in middle school.”

“Yeah. So he discovered this drug, and used it way too often — almost every night, sometimes — and then the levels built up in his body, so he started changing into his alternate self without taking the drug, and then it seemed like it became his base state. He needed more of the drug to turn back into his public persona, and as Mr. Hyde he was wanted for murder, so after he ran out of one of the ingredients he killed himself. His suppressed aspect of personality was a crazy murderer. But it doesn’t affect most people like that. Me, it turns into a studying fiend. I don’t like to use it except when I’m behind on studying and I need to catch up before a test.”

That reminded me I had some studying to do before this week’s tests, but I shoved the thought aside for the moment and took another toke. There wasn’t much left of the joint, and after taking another toke and burning his fingers, Randall tossed it in the ashtray.

I giggled. “You’re lame,” I said. “I bet my alter ego is more fun than yours.”

“You’re welcome to find out. You need a sober friend with you the first time you try it, though, even more than with acid. A bad acid trip, your friends hold your hand and keep you from freaking out too bad or doing anything stupid. A bad jekyllase trip can be a lot worse.”

“I guess it’s not addictive, or you wouldn’t be using it.” Randall had strict standards for which drugs he’d use — nothing addictive, habit-forming stuff like pot at most. He was one of the few people I knew who didn’t smoke tobacco, but did use “harder” (i.e., illegal but not necessarily as harmful) drugs.

“No. For some people, it’s habit-forming. And even then, only if you really enjoy being your other self. I don’t like being Walter, I just put up with him by necessity. And he’s disgusted with the way I put off studying, but he knows if he doesn’t study for me, I’ll stop turning into him and he won’t have a chance to exist. And I’m probably never going to use jekyllase again after I leave college, so he doesn’t want me to get expelled. I wish I could let him attend classes for me too.”

“Huh. That’s useful, if not much fun. Who do you get the stuff from?”

“Larry Ryman, over in Enfield Hall.” That was one of the senior men’s dorms.

“Do you have any extra I can try out?”

“No, I just bought two doses from Larry, and I’ll need the other one Thursday night. That’s about as often as it’s safe to use it, twice in one week.” He dragged himself out of bed and said, “Well, I’m gonna hit the shower.”

---

I thought about that off and on for a few weeks, in between studying and goofing off. I checked up on jekyllase from some other sources, and what I heard confirmed what Randall had told me. Most people’s alternate personalities were pretty harmless compared to Mr. Hyde. But now and again you got a psycho. I talked to a couple of friends about trying it, bought a few doses from Larry, and got them together — with Randall to serve as our chaperone. He was drinking a little, but still pretty much sober; he could help us restrain somebody if one of us turned out to be an axe murderer or something.

Darrell lived in Carew Hall, the same dorm as me and Randall; I’d known him since the second semester of freshman year, when we’d taken Freshman Comp together. Emily was his girlfriend at this point, and my ex-girlfriend; we’d dated for a few months toward the end of freshman year before amicably breaking up.

“I expect we should take it one at a time,” I said, after everybody had gathered in our room. “So we know how it’s affecting you before we rely on you to watch the next person and restrain them if they’re having a bad trip.”

“If they’re turning into a bad person,” Randall supplied. “Dangerously bad, I mean. Some people just turn into jerks. It’s more likely if they’re as nice as you, Emily, but I don’t think it’s super likely or I’d tell you not to use it.”

“So, Scott... we gonna draw straws?” Emily asked.

“Sure,” I said. I went down the hall to the janitor’s closet, which had a broken lock, pulled a few straws off the broom, and came back. I drew the longest straw, so I’d go last.

Emily drew the short straw, and when she gulped down the little shot glass with 250 mg of jekyllase dissolved in orange juice, her flesh shifted around until she was taller and leaner, model-thin everywhere except her breasts and butt. Emily could have stood to lose weight, but redistributing it worked too; she was nice to look at before, but now she was seriously hot. Her clothes didn’t fit her very well now, but she would have made anything look good.

“How do you feel, Emily?” Darrell asked, looking at her appreciatively.

“My name is Cynthia,” she said coldly. “I don’t know why Emily came to this party. I suppose I can’t complain, however, as I wouldn’t exist without that foolish decision.”

“Don’t be like that, baby,” Darrell said, and put his hand on her thigh. (They’d been sitting side by side on my bed, while I sat in my desk chair.) Cynthia slapped his hand away and scooted a few inches further from him.

“Don’t presume that your relationship with Emily gives you privileges with me,” she said. “You’ll have to start from scratch. Or your hyde will. Watching you two transform will, I suspect, be the only interesting part of this party. Unless it provides some more interesting company.”

“Your turn, Darrell,” I said, handing him another shot glass.

It had sort of the opposite effect on Darrell, at least physically. He got shorter and chubbier, and his hair turned black... then I realized his skin tone had changed slightly, and his facial features were shifting more than Emily’s had... Oh. He was Asian. (In 1970 I would have said “Oriental,” but I’m trying to walk a fine line between historical accuracy and modern sensibilities here.)

He took off his shirt, which looked uncomfortably tight, unbuttoned his pants, and asked Randall if he could borrow something. Randall took a swig of his beer, shrugged, pulled a shirt out of his drawer and tossed it to Darrell. He eyed Darrell’s waistline and said, “Not sure any of my pants will fit you, but you’re welcome to try,” and tossed him something from another drawer.

“Who are you now?” I asked, feeling a fluttering in my stomach. This wasn’t turning out as well as I’d expected.

“Takahiro,” he said eagerly, leaning over and extending his hand in greeting. “You can call me Taka if that’s too much trouble.” Cynthia gave him a superior smile.

“Your turn,” she said, turning her gaze to me. I’d already been mixing up the last dose with the orange juice, and after sticking my unfinished cigarette in the ashtray, I downed it in a couple of swigs.

A few moments later, I felt light-headed for a few moments, then my flesh started shifting around. It had seemed to take hardly a minute when Cynthia and Takahiro were transforming, but it felt longer when it was happening to me. At first Scott panicked when he realized he was growing breasts, but a few moments later, we were more me than him, and I laughed in delight. I’d been trapped for so long, and now I was free, and in a few moments I’d be in a body that fit me for the first time. I held up my arms and watched as the skin smoothed out and lost its hair, and got a darker tan. Then I glanced down at my breasts again, which were getting close to full size. I unbuttoned a couple of buttons and watched them grow with satisfaction, running a hand along my hip and waist and feeling the contour shift even through Scott’s clothes.

All this while Randall, Takahiro and Cynthia had been staring at me in astonishment. I grinned at them. “Isn’t this the niftiest thing?” I asked.

“Hi,” Takahiro said. “I met Scott briefly, but I don’t think we’ve met.”

He was kind of cute. And if he needed to lose weight, well, so did I. “I’m Jennifer,” I said cheerily. “Let’s get this party started!”

“I think we just did,” Cynthia said, with a slight smile. “It’s nice not to be the only woman at the party anymore. Welcome, Jennifer.”

Randall was still staring at me open-mouthed. Finally he just said, “Huh. That’s new.”

“Never heard of someone’s hyde being the opposite sex?” I asked.

“No. I heard of a guy whose hyde was a Tolkien elf, though.”

“Nifty! Is he immortal?”

Randall shrugged. “I don’t think so, but I guess it’s too early to tell.”

“Whatever. Let’s party!” I picked up the cigarette Scott had left in the ash tray, and paused for a moment before putting it to my lips. Scott had smoked since he was sixteen, but did I? I dismissed that question — almost everybody smoked back then, or at least everybody in my social circle — and took a drag.

And started coughing uncontrollably. It was only then that I realized how easily I’d been breathing compared to Scott.

“Okay,” I said when I’d finally caught my breath. “So I guess I’m not a smoker.”

Cynthia frowned thoughtfully. “I think I am, but I’m not sure.”

“Give it a try,” I said, passing the cigarette to her. She put it to her lips and inhaled, then exhaled.

“I think I might prefer a different brand than Emily or Scott, but this isn’t bad.”

“Good for you.”

I went over to Randall’s desk and poured myself a drink — just a couple of fingers. Scott didn’t drink much; he couldn’t hold his liquor, but I wanted to find out if I could. I took a sip, and it wasn’t like dragging on the cigarette; it went down smoothly enough.

“I would join you,” Cynthia said, “but I draw the line at that swill Randall is drinking.”

“We could go out for more booze,” I said. “What are you in the mood for?”

“May I point out that none of us has ID?” she said. “And none of us has clothes that fit us.”

“They’re not gonna card you,” I said. “You look twenty-five or six, easy.”

“I suppose I do.”

“And you make Emily’s clothes look better than she does.”

“Perhaps. But I prefer not to walk to the liquor store by myself, not at this time of night, and you aren’t dressed to go with me.”

“Oh, we should measure ourselves, so our jekylls can buy clothes that will fit us next time!”

“You assume there will be a next time,” Cynthia said. “I doubt Emily will like me, or wish to become me again.”

“Sure she will,” I urged, “you just have to show her a good time.”

“Why not?” she said with another smile. “It can’t hurt.” I resolved to do everything I could to make her smile again.

“Uh, I could drive you,” Randall said. “I’ve got a good fake ID.”

Cynthia looked at him appraisingly. “All right,” she said. “But if you put the moves on me, you will regret it.”

He put his hands up. “Hey! I offered to help!”

“And I appreciate it. Let’s go.” She slung Emily’s purse over her shoulder. “We’ll be back soon with some good wine. Any other requests?”

“Um, a Sapporo would be nice if they have it,” Takahiro said, ducking his head deferentially.

“Noted.” She walked out, and Randall followed her.

---

You can read the entirety of Listening to Jekyllase on Scribblehub or in my ebook short fiction collection Unforgotten and Other Stories ($0.99 on Amazon, free on itch.io and Smashwords). I’ll try to post chapters here about once a week, but they may be irregular due to illness, executive dysfunction, being busy with IRL issues, etc.

Scribblehub is generally the best place to follow me as I have new chapters of different stories appearing there every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. They’re scheduled in advance through December, so they’ll keep appearing even if I’m in the hospital or too low-energy to do anything on a given day.

“I can’t believe I’m advising women not to take their clothes off,” Randall said, “but I think you should be careful.”

 

---

---

 

“Um, Taka — could you turn your back while I change into my bathrobe? This doesn’t really fit me very well.”

“Um, yeah, okay.” He blushed and turned around. I shimmied out of Scott’s clothes and put on his bathrobe. “There, all done.” I relished the look on his face when he turned around. “You can borrow Randall’s bathrobe. I know he washed it just a few days ago.”

“Um, thanks... you sure he won’t mind?”

“Sure!” I took another sip. “I’ll just turn my back here.”

A few moments later, he said, “Okay, I’m done.”

I turned around. “So what do you want to do until Cynthia and Randall get back?”

He blushed again, and looked away from me. “Well, um — you said you wanted to measure our bodies, right? So we could get clothes that fit? I’ve, um, got a tape measure in my room. Darrell’s room. I could go get it.”

“Sure, that would be great! I’ll come with.”

He said, “Um, I don’t think that would be a good idea. You know, a girl in a bathrobe on our hall... you’d probably better stay in your room so nobody sees you.”

“Oh, good point. See you in a few.”

While he was gone I dug through the stuff under my bed and pulled out a deck of cards and a couple of board games. I turned on the radio and fiddled with the tuning knob. After a couple of boring announcers' voices I heard “Humphrey the Camel” by Jack Blanchard and Misty Morgan.

“Ooh, I love this song.” Scott thought it was stupid, but I loved it. “Down at the oasis, the Arabs are pickin' their dates —” I sang along while I shuffled the cards. I was still singing when Takahiro got back.

“Um, here’s the measuring tape,” he said. “It’s a metal carpenter’s measure, not a cloth measure like you normally use for people, but I think it’ll work.”

“Thanks!” I put down the cards. “You want me to measure you first?”

“Uh, no thanks, I guess I’ll get Randall to do it when he gets back. And, uh, you and Cynthia can do each other.” He blushed when he realized what he’d said. I giggled and rolled with it.

“Sure, you can watch while we do each other. But if you want to do me I don’t mind.”

He mumbled something inaudible.

“What’s that...? I meant you could measure me. What did you think I meant?”

“If you really want me to.”

“If we’ve already gotten measured when Cynthia and Randall get back, we can start playing games sooner.”

“All right... uh, how do you want me to do this?”

I guided his hands as he wrapped the tape around me at chest, waist, and hips, and then did the vertical measurements, and wrote them all down.

When I offered to measure him, he averted his eyes and said, “I don’t think there’s any point. Darrell’s not gonna take jekyllase again. He’d hate being me.”

“You just have to show him what’s good about being you,” I urged. “What’s something you enjoy that Darrell doesn’t — that he can’t enjoy without becoming you? Something you’re good at that he can’t do?”

“I’m great at pinball,” he said. “Darrell’s terrible at it.”

Somehow I didn’t doubt that he was right, that he knew he would be great at pinball even though he’d never played it. I knew similar things about myself, things Scott had never learned, or at least hadn’t consciously paid attention to. There were plenty of other things I’d have to learn, of course, and I looked forward to that.

“There you go! If he doesn’t use these measurements to buy you some clothes, and let you out again, he’ll never have the satisfaction of seeing you wipe the floor with the guys who look down on him because he sucks at pinball.”

He met my eyes again, and smiled. “All right.”

I took his measurements. By the time I got to his inseam, he was erect, and tenting out his bathrobe. I was tempted to brush against his boy parts when I measured his inseam, but I tried not to. He twitched anyway.

“There we go,” I said, writing down the measurements. “Now what do you want to do while we wait for them to get back?”

He eyed the games on my desk. “We could play speed chess,” he said. “Or a card game.”

“Speed chess sounds fine,” I said, though I didn’t think I’d be that great at it. He would, I was pretty sure, and he looked like he needed a confidence boost.

We didn’t have a proper speed chess timer, but I took off Scott’s watch (which didn’t suit my arm as well as his) and set it on the desk next to the chessboard where we could watch the second hand. Every time I lost a piece, I loosened my robe a little. When he realized what I was doing, he blushed fiercely and tried harder to keep his eyes on the chessboard. He was so adorable.

He won the first game easily, and we were just a few moves into the second when Cynthia and Randall got back. My bathrobe was open almost to my belly-button.

“You two have been busy,” Cynthia said, raising her eyebrows, and Randall frowned and said, “Did you tell him he could wear my bathrobe?”

“Sorry,” I said unrepentantly. “His need was greater than yours. You saw how Darrell’s pants fit him. And he got us a tape measure,” I added. “You want me to measure you, Cynthia?”

“Sure, though I’m still doubtful that Emily will let me out again. It can’t hurt to be prepared, though.”

“You’ve got confidence and a great body. Emily will probably enjoy that, and she’ll want to be able to show it off to more advantage next time.”

“Possibly so.”

I measured her and wrote down the measurements on an index card. She was staring at my breasts while I measured hers. Mine were bigger than hers, but hers looked more impressive on her leaner frame. That done, she opened the bottle of Merlot she’d bought (she’d bought a corkscrew too, as neither Randall nor I owned one), and handed Takahiro the Sapporo he’d requested.

“Do you mind if I change the station?” she asked.

“Sure, go ahead!” I said. She switched to one of the local rock stations.

“We could quit this game and play something else,” Takahiro said, opening the bottle. “Something for four players.”

“We could play poker,” I suggested.

“Strip poker,” Cynthia amended.

“No fair!” Takahiro protested. “Jennifer and me are only wearing one or two garments apiece. One lost hand and we’d be out.”

“I can’t believe I’m advising women not to take their clothes off,” Randall said, “but I think you should be careful. Don’t gamble away too much of your jekylls' money or embarrass them too much, or they might not want to take jekyllase and let you out again.”

In the end we decided on bridge, which all of us except for Cynthia knew. Cynthia was my partner, and picked up on the rules pretty quickly when we explained them to her, so we didn’t do too badly though we still lost. Next game we shuffled partners and I was with Takahiro; we won, but by a smaller margin than Randall and Takahiro had won the last game.

By then it was one o’clock. We were all drunk, except maybe Takahiro, who’d only had half a bottle of Sapporo, and Randall was high. Cynthia didn’t toke, it turned out, and Takahiro got sick on the first toke and didn’t want to try again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to try it after the way I’d reacted to tobacco, though I remembered liking the way Scott felt when he smoked pot.

“We should go for a walk or something before we change back,” I said. “At least around the halls of the dorm.”

“Sure,” Randall said. “You can go outside, too. I’ll protect you.” He giggled, and it was infectious enough to get me started too.

Cynthia looked down her nose at us. “You’re being foolish,” she said. “But I suppose the more of us there are, the less likely someone is to bother us.”

“Let’s go, then,” I said, and got up. I wobbled a little and plopped right back down.

“You’re too drunk to go anywhere,” Cynthia observed.

“No, I’m fine,” I said, and got up again, staying up this time. “C’mon.”

I went for the door, and Randall put his hand on my arm to steady me. Cynthia and Takahiro followed us out the door into the hall. I leaned against Randall for a moment as my head felt a little more spinny than usual, and noticed that Takahiro was looking jealous. I felt bad for him. “Hey, maybe I should lean on Taka. You’re not too steady yourself, Randall.”

“I’m your chaperone, though. You’ve known me for months, you’ve known him for a few hours. Who’re you gonna trust?”

“I like Taka,” I objected. “You’re nice too. Well, not nice, but fun to be with. But Taka’s nice too.” Randall just grinned and kept hold of my arm.

We walked down the hall past the bathroom and vending machines to the stairs, and past them around the other two halls (our dorm was in a U-shape), back again to the stairs, and down to the ground floor. All the while Randall stayed close to me, sometimes holding onto me, sometimes just ready to grab me if I wobbled too much.

“Let’s go outside,” I said eagerly when we came to the side door.

“No,” Cynthia said firmly, and Randall agreed.

“'S’not a good idea, the way you’re dressed,” he said. “Next time, when you’ve got clothes that fit you.”

“But what if Scott doesn’t let me out again?” I pouted. “C’mon, just for a few minutes. I wanna look at the stars.”

“Oh, all right,” Randall said, but Cynthia again said “No,” and took my hand. “You’re going right back to your room.”

“You only live once,” I said. “Hey, that might be literally true for us, right?”

“It’s not literally true for anybody,” Taka said. “But yeah, let’s go out. Darrell’s not gonna want to be me again unless I show him I’m not a coward.”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” I jerked my hand out of Cynthia’s and followed Taka out the door.

It was dark; either the moon had already set or it was a new moon, or whatever. I was no astronomer either as Scott or Jennifer. We couldn’t see the stars as well as you could out in the wilderness, but better in our small college town than in the city Scott grew up in. I looked up and wondered aloud which constellation was which. Cynthia identified several of them for us, which prompted me to ask: “Does Emily know that stuff too?”

“Emily learned it in Girl Scouts and forgot it. But I remember.”

“Far out. Hey, let’s lie down on the grass. I’m getting a crick in my neck from looking up.”

“Emily won’t let me out again if I ruin her nice blouse and skirt with grass stains,” Cynthia said. “You go ahead.”

“Yeah, Scott won’t care about grass stains on this old thing,” I said, and plopped down. Taka looked at Randall for permission and he shrugged; then Taka laid down next to me. I took his hand in mine and pressed it.

“This is great,” I said. “Scott and Darrell have got to let us out again, they’ve never looked at the stars like this.”

“They look so much grander when you know you’ll only ever see them once,” Taka said sadly.

I felt terrible for him. He was almost certainly right. Amazing pinball skills or not, Darrell wasn’t going to take jekyllase again.

And Scott probably wasn’t going to let me out again. He’d probably be too embarrassed about turning into a girl. My only chance was to show him something, to make him feel something, he couldn’t feel as a man. And even that might backfire if I went too far.

Furthermore, there were only two guys available. Randall was by far the hotter of the two, but he wasn’t as nice a guy as Taka. And Scott was more likely to forgive me for starting something with a hyde who’d probably never exist again than for making things awkward between him and his roommate.

If we were both jekylls and didn’t have a deadline, I’d take things slow with Taka. Hint that I liked him until he worked up the nerve to ask me out, and so forth. But we were hydes, and we’d probably never live again. I turned, leaned over, and kissed him. He was too surprised to react for a moment, and then he kissed back. I darted my tongue into his mouth, and after a few moments he did the same... then he worked up the nerve to run his hand along my arm, and then my shoulder and neck...

“Cut it out, lovebirds,” Cynthia said in a low voice. “Campus cops.”

But it was too late. By the time Taka and I scrambled to our feet, the cop’s flashlight was on us. Randall was way ahead of us, already opening the door, but the cop said: “You’re out way after curfew... Wait a minute. You girls don’t need to be going in the boys' dorm. Where do you live?”

“Utterson Hall,” Cynthia said. “Come on, Jennifer, let’s get you to bed.”

“I’ll escort you there,” the cop said. “Boys, is this your dorm?”

“Yes, sir,” Randall said. “Come on, Taka.” He met my eyes and shrugged helplessly. “See you tomorrow, girls,” he said.

“Yeah, right,” Cynthia muttered under her breath.

So we trudged after the cop toward Utterson Hall. I was less drunk than I’d been half an hour earlier, steady enough on my feet that the cop didn’t seem to suspect I was under the influence. I felt a pang of loss and a spike of resentment. Taka and I had so little time, and this busybody cop had to cut even that little short...! I swore at him under my breath, but he had good hearing.

“I can’t believe the language I’m hearing from young ladies these days,” the cop said. “My daughter doesn’t talk like that.”

“Not where you can hear her,” I said.

“She’s a good girl, not like you tramps. Honestly, wandering over to the boys' dorm in the middle of the night in your bathrobe...! Unless that’s your boyfriend’s bathrobe.”

“Don’t answer him,” Cynthia advised me, and I was just sober enough to mind her.

The cop watched us until we went into Cynthia’s — or rather Emily’s — dorm, and then walked off.

“What are we going to do?” I whispered once we were inside.

“You could try to sneak back over to Scott and Randall’s room,” she said. “Or you could sleep on my roommate’s bed. She went home for the weekend for her dad’s birthday.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Thanks.”

“Sorry you and Taka got interrupted.”

“So am I,” I said.

We crashed as soon as we got into the room, but it took me a while to get to sleep.

---

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I have several books in the Secret Trans Writing Lair's Pride Month bundle. Note that unlike previous open-ended bundles, this is only available through the end of June.

Sorry this chapter is a late. I've been very sick, but I'm a fair bit better.

Another thing I liked a lot was her healthy lungs, her ability to breathe so deeply and easily and go for hours without feeling the need for a cigarette.

 

---

---

 

When I woke up, I was Scott again. Cynthia or Emily was gone, but while I was figuring out what to do next — how to get back to my dorm when all I had to wear was a grass-stained bathrobe — Emily returned to the room, also wearing a bathrobe.

“You’re up,” she noted, not looking happy. “Turn your back while I get dressed, okay?”

“Sure,” I said, and did so.

When she said “Okay, you can turn around now,” I turned and said: “Any ideas on how I can get back?”

“I don’t know. What about if I call Carew Hall and ask somebody to get Randall to come to the phone? Then he can bring you some clothes.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay. Don’t leave the room and don’t open the door for anybody, okay? I’m going to lock it.”

“I won’t.”

To cut a long story short, she couldn’t get Randall on the first try — turned out he was sleeping late, and so was Darrell, who’d slept in my bed because Taka didn’t want to have to explain jekyllase to Darrell’s roommate, who was kind of a straight — and it was almost two hours before Randall brought me a change of clothes, and Emily brought them up to her room. She wasn’t comfortable hanging around me, at least while I was wearing nothing but a bathrobe, and spent most of the morning down in the lobby, studying and trying the phone every half hour. So I had a lot of time to sit in her room and think about Jennifer and what it was like to be her.

And I was ashamed to admit I liked it. I liked having her cheerful outgoing personality, I liked having her smooth skin and feeling her breasts wobble around on our chest, I liked the way Randall and Taka looked at her, and I loved it when Taka and I kissed and he started touching me. It was weird and it didn’t make sense, I should have hated all that, but I liked it. I wouldn’t want to do that while I was me, but being her gave me permission to do those things and enjoy them.

Another thing I liked a lot was her healthy lungs, her ability to breathe so deeply and easily and go for hours without feeling the need for a cigarette. In those days not many people knew how bad cigarettes were for you; the tobacco companies had done a pretty good job of covering it up. But we knew they weren’t good for you, and being able to contrast lungs that had never smoked with lungs that had been smoking for years gave me a perspective on it that most people didn’t have. My lungs had gotten worse only gradually under the influence of smoking, so the problems it had caused weren’t that noticeable or bothersome until I realized what I was missing.

So when Emily came back up to her room with the clothes Randall had brought me, I said: “Could you do me a favor, sometime this weekend or next?”

“What is it?”

“Buy some clothes for Jennifer? I’ll get you the money and her measurements.”

“Oh! You want to try being her again?”

“It was... interesting. I think I can learn more from it if I let her go out in public, dressed properly, and see how people react to her and all.”

She smiled. “Sure. Get me her measurements and enough money, and I’ll buy stuff. Any preferences as to styles?”

I scratched my head. “Jennifer knows what she wants, but at the moment I’m not sure. Just use your judgment.”

“Okay. And I’ll buy stuff for Cynthia as well. We can have a girls' day out.”

I smiled. “That’d be great.”

---

So I got a couple more doses of jekyllase from Larry Ryman the next evening. The following Saturday morning, I met up with Emily at her dorm room after she called me to say her roommate had left.

“Okay, let’s do this before I lose my nerve,” I said, taking the jekyllase out of my pocket and the small carton of orange juice out of the grocery store bag. “You got any glasses?”

“Um, no. I can borrow a couple of coffee mugs from the kitchen, though.”

She came back in a couple of minutes, and I poured up and mixed the doses. We were about to drink up when Emily said, with a blush, “Um, remember how our clothes didn’t fit us that well last time? What about if we turn our backs and take off our clothes and then drink, and put on fresh clothes?”

We’ve seen each other naked before, I thought but didn’t say. We hadn’t dated in months, and Emily was dating someone else now; if she felt uncomfortable about it, I wasn’t going to needle her. “Sure,” I said, and turned my back.

Is this really a good idea? I thought after I’d gotten my clothes off, and then It was good the first time, and this could be better, and swallowed.

We felt our flesh shifting around again, and Scott felt anticipation and dread for a few moments before it was overwhelmed by my joy at being me again.

“Hey, Cynthia, you ready yet?”

“Almost done.”

“Can I turn around while we get dressed, since we’re both girls now?”

“I would be fine with that.”

I saw the end of Cynthia’s transformation, as she turned toward me while reaching her full height. I reached over to her roommate’s bed where I’d laid out the outfit Emily had bought for me, and started getting dressed.

“I’ll need you to help me with the bra,” I said, slipping on the panties. “My mother didn’t teach me how, for some unaccountable reason.”

Cynthia smiled. “Of course.”

We got dressed, with her helping me as necessary, and I chattered excitedly. “This fits okay, but not quite right,” I said. “Let’s go shopping and get some stuff that fits better, more outfits. If we’ve bought more clothes for us, Scott and Emily will be committed to being us again, right? Can’t let those go to waste.”

“Or perhaps they’ll resent us for wasting their money and be reluctant to put their funds in our hands again,” Cynthia said. “But I think one or two more outfits, things that fit better than what Emily bought without us having the opportunity to try them on, would be reasonable. And we can return these things, so it would not cost much if any extra. I certainly need a larger bra.”

“Yeah, you kinda do.”

So that was our first stop. I was all for taking my car, but Cynthia pointed out I didn’t match Scott’s driver’s license, and she didn’t match Emily’s either.

“Let me see her license,” I said, and peered at it closely when she got it out of Emily’s purse.

“Yeah, this could work. It’s blurry like all driver’s license photos, and your face is basically an improved version of Emily’s. You differ mainly in your figures.”

“And our personalities,” she said, taking the license back and looking at it again. “Perhaps you’re right. But neither of us matches the registration information on the car. If we get stopped for any reason, the police may suspect we stole the car.”

“Nah, we can tell them Scott loaned it to us, and he’ll back us up when they finally find him to ask him.”

“Very well.”

So out we went, and a few minutes later we were at the mall. It wasn’t a large mall by today’s standards, but it was fairly new, and though Cynthia wasn’t impressed with the selection of clothing, I was in hog heaven, since it was all new to me. I don’t know how many pieces of clothing I tried on that day. I was a little tired but still feeling enthusiastic when we stopped for lunch. I would have bought dozens of things, as much as I could possibly afford and maybe more, but Cynthia kept cautioning me not to spend so much of Scott’s money that he wouldn’t want to be me again. So I didn’t buy anything at first, until I’d tried on a bunch of stuff at several stores. Then after lunch I went back and bought my favorites: a flower-pattern peasant skirt, a solid green long-sleeved blouse, and matching shoes with a low heel. The skirt and blouse had no pockets, so I needed a purse as well. I wanted to buy a necklace or earrings too, but reluctantly decided I’d better not push my luck. Scott needed this stuff if he wanted to be me again, and the less money I spent, the more likely he was to want to be me again. Then, after he’d made a habit of it, I could buy the necklace and earrings.

“So,” Cynthia said with affected casualness, “what do you want to do next?”

“I don’t know. See a movie, maybe?”

“How about if we just go back to Emily’s dorm room, relax and listen to records? Emily has little or no taste, but her roommate has some decent records and doesn’t mind Emily playing them.”

“Do you think her roommate will mind us hanging out there? Has Emily told her about using jekyllase?”

“Yes, she mentioned it, and I have a secret phrase I’m supposed to use to identify myself as Emily’s hyde.”

“All right, then.”

So we returned to campus. Cynthia parked Scott’s car in the lot near Scott’s dorm, and we walked over to Utterson Hall. Cynthia unlocked the door of Emily’s room and walked in ahead of me.

“Hello, Alice,” she said. “I’m Cynthia — Emily told you I might come by.”

“Yeah, she did, and I gave her a secret phrase for you to use.”

Cynthia gave us a pained expression, and recited: “‘And the bald-headed birds are whispering everywhere.’”

Alice grinned. “Either you’re her, or you’re somebody she gave permission to use her stuff. Knock yourself out. Who’s your friend?”

“Hi,” I said, extending my hand to shake, “I’m Jennifer. I see you like Jack Blanchard and Misty Morgan — I love their stuff!”

“Yeah, I’ve got both their albums. Are you also... um... under the influence of this jekyllite stuff?”

“Jekyllase,” Cynthia corrected.

“Yep!” I affirmed. “My jekyll isn’t as much fun as me, but he’s not a bad sort if you get to know him.” Maybe Scott would be more likely to become me again if I put in a good word for him with girls now and then.

“Wait — him?”

“Yeah, jekyllase turns Scott into me. Far out, huh?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“So Cynthia said you had some records you didn’t mind Emily playing?”

“Umm, maybe. I know Emily’s real careful about handling them, but I don’t know you...”

“If anything, Emily is sloppy compared to me,” Cynthia said.

“All right, go ahead. But if you scratch anything you owe me for a replacement.”

So we looked through Alice’s eclectic record collection while Alice went back to studying. Cynthia wanted to listen to The Velvet Underground, and I wanted to listen to the Jack Blanchard and Misty Morgan albums Alice had mentioned. Scott was mildly amused by a couple of their songs that had gotten radio airtime, but he didn’t love them the way I did, and I’d never had a chance to listen to their other stuff. Cynthia, it turned out, didn’t like their stuff at all. We compromised on listening to a couple of songs I’d never heard from their first album, and then The Velvet Underground. Alice and I had fun teasing Cynthia by singing along with the chorus on “Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker,” and then she and Cynthia sang along with one or two of the songs from The Velvet Underground, which Scott had heard once or twice but which neither of us had paid a lot of attention to. Cynthia had a beautiful singing voice, much better than mine or Alice’s.

Cynthia and I sat on Emily’s bed while we listened and sang along. After the end of side one of The Velvet Underground, Cynthia said: “I guess we’d better change. You don’t want to be wearing that when Scott comes back.”

“Oh, yeah. His clothes won’t exactly fit me, though. Have you got a bathrobe or nightgown or something I could change into?”

“Sure,” she said with a smile. “I think Scott would appreciate the bathrobe more than the nightgown.”

I shrugged. “I’m pleasantly surprised — no, ecstatic — that he brought me back at all. I don’t think a minor embarrassment like coming back in a nightgown will scare him off trying jekyllase again. But the bathrobe won’t hurt.”

I changed into Emily’s bathrobe, and Cynthia into her nightgown. And none too soon; halfway through side two, I changed back into Scott.

Cynthia and Alice turned their backs while I changed into my guy-clothes. When I turned around again, Emily had returned.

“I’ll leave you to get dressed,” I said. “Shall we do it again sometime?”

Emily smiled. “I’d like that, but I’ll have to check with Darrell. He was none too pleased that I had a girls' day out planned for today.”

“Did you tell him with who?”

“No, I let him make his own assumptions.”

I left — and left Jennifer’s clothes in Emily’s wardrobe for the moment. At the time, I figured I’d go over there to change next time as well.

---

---

I have several books in the Secret Trans Writing Lair's Pride Month bundle. Note that unlike previous open-ended bundles, this is only available through the end of June.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m, uh — I’m fixing to turn into Jennifer, okay? So if you could not look this way while I’m changing clothes, that would be good.”

 

“Sure, man,” he said. “You got some chick threads at some point?”

---

I talked to Emily after class Tuesday afternoon, and she said she had plans with Darrell for much of Saturday, and with some other friends Sunday. That left me at loose ends for the following weekend — I’d wanted to hang out with Cynthia as Jennifer again, I’d had so much fun. I wanted to hang out with Taka, too, but I was pretty sure Darrell would never take jekyllase again. He’d been avoiding me since our jekyllase party; when I ran into him in the hallways or stairs and tried to talk to him, he’d brush me off, saying he was in a hurry to get somewhere.

I went out and bought an opaque dry-cleaning bag, and went over to Emily’s dorm with it after calling to make sure she was in. I took Jennifer’s clothes back to my dorm room and hung the bag in the wardrobe. The shoes, underwear and purse I carried in a paper sack, and stuck it in the back of the wardrobe.

I hadn’t told Randall where I’d gone all day last Saturday, but if I was going to use jekyllase on my own, without Emily/Cynthia, I’d need to tell him one way or another. Even if I waited until he was out to change into Jennifer, I couldn’t be sure he’d be gone when I returned to the dorm and waited for it to wear off. Still, I put it off for a while, not sure if I’d maybe change my mind about being Jennifer again... part of me thought it was a bad idea, but it was a smaller and smaller part every day.

But Friday afternoon, after my last class of the day, I headed back to the dorm. Randall was there, lying in bed reading and smoking a joint.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m, uh — I’m fixing to turn into Jennifer, okay? So if you could not look this way while I’m changing clothes, that would be good.”

“Sure, man,” he said. “You got some chick threads at some point?”

“Yeah, I gave Emily some money and Jennifer’s measurements.” I didn’t mention that the clothes I was actually intending to wear that evening were things I’d bought — or Jennifer had bought — last weekend.

“Groovy. Well, give me a minute here.” He got up, put his pillow at the foot of his bed, and laid down again looking away from me and the wardrobe.

I dissolved the jekyllase in water from the bathroom sink, having forgotten to buy any juice — and realized why Randall had dissolved it in orange juice before. The stuff tasted foul. But soon enough I was Jennifer again, and I giggled in delight. I had Scott hooked. I stripped off his ill-fitting clothes and hummed “Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker” while I pulled the dry-cleaning bag out of the wardrobe and got dressed.

“Okay, you can look now,” I said, and Randall sat up and turned around. “Ta-da!”

“You look fine,” he said. “You going somewhere now?”

“Out to dinner, I think. Somewhere in walking distance of campus.”

“I’ll go with. If you’re walking back after dark, you don’t want to be alone, not as a girl. Want to help me finish this first?” he added, offering me the joint.

I hesitated, then took it and drew a hesitant toke, coughed, shook my head, and handed it back. “Sorry,” I said. “I like the way it makes Scott feel, but I don’t know if I can smoke it like he does. Maybe we can make brownies sometime.”

After he finished the joint and got his shoes on, we went out.

“So,” Randall said as we walked, “Scott liked being you, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m so much fun to be. Wish you could be me too, don’t you?” I teased.

“I’d rather be with you than be you, but I’d rather be you than Walter,” he admitted. “None of us really got a great deal from jekyllase except maybe Emily, but I really got the short end of the stick, even worse than Darrell.”

We walked over to a little place two streets over from the east edge of campus and got a table. We ordered sandwiches and chatted as we ate. Randall asked me some questions about myself, but after a few minutes, the conversation drifted to a letter I’d just gotten from my older brother Robert in Vietnam, then to the war and other people we knew who’d enlisted or gotten drafted.

The restaurant had a couple of pinball machines over in the corner by the restrooms. At some point during our conversation I became aware that a small crowd was gathering around them.

“What’s going on over there?” I wondered, pointing. Randall twisted in his chair and looked.

“Looks like some guys watching a pinball wizard,” he said. “You want to take a look?”

“Sure,” I said. We got up — we’d pretty much finished our meal anyway — and wandered over that way. At first the crowd around the pinball machines was too thick to see the person playing. But I wasn’t shy; I squeezed in until I could see.

It was Taka.

And he was ensorceling that pinball machine. He kept the ball going for another four or five minutes after Randall and I started watching, and I don’t know how long he’d been going before that. Finally the ball shot right between his paddles despite his best effort, and he wiped a little sweat from his brow and turned around. He looked startled by the crowd, and didn’t seem to notice me at first.

“So,” he said, “uh, who’s next?”

“We wanna see you play again,” somebody called out, and another guy yelled, “Yeah, show us your wisdom, master!” Taka blushed, but it might have been because he noticed me about then.

“I’ll play again in a few minutes — I’ll let somebody else have a turn for now.” And then he took a couple of steps toward me and said, “Hi, Jennifer.”

“Hi, Taka,” I said, and gave him a hug. He seemed surprised at first — he shouldn’t have been, considering how we’d left off a couple of weeks ago — and then hugged me back, and kissed me. I heard a couple of catcalls, but I was only vaguely aware of them.

“I didn’t know you were back!” I said. “How’d you talk Darrell into it?”

“I hardly know why he did it,” he said. “I’m just glad he did, and at the same time Scott let you out... He didn’t want to hang out with Scott or Randall the last couple of weeks, and he hasn’t been going out with Emily as much either, because they know about me and he’s kind of ashamed of me. But then yesterday he goes and buys a dose of jekyllase and now here I am.”

“And basking in the adoration of the crowd,” I said. “You’ll be back now, I’m sure of it.”

“Good to see you again, Taka,” Randall said. I’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Hi,” Taka said.

“Let’s me and Randall pay for our food,” I said, “and then we can do whatever. Watch you play pinball again, for instance, or go see a movie.”

“Ah,” Taka said. “Yeah, pinball would probably be better if I want Darrell to let me out again.” He glanced at Randall, and I saw he was jealous of him. It was sweet.

I flagged down our waitress and paid for my sandwich, and Randall paid for his, and after a few minutes' chat Taka went over to the pinball machines again. A minute or so later somebody lost their ball on the other machine Taka hadn’t been playing earlier, and the guy who was next in line for it looked at Taka and said, “You go ahead. I want to see you play, I missed most of it earlier.”

So Taka started playing, and though he didn’t do as well as he had earlier, it was still pretty amazing. A crowd gathered again, not quite as many people as before but more than the couple of guys who’d been in line for one of the machines. I cheered Taka on until someone cautioned me not to distract him. I think he was too engrossed in the game to notice anything quieter than a firecracker, anyway. Finally, after seven or eight minutes, he lost the ball and stepped back to give someone else a turn. A spontaneous cheer broke out, several guys slapped him on the back, and I kissed him.

“You ready to do something else?” I asked. “I could watch you play a few more games, but I think Darrell’s gotten enough adulation that he’s sure to let you out again.”

“We could,” he said. “I don’t have a car... my face doesn’t match Darrell’s driver’s license.”

“Yeah, me too, and Randall was high when we left the dorm, so we walked here. I guess we could take the bus to the theater?”

“You two go on without me,” Randall said. “I’m gonna head back to the dorm. One question though, Taka — when did Darrell take the jekyllase?”

“About four o’clock.”

“Earlier than Scott, then. And you weigh more than Jennifer, so it’ll probably wear off faster for you... but unless you stay out really late, it’ll probably last until you’re back. If you change back into Darrell while he’s still hanging with Jennifer, though... you let him know from me that he’d better not go off and leave her by herself.”

“Um, yeah, that could be awkward,” Taka said. “We’ll head back before it’s likely to wear off.”

“Good night, then.”

Randall left, and I took Taka’s hand in mine. “Ready?”

“Sure,” he said. We walked out and down the street to the bus stop. Neither of us were very familiar with the bus routes, since our jekylls had cars, but we got on the bus that we thought was headed in the right direction, and then asked the driver whether it stopped near the theater. Sure, he said, and ten minutes later we got off there.

We looked over the list of movies starting in the next hour. “Do you want to see Tora! Tora! Tora!?” I asked.

“Darrell’s already seen it, and I don’t care to see it again,” he said. “What about House of Dark Shadows?”

“Scott’s not into horror movies, but I think I might be,” I said. “I’m not sure, but let’s try it.”

So we bought tickets for that — we each paid for our own — and went in. It was the bloodiest movie Scott or I had ever seen, and I loved it. And I loved pretending to be more scared than I was, and grabbing hold of Taka when something scary happened, which was pretty often.

Afterward, we made out on the bus stop bench. I loved having his hands running along my back down to my butt, but before he put his hands anywhere more interesting, the bus showed up. After we got on, we didn’t do any more except hold hands.

When we got out near our dorm, we walked a couple of hundred yards toward it before I turned to him and kissed him again. He put one hand on my back and another on my breast; we kissed for a long moment more before he reluctantly let go and said, “We should go in. My dose will be wearing off soon, and Darrell won’t want to be kissing you when it does. And if you don’t get in soon, you might have trouble sneaking in later.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.”

We went in — nobody was around to dispute my right to enter — and up the stairs to the second floor. “This is it, I guess,” Taka said. “I hope we can meet again... but I don’t know if Darrell will want to be me again —”

“I think so.”

“— or if he’ll agree to take jekyllase at the same time you do.”

“Does your roommate know Darrell is you?”

“No... he waited until Greg was out before he took the jekyllase. And I’m supposed to stay out until I change back to Darrell.”

“You could come hang out in our room — Randall knows about us both.”

“I guess so.”

So we continued up to the third floor and emerged from the stairwell to go to the room I shared with Randall. I unlocked the door and let us in. Randall was lying in bed listening to the radio.

“Hi,” I said. “Taka wants to hang out here until he changes back to Darrell, so he doesn’t have to explain things to Darrell’s roommate.”

“Sure,” Randall said. “Did you two go see a movie?”

We told him about House of Dark Shadows, and that led to Randall talking about the last couple of movies he’d seen, and so forth. Taka and I sat side by side on my bed and held hands, but didn’t kiss or make out any more with Randall there. I thought about asking Randall to leave us alone for a while, but it was kind of late for that.

Then after we’d been chatting quietly for about forty-five minutes, Taka suddenly changed back into Darrell. He let go of my hand before he had completely transformed, and we scooted a few inches apart. Then Darrell stood up, looking kind of embarrassed.

“I guess I’d better get back,” he said.

“Good night,” I said. “Do you want to do this again sometime?”

“...Probably not,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “But I’ll talk to Scott about it sometime.”

I was feeling a little depressed after that, and I fell asleep, still Jennifer, after changing into Scott’s bathrobe — I tried on his pajamas, but they were too tight in the chest.

I woke up from a nightmare a few hours later, and cursed Jennifer for watching that horrifying film. That wasn’t the last nightmare I had from it, either. So after waking up in a cold sweat several times over the next few days, I resolved not to take jekyllase again.

---

Darrell came by our dorm room late Saturday morning to talk. “Listen,” he said. “I’ve been thinking. Taka is kind of a different person from me, and you’re not exactly Jennifer, but — I think Emily will think I’m cheating on her if I turn into Taka again, at least at the same time you’re Jennifer. You dig?”

“Yeah,” I said, half in relief and half in — what? I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I wasn’t going to argue. “I don’t think I’m going to be Jennifer again, not anytime soon anyway. I had nightmares from that movie they saw last night.”

He punched me lightly in the arm. “Sissy,” he said good-naturedly. “Well, I’ve got plans with Emily. See you guys later.”

Randall heard all that, I think, but he didn’t say anything.

I didn’t plan to take jekyllase again, but I missed Jennifer’s healthy lungs, and I started the first of several attempts to quit smoking. My resolve to avoid jekyllase lasted for a little over a week, three days longer than my resolve to quit smoking. On Wednesday, after American History, I asked a girl I’d had my eye on for a while to go out with me Friday night. A couple of nights later, when we got into line at the theater, we ran into Darrell and Emily, and I said hi to them and introduced them to Linda, my date. It turned out we were seeing the same movie, and we sat together. Afterward, Emily asked me, “Have you seen Jennifer lately?”

“About a week ago,” I said after a moment of hesitation. “Why?”

“I’ve missed her, and I can’t get her on the phone, you know how it is. If you see her, ask her to call or come by and see me, okay?”

“Sure,” I said. Darrell looked a little uncomfortable.

Later, as I was walking Linda back to her dorm from the lot where I’d parked, she asked me, “Who’s Jennifer?”

“...My sister.”

I must have hesitated too long or something, because she immediately said: “No, who is she really? Another girl you’re dating?”

At that point, I figured that the truth, however embarrassing, couldn’t hurt as much as what she was imagining now that she had figured out I was lying. (Sort of.) “Have you heard of a drug called jekyllase...?”

By the time we got to her dorm, I’d told her the basics. She was incredulous at first, then listened quietly. We got to the door of the dorm. “So,” I said, changing the subject, “do you want to go out again next weekend?”

“Let’s talk after class Monday,” she said by way of answer, and I had to be satisfied with that.

Monday after American History, I went over and talked to Linda as she was getting her notebook into her bag. “So do you want to go out somewhere Friday or Saturday? Or grab a Coke at the student union before our next classes?”

“Yeah, let’s get something,” she said, and we walked the short distance to the student union. I bought a Coke for me and a Sprite for her, and we sat down at a table.

“Tell me more about how jekyllase affects you,” she said. “I looked it up at the pool hall over the weekend and I didn’t see anything about it turning guys into girls.”

(It was officially the Poole Memorial Library, named after a wealthy alumnus, but students called it “the pool hall” after the pattern of every other dorm or classroom building at Newcomen College being called “X Hall”.)

“Randall said he’d never heard of it affecting other people that way, but it affects everybody differently.”

“Hmm. So when was the first time you tried jekyllase and found out it affects you that way?”

“Let’s see... about three weeks ago.”

“And... you told that girl that you hadn’t seen Jennifer in about a week, right? So you’ve used it at least once after you knew how it would affect you.”

“Twice.”

“Why?”

I was at a loss for words at first. “I enjoy being her,” I said finally. “Not the being a girl part, especially,” (that was a lie, though I wasn’t fully aware of it at the time), “but she’s so cheerful and outgoing...” I was about to add “and she can breathe so easily,” but she said:

“And you aren’t? You weren’t shy about asking me out.”

“You don’t know how long I dithered over it before I finally got up the courage to talk to you,” I said. “Another thing... you know how, no matter what you do, no matter what new experiences you have, it’s always you that’s having them?”

“...I guess so?” she said, looking bewildered.

“Well, jekyllase lets you be someone else. That’s huge. It’s better than acid or pot or anything I’ve ever tried or heard of. It gives you such a wide perspective... You should try it sometime.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “What if I turn into a bad person?”

“You need to be with friends when you try it for the first time,” I said. “So they can stop your hyde from doing anything bad if it goes wrong. We could talk to Emily — I’m pretty sure she wants to try being Cynthia again. But you don’t have to — I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to.”

“Let me think about it,” she said.

---

---

I have several books in the Secret Trans Writing Lair's Pride Month bundle. Note that unlike previous open-ended bundles, this is only available through the end of June.

“I’d have liked to see you change, but I guess I should have said so directly, instead of just hinting that I’d like to meet Jennifer.”

 

“Oh. Scott thought it might be easier to get here unchallenged if I were already Jennifer. Maybe next time.”

 

---

---

 

“I’d like to try it,” Linda said when I talked with her after class Wednesday.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll talk to Emily and see if we can get together this weekend sometime. Are you free the whole weekend, or are there some times that don’t work for you?”

Later in the afternoon, I called Emily’s dorm and waited by the phone for someone to go get her and have her call me back. She never did, so I tried again, and this time got someone to actually go to her room and tell her I was on the line. “Scott!” she said. “Have you heard from Jennifer?”

“Yeah, she wants to get together sometime this weekend,” I said. “Friday night or Saturday. Linda wants to join us too, you remember her?”

“The girl you were with at the movie last week?”

“Yeah, her.”

“Nifty. I’m going out with Darrell Friday night, but I’m free most of the day Saturday. And Alice might join us too; we were talking about it a few days ago.”

Friday after classes, I washed my clothes, including Jennifer’s panties, bra and socks. I was pretty careful to not let anyone see the feminine articles; I wrapped Jennifer’s things inside rolled-up shirts before I loaded up the laundry to go to the laundromat, and I did the same when transferring things from the washer to the drier and from the drier to my laundry bag. I didn’t wash her skirt or blouse, because they’d only been worn for a few hours and I hadn’t exerted hard enough to sweat in them much.

Saturday morning after breakfast, I came back to the dorm to find Randall was still asleep. I undressed, took a dose of jekyllase, and sat down to wait for the change. Then I got dressed, headed over to Utterson Hall, and went up to Emily and Alice’s room.

“Knock knock,” I said, knocking. Alice opened the door.

“Oh, hi,” she said. “Everybody’s here.”

“Hi,” said Linda, who was sitting in the chair at Emily’s desk, while Emily was sitting on her bed. “I’m Linda, and you’re...?”

“I’m Jennifer,” I said with a grin. “Scott’s told me so much about you.”

“Oh,” she said, and then a moment later: “You and Scott talk? Like, inside your head or something?”

“No, not really, it’s just a figure of speech. But I remember what happens to Scott, and he remembers what happens to me — and what each other think, too, though not quite as well.”

“Ah. Then... I guess we’re ready?”

“You brought the jekyllase?” Emily asked.

“It’s in my purse,” I said, digging it out.

“I’ll go first,” Emily said, “since I already know who I’m going to be. And just on the off chance we need to restrain Alice or Linda’s hyde, I think Cynthia’s a little stronger than me. Then I guess we can flip a coin to see if Alice or Linda goes next...”

“You can go first,” Linda said quickly to Alice. “I don’t mind.” To me she added: “I’d have liked to see you change, but I guess I should have said so directly, instead of just hinting that I’d like to meet Jennifer.”

“Oh. Scott thought it might be easier to get here unchallenged if I were already Jennifer. Maybe next time.”

Linda smiled faintly as Emily dropped her dose of jekyllase into one of the cups of Tang she had ready and swirled it around before drinking. A minute or so later, Cynthia sat there. She smiled at me.

“It’s good to see you again, Jennifer.”

“I’m glad to see you, too. Alice? You ready?”

“I guess so... I hope you like the other me. I hope I like her.”

She drank the next cup of Tang and jekyllase. She didn’t change as much in build and figure as Scott and Emily did; she was nearly the same height and had just a little less on her thighs and arms and a little more in her breasts. But her hair turned red, and her skin got paler, with a few freckles, and her nose a little smaller.

“Hi,” I said to her. “I’m Jennifer. What’s your name?”

“Tabitha,” she said in a low alto voice. “Come on, Linda, your turn.”

“Let’s wait a few minutes,” Cynthia put in, “and get to know each other a bit first. What do you like to do, Tabitha?”

Tabitha rolled her eyes. “You want to check if what I like to do is torture and kill people, right?”

“I guess so,” I said. “It has been known to happen. Not often, though. And you seem like a nice person.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“But, yeah, Cynthia has a point. Let’s get to know each other. I know! We can play Truth or Dare.”

Cynthia looked at me for a long moment and said: “Yes. Why not?”

“All right,” Tabitha said. “Truth or Dare, Jennifer?”

“Truth,” I said. I wanted Tabitha, and Linda’s hyde, to pick truth, so I tried to set a good example.

“What’s the furthest you’ve gone with a boy?”

“Let’s see — we kissed, and made out — he put his hands on my butt, and then one hand on my breast for a few moments... I guess that would be the farthest it went.”

“Taka?” Cynthia asked, and I said: “Tell you later. First — Tabitha, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” she said. (Yay! It worked!)

“What do you most want to do before the jekyllase wears off?”

“I want to do something to get Alice and Gary to break up. He’s no good for her, but she’s infatuated with him and can’t see that. She’ll be mad at me, and won’t take jekyllase again for a long time, but eventually she’ll realize I was right.”

“Very self-sacrificing of you,” Cynthia said. “Emily and I agree with you about Gary.”

“Truth or Dare, Linda?” Tabitha said.

“Dare.” Interesting.

“I dare you to take off your clothes and then take the jekyllase,” Tabitha went on.

“That’s two dares,” Linda objected. “I get to pick which one.”

“All right,” I said, knowing she was going to take the jekyllase — that’s what she was here for.

But Cynthia said: “No, I think Tabitha should get to rephrase her dare. You’d pick the easy dare, the part you were going to do anyway.”

“Then I dare you to take off your clothes and leave them off until you take the jekyllase or until you leave here, whichever’s first,” Tabitha said.

“I think that’s fair,” I said.

“All right,” Linda said, glaring at us. She unbuttoned her blouse and took it off, then her bra, then her shoes and skirt... I noticed Cynthia was looking appreciatively at her. Hmm. I glanced back at Linda as she pulled her panties down. “You can take the jekyllase whenever you want, I guess,” I said. “I’m not going to make you stay like that any longer than necessary.”

“Give it here,” Linda said, and Cynthia handed her the last cup of Tang. Before she drank it, she said: “Cynthia, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Cynthia said, but Linda didn’t ask a question right away. She drank down the Tang, and said: “My hyde can ask you — oh, this feels strange —” Then nothing for a while as her body shifted around.

Like Taka, she got shorter and chunkier. Not really fat, but all of us except Cynthia could stand to lose some weight. And while she looked a little uncomfortable being naked before, she was really panicking about it now. I regretted siding with Cynthia and Tabitha about the dare.

Even before she finished changing, she was scrambling to get dressed again. She got her panties on first, but she fumbled with her bra and kept dropping it, her hands trembling. “Don’t look at me, you perverts!” she cried.

I turned my back, saying: “Let us know when you’re dressed. Sorry we made your jekyll take off her clothes.” But it looked like Tabitha was still looking at her, and maybe Cynthia; I couldn’t see her the way I was standing.

“It looks like you’re an easy one to tease,” Tabitha said. “What’s your name?”

“Don’t speak to me,” Linda’s hyde said. “I can’t believe Linda let herself be talked into this debauchery... I’m leaving as soon as I get dressed.”

“Do you need to borrow one of Alice’s skirts?” Tabitha asked. “Looks like that one won’t quite fit.”

“You shouldn’t leave yet,” Cynthia said. “We need to make sure you’re not dangerous to yourself or others.”

“You lot are the dangerous ones! I plan to go back to Linda’s dorm and try to study quietly until this vile drug wears off. No, I’ll flush her marijuana down the toilet first.”

“Are you dressed yet?” I asked. “And we really can’t let you run off if you’re planning to destroy Linda’s property.”

Just then I heard a rip, and Cynthia added dryly: “More of Linda’s property. I think you should take Tabitha up on her offer, dear.”

“All right, all right,” the hyde said. “This skirt is a lost cause, I suppose.”

Wordlessly Tabitha pulled a light green skirt out of her wardrobe and tossed it to the hyde. A bit later she said, “All right, I’m decent.” I turned to look again.

Linda’s blouse was tightly fitting on her, and too small for her hyde. She was showing more cleavage than Linda had. “Do either of you have a scarf or something I can cover up with?” she asked.

Cynthia pulled one out of a drawer and handed it to her. “Could you tell us your name, please?”

“Virginia,” she said. “Are you going to let me go?”

“You seem like a girl who keeps her promises, right?” I said.

“Of course,” she said, looking offended. “So does Linda, whatever else you might say about her.”

“So promise you won’t mess up Linda’s stuff, or spend an unreasonable amount of her money... not more than twenty dollars, let’s say... and you can go, if you don’t want to hang with us. But we’d like you to stay so we can get to know you.”

She glanced back and forth at me, Cynthia, and Tabitha, all between her and the door, and said: “...Okay. I promise. Please let me out of here.”

“Do you trust her?” Cynthia asked me.

“Yeah, I think we can trust her. You can go, Virginia. Have a nice day... and remember the more fun you have, the more likely Linda is to let you out again.”

She didn’t deign to reply, but opened the door and walked out.

“Well, that was a downer,” Tabitha said. “Next time let’s just hang out with Linda.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “What do you want to do now?”

“Let’s get Tabitha’s measurements and take her shopping,” Cynthia suggested, and that’s what we did first. Cynthia did the driving. A couple of hours later, after Tabitha and Cynthia had bought a couple of outfits, and I’d bought one, we went to a nearby restaurant for lunch. I still didn’t think it was the right time to spend Scott’s money on jewelry. I needed him to make me a regular habit; it had been over two weeks since he’d last turned into me, and for more than a week of that he’d been planning never to take jekyllase again. I couldn’t have that, could I?

When we sat down at the restaurant, Tabitha asked me: “So, how long has Scott been taking jekyllase?”

“Let’s see... the first time was a month ago. This is the fourth time.”

“So he likes being you, then?”

“Yeah, I’m a fun person — to be with or to be.”

“And Cynthia, I think Emily said she first took it about a month ago, right?”

“Yes, it was that weekend when you — I mean Alice — went home to see her parents.”

“And this is at least your third time.”

“Just the third, yes. I hope it won’t be the last. I was pleasantly surprised that she let me out a second time — I think I can credit Scott with that. His desire to try jekyllase again instigated Emily to want to be me so she could vicariously hang out with Jennifer.”

“And why didn’t she want to hang out with Jennifer as herself?”

Cynthia paused. “I think I will respect Emily’s privacy and refrain from answering. Perhaps I’ve already said too much.”

That was intriguing. But much as I wanted to pry, I knew it was a bad idea, and I made myself change the subject.

“So, have either of you seen any guys you’re interested in? Cynthia, I could tell you weren’t into Darrell or Taka or Randall... what about you, Tabitha?”

“No,” Cynthia said. “I am more fastidious in my tastes than Emily.”

“I’ve seen a couple that looked good to me,” Tabitha said, “in the stores we went to and here at the restaurant... the guy with the trim beard at that table there, for instance,” discreetly indicating him with a tilt of her head. “What about you, Jennifer? You said you’d let a boy touch your ass and boob... who was it?”

I sighed. “I’ll probably never see him again. It was Taka, Darrell’s hyde. Darrell got upset about me and Taka making out, and said it felt like he was cheating on Emily, so he didn’t want to take jekyllase again, at least not when Scott was taking it.”

“Is there anyone more attainable you like?” Cynthia asked.

“Well... Randall is pretty hot, and not a bad guy, though he’s not as sweet and lovable as Taka. But getting involved with him would be a bad idea; making things complicated between Scott and Randall would be a quick way to make sure Scott never takes jekyllase again.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tabitha said. “That reminds me, I need to do something about Gary and Alice. Any ideas?”

“I’m not sure you should,” I began, but Cynthia said: “You could find Gary and flirt with him, and see if he’s receptive or if he tells you he’s already got a girlfriend. If he cheats on Alice, she’ll break up with him.”

“Yeah, I guess that would work,” Tabitha said. “Can’t think of anything else yet.”

“How is this any different from Virginia wanting to flush Linda’s pot down the commode?” I asked.

“Gary is a lot worse for Alice than pot is for Linda,” Tabitha said. “Unless Linda’s smoking pot every day for hours and never studying or going to class, and I didn’t get that impression.”

“No,” I said, “she’s good at academics. Only tokes occasionally, I think.”

“Well, then.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Write a long note to Alice, telling her what you think about Gary and why. Maybe even propose that she let you test his faithfulness like Cynthia suggested, but don’t do it without her permission.”

“Even if he’s faithful to her, and I don’t think he is, he’s bad for her,” Tabitha said. “You don’t know him.”

“No, I don’t. But think about it, please. I like you and I wouldn’t want Alice swearing off jekyllase because you did something rash.”

“I’ll think about it,” she conceded. “Either way, could you drop me off near Utterson Hall after we finish lunch?”

Half an hour later, Tabitha got out near the dorm with her bags of clothing and thanked Cynthia for the ride. Cynthia and I were alone in the front seat of my car.

“So... what now?” I asked. “You want to catch a matinee or just hang out?”

“We could drive over to Guest Park and walk around,” she suggested.

“Sounds good. We probably won’t have many more days this year with weather this nice.”

As she pulled out onto the street and headed toward the park, Cynthia said: “So, when I asked you if there was anyone you liked other than Taka... did you hold anything back because you didn’t know Tabitha very well? Or didn’t trust her or Alice to keep a secret?”

“No,” I said, surprised. “I would never have proposed the Truth or Dare game... I’d never have told her about how far I went with Taka, or that I was attracted to Randall too, if I didn’t trust her.”

“My instinct is that you can trust her, as well,” she said. “I’m not sure about Virginia or Linda... you know Linda better than Emily or I do. As for Virginia, I think she would keep quiet about what you told her because she doesn’t want to have to think about it.”

“Yeah, she seems kind of shy and antisocial. I figure she’ll hole up in Linda’s dorm and not talk to anybody. I wonder what she’ll tell Linda’s roommate.”

“Probably the truth. Or a small part of it.”

We drove in silence the rest of the way to the park. Cynthia parked and we got out and looked at the map posted on a big board next to the parking lot.

“Let’s take this trail,” Cynthia suggested, pointing out one of the longer walking trails through the woods. “It’s usually not crowded. Emily and Darrell think it’s a good place to make out.”

“You think we’ll run into couples making out on the benches or in the bushes?” I asked, amused.

“Probably not at this time of day.”

We passed through the gardens, pausing briefly to look at some of the flowers and shrubs, and onto the trail. After we left the garden, we didn’t meet anyone for quite a while.

“Dr. Jekyll was apparently repressing some murderous rage,” Cynthia said suddenly. “And it got out when he tried out his new drug. Have you wondered what it says about Emily and Scott, what they’re repressing or hiding from themselves, that we come out when they take jekyllase?”

“Huh,” I said. “Not as much as I probably should. What do you think?”

“You and Scott will have to figure it out for yourselves,” she said. “I don’t want to prejudice your judgment. But I think I know what Emily is hiding from herself. Maybe less now that she’s letting me out, but still mostly.” She took a deep shuddering breath. “I have to tell you this. But I’m terrified.”

I looked aside at her, worried. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said. “Like, if it’s Emily’s secret, maybe you shouldn’t share it, right, like you said earlier when Tabitha asked you why Emily wanted to be you rather than hang out with me as herself...?”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone,” she said. “Especially not Alice or Tabitha. But not anyone.”

“I promise,” I said. “I can’t promise on Scott’s behalf, but I’m pretty sure we can trust him, too.”

“I suppose we have to. I can’t — I won’t hide it, not from you. Or else what’s the point of Emily letting me out...? If we were regular people, I’d wait, tell myself we need to get to know each other better first. But that would be so much wasted time. I already feel like I’ve known you for years. We were born at the same time... kind of like twin sisters.”

“Extremely fraternal twins,” I joked.

She smiled. “Except maybe that’s not a good metaphor considering what else I’ve got to say. A really bad metaphor, in fact. Never mind.” The smile vanished and she chewed her lip for a few moments.

“Let’s sit down,” I said as we came to a bench.

“Yes, you’ll want to be sitting down for this.” We sat down and looked at each other. “Jennifer, I — I love you. That’s what Emily has been hiding from herself for most of her life. I understand if you can’t love me back, not the same way, but I hope you won’t push me away, at least... let us be friends if we can’t be more.”

My jaw dropped. “You like girls...? And so does Emily, secretly?”

“Yes.” She looked really anxious, and I wanted to make her feel better, but a hug might be misinterpreted just then.

Or would it? I hadn’t been around more than a few days. And I’d taken an immediate liking to Taka, and I could appreciate Randall even if I didn’t want to get involved with him, but was I sure I didn’t like girls as well? I’d turned around while Virginia was getting dressed because she asked me to, not because I didn’t enjoy looking.

And other things fell into place, things I remembered from when Scott and Emily were dating. “That explains so much,” I said.

“You don’t mind?”

“No, of course not. Only I have some questions. I don’t know much about girls who like girls.” (Scott vaguely knew that there were girls who liked girls, and boys who liked boys, but he’d never heard most of the terms we use nowadays, which didn’t come into widespread use outside of what we now call the LGBTQ community until several years later. The only terms he’d heard used were clinical or pejorative, and I didn’t want to use them.)

“Neither do I, actually. I want Emily to do some research at the pool hall, but it’s not an easy subject to research — it would be too embarrassing to ask the librarian for help, and... anyway. All I know is that I love you.”

“I like you a lot,” I said. “And... I don’t know, maybe I love you too? I’m not sure what it’s like, how to tell the difference. You’ve given me a lot to think about... like, does this mean that Scott secretly likes boys, since I do? And since Scott likes girls, does that mean I like girls too only I haven’t realized it yet? Or is Scott unconsciously pretending to like girls because he’s ashamed of liking boys? We both think you’re really pretty, even prettier than Emily, but... I don’t know.”

“Like I said, you and Scott will have to figure that out for yourselves.”

“What do girls who like girls even do, anyway? I mean, it’s not like they... umm...” I felt my face getting hot. “They can’t exactly do the same thing boys and girls do, right?”

“I’m not sure,” Cynthia admitted. “I’m pretty sure they start by holding hands and kissing, like boys and girls.”

“Maybe we could try that?” I suggested hesitantly.

Cynthia’s face lit up like clouds uncovering the sun on a windy day, and suddenly holding hands and kissing wasn’t something I was tentatively willing to try, it was something I wanted. I smiled in response, and reached out my hand. Cynthia grasped it, but a moment later her face fell and she said, “Not here. This trail isn’t busy, but it’s not private enough either.”

“Maybe in your dorm when Alice or Tabitha is out,” I suggested, “or mine when Randall’s gone somewhere.”

“Let’s hope so.”

We held hands until someone came along the trail a few minutes later; when we heard footsteps, Cynthia quickly let go and stood up. “Let’s walk some more.”

A couple of minutes later Cynthia said: “You know... maybe Tabitha is out somewhere stirring up trouble between Gary and Alice.”

“You think your room might be empty?”

“Quite possibly.”

By silent consent, we quickened our pace and were back to the car five minutes later. Cynthia drove us back to campus. When we were sitting at a stop light, I reached over and put my left hand on her right, where it was resting on the gearshift. She looked over and smiled at me until the light turned green. We didn’t say much, but we didn’t need to.

When we got back to the dorm, Tabitha was still out, not surprisingly. She’d been there, though; the shopping bag was sitting by the wardrobe, and there was an envelope on her desk addressed to Alice. Cynthia sat down on Emily’s bed and patted the space next to her; I sat down beside her.

“So how do you want to —” I began, but didn’t finish the sentence. Cynthia was already kissing me. After a moment of surprise I kissed back. We came up for air a long while later.

“Do you want to do more?” Cynthia asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I think so. That was...” I didn’t want to say as good as when I kissed Taka, so I trailed off, then just said: “...good.”

We kissed again, and this time our arms were around each other’s shoulders. One of Cynthia’s hands strayed down my back to my butt. That felt nice, and I returned the favor.

But then Cynthia said: “Much as I’d like to continue, I think we’d better stop there. Tabitha could come back any time.”

“Okay,” I said, a little disappointed, and also a little relieved — I’d been apprehensive of where that was going. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s play some records,” she said, “and just hold hands... we can let go quickly when we hear Tabitha’s key in the lock.”

So we did that. As it happened, the jekyllase wore off before Tabitha or Alice returned. Mine wore off first; when I felt myself starting to change, I let go of Cynthia’s hand and scooted over. “See you in a few days?” I said, even as my voice and my mind were starting to change.

“I hope so,” she said. “Here, I’ll stand by the door in case Tabitha comes in while you’re changing clothes.”

I’d brought a change of Scott’s clothes and shoes with me. I had my shoes off before I fully changed back. Once Cynthia was standing by the door with her back to me, I took off the rest of Jennifer’s clothes, and thought about what would happen next.

I was involved with anywhere from zero to three people, depending on whether Linda still wanted to go out with me after today, whether Emily was so freaked out by what Cynthia and Jennifer had done that she didn’t want to take jekyllase again, and whether Darrell ever changed his mind about taking it. It was really Jennifer who was sort of dating Cynthia, but Jennifer was part of me... and Virginia was part of Linda, too. Did I want to keep dating Linda when she had Virginia inside her? I decided that if she could put up with Jennifer, I could put up with Virginia, especially if Linda never took jekyllase again.

I finished taking off Jennifer’s stuff and put on my own, and thought about what it meant that Jennifer was part of me. Was she my subconscious' way of telling me that I was a queer? But if that was all, then why hadn’t I changed the way Emily did, into a guy who liked guys? There had to be more to it. Maybe Jennifer liking both guys and girls was a psychological symbol of something I was repressing, rather than the thing itself. Or maybe I was in denial... well, obviously I was in denial about something. Presumably, if a perfectly well-adjusted person took jekyllase, it would have no effect on them.

“I’m dressed,” I said, and turned around. Cynthia turned and looked at me.

“I see,” she said. “Will you... promise me what Jennifer promised?”

“Yes,” I said. “I won’t tell.”

“Thank you.”

We stood there awkwardly for a few moments before I said: “Well, I’d better go.” I glanced at the clock; it was late afternoon.

“Do you... are you planning to take jekyllase again sometime?”

“Yes,” I said, surprising myself with my lack of hesitation. “There are... things I need to figure out. About what Jennifer means.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Please try to help me talk Emily into doing that research I mentioned. Maybe help her? Or just turn into us again and let me and Jennifer spend a day at the library...”

“Yeah, I need to figure stuff out too.”

I left, lost in thought as I walked back to my dorm.

 

---

---

I have several books in the Secret Trans Writing Lair's Pride Month bundle. Note that unlike previous open-ended bundles, this is only available through the end of June.

“Then maybe it’s something else. Some feminine side that you’re not letting yourself express... could you maybe be a transsexual?”

 

“A what?” The term “transgender” wouldn’t be coined for decades yet, and “transsexual” wasn’t exactly a household word. I’d never heard of it.

 

---

---

 

“So how’d the day go?” Randall asked. He was getting ready to go somewhere as I came in.

“Pretty good,” I said. And enlightening, I didn’t say, both because I wasn’t ready to talk with Randall about it and because, though I felt I’d learned something new about myself, I didn’t yet understand what I’d learned. And too much of what I’d learned myself was tied up with Emily and Cynthia’s secrets. Randall didn’t press for details, but nodded and went out. “See you later, man. I’ll be back late.”

I put in a couple of hours of distracted study, thinking off and on about what Cynthia had said, and then figured I’d given Cynthia and Virginia plenty of time to turn back into Emily and Linda. I went down to the lobby phone and called Lanyon Hall, then waited a while until someone picked up.

“Hello?”

“Can you get Linda Finsbury? She’s in room 145. Tell her it’s Scott.”

“All right, give me a minute.” Linda’s dorm was on the first floor, so the girl didn’t have to walk far. I waited two or three minutes before Linda picked up.

“Hi,” she said, and then: “I want to apologize —” we both started to say. Linda laughed nervously, then said: “You go first.”

“I want to apologize for Jennifer,” I said. “She shouldn’t have let Virginia go off by herself... she should have tried harder to persuade her to stay, or at least escorted her back to your dorm.”

“And I want to apologize for Virginia’s behavior, and the things she said to you and the others. To Jennifer and the others, I mean. That was inexcusable. I guess, if I act like that under the influence of jekyllase... I’m not as nice a person as I thought I was.”

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “I think... I’m not an expert on jekyllase or anything, but I’ve seen several people transform with it, people I know pretty well, and I think there are different ways it can work. Different people have different aspects of themselves that are out in the open, or hidden and suppressed. And the better a person you are, the worse are the aspects that jekyllase lets out. Sometimes it lets out things that you’re afraid of,” (I was thinking about myself, and trying hard not to), “and sometimes it lets out desires you’re aware of but you know or think they’re bad and so you don’t act on them. And sometimes it might be other things. Pieces of the person you might have been if you’d grown up in different circumstances, or something.”

“I think...” She paused. “I think I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone. Can we meet at breakfast or lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I said, and we arranged to meet Sunday morning.

After that, I called Emily’s dorm and the phone rang a while with no one answering. I tried again half an hour later and got Alice; Emily was out. I asked Alice to have Emily call me sometime, but she didn’t call back that evening, at least when I was near the phone, and if she called when I wasn’t there, nobody told me.

---

I went by Lanyon Hall early Sunday morning, and waited for Linda in the lobby, then walked with her to the dining hall. We didn’t say much at first. Then I asked: “So... I know you didn’t have long to get acquainted, but what did you think of Jennifer?”

“...I liked her,” she said after a moment. “I’d like to get to know her better another time. If she were a regular person, I mean. But I don’t want to pressure you into taking jekyllase again if you don’t want to, or talk you into taking it sooner than you’re ready.”

“Part of me wants to take it again today,” I said. “But it’s a bad idea to take it too often... next weekend would be better. Or maybe around the middle of the week would be okay.”

“I don’t need to ask you what you thought about Virginia,” she said. “She’s a bitch... I feel so horrible, knowing I’ve got that bile and intolerance in me.”

“But you don’t let it out when you’re yourself,” I pointed out. “Uh... by the way, did Virginia keep her promise?”

“What Jennifer made her promise before she let her go...? Yeah. But she dropped the key to the drawer where I keep my stash behind my desk. Add mean and petty to intolerant.”

“Do you need help moving the desk?”

“Yeah, after breakfast you can help me with that.”

We didn’t say anything more until we got to the dining hall and picked out something to eat. We found a table with nobody else too near and sat down.

“So... if the jekyllase is telling me I have the potential to be mean and intolerant, what’s it telling you? That you could be more cheerful and outgoing if you let yourself, or what?”

“I think there’s more to it than that,” I said, “but I’m not sure what yet.”

“Probably,” she said, and took a bite of her scrambled eggs. We chewed and thought silently for a few moments before she said: “Don’t take this wrong... but, when we were playing Truth or Dare, Jennifer said she’d made out with a guy. Do you think that’s part of why you change into Jennifer?”

“I thought that might be it, but... I’m not sure. As far as I can tell, when I’m me I’m not attracted to guys.”

“Then maybe it’s something else. Some feminine side that you’re not letting yourself express... could you maybe be a transsexual?”

“A what?” The term “transgender” wouldn’t be coined for decades yet, and “transsexual” wasn’t exactly a household word. I’d never heard of it. So Linda explained to me the little she knew:

“So there are some guys who feel like they’re supposed to be women, that they were born with the wrong body or something. Some of them have surgery and stuff to make them look like women, but it didn’t look to me like it was completely effective — there were some photos in the article I read, and some of them looked like real women, but not all of them. Like they might have breasts but not much in the way of hips, and the shoulders and face were still pretty masculine. Not like Jennifer at all. I’d never know she was you if she hadn’t told me.”

“Huh. Do you remember what magazine that was, which issue...?”

“No, sorry.”

“Well, at least I have a subject to research when I go to the pool hall tomorrow. How do you spell that...?”

She wasn’t sure if it had one ‘s’ or two, or whether it was hyphenated. I shrugged and scribbled down a tentative guess at the spelling on the back of a napkin.

“I’m not sure that’s me,” I said. “If you’d suggested it before I started taking jekyllase, I’d say it was absurd, and even now...”

“Well, it’s just a guess. You said you like being Jennifer because she’s cheerful and outgoing, not because she’s female?”

“Well, yeah. Or at least I thought I did. Now I’m not sure.”

“But she must be female for a reason.”

“Yeah, and I’m going to figure out why.”

After breakfast, I helped Linda move her desk and retrieve the key to her pot drawer, then went by Utterson Hall to talk to Emily. She was out, but Alice told me she’d given her my message. When I got back the dorm, Randall told me she’d been there looking for me.

“You two up to some jekyllase shenanigans?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Does Darrell know?”

“Why should Darrell be jealous of Emily’s hyde hanging out with another girl?” I asked. But I think I blushed a little, or did something that gave me away. Randall may not have guessed everything, but he knew I was nervous or embarrassed about something. He smiled slyly.

“No particular reason, I guess.”

I studied until lunch, and managed to find Emily in the dining hall — she was sitting with Darrell. She blushed when she saw me, and didn’t meet my eyes at first when I sat down across from them.

“Good afternoon,” I said. “We keep missing each other.”

“Yeah,” Emily said. “Cynthia said I should talk to you, and I called your dorm but you weren’t there, and then I dropped by later but you were still out.”

“What’s this about?” Darrell asked.

“Cynthia and Jennifer figured some stuff out,” I said, “and they want us to do some research at the library before we take jekyllase again. Or, you know, take jekyllase and then let them go to the library, but they don’t have library cards although Cynthia could probably get away with using Emily’s.”

“The pool hall probably doesn’t have much on jekyllase,” Darrell said.

“It’s other stuff we need to research,” I said. “Although knowing more about jekyllase would help. We were thinking about researching psychology and seeing what we can find out about repression and stuff like that.”

“Yeah,” Emily echoed faintly, her face still red.

“Anyway,” I said, “you want to join us, Darrell?” I’d realized that Darrell would be jealous if Emily went off to the library alone with me. Having Darrell along wouldn’t be ideal — it would hamper us in doing some of our research — but we could still get a lot done.

“Huh,” he said. “Maybe.” He put his right hand on Emily’s left. “You planning to go together?”

“We don’t necessarily have to,” I said to mollify him. I didn’t want him thinking I was still interested in Emily that way — although, if Jennifer was interested in Cynthia and they were part of us, didn’t that mean I was still interested in Emily? “We just need to talk about what we find out so we don’t waste our effort, both of us looking at the same sources. It might help if we go together once or twice and then map out where each of us is going to do further research.”

“When were you planning to go? I might join you.”

“Well, they close early on Sundays, so why not right after lunch?”

---

On the way over to the library, we decided that I’d start out looking for information on jekyllase, while Emily and Darrell would look for information on psychological repression. Emily and I both had some other topics we wanted to research, but we didn’t want to talk about them with Darrell for obvious reasons. I sort of regretted inviting Darrell along, but — well, he had his own hangups to deal with, and inviting him would make it obvious (I hoped) that there was nothing between me and Emily.

Only between Jennifer and Cynthia, who were us.

I wondered: if I were Jennifer and Emily wasn’t Cynthia, would Jennifer be attracted to her? An experiment for another time, perhaps. But it would probably be safer for us to both take jekyllase at the same time.

We split up at the card catalog, going to different drawers and digging through them for things that looked relevant. Under “Jekyll” I found Stevenson’s famous book about the Jekyll and Hyde case, an unexpurgated edition of Henry Jekyll’s diaries and letters, and a history of Jekyll Island, Georgia, which was named after a different Jekyll. Under “jekyllase” there was nothing. I wrote down the call numbers for the Dr. Jekyll books and went to the shelves with the Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature. There I found several articles about Dr. Jekyll and jekyllase over the last five years, starting with the discovery of Dr. Jekyll’s papers in that London attic and their donation to University College of London, and the first modern synthesis of jekyllase a few months later, and then some articles about psychiatrists using it as an experimental treatment. Those looked promising. Our library didn’t have all the magazines and journals cited, but it had several of them. I wrote down the information about the articles on the use of jekyllase and went to look for them, and for the books.

I met up with Darrell and Emily at one of the study tables, carrying a stack of books and bound volumes of magazines.

“What have you found?” Darrell asked me in a whisper. I showed them the articles I’d found.

“And these might not be that helpful,” I said, pointing out the books about Henry Jekyll, “since he turns out to be pretty atypical as jekyllase users go, but I’m going to check them out and read them anyway. That can wait, though; we need to read or at least skim as many of these articles as we can before the library closes, and only photocopy the most important ones to study later. What about you two?”

They had several psychology books spread out on the table and were looking through the tables of contents and indexes for passages about repression and, incidentally, jekyllase. Most of the books were too old to mention jekyllase, but one published early that year had a couple of pages about it. Darrell and Emily had already read it, so they passed it to me and I read it before going through the articles.

The consensus of that book passage and the articles, such as it was (there was a lot of disagreement between them), was that jekyllase temporarily induced a kind of hysteria (that was the word they used in those days) involving a dual personality, and a physical transformation. That, we sort of knew already. There were a bunch of theories about the dual personalities induced by jekyllase and why they were the way they were; I was more interested in the anecdotal evidence of how jekyllase had affected various people mentioned (not by name, usually) in the articles. It seemed that jekyllase tended to induce temporary sanity in patients with a wide range of psychological disorders, but it didn’t necessarily cause temporary disorders in healthy volunteers who tested it. And if a person didn’t take jekyllase too often — one article said a minimum of forty-eight hours between doses, another more conservatively estimated a week — the dissociation didn’t last after the dose wore off. A couple of them said that poor Dr. Jekyll’s troubles came from using his new drug too often; if high levels built up in the body, they theorized, switchover to the secondary personality could happen spontaneously, and the secondary personality might become the base state. With modern clinical methods, testing the blood for jekyllase levels between doses, there was little risk of that. The lethal dose in rats was somewhere around fifteen times the typical clinical or recreational dose, and proportional to body mass, it would be a lot higher in humans.

That didn’t help us, except to warn us not to take it more than once every couple of days — preferably once a week. Randall taking it twice in one week when he needed some extra hard studying was probably safe, especially since he didn’t take it again for weeks or months.

Unfortunately, closing time snuck up on us, and we had to leave without having a chance to photocopy any of the articles. I said I’d come back and copy the important ones tomorrow between classes. I checked out the Dr. Jekyll books, and we each checked out one or two of the psychology books that talked about dissociation or repression or hysteria. After I got back to the dorm, I kept reading until long after I should have gone to bed.

---

---

My other free stories can be found at:

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My ebooks, previously for sale, are now free on Smashwords and itch.io, although Amazon would not let me reduce the prices below $0.99. My non-writing income is sufficient for my needs, and if you have the money to buy ebooks, I hope you will support other authors who depend primarily or largely on ebook sales, Patreon, etc. for their income.

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“I think those books are wrong,” I said dismissively. “Sure, I enjoy being a girl, and Scott likes being me, but he’s not disgusted with being a man like those transsexuals we read about. I think what’s going on with us is more complicated than that. Or maybe simpler. I don’t buy that everybody who isn’t completely masculine or feminine is crazy, either.”

 

---

---

 

Monday after American History, Linda and I went to the student union to talk some more. We didn’t have long before Linda had to get to her next class.

“Did you have a chance to start that research?” she asked.

“We did a lot of research yesterday, me and Emily and Darrell,” I said, “but I didn’t get around to starting to research transsexuals. I spent most of the afternoon working on jekyllase: where it came from, how it affects different people, how psychiatrists and psychologists are using it for therapy and research, that kind of thing.”

“Sounds interesting. Did you read about anybody else like you?”

“No, none of the articles I found mentioned anybody who changes sex under the influence. There were some articles in journals our library doesn’t have, though, so I’m going to talk to a librarian today about requesting copies of those from another library.”

After Linda hurried off to her next class, I went to the library and filed my interlibrary loan article requests for three more jekyllase articles from psychology and neurology journals, and then went to the card catalog and the Reader’s Guide to research transsexuals. The card catalog had nothing, but I found a few articles, most of which were in academic journals our library didn’t have. I gathered up the couple of magazines we did have and took them to a study carrel. One of them had a review of The Christine Jorgensen Story, a film version of her autobiography, which had apparently just been released a few months ago — I hadn’t heard of it, and it seemed it hadn’t played in a lot of theaters. The other article was a few years older, and also mentioned Ms. Jorgensen in passing, though it focused on some more recently-transitioning transsexuals, several of whom didn’t pass as well as she did. After I’d read the articles, feeling a little queasy, I went to the psychology section and pulled out maybe twenty or thirty books, checking each one’s index for the term “transsexual.” One of them had a couple of pages about it, and another a brief mention in a section on homosexuality.

I don’t want to say anything bad about the people who wrote those books and articles — they were acting in good faith, as far as I know, as were the sources they interviewed — but to say they were generalizing from insufficient data would be an understatement. They had little idea of what we now know about the spectrum of transgender identities, or the orthogonality of gender and orientation. One of them seemed to think transsexuals were a type of homosexual; another pointed out that some didn’t seem to be attracted to men until after they transitioned. (None mentioned what we now call trans men, and they regarded trans lesbians as a rare anomaly, where nowadays they seem to be roughly half of trans women.)

And of course, they all began with the assumption that transsexuals, like homosexuals, were mentally ill — less severely than, say, schizophrenics, who weren’t capable of taking care of themselves and had to be institutionalized, but badly enough they needed to be in psychotherapy until and unless the symptoms went away.

It was all pretty terrifying, and some of the photos of post-op transsexuals were, as Linda had hinted, not encouraging. I didn’t want to think about myself as mentally ill. And Jennifer was, if anything, healthier than me.

I hurried to my next class. I’d missed lunch. For the first fifteen or twenty minutes of class, I couldn’t concentrate on the lecture, I was worrying about what I’d read and my own mental health. Did I need to see a psychiatrist? Was I a transsexual, or “just” a homosexual, or neither — did Jennifer mean something completely different?

Eventually I managed to distract myself with the lecture, and with hurrying to my next class. At supper, I didn’t look for friends to sit with, but sat down in a secluded corner behind some potted plants with my thoughts.

After a while, I decided I needed Jennifer’s help to figure this out. I needed a fresh perspective, and while I planned to talk to Emily and Linda about it, Jennifer was the one who could help the most. It had already been almost forty-eight hours since my last dose of jekyllase wore off Saturday evening, but I wanted to make some preparations before taking it again, and I didn’t want to take it so late in the evening that Jennifer only had a couple of hours to think about the problem (and maybe discuss it with Cynthia or Emily) before she’d need to get to bed. I’d left the library in a hurry when I realized how late it was, so I hadn’t copied those articles or checked out those books that I’d found. The library was open for another hour that evening, so I went back after supper, copied the articles, checked out those books, dug through another ten or twenty psychology books, finding one more brief passage about a transsexual patient, and filed an interlibrary loan request for articles in journals our library didn’t have, plus Christine Jorgensen: A Personal Biography.

In reading those passages about transsexuality, most of which mentioned it briefly in the context of homosexuality, I’d run across the term “lesbian” (which was often capitalized in those days, due to its origin from a place-name) and some other more archaic terms for girls who like girls. I made a note to mention them to Emily or Cynthia when I saw them.

I reluctantly resolved to wait until Tuesday evening just after class to take jekyllase again. Then Jennifer could do her own research and think about the problem all evening.

As I was leaving the dining hall, Darrell and Emily saw me, and Darrell waved at me. I didn’t feel like talking with them right then, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I waved back, and walked over to their table.

“Have you had a chance to do any more research?” Darrell asked. “We should get together sometime to talk about what we’ve learned.”

Emily smiled nervously. “I, um, I found something in one of the books I checked out that might be helpful. If you want to stop by my dorm sometime I can give it to you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Um, yeah, we can meet up sometime. Maybe in the common room of Carew Hall?”

“Sounds good,” Darrell said. “Now, or later in the week?”

“We’ll probably have more information to share if we wait a few days,” I said. “I haven’t finished looking through all the books I checked out.”

“Me either,” Emily said.

“I was actually planning to let Jennifer do some of the research,” I said. “Get her fresh perspective. Maybe you two would get some benefit from letting your hydes read what you’ve checked out and think about it, maybe talk with each other about it.”

“Umm, I’m actually kind of hoping to come to some conclusion before I take jekyllase again,” Darrell said. “I’m not sure... I mean, I enjoyed that time Taka got to show off at pinball, but I’m not sure it’s worth it. I want to hear what you’ve found out about jekyllase before I take it again.”

“All right,” I said. “Well, the gist is that some sources say it’s safe to take it every forty-eight hours, others say you should wait as much as a week between doses. I’m planning to take it tomorrow afternoon, about three days after my last dose. If you want to wait until the weekend —”

“No, it’s already well over a week for me. What about you, Emily?”

“I took it around the same time Scott did, remember? Saturday morning.”

Darrell frowned, looking at Emily. “I don’t think you should use it again until Saturday, then.”

I shrugged. “Well, I’m going to chance it. It should be safe. One of the studies I read about administered it to the volunteers every three or four days, and nobody came out of that study permanently changed into their hyde.”

Darrell looked back at me. “All right. If you’re going to use it tomorrow, I won’t do it until Wednesday at the earliest, just in case Taka and Jennifer might run into each other... And I don’t think you and I should take it at the same time, either,” he said to Emily. “I don’t think Taka and Cynthia get along that well.”

“Um, maybe you’re right,” she said.

“See you tomorrow,” I said. I wanted to tell Emily the little bit I’d found out about lesbianism in the course of my research, but I didn’t want to say it in front of Darrell.

After I returned to the dorm, I spent some time reading the other psychology books I’d neglected in favor of the ones that had a little to say about transsexuality, and some time studying for classes, and shared a joint with Randall. That helped me relax, but not so much that I talked about what I was thinking with him.

---

Tuesday after my last class, I hurried back to the dorm, planning to eat a peanut butter sandwich in the room rather than go to the dining hall for supper. Randall was out, so I wasted no time undressing and taking jekyllase.

While I got dressed, I thought about whether I really wanted to do what Scott had planned for me. I should give him my fresh perspective on the articles he’d photocopied and the books he’d checked out, but I didn’t get to be me often enough that I could waste time just sitting around the dorm. I wanted to be out and about, among friends or at least other people. Well, there was no reason I couldn’t do both. I gathered up the stack of journal articles and a couple of the books and started for the dining hall. Thinking about how good my lungs felt, how easy it was to breathe now, I giggled and ran the rest of the way. Even though I was more overweight for my height than Scott was, I didn’t get out of breath running that distance like he would have.

Student IDs didn’t have photos on them in those days, at least at Newcomen College, and the girl at the register didn’t notice Scott’s name on my ID when I briefly flashed it at her. I got my tray and looked around for Emily. She was sitting with Darrell, as usual, and I made my way over to their table.

“Hi!” I said. “How are you guys doing?”

“Pretty well,” Emily said, not meeting my gaze. “You brought those books...? You want to talk about the research now?”

“Sure,” I said. “Scott wanted to wait until later, but I don’t see why.”

Darrell shrugged. “I don’t mind, but I guess we’d have more stuff to share if we wait until we’ve done more research. What have you got?”

In between bites of food I told them everything I’d learned about jekyllase, repression, dissociation, and so forth. I didn’t mention our other line of research, but said: “...Oh, and there’s some other stuff I want to ask Emily about, later. Girl stuff.”

“Oh,” Darrell said, and blushed. “Well, let me tell you what I’ve found out, and I’ll leave you two to talk amongst yourselves.”

So Darrell shared the fruits of his research, which included some stuff about what we now call Dissociative Identity Disorder. “There aren’t many people like that,” he said. “And in most cases what one personality does and says, another one can’t remember. Not like people using jekyllase. There are some cases where the people’s memories are continuous, but the personality changes; only some psychologists don’t think that’s the same thing at all...”

Emily told us what she’d learned, which wasn’t much in addition to what Darrell and I had shared. After that, Darrell kissed Emily goodbye, and said he’d see her tomorrow.

“And... hey, don’t let her talk you into taking jekyllase again too soon, okay?”

“I can make my own decisions,” Emily said suddenly. And then, “But yeah, I’m not going to take it again before Saturday. Better safe than sorry.”

Darrell looked taken aback, but he said bye and left. After he was gone, Emily looked at me for a moment and then looked away.

“Hey,” I said. “I found out some stuff.”

“Yeah, I found out some things too.”

“So, you want to go first?”

“No — only — well, I should tell you what I was going to tell Scott. Something I found in one of the books I checked out... see, there’s a condition called transsexuality...”

“Yeah, Scott’s been doing a lot of research on it,” I said, and gestured to the stack of papers and books I’d brought with me. “He’s terrified that he might be a transsexual.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I think those books are wrong,” I said dismissively. “Sure, I enjoy being a girl, and Scott likes being me, but he’s not disgusted with being a man like those transsexuals we read about. I think what’s going on with us is more complicated than that. Or maybe simpler. I don’t buy that everybody who isn’t completely masculine or feminine is crazy, either.”

“Interesting,” she said in a low voice, glancing around to see if anyone was overhearing us. I took the hint and lowered my voice.

“Oh, and I found out something relevant to your thing, too. Girls who like girls are called sapphists, tribades, or Lesbians — or just female homosexuals. That sounds kind of clinical, though, like it’s a mental illness, and I don’t buy that either. I didn’t see much about them, though; mostly the books I have talk about guys who like guys and how freaky that is and speculate about why.”

“Oh, good,” she said with a sigh of relief. “I... yeah, I saw some of that in my reading too. Mostly they use the word ‘Lesbian’ nowadays. There are plenty of psychologists who think they’re crazy, but some don’t.” I noticed she’d said “they” and not “we.” After a few moments she continued: “And then there are what are called bisexuals... people who are attracted to both men and women. I think that must be what I am, because even after being Cynthia a few times and starting to notice girls like that... and realizing I’d already felt attracted to girls a few times before and suppressed it... I still like Darrell. I don’t want to hurt him. But... I remember how Cynthia and you were together, and I want to be her so I can be with you and not feel guilty.”

“Let’s look forward to Saturday, then,” I said. “I like you, too, not just Cynthia. But I don’t want to break you and Darrell up.”

“Thanks. Yeah, let’s plan on meeting Saturday... do you want to both take jekyllase at about the same time, maybe twenty minutes before we meet up?”

“So I’ll take it at my dorm and get dressed, and come over and meet Cynthia after you’ve had time to change into her?”

“Yeah. I think that would be best.”

“Meanwhile, I think Scott wants me to read these books and articles, so I’d better do that before I go to bed. Even though I remember reading them as Scott. Maybe something new will jump out at me.”

“Do you want to come by my room and get that other book...?”

“Sure, that might help.”

We left the dining hall and went to Utterson Hall and up to Emily and Alice’s room. Alice was busy studying and said a distracted hi to us. I wondered what was going on between Alice, Gary and Tabitha, but didn’t want to ask.

Emily gave me the book she’d mentioned. “Be sure to return it soon,” she said. “I don’t want an overdue book on my card.”

“Of course,” I said. “Thanks.”

I went back to Carew Hall and read, or re-read, all the articles and book passages. It only took a little over an hour; I read faster than Scott, maybe because I wasn’t as nervous about what I was reading — just a little annoyed. The one I’d gotten from Emily didn’t have much new, and it was written by a guy who thought psychotherapy was better for transsexuals than sex reassignment surgery, which was just pandering to their delusion... I would have thrown it at the wall if it weren’t a library book.

After I finished reading, I wrote down my thoughts in the back of Scott’s history notebook; I’d noticed that we could remember each other’s actions and words very clearly, but not always each other’s thoughts and motivations.

Randall returned to the dorm while I was doing that.

“Hi, Jennifer,” he said. “You going out?”

“No, I had supper with Darrell and Emily, and I’ve been doing some studying since then.”

“Really? Like I delegate my studying to Walter?”

“No, this is extracurricular... Scott’s already been studying plenty, but he wanted my fresh perspective on it.”

“What’s it about?”

I was about to tell him, but something made me hold back. “I’m not sure Scott would want me to tell you. Ask him if you want to know.”

“All right, suit yourself.”

I turned my back while he changed into pajamas, and a bit later I changed into Scott’s bathrobe. I made a note to buy a nice nightgown Saturday; I was tired of sleeping in that bathrobe.

I studied for Scott’s actual classes for a while after that, and then went to bed.

 

---

---

 

My other free stories can be found at:

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• Fictionmania
• Archive of Our Own

Scribblehub is the best place to follow me these days; most things get posted there first and when I finish a story, I schedule all its chapters to appear on Scribblehub in their turn, so if something happens to me, updates on BC and TGS will stop but Scribblehub will still continue posting chapters until they're done.

My ebooks, previously for sale, are now free on Smashwords and itch.io, although Amazon would not let me reduce the prices below $0.99. My non-writing income is sufficient for my needs, and if you have the money to buy ebooks, I hope you will support other authors who depend primarily or largely on ebook sales, Patreon, etc. for their income.

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“If you could be Jennifer all the time, would you want to?”

 

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. I like being me, too, but if I had to choose between never being Jennifer again, and always being her... I think I might choose Jennifer.”

 

---

---

 

Wednesday, I ate lunch with Linda.

“Have you found time to do that research you were talking about?”

“Yeah, I did a fair amount Monday as myself, and then Tuesday as Jennifer.”

“Oh... You were her yesterday? I wanted to meet her.”

“Sorry. I’ll try to get her to meet up with you next time, but I can’t promise anything... she didn’t exactly do what I’d planned on her doing when I took the jekyllase yesterday.”

“So when is next time going to be?”

“Saturday... Cynthia and Jennifer are planning to spend the day together. I think they’ve got some stuff they need to discuss in private, but I expect they’d be glad to hang out with you for a little while before or after that.” I couldn’t say they had a date without betraying Cynthia and Emily’s secrets. And Jennifer’s, for that matter.

“You expect?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure how Jennifer will react, much less Cynthia... all I can do is have Jennifer tell you whether you’re invited next time she’s out.”

“Hmm. So what did you find out from your research, both of you?”

“Well...” I began reluctantly, “...the psychologists whose articles I read all seem to think it’s a mental illness of some kind. Most of them think it’s a kind of homosexuality, but some disagree. Some of them think it should be treated with hormone injections and surgery, but some think psychotherapy or electroshock or something might cure it. Jennifer disagrees with them; she thinks it’s not a mental illness, and she doesn’t think I’m transsexual, in the sense that those psychologists define it.”

“And what do you think...? I guess on some level you must agree with Jennifer, right, since she’s part of you?”

“I’m not sure what to think. I feel better about myself after re-reading those articles as Jennifer than I did before, but I’m still worried.”

“If you could be Jennifer all the time, would you want to?”

I hesitated. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so. I like being me, too, but if I had to choose between never being Jennifer again, and always being her... I think I might choose Jennifer. Except that she doesn’t have any legal ID or money and my parents and brother wouldn’t recognize her as me.”

“That would be a problem, yeah.”

“I mean, I could get a driver’s license for her, but I don’t think it would hold up to serious scrutiny. Those IDs are meant to be glanced at by a bartender, not gone over with a fine-tooth comb by potential employers or government officials.”

“You can probably get better ones, but they’d cost more, and I don’t know who to ask.”

“So being Jennifer full-time isn’t really an option. And like I said, I might choose Jennifer if I could, but... I probably wouldn’t. I like being me just fine.”

“What about the other option, the hormone injections and surgery?”

I scowled, taking a drag on my cigarette. “I don’t want to give up being me, remember? Besides, I’m pretty sure that approximation of being female would be pretty unsatisfying after I’ve had the real thing.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re transsexual. If you were, you would want to be female full-time one way or the other, with jekyllase or surgery. But you’re not a normal — hmm, let’s say not a typical guy, either. Most guys, if something turned them into a girl, would freak out and avoid doing that thing again. They wouldn’t enjoy it and keep doing it.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know what I am.”

“Does there have to be a word for it? You’re you.” She smiled, and I smiled back, suddenly feeling a lot better.

“So,” I said, “do you want to do something, you and me, Friday night, before you and Jennifer maybe hang out some on Saturday?”

“Sure, why not. Let’s do that little thing.”

---

Friday after my last class, I went over to Lanyon Hall and waited for Linda. She came down to the lobby about fifteen minutes later, and we walked to my car.

We went to see an early showing of Ryan’s Daughter, a historical romance that took place during World War I and just after the Easter Uprising in Ireland; we both enjoyed it, Linda more than me. I think Jennifer would have enjoyed it even more. It had plenty of romantic scenes that gave me an excuse to lean over and kiss Linda.

After the movie, we went to a nearby restaurant and ate supper. We started out talking about the movie, but of course the conversation swung around to jekyllase before long. We didn’t get anywhere; we just rehashed our earlier conversations about the puzzles of why I turned into Jennifer and she turned into Virginia, and didn’t come up with any new insights.

“So,” I said after I paid for our supper, “what do you want to do now?”

“What time were Jennifer and Cynthia planning to meet up tomorrow?”

“Around nine. After breakfast.”

“So we shouldn’t stay out too late, then. Let’s go back to campus, and we can take a meandering walk back to my dorm before we say goodnight.”

It was full dark by then; it had already been dusk when we went into the restaurant, but there was a full moon, and we could see perfectly well for our walk. We wandered from the parking lot near Carew Hall around a couple of the men’s dorms and classroom buildings, around the quad, and then around the women’s dorms toward Lanyon Hall. It was cold enough that we didn’t want to sit still, and most of the benches on campus were metal and felt really cold this time of year.

We stopped in front of Lanyon Hall and she said, “Well, good night. See you tomorrow — or I guess I’ll see Jennifer.”

“Maybe me too,” I said. “Look for me at breakfast? And the stuff should wear off by evening, so you might see me at supper. Good night.” I kissed her, and she went inside.

---

Saturday morning I left the dorm early while Randall was still asleep. I ate breakfast alone at first, not seeing anyone I knew well — most people were probably sleeping later than this, on a Saturday — but Linda came in a few minutes later and joined me, and then Emily.

“So, Scott told me Cynthia and Jennifer were going out later,” Linda said to Emily when she sat down with us. “Do you think they’d mind if I joined them?”

“Uh... they had plans for later,” Emily said, “but you’re welcome to hang out with them for an hour or two early on, maybe.”

“Great.” If Linda noticed Emily’s blush, she didn’t comment on it.

After breakfast, I headed back to Carew Hall and up to my room. Randall was barely awake, but not out of bed yet. “G’morning,” he mumbled as I walked in.

“Hi. I’m about to change into Jennifer, okay, so if you could keep your eyes closed, that would be great.”

“Sure,” and he pulled one of the pillows over his head.

Fifteen minutes later, I was knocking on Alice and Emily’s door. Cynthia opened the door. “Jennifer,” she said with a big smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hi, Jennifer,” Linda said. She was sitting at Emily’s desk. Alice wasn’t in the room.

“Hi, Linda. Sorry things didn’t go so well last time.”

“Yeah, well, there was no way to tell how jekyllase would affect me until I tried it. I want to apologize for Virginia’s behavior again — I’ve already apologized to Scott and Emily, but I haven’t seen you two since then.”

“It’s not your fault. Jekyllase isn’t for everyone, I guess.”

“So what do you want to do?”

Cynthia looked back and forth at us. “We hadn’t really talked about that. Last time, after Virginia left, we went shopping and walked around the park for a while, and then came back and listened to records until the jekyllase wore off.”

“I want to buy a nightgown,” I said; “I’m tired of sleeping in Scott’s bathrobe. And maybe some makeup and jewelry, too, and another outfit or two. I think Scott’s made a habit of me and he won’t fuss about me buying girl stuff.”

“That sounds like fun,” Linda said. “Do you know how to use makeup?”

“No, I’ll need you girls to teach me.”

Linda drove Scott’s car, since she matched her driver’s license photo better than Cynthia matched Emily’s. We went to the mall and stopped by several stores. I found a nightgown that shouldn’t embarrass Scott too much when he woke up in it, something white rather than pastel, with only a little bit of lace at the hem. Linda and Cynthia helped me pick out some basic inexpensive makeup to practice with, and I got a simple silver necklace that Cynthia said looked good on me. I would have liked to get my ears pierced, but I wasn’t sure if that would carry over to Scott’s body, or if the holes would reappear the next time he took jekyllase, or what. I should ask Scott if he thought it was okay to experiment with that. I also bought a couple of Christmas presents for Mom; I thought I had better judgment about what she’d like than he had, and I was pretty sure he’d thank me for that. Linda and Cynthia also bought a few things, and as we shopped we chatted about this, that and the other thing.

I tried to just relax and enjoy the day, but I couldn’t help thinking about what Cynthia and I might do later, and about the complications that might arise from Scott and me dating two different people. Well, we were two different people, sort of. But we were also parts of the same person. That thought didn’t drag me down for long, though.

After a while, Linda drove us back to campus, and got out near her dorm with her purchases. Then Cynthia and I drove to Guest Park.

“It’s not as cold as it was last night,” I said, “but it’s not warm enough to sit on a bench and hold hands, either.”

“No,” she said. “But it’s cold enough the park will be pretty much deserted, I think. Let’s look and see.”

And indeed, after ten or fifteen minutes of walking, making small talk and not seeing anyone, we were emboldened enough to start holding hands. We would walk a while, and stop to kiss, and start moving again when standing still got too cold. But we were bundled up enough that it wasn’t as much fun to touch each other in other places besides our hands and faces. And after another fifteen or twenty minutes, we were tired of the cold and wanted to be indoors. So Cynthia drove us to the movie theater and we looked at what was showing.

“Scott’s already seen Ryan’s Daughter with Linda,” I said. “And I’d like to see The Horror of Frankenstein, but the last time I saw a horror movie, Scott had nightmares for a week, and almost swore off using jekyllase. I don’t want to risk that.”

“Neither do I,” Cynthia said, and quickly squeezed my hand. If a bystander had blinked, they would have missed it. “What about The Phantom Tollbooth?”

“Yeah, let’s do that thing! Scott enjoyed the book, and I loved it!”

“Yeah, Emily liked it too.”

There were a lot of moms with kids there, and a few older kids by themselves, but I think we were the only adults without kids in tow. Cynthia and I sat in a back corner so we could hold hands and lean against each other, but we didn’t kiss. I was amused by the cute questions one little girl sitting in front of us kept asking her mommy about the movie; the mother kept shushing her and telling her not to talk so loud, and she would whisper her next question or two, but then forget.

When the lights came up at the end of the movie, we let go of each other’s hands reluctantly. The moms and kids were already hurrying out. “That was nifty!” I said. “Not quite as good as the book, but lots of fun!”

“Do you want to sit here for couple of minutes and let the crowd clear up?” Cynthia asked.

“Sure,” I said. “I’m getting pretty hungry, but if I have to wait twenty minutes to get to the nearest restaurant and get served, I can wait twenty-five just as easily.”

“Yes, I could eat something too.”

So after sitting, leaning against each other, through most of the credits, we left and walked a couple of blocks, looking at the nearby restaurants. I kept talking about the movie, and Cynthia didn’t say much at first, but finally I realized she hadn’t liked it, and was too polite to say bluntly that I had terrible taste. So I changed the subject. “It’s getting close to Christmas. We should do something nice for our jekylls, to thank them for letting us out so often.”

“We can’t buy anything for them without using their own money,” she pointed out.

“That’s why I said do something. What about if we write silly poems for them?”

“Why silly poems?”

“Because I don’t think I’m good enough with words to write a serious poem. But I can be silly.”

“Yes, that might work. Let’s see if we can think of anything else.”

After we walked into an Italian place and got seated, Cynthia continued: “Maybe we can promise them that next time they turn into us, we’ll do something tedious they don’t enjoy doing. Washing laundry, perhaps.”

“Yeah, that could work. Or studying for a test... but I like the idea of doing laundry better. You and I could do that together.”

She smiled.

“And yet,” she said, “I wonder if perhaps we don’t want them to associate the idea of being us with the idea of tedious chores.”

“No, I think it’ll be fine. Remember how Randall gets Walter to do some of his studying for him?”

“And he changes into Walter only when necessary, just before midterms and finals.”

“I don’t think we need to worry. I mean, this is the third time I’ve been me in a little over a week, and even Emily’s changed into you twice.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

After we finished eating and paid for our food, I said: “I guess we’d better head back to your dorm. The jekyllase will be wearing off in another hour or so.”

We walked back to Scott’s car, and Cynthia drove us to the parking lot near Carew Hall. We walked to Utterson Hall and went up to Alice and Emily’s room. Alice was just about to go out.

“Shall I tell Emily when you’re going to be back?” Cynthia asked casually.

“I’ve got a date with Gary,” she said, “despite the worst efforts of that bitch Tabitha.” She glared at Cynthia. “So tell her not to expect me until late.” She paused a moment with her hand on the knob, then turned to me and said: “Thanks for trying to talk Tabitha out of it.”

“Um, you’re welcome.”

She left, and we were alone. Cynthia smiled. “Finally.”

“Yeah,” I said, excited and nervous. We sat down on her bed and she took both my hands in hers. We looked at each other for a long moment before we kissed.

After we broke the kiss, she said: “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I think so,” and I kissed her again. “Did you, um, did Emily get any — procedural advice — from her reading?” I could feel my face getting hot.

“Not much; all those books had were theories about why lesbians like girls, very little about what they actually do. There are probably better books out there, but the pool hall doesn’t have them. We’ll just have to wing it.” She started unbuttoning my blouse. “Have you ever masturbated since you became Jennifer?”

“No... I’ve never been alone. Not for very long.”

“I’m glad... it will make this more of a surprise.”

 

---

---

 

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“If I don’t get my grades up, I’ll get kicked out and lose my draft deferment.”

 

---

---

 

We were still naked, cuddled up next to each other, when I felt the jekyllase starting to wear off. I jumped up and started pulling Scott’s underwear out of the bag I’d brought before the change could go very far.

Cynthia looked sadly at me for a moment and then pulled the sheet up to her chin and turned her face to the wall. “I won’t look while you’re getting dressed,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said, already more Scott than Jennifer by that point. My hips were narrow enough I could get the underwear over them, though my junk didn’t fill it up completely until a few moments later. I silently finished getting dressed, with my back to Cynthia, and then packed up Jennifer’s scattered clothes and shoes in the dry cleaning bag and paper sack.

“Um, Cynthia... do you know where Jennifer’s bra is?”

“Hmm,” she said, rolling over. “There it is, under the desk. I must have tossed it there when...”

“Yeah, thanks.” I bent down, pulled it out and stuffed it in the sack. “Uh, tell Emily I’ll see her tomorrow or Monday.”

“I will. Do you think you’ll take jekyllase again before Christmas break?”

“I don’t know... probably. When’s Emily’s last final? How long is she sticking around after that?”

“She has a Trigonometry final on Thursday afternoon, and she’s driving home Friday.”

“Oh. I have a final on Friday morning, and I’ll leave just after... maybe you and Jennifer can do something early in the week.”

“I doubt she will want to take jekyllase again that soon, but we can hope.”

“I guess you’re right. Bye, then.”

When I returned to my room, I found Walter silently studying. He barely acknowledged me with a nod. I put away Jennifer’s clothes, jewelry and makeup — she never had gotten Cynthia to show her how to use it — and settled down to studying. I might regret not spending most of today studying, when it came time for the exams next week, but right now I was in too much emotional turmoil to clearly regret or rejoice in what had happened, what Jennifer had done — what I had done.

---

I spent all day Sunday studying — even taking a book and notebook with me to the dining hall for breakfast and supper. I ate a sandwich in my room for lunch. Randall also spent a fair amount of time studying, though he went out for lunch and didn’t come back for a few hours. I said a distracted hi to Darrell and Emily at breakfast, and sat with Linda for supper, but we didn’t talk much.

I was irritable, headachy and distracted, not able to study as much as I should, because I hadn’t had a cigarette since Saturday night. Toward evening, I finally gave in and lit up a cigarette, promising myself I’d quit for real after finals, during the Christmas break.

Monday I had the final I’d mostly been studying for over the weekend; the others were on Thursday and Friday. When I saw Emily at the dining hall on Monday evening, she said: “I, um — if you see Jennifer, could you tell her I’ll be busy all week? And I’ve got a date with Darrell after my last final on Thursday?”

“Yeah, she told me she’ll be busy too,” I said. “Studying, you know how it is.”

So I didn’t become Jennifer again until after Christmas break, in 1971. Linda and I studied together a couple of times for our American History final, but we didn’t go on a proper date again until January, either.

The first few days of Christmas break I was pretty distracted, thinking about Jennifer and what she meant, whether I was transsexual or bisexual or what, and about Linda and whether she’d still want to date when I figured out what I was, and about Cynthia and whether Emily would want to keep taking jekyllase, and whether it was cheating on Linda for Jennifer to get together with Cynthia. I wasn’t going into withdrawal from jekyllase; it’s not that kind of drug, but I missed Jennifer more or less the way I missed my friends from school — the way I’d missed Robert since he went off to Vietnam. More at some times than others, when something reminded me of them. I was suffering nicotine withdrawal, having left my cigarettes at school, but with my dad and aunt and older cousins all smoking, it wasn’t long before I bummed a cigarette off of someone and then bought another couple of packs next time I went out.

After that, I was able to put my obsessive thoughts aside for a while and visit with my parents and grandma, aunts and uncles and cousins and friends from high school.

---

When I returned to school, Randall wasn’t back yet. I unpacked my stuff and went to see if Linda was back. She wasn’t, so I went over to the library to see if my interlibrary loans from the previous semester had come in yet. Several of them had, so I paid the postage and copy fees and took them back to my dorm to read. Randall was unpacking when I returned.

I didn’t learn a lot more from the additional articles about transsexuality I’d requested. It was more of the same, with a few more case studies, none of which sounded a lot like me, as far as I could tell. But I hit the jackpot with one of the articles about jekyllase. It was by a psychiatrist who’d had some of his patients try it under supervision, and he described some of the physical and personality changes he’d observed, and how it had helped some of them realize things about themselves they’d been in denial about. One of them was like me: a man who changed into a woman under the influence of jekyllase. There weren’t a lot of details — two paragraphs out of a four-page article — but the author did say that after using jekyllase a few times, and talking to the patient about how he felt about his hyde, he decided the patient was transsexual and put her on hormone injections. He also mentioned that the patient’s sexual orientation didn’t change — his hyde was a Lesbian, and in the months since taking jekyllase and going on hormone injections, the jekyll was so far not exhibiting any attraction to men. (One of the other articles I’d read had mentioned that some transsexuals looked like heterosexual men at first, but when they started taking female hormones and dressing in female clothes, they started reporting an attraction to men. It wasn’t the most common pattern, they said. I wondered if they could have been bisexual, like Emily and Jennifer — and maybe me? — and in denial about their attraction to men until after they got official permission to think of themselves as women.)

That gave me a lot to think about. By the time I finished reading those articles, it was already suppertime.

“You’re already studying hard,” Randall said when I finally looked up from my reading. “I need to let Walter out more often. Or stop repressing him so much and let him seep into me, one or the other. I barely passed a couple of classes last semester.”

“I didn’t do so great either,” I admitted. “I got nothing better than a B, and one C.”

“Still better than me,” he said. “If I don’t get my grades up, I’ll get kicked out and lose my draft deferment.”

We contemplated that in grim silence for a few moments. Then I said: “Well, I’m heading out for supper. You want to join me?”

We walked to the cafeteria together. Once inside, I looked around for people I knew. I spotted Emily and Darrell sitting at a small table, and decided not to interrupt their reunion, so I sat with Randall. A few minutes later, though, Linda plopped down beside me.

“Miss me?” she asked.

“Did I!” We kissed. At some point while we were kissing, Randall went off and left us alone.

“So,” she said after that, “have you figured out anything more?”

“Nothing much over the Christmas break,” I said. “My thoughts just chased each other in circles, when I found time to think about it in between visiting family and friends. But when I got back I found some articles I’d requested via interlibrary loan waiting for me...” I told her about that article and the guy who changed into a woman when he took jekyllase.

“So the psychiatrist who wrote the article thinks this person is transsexual?”

“Yes. And I guess I probably am, but there’s this one thing holding me back: Jennifer doesn’t think so. And she should know. She’s supposed to be a version of me without the denial and repression, right?”

“I guess. I haven’t done the research on jekyllase you have. And when we talked about it a while back, you didn’t sound like you wanted to be a woman full-time.”

“I guess the next thing to do is turn into Jennifer next weekend and let her read the article and tell me what she thinks about it.”

“Or — I don’t know. You could write to the person who wrote the article and talk to them about it, maybe.”

“Huh. I doubt they’d tell me anything more. Doctor-patient confidentiality, you know.”

“There might be other details that aren’t private information, but which wouldn’t fit into the space limits of a journal article. That article talked about a bunch of different patients, right?”

“Yeah, it just had a couple of paragraphs about her. Maybe you’re right.”

I started writing a letter to the author of that article during a boring bit of lecture in class the next day, finished it that evening, and posted it when I swung by the campus post office to check my mail after breakfast the next morning.

This semester I shared one class with Linda and one with Emily. After Political Science on Monday, I hung out with Emily for a few minutes before we had to get to our next classes.

“Do you want to take jekyllase next weekend?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let me talk to Darrell and see which day suits best. But I kind of miss Cynthia.”

“Me too. I mean, I miss Jennifer, and I feel like she misses Cynthia.”

“Have you seen Linda since you’ve been back?”

“Yeah, we had supper together last night. Not a fancy date, just at the dining hall.”

She was quiet for a few moments. “I hope you two are happy together. Things are... not quite right between me and Darrell. I’m not sure what’s wrong.”

“Do you want me to talk to him for you?”

“No... I wouldn’t know what to ask you to say.”

---

Wednesday evening, I went to see Larry Ryman and bought several doses of jekyllase — all he had on hand. He said he could get more by the following week, and I said no hurry, it would take me a month to use up what I’d just bought.

Emily told me that she had plans with Darrell on Saturday, so we decided that Cynthia and Jennifer would meet late Sunday morning and spend the day together. I made a date with Linda for Friday evening; we went out to eat, and talked mostly about our Christmas vacations, and a little about my problem.

“Are you taking jekyllase tomorrow?”

“No, Sunday. Cynthia won’t be able to hang out until then.”

She nodded. “Jennifer doesn’t like to hang out with Emily?”

I shrugged uncomfortably. This was getting close to the area I’d promised not to talk about. “Jennifer and Emily get along fine, but they aren’t as close friends as Jennifer and Cynthia.”

“What about you and Emily or Cynthia?”

I thought a moment and realized there was something I hadn’t told her. “I used to date Emily,” I said. “Last year, for a few weeks. We’re still friends, but we don’t hang out that much when I’m Scott because, well, Emily didn’t want me scaring off other guys, making them think she was with me. And now she doesn’t want me making Darrell jealous.” But the moment I said that, I wondered if that was the real reason, or the only reason.

“Yeah, I can see that. It’s good Cynthia and Jennifer can hang out. I’d like to see Jennifer again Sunday if it suits.”

“I’ll... let her know. Try to hang out by your dorm’s phone for a while Sunday, around ten or eleven, and she might call you.”

 

---

---

 

My other free stories can be found at:

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Scribblehub is the best place to follow me these days; most things get posted there first, and when I finish a story, I schedule all its chapters to appear on Scribblehub at weekly intervals, so if something happens to me, updates on BC and TGS will stop but Scribblehub will still continue posting chapters until they're done.

My ebooks, previously for sale, are now free on Smashwords and itch.io, although Amazon would not let me reduce the prices below $0.99. My non-writing income is sufficient for my needs, and if you have the money to buy ebooks, I hope you will support other authors who depend primarily or largely on ebook sales, Patreon, etc. for their income.

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---

“We know they like being us, or they wouldn’t keep taking jekyllase. We just have to point out that they’ll get more benefit from being us if they change at a convenient time for us to meet up.”

 

---

---

 

Saturday, I spent most of the morning studying, reading ahead in the textbooks and other course materials, as well as reviewing the various articles on jekyllase. I saw Emily and Darrell at supper, and confirmed with Emily that we — or rather our hydes — were on for Sunday morning.

Sunday after breakfast I went back to the dorm, changed into Jennifer, got dressed, and went out. There’d been fresh snow during the night, but most of it had been cleared from the paths by then. Cynthia was waiting for me in the lobby of Utterson Hall, ready to go.

“Hey, Cynthia,” I said, and we hugged. Only briefly, though we wanted it to last longer. “Linda said she wanted to hang out with us some today... I’d rather just be with you, but I wanted to talk to you first before I call her and make up a reason why not. I don’t want to hurt her feelings either.”

“You don’t want to hurt Scott’s chances with her,” she observed.

“No. What do you suggest?”

“Call her up and tell her we’ve got plans for now, but she’s welcome to hang out with us next time... I haven’t seen you in weeks, and I want you to myself today.”

I smiled. “Okay.” I went to the phone and dialed Lanyon Hall. Linda picked up a few moments later; she must have been waiting in the lobby.

“Hi?”

“Hey, Linda, this is Jennifer. Listen, Cynthia and I had some plans that Scott didn’t tell you about; I guess he forgot. You’re welcome to hang out with us next weekend, though. Or, hey, here’s an idea: talk Scott into taking jekyllase in the middle of the week, say Tuesday or Wednesday after his last class. I don’t think you’ll have to argue too hard.”

“Oh. Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. That article said forty-eight hours between doses, and Tuesday evening would be... um, around fifty-six hours from Sunday morning. Wednesday would be even safer.”

“Okay. See you then, I guess. Have fun.”

“Bye,” and I hung up.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Let me take one of those,” and I picked up one of Emily’s bags of laundry and added it to the smaller bag of Scott’s and my laundry I’d brought with me. Cynthia picked up the other bag and we walked over to the campus laundromat.

We weren’t the only ones there, but the only other people there were sitting with their faces toward the door and the washing machines they were using, studying. There was a whole row of chairs and washing machines and dryers they had their backs to. We put a couple of simultaneous loads on to wash, checked again that the coast was clear, and sat down together, holding hands.

“I hope this works out all right,” Cynthia whispered. “But Alice is going to be in our room most of the day studying, she said. And I couldn’t exactly explain why I wanted the room to myself for a while.”

“We can’t do everything we did last time, I guess,” I said, feeling hot already. “But we can do this,” and I leaned over and kissed her. I kept one eye on the door at first, making sure no one walked in on us and the guy and girl who were studying over in the next row of chairs didn’t turn around. But soon I gave Cynthia all my attention.

We broke off the kiss a while later and Cynthia gasped. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered.

“Were you around during Christmas break?”

“No, Emily hasn’t taken jekyllase since the Saturday before finals.”

I nodded. “Scott didn’t either. I’d like to meet our parents, but I guess Scott thought it was too dangerous.”

Cynthia smiled wryly. “I wonder what Emily’s parents would think of me?”

“Scott and Emily probably don’t want us to meet them. To explain who we are we’d have to say that they’ve been breaking the law.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I squeezed her hand, glanced at the door, and leaned in to kiss her again.

We made out until someone else came in and loaded their clothes into one of the washers on our row. After that we studied European History for a while. When we finished washing and drying clothes, we hauled the clean stuff back over to Utterson Hall and up to Emily and Alice’s room.

“Hi,” Alice said briefly as we came in. She was at her desk, studying.

Cynthia and I hung up some of the clothes on hangers and put away the rest of Emily’s stuff in her drawers. We left the bag of Scott’s non-hang-up clothes lying at the foot of Emily’s bed. Then we got out the makeup kit I’d bought a few weeks earlier, and Cynthia gave me lessons on how to use it. She made up my face, explaining everything she was doing, then cleaned it off and let me try. Alice pitched in with advice now and then. On the third try, I got myself looking pretty good.

“Thanks,” I said, and hugged her. “I’m getting kind of hungry.”

“So am I,” Cynthia said. We put away the makeup kit and got our purses.

“We’re going out for lunch,” I said. “We’ll come back before the jekyllase wears off, so Scott can change clothes and stuff. I’ll leave his clean clothes here for now.”

“Sure,” Alice said.

We walked to my car and Cynthia drove us to a Chinese restaurant on the other side of town. Whenever we hit a stop light, she reached over and clasped my hand for a few moments before putting her hand back on the gearshift. When we pulled into the parking lot, we held hands for a minute or so before she turned off the engine and we got out.

“I wish we could do more,” she said. “I want your hands all over me... but Alice is going to be around our dorm most of the day, and I can’t exactly ask her to leave us alone for a few hours without making her suspicious.”

“She might not mind,” I said.

“Do you want to take that risk? Even if you and I were willing to, I wouldn’t want to in case it might hurt Emily. Alice is already angry at me because I said I agreed with Tabitha that Gary is bad for her. If she finds out I’m a Lesbian, and starts suspecting that Emily is too...”

“It could be bad, I guess.”

“We can’t let her find out.”

“So asking her to leave us alone is out. We’ll just have to wait for some time when she’s going to be out on a date or something.”

“There’s a party at Rho Lambda Sigma next Friday. I’m pretty sure Alice is going — Gary is a member. The problem is that Emily might be going somewhere with Darrell that night.”

“And Scott might be planning to take Linda out that night too. We’ll just have to persuade our jekylls to go out Saturday instead, and let us have Friday.”

“How?”

“We know they like being us, or they wouldn’t keep taking jekyllase. We just have to point out that they’ll get more benefit from being us if they change at a convenient time for us to meet up.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Let’s hope so.”

“Emily told Scott that things weren’t going so well between her and Darrell. Do you know what that’s about?”

Cynthia hesitated. “I’m not sure I should tell anyone — even you. But I think it has to do with the issues we’ve been researching.”

“You mean...” I thought for a moment. “Emily said she thought she was — what was the word? — bisexual, because she likes both boys and girls. She didn’t realize she liked girls until she turned into you, but —”

“I shouldn’t say any more,” she said. “It’s up to Emily whether she wants to tell you or Scott.”

“All right. Say, that reminds me,” and I dug around in my purse and pulled out the interlibrary loan articles Scott had gotten earlier in the week. “Scott wanted me to read these myself and let him know what I thought about them.”

“More articles about jekyllase? Or transsexuality?”

“Both, this time. We found an article about a guy who changed into a girl when he took jekyllase. Well, not just about them, they were one of half a dozen case studies in the article, but still, it’s progress. Here...” I found the passage Scott had highlighted and read it aloud. Cynthia listened attentively.

“So the psychiatrist who gave the man jekyllase decided he was transsexual?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why did he prescribe hormones instead of more frequent doses of jekyllase? That would change him into his hyde permanently, right?”

“Yeah, that didn’t make sense. Scott wrote him a letter, but I don’t remember if that was one of the questions he asked. I doubt he’ll tell us much more than was in the article, because of doctor-patient confidentiality, but I’m a little fuzzy on how that works. Maybe he can tell us as much as he likes as long as he doesn’t give us the patient’s name or enough information to figure out who she is.”

“Did that article change your mind about Scott? Do you think he might be transsexual?”

“No, the same reasons I thought he wasn’t still apply. He likes changing into me once or twice a week but he doesn’t want to be me full time, unfortunately. I have no idea if that psychiatrist’s diagnosis was correct for that other person, but I have no reason to think it was wrong, either, except that Scott has me inside him, a lot stronger feminine side than most guys have, and he still doesn’t fit the psychologists' definition of a transsexual. And if their categories don’t cover everybody, maybe they’re trying too hard to fit everybody into one of their categories instead of creating new ones when necessary.”

“That’s possible. Well, let’s hope the author writes back soon, and helpfully.”

After lunch, we returned to campus and hung out in the student union. It was too cold to walk around outdoors, and we could talk more freely there than in our dorm rooms, with Randall or Alice listening. When we figured the jekyllase was going to wear off soon, we returned to Utterson Hall and hung out in Emily and Alice’s room until I changed back.

Cynthia and Alice turned their backs while I changed into my guy clothes, and I returned to Carew Hall with my clean laundry and a lot to think about.

I needed to talk to Linda, so as soon as I put away my clean clothes, I went over to Lanyon Hall and up to her room and knocked.

“Just a second,” she called, and opened the door a few moments later. Her roommate wasn’t around. “Scott! Hi!” she said, and we kissed.

“I just got back from being Jennifer,” I said as I came in. “She and Cynthia have plans for Friday, and she wanted me to check with you while Emily checks with Darrell... you don’t have plans for Saturday or Sunday, do you? We could go out then, instead of Friday like we’d talked about.”

“Sure, that’s fine. Also, Jennifer asked me to tell you she wants you to change into her sometime in the middle of the week and hang out with me.”

“Oh, right. I remember now. We can do that Wednesday, I guess?”

---

So Wednesday after classes, I returned to the dorm before supper and took a dose of jekyllase. I got dressed and put on some makeup, trying out what I’d learned. Scott and Randall didn’t have a mirror in their room, like Emily and Alice, and I couldn’t go down the hall to the shared bathroom to use that one. So I was limited to the tiny mirror in the makeup case; I resolved to buy a larger handheld mirror.

I went over to the dining hall and looked around for Linda. She was sitting by herself, and after I filled my tray I sat down with her.

“Hi, Linda!”

“Oh, hey, Jennifer. How have you been?”

“Well, you know, I haven’t been for the last couple of days. And last time I was out, Cynthia and I spent the morning doing laundry and studying.”

“Yeah, it’s got to be done sometime. What class were you studying for?”

“European History.”

“I haven’t taken that yet. What professor do you have for it?”

We talked a little about Dr. Crawford’s teaching style and then about some other professors Linda or Scott had had. Then she asked:

“Do you mind if I ask you something more about what you said during the Truth or Dare game?”

“Okay,” I said.

“You said you’d kissed and made out with a boy. Who was it?”

“It was the first time Scott tried jekyllase, at a party,” I said carefully. “One of the other people who tried out jekyllase for the first time there turned into a guy I thought was pretty nice. Not buff or super manly, but sweet and considerate and... I don’t know... unthreatening. We kissed and made out for a minute or two until we got interrupted. Then later on our jekylls both happened to use jekyllase the same evening, not planning it that way, and we ran into each other at a restaurant near campus, and we kissed again... but then his jekyll felt guilty about cheating on his girlfriend, or so he considered it, and he told Scott he wasn’t going to take jekyllase again, at least not at the same time as Scott.” I sighed. “It was probably doomed anyway.”

She noticed that I’d carefully not used their names, and didn’t pry further. “It’s going to be hard for you to date,” she observed. “I guess not many guys would be willing to date a girl who’s... um... a guy most of the time? And the guy is dating someone else. Or if they didn’t know you were Scott’s hyde, they’d be frustrated about not being able to find you or get in touch with you most of the time. For the record, if you date someone I wouldn’t consider it as Scott cheating on me. You seem pretty different from him.”

“Yeah, it would have to be someone who knows I’m part of Scott and is okay with that.” There wasn’t much more I could say about that without potentially giving Linda a hint about me and Cynthia; I changed the subject. “What about you? How are you and Scott doing?”

“I think we’re coming along okay,” she said. “I... um, I’m not sure how much I should say. I mean, anything I tell you, Scott is going to know, right?”

“He remembers most of what I hear, yeah,” I said. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. What about... tell me something about yourself. Something you haven’t told Scott yet, but don’t mind him knowing?”

“Well,” she said, after a pause for thought, “when I was a girl, we used to go to my great-grandmother’s house to stay for a few days in the summer. She lived with my great-aunt and uncle, her daughter and son-in-law, or rather they lived with her because it was her house; it was a big house with a lot of room for guests, especially if they doubled up on the beds and sofas. There was a pond on their property, way back from the road, and me and my girl cousins used to go skinny-dipping there... it’s almost all girls in my generation, my parents and my dad’s brothers and cousins all had girls except for a couple of boys that came along later. And one time my great-grandma came out and joined us. She was too old to do a lot of vigorous swimming anymore, but she splashed us good, and after we got over the weirdness of seeing Great-Grandma naked, we had a lot of fun. Great-Aunt Sarah came out and scolded her for it, but she was unrepentant.”

I smiled. “That’s a cool story. I wish I’d known my great-grandparents, or Scott’s I guess, but they all died before he was born, except Grandpa Langford’s mother who died when he was barely old enough to remember her. We’ve seen a photo of her holding baby Scott on her knee, though.”

We talked about our families for a while, and about how I wished I could meet mine while I was myself, but understood why Scott might not want me to. We finished our supper and still sat there talking until they wanted to close up the dining hall.

 

---

---

 

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He obviously suspected that my talk of writing a term paper about the clinical use of jekyllase was a cover story, and that I or someone I knew was taking jekyllase and changing sex.

 

---

---

 

Thursday, I went by the campus post office after class, and checked my mail. There was an envelope with a Stanford, California return address.

The psychiatrist who’d written that paper was at Stanford.

I didn’t open and read it right there, though I wanted to. I took it back to my dorm first. Randall wasn’t around. I tore open the envelope and pulled out two sheets of paper:

“Dear Sir:

“You understand, of course, that I cannot tell you very much more than what was in my paper without potentially compromising the privacy of my research subjects. What I can tell you, I will. I did not have space available to fully describe the symptoms which led me to diagnose Mr. C. as transsexual. No, the diagnosis did not rest solely on the fact that he transformed into a woman under the influence of jekyllase, and no, I would not automatically assume that anyone else who changed sex under the influence of jekyllase was transsexual. I would think it likely, and check for other evidence. But jekyllase is too new and too little studied for us to be sure of what its effects on a patient mean about his mental life.

This is the only case I know of where a person has changed sex under the influence of jekyllase; there are probably only about half a dozen psychiatrists and psychologists researching jekyllase in this country, and not all of them have published papers, though most of us talk to one another to some extent. I try to listen for rumors about recreational use of jekyllase, but such rumors are of course unreliable. Still, if you hear any stories about the effects of jekyllase on your fellow students who might try it, I would appreciate hearing them, along with your estimate of their reliability — did you hear directly from the person who took jekyllase, or indirectly, and how much do you trust the source? And if you hear of your friends using jekyllase recreationally, do try to persuade them against it, or at least to use small doses (under 500 mg) at long intervals (a week or more). Moral questions aside, it is not safe to take it without medical supervision.

“If, in the next ten or twenty years, we treat fifty thousand patients with jekyllase, and ten of them change sex, and all ten turn out to be transsexual by other diagnostic criteria, then I would be more prepared to say that anyone who changes sex under its influence is almost certainly transsexual. But we don’t have enough evidence yet. Based on our limited understanding of the effects of jekyllase, I would not be surprised if other cases of change of sex are caused by other mental conditions. It might be simply a sign of latent homosexuality; the patient might feel that as a woman their attraction to men would be safer and more acceptable. They might associate the idea of womanhood with purity, innocence or some other desirable trait. There may be many other possible reasons; we just don’t know. If you hear of a friend or friend of a friend who changes sex under the influence of jekyllase, I hope you will advise them to see a psychiatrist, and to not take jekyllase again until and unless their psychiatrist prescribes it.

“As for why I treated Mr. C. with estrogen, and may eventually arrange for sex reassignment surgery, rather than prescribing an increased frequency of jekyllase to reset his default state — the answer is simple. We don’t understand jekyllase well enough yet. Until we do, it would be irresponsible to deliberately overdose someone on it and cause a permanent change. No responsible researcher will give someone jekyllase often enough to cause a permanent change, but every year since its rediscovery we have had some cases of accidental or deliberate overdose by recreational users, and they are unfortunately increasing in number. Eventually, studying these unfortunates may give us information we can use to determine when and how it may be safe to deliberately cause a permanent change, but as yet it would be premature.

“I hope this helps, and I wish you well with your term paper.”

I folded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and put the envelope in a drawer with the photocopied articles. Then I leaned back and thought for a while.

He obviously suspected that my talk of writing a term paper about the clinical use of jekyllase was a cover story, and that I or someone I knew was taking jekyllase and changing sex. Maybe writing to him had been a bad idea. He hadn’t given me any concrete information. What he said gave credence to Jennifer’s contention that I wasn’t transsexual, but he’d also said he would think it pretty likely that someone like me was transsexual, and would look for other evidence. Would he find it, in my case? I didn’t think so. I liked being Jennifer, but I didn’t want to stop being me, and I didn’t have any desire to wear her clothes when I didn’t have her body. But maybe I should see a psychiatrist to be sure.

The problem was that I couldn’t afford it, not without asking Mom and Dad to pay for it. And what would I tell them about why I needed a psychiatrist? The truth wouldn’t do, and any cover story I could think of at the moment would sound almost as bad. It would have to wait a few years until I was out of college and earning good money.

(As for the numbers in his letter, the estimates of the number of trans people in 1971 were way lower than they generally are today. This researcher’s apparent estimate (about one in 5,000) was actually much higher than the other estimates I’d seen in different psychology books and articles, whereas the recent estimates I’ve seen are more like one in 300 or 500.)

---

Friday after my last class, I took jekyllase, changed clothes and went back down to the lobby. Cynthia was there waiting for me, and we walked over to the parking lot near my dorm and cleaned the snow off my car. Then she drove us to a diner near the edge of town, where the new interstate highway was being built.

“Alice was getting ready for her date with Gary when I left the room,” she said as she turned off Campus Drive onto the main road. “They won’t be back till eleven at the earliest, more likely after midnight.”

“Great!” I said. “That will give us plenty of time alone.”

“If it were warmer weather, we could park on Otto Hill,” she said, “but given the weather I’m just as glad Alice has left us Emily’s room for the night.”

I put a hand on her knee and smiled.

We ate supper, talking about music and movies and mutual friends and finally circling around to the topic we always came back to, jekyllase and our relationships to our jekylls.

“I don’t know if we have a future,” she said. “Even if Scott and Emily both want to keep taking jekyllase after they graduate, we can’t be together unless they live in the same city.”

“We can write to each other in care of them,” I said. “And even if it can’t last past graduation, isn’t it worthwhile now?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I have a feeling Emily might... never mind. I shouldn’t tell you what she’s been thinking. But she might stop experimenting with jekyllase long before graduation.”

I thought about what she’d hinted at. What if Emily decided to act on her attraction to girls in her own person? That could happen, especially if she broke up with Darrell first. And then she might not need Cynthia as an outlet for a repressed part of her.

I put my hand on hers. “I hope she keeps taking jekyllase for a long time. I’d miss you if she stopped.”

“If she stops, Scott won’t have as much reason to take it either.”

“Yeah... maybe.” But I thought it unlikely. Scott liked being me, over and above my relationship with Cynthia, so I figured I was pretty safe for a considerable time to come. He could change his mind someday, but it didn’t seem likely to be soon. And there wasn’t much I could do to influence that decision, except to have as much fun as I could without getting him into trouble.

We were quiet for a few moments, and then Cynthia said: “Let’s talk about something more fun. I’ve heard that the Grateful Dead are going to be playing in East Lansing in March,” and we talked about maybe going to that show, if we could get tickets. Although quite possibly Scott would want to take Linda instead; he liked the Dead too, though not as much as me or Cynthia, and I wasn’t sure if Linda did.

After a trip to the restroom, we paid for our food and left. I leaned up against Cynthia as we drove back to campus, but we didn’t hold hands as we walked from the Carew Hall parking lot to Utterson Hall. Even if we’d been a straight couple, we might not have; it was cold enough to keep our hands in our pockets.

When Cynthia unlocked Emily’s dorm room and let us in, we had a pleasant surprise. There was a note from Alice on Emily’s desk:

“Gary says his roommate’s gone to visit family for the weekend, so I’m planning to spend the night in his room. Snore all you like without me.”

“Does Emily really snore?” I asked, shucking off my hat, coat and scarf.

“Terribly,” Cynthia said with a smile. “You know what this means?”

“We’ve got until the jekyllase wears off... I wish it could be longer, but I don’t think Scott or Emily would thank us for waking up together.”

“You’re right... well, let’s not waste any time.”

“Let’s not hurry, either,” I said, unbuttoning my blouse.

---

An hour or so later, we had satisfied each other and were cuddling when we suddenly heard a key in the lock. I scrambled to pull the sheet over me, and Cynthia, with more presence of mind, got out of bed and tried to quickly put Emily’s bathrobe on, but the door opened and Alice came in so quickly that she got a good flash of our naked bodies in a compromising position. She stared at us in shocked silence for a few moments until I babbled, “Um, I thought you were spending the night with Gary...?”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” she said. “You... you... I don’t know what. Get dressed and get out of here, you perverts!”

We did. I didn’t find out until much later that a drunken Gary had hit on another girl at the frat party while Alice was in the restroom, and another girl had told her about it as soon as she got back. But that night, we were too busy scrambling into our clothes and hurrying out the door. Alice sank down into her desk chair with her back to us and hugged herself, trembling. I knew something bad must have happened at the party, and I wanted to comfort her, but I knew she wouldn’t take that well from me just then — or possibly ever.

We walked down to the lobby in silence, and then stopped, not sure where to go or what to do. It was late, and the student union, library and so forth would be closing soon. “Want to go over to my dorm?” I asked.

“I guess,” Cynthia said. She looked defeated, and I hugged her, but she pulled away. “Not now.”

“Girls can hug each other,” I said in a low voice as a couple of girls came in from the cold and walked past us to the stairs, chattering with each other and ignoring us. “Nobody will think it’s weird.”

“Maybe so. We should have been more careful, damn it... rented a motel room or something. Or at least put a sock on the door in case Alice came back early. Emily probably won’t want to be me again now.”

I couldn’t think of anything comforting to say. She was probably right.

We walked over to my dorm and managed to slip in unchallenged, which was not always easy at that time of night. I let us into mine and Randall’s room and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing he was out. Although we couldn’t count on that; he might be gone all night, or might be back in the next minute.

We sat down on my bed and I hugged her again. “It will be okay,” I lied. “Alice was shocked, but she’s... I don’t think she meant what she said. She’ll come around.”

“I doubt that. Emily will hate me, hate this part of herself, for making things so awkward between her and her roommate. This is the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“Maybe so... I’ll try to persuade her to let you out again, though.”

“You or Scott?”

“I can’t promise anything for Scott, but I think he’d want to do it too.”

“I don’t think either of you can, but thanks for trying.”

“Do you want to put a tie on the door in case Randall comes back in the next little while?” I thought a moment. “Or a tie?”

“No... Alice killed the mood.”

“We don’t have to do each other. We could just cuddle.”

After a few moments' silence, she said: “Yeah, that sounds good.”

So I got a tie out of Scott’s drawer, opened the door and looked both ways, then knotted it over the knob and closed the door. Cynthia and I laid down with our arms around each other, and she fell asleep after a while. I kept holding her until the clock told me I was going to change back into Scott soon; I didn’t think Cynthia would want him touching her, so I extricated myself, changed into the bathrobe, and sat in the chair watching her sleep.

She changed into Emily first, and I reverted to Scott a few minutes later. Darrell would flip if he saw this, I thought, and resolved to find a way to keep him from finding out.

I put on my pajama pants under the robe and took the tie off the door, then studied until Randall got in half an hour later. He took one look at Emily sleeping in my bed and did a double take.

“You and Emily?” he asked in a whisper. “I came by a while ago and saw the tie on the door —”

“It’s not like you think,” I said, although it nearly was. “Cynthia had a fight with Emily’s roommate and didn’t want to hang around her dorm, and it was too late to go anywhere else, so Jennifer invited her back here... and she fell asleep, and we changed back. I didn’t want to wake her up.”

“Maybe she can go down to Darrell’s room,” Randall said.

“If she doesn’t wake up soon, I’ll spread a blanket on the floor. You okay with her sleeping here?”

“I guess. What kind of argument did her hyde have with her roommate?”

“I don’t think I should talk about it. It’s not even Jennifer’s business, much less mine.”

I did end up sleeping on the floor that night. Emily was gone when I woke up.

 

---

---

 

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My ebooks, previously for sale, are now free on Smashwords and itch.io, although Amazon would not let me reduce the prices below $0.99. My non-writing income is sufficient for my needs, and if you have the money to buy ebooks, I hope you will support other queer authors who depend primarily or largely on ebook sales, Patreon, etc. for their income.

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I was distracted all afternoon, worried about the fallout from last night’s disaster. Would Alice tell anyone, and if so, how would the rumors mutate? How would Emily react?

 

---

---

 

At breakfast the next morning, I looked around for Emily, and didn’t see her or Darrell. I did see Alice, and after working up my courage, went over to her table.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said as she saw me coming.

“I just wondered if you’d seen Emily this morning.”

She said nothing, and I gave up and sat elsewhere. Linda came in a little later and sat with me.

“How did Cynthia and Jennifer’s evening go?” she asked.

“Not that great. Cynthia had an argument with Alice.”

“Oh, I’m sorry... about what?”

“Never mind, it’s none of our business. What do you want to do today? I should do some studying at some point, maybe from breakfast until lunchtime, but we could hang out for the rest of the day.”

“Okay. Do you want to go see Love Story?”

“Sure, let’s check the showtimes. Have you seen a newspaper?”

So after lunch, we went to see the movie, and then hung out in the student union and drank cocoa. I was distracted all afternoon, worried about the fallout from last night’s disaster. Would Alice tell anyone, and if so, how would the rumors mutate? How would Emily react? Probably by never taking jekyllase again, and suppressing her attraction to girls harder than ever... I wasn’t giving Linda my full attention, and she could tell.

“I guess you’ve got a lot on your mind, huh?” she said when I apologized for asking her to repeat something I hadn’t heard. “Have you figured out anything more?”

“Not really. I’m still not sure... of much of anything.”

“Well, let’s start simple. Do you want to take jekyllase again?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to overdose on it and stay Jennifer full-time?”

“No.”

“See, there’s two things you’re sure of. Start there and work outward. Hmm... if it were no longer possible to get any jekyllase, would you want to dress up as a girl sometimes?”

“...I don’t know. Probably not... Maybe?” I thought about it and she didn’t press me, taking a few sips of her cocoa and glancing out the window. “Yeah... I could see that. If I couldn’t completely change into Jennifer, I think I’d miss her enough that I’d... try un-suppressing whatever parts of me she represents in other ways. Dressing up as a girl, putting on makeup...” It didn’t sound as foreign and weird as it had when I’d first considered it, but it still sounded like a poor second best to actually being Jennifer. “Or maybe not that, but doing other things that I used to think were too girly to be worth considering. Reading romance novels or something, I don’t know.”

“You won’t know if you enjoy them unless you try, I guess. I’m not too fond of most of them myself, they’re really clichéd, but there are a few good ones. What about your long-term plans? The first time we talked about it, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do after college. Have you figured out any more about it?”

“Not really... I’ve thought about several things, but nothing really grabs me so far. I need to make up my mind about my major soon, and I realize now I’ve been too busy obsessing over Jennifer to think about it much.”

“Maybe you could consider things you haven’t considered before... Maybe Jennifer is a hint that you might be good at certain professions and fields of study? Nursing, especially pediatric nursing, or elementary school teaching, or something?”

“Huh,” I said, stunned. “That’s a good idea. I should think about those. And let Jennifer think about them and let me know what she thinks.” If I were going to be a grade school teacher, I could do it without transferring to another school, but Newcomen College didn’t have a nursing program.

“Would you describe Jennifer as maternal? Has she run into any kids when you were out and about as her?”

I thought about the matinee showing of The Phantom Tollbooth we’d gone to. Cynthia had been a little annoyed by the kids in the audience, but Jennifer was amused by them, and thought they were cute. I didn’t think she was in a hurry to settle down and have kids (and Cynthia obviously couldn’t give them to her)... even if I were willing to become her full time so she could have a baby. Nor was I, but I did want to have kids someday, and maybe more than the average 2.58, assuming my wife (just possibly Linda?) was okay with having that many.

“A few, yeah. She likes kids, although she hasn’t had a chance to really interact with them one on one yet.”

“And you?”

“Yeah... I could sort of see myself as a grade school teacher. Maybe even a pediatric nurse, although that’s harder to imagine somehow. Thanks a lot, you’ve really been a help. — That reminds me, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

She laughed and told me more about her plans to go to law school after she got her bachelor’s degree, and her vaguer ambitions for a judgeship or D.A. position someday.

---

At supper, I saw Emily sitting with Darrell. I was going to go over and see if it was all right for me to sit with them, but I saw Linda waving at me, and I decided I’d better sit with her instead. After I bused my tray, I looked around for Emily, and didn’t see her.

Sunday at breakfast, I finally managed to talk to Emily. She wasn’t with Darrell; maybe he was sleeping late, like Randall.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m not gonna take jekyllase again,” she said without preamble, not meeting my eyes for more than a moment. “I shouldn’t... it’s dangerous. Cynthia is dangerous.”

“Is Alice still mad at you?”

“Yeah. Yesterday morning she made me promise never to take jekyllase again.”

“Or what? She’s not going to turn you in; she’s got enough of a drug habit that she can’t stand the scrutiny it would bring on her.”

“...I don’t know... she was really persuasive.”

That was it, then. Emily took promises seriously.

“And... maybe we shouldn’t be talking like this when Darrell’s not around. I think he’s jealous. Even though I told him we only talk about Jennifer and Cynthia and when it’s okay for them to get together... but you know, he had really good reason to be jealous. And we don’t really have anything to talk about now that I’m not using jekyllase anymore.”

“We could talk about what Cynthia means and whether you need to be her again to figure that out,” I said. “But... if you’re serious about not taking it again, I don’t want to pressure you into it. Bye.”

I went and sat by myself for the rest of breakfast.

---

I didn’t take jekyllase again for several weeks. I wasn’t sure how much fun it would be to be Jennifer if she was missing Cynthia even more than I was. I did some research on what it would take to major in early childhood education; about one semester extra before graduation, apparently. Nursing would take at least a year longer, and a transfer to another school.

Over the next few weeks, I went to a party at an off-campus house that some friends of Darrell were renting, and on several dates with Linda in addition to that party. We had sex for the first time one weekend when Randall went home to visit family. I hung out with Randall and Darrell, sometimes when Emily was with him, and volunteered a couple of times at the local library to read stories to children. I was nervous at first; I hadn’t had much to do with kids that age since my cousins were little, but I enjoyed it a lot and it made me think more seriously about a career involving children.

Or becoming Jennifer full-time and having babies? I didn’t think about that very seriously, but it did cross my mind.

In early February, when the Apollo 14 astronauts were on the moon, Linda and I were with a small crowd in the lobby of the student union watching Alan Shepard whack a couple of golf balls across the surface of the moon. It wasn’t like the numbers of people who had watched Apollo 11 land a couple of years earlier, but I’m guessing there were more watchers among college students than older adults; there were probably more than a dozen people in the student union lobby in front of the big TV, and more in the common rooms of various dorms around campus. Linda snuggled up next to me on the couch, but as we watched, I got more and more distracted.

When I was a kid watching the Mercury astronauts on TV, I’d wanted to be an astronaut. But that was a transient ambition, as Mark Twain says, and unlike him, I didn’t have a permanent ambition to be a steamboatman, or anything else. I still didn’t have any clear idea what I wanted to do with my life, not even what sex I wanted to spend it as, and I was almost halfway through college.

I made some phone calls over the next few days, and the following Saturday, I drove almost an hour to the nearest town with a hospital to do some volunteer work and talk with a couple of nurses about what their job entailed. I went by the volunteer office first, and after filling out a short form, they had me accompany an older woman while she made the rounds of a ward letting patients pick books and magazines from a library cart. She had something cheerful to say to everyone, and I could see some of them visibly cheer up while we were with them. After that minimal training, she sent me back to the volunteer office and I was sent out again with another cart to make the rounds of another ward, and another after that, before my appointment with a couple of nurses who were going off-duty at three.

Hospitals were among the first places to restrict smoking; even in 1971, this particular hospital didn’t allow smoking in patient rooms or wards by anyone except the patients themselves. It would be decades before they banned smoking entirely, but less than ten years before they restricted it to just a couple of areas. So I’d have to go longer between cigarettes than I was used to, and that reminded me of how wonderful Jennifer’s lungs felt and my last several unsuccessful attempts to quit smoking. I resolved to try again, and didn’t have another cigarette for the rest of that day.

One of the wards I visited was a children’s ward. I had my recent experience of reading to children at the library behind me, and was reasonably confident in my ability to talk with them. Some had their mothers or other visitors sitting with them. Some were up and out of bed, running around the ward playing with each other. Most were more or less bedridden, though, or wheelchair-bound. I chatted with most of the ones who were awake, and their mothers if they were present. I noticed some of the mothers were a little cautious about me at first, and I wondered if I’d have had a warmer reception if I’d shown up as Jennifer.

I paid attention to what the nurses were doing as I happened to run across them in my rounds, but especially in the pediatric ward.

I took the library cart back to the volunteer office a little before my appointment with the nurses. There was a lady in the office doing some paperwork.

“Hey,” I said, “my sister said she’d like to volunteer too, some other time. She’s got a test to study for, so she couldn’t come today. Can I pick up one of those forms so she can fill it out before she comes?”

“Sure,” she said, and gave me a form.

From there I went to the conference room on the ground floor where I’d been told to meet the nurses. One of them, a woman about fifteen years older than me, was already waiting, and the other, a guy a few years older than that, arrived a couple of minutes later.

“So you’re thinking about going into nursing?” the woman, who introduced herself as Mary, asked.

“Yeah. I still don’t really know what I want to do with my life, but I did some volunteering for the library recently — story hour for the kids — and I think I might want to do something with kids. Pediatric nursing or teaching grade school, probably.”

“Or children’s librarian, maybe, but I don’t think there are as many openings for that,” she said. She told me a little about what her job was like, and when the other guy (David) arrived and introduced himself, they kept on with it, and I asked some questions.

It sounded like a difficult but rewarding job. You were on your feet and on the go most of the day, and some of the stuff you had to do was pretty unpleasant — changing babies' diapers was the least of it. The worst part was watching patients die, kids you’d come to care for after taking care of them for days or weeks — or years if they came in to the hospital again and again with worsening symptoms of the same chronic illness. But there was a lot to like about it, too; watching the kids get well, more often than not, and watching how resiliently they bounced back from diseases that would affect the average adult much worse, mentally if not physically. “I used to work with adults, and still do sometimes when they need me to fill in over on one of the other wards,” David said, “and they complain so much more even when they’re not as sick as the kids. Not all of them, of course, you get whiny kids, especially the little ones that don’t understand anything but how much pain they’re in, and stoic or cheerful adults, but on average the adults complain more and are less grateful for your care.”

I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to go into nursing, but if I did, I wanted to be in pediatrics. I thanked them and drove back to Newcomen, meeting up with Linda for supper at the dining hall and telling her about my day.

 

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My other free stories can be found at:

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Scribblehub is the best place to follow me these days; most things get posted there first, and when I finish a story, I schedule all its chapters to appear on Scribblehub at weekly intervals, so if something happens to me, updates on BC and TGS will stop but Scribblehub will still continue posting chapters until they're done.

My ebooks, previously for sale, are now free on Smashwords and itch.io, although Amazon would not let me reduce the prices below $0.99. My non-writing income is sufficient for my needs, and if you have the money to buy ebooks, I hope you will support other queer authors who depend primarily or largely on ebook sales, Patreon, etc. for their income.

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I read somewhere that the ancient Goths used to debate any important question twice, once drunk, and once sober. I had gotten into the habit of doing something like that with jekyllase; I would think something over once as myself and once as Jennifer before coming to a decision.

 

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I read somewhere that the ancient Goths used to debate any important question twice, once drunk, and once sober. I had gotten into the habit of doing something like that with jekyllase; I would think something over once as myself and once as Jennifer before coming to a decision.

Not that I had come to a decision yet, about whether I was transsexual or what Jennifer meant about my inner psyche. But I changed into Jennifer on Monday after my last class and made a phone call to the hospital volunteer office, telling them I’d be there the following Saturday and that I was Scott’s sister, he’d mentioned me, right...?

Being Jennifer for the rest of the evening was a blessed relief from the nicotine withdrawal Scott had been suffering for the last couple of days. I made sure to encourage him to stick with it by showing off what a pair of healthy lungs could do, going for a run around the main part of campus and ending up at the cafeteria to eat supper with Linda.

Coming out and being alive for the first time in weeks, I could see changes in Scott that he hadn’t consciously noticed in himself. I was having an influence on him; he was making himself act more like me, being more outgoing and social — volunteering with children at the library and the hospital, for instance.

Linda called the hospital’s volunteer office as well, and we made a copy of the form the volunteer coordinator had given me at the library, so she could fill one out too. On Saturday, I took jekyllase in the morning and met up with Linda, who did the driving in case we got stopped.

We were split up by the volunteer coordinator on duty that weekend. I was given a library cart again (although they didn’t know I had already done it, and gave me the training again), while Linda and a more experienced volunteer led some games in an event room with some of the more ambulatory patients. As Scott had done, I carefully watched the nurses when they happened to be working on a patient in the ward I was visiting. They set up curtains around the beds for a lot of procedures, but not all.

Did I think we should become a pediatric nurse? Or rather, that Scott should, because I didn’t have any legal ID. I could volunteer in those days; they didn’t have the background checks for volunteers working with children they have now, at least not everywhere. But to get a paying job — no, even if you discount the fact that I could only show up a couple of days a week. I couldn’t make that decision for him, but I thought he would make a good nurse, given training and some experience.

I thought about the changes in Scott I’d noticed when he took jekyllase on Monday afternoon. Maybe I was becoming more like him, too — more thoughtful and slightly more introverted.

But still pretty extroverted. I was still me and he was still him. I kept up a steadier stream of talk with Linda on the way to and from the hospital than Scott would have done, and while making the rounds with my library cart, I kept up the patients' spirits with silly jokes. It was mostly only the kids who laughed at them, but not everyone appreciates great humor.

Scott should let me volunteer at the library, too; I would be great at it.

On the way back to school, Linda and I talked about the prospects for a nursing career for Scott. “I’d miss him if he transferred to another school,” she said. “And you too. But we could still visit each other if he goes to Trelawney College or Clouston University, they’re not that far away and they have good nursing programs. And the world needs more nurses.”

“Despite his filthy drug habit, he’s pretty responsible, so I think he’d make a good nurse,” I said. “I vote yes. Not that I have a vote or anything, but Scott does seem to value my opinion for some strange reason.”

The conversation drifted after a while to other subjects, and then we fell briefly silent. Then Linda asked me: “Have you had a period yet?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t know if I will, but it’s not surprising that I haven’t — all the hours I’ve been me so far only add up to a few days.” A safe dose of jekyllase lasted less than eight hours, so if the first time he changed into me, I was at the beginning of my cycle, Scott might have to use it around seventy to seventy-five times before I started getting bleeding and cramps. And it was possible I kept resetting to the start of my cycle every time; I’d never have a period or get pregnant unless Scott changed into me permanently. I’d lost count of how many times I’d been me, but I was pretty sure it was still under a dozen — never more than twice a week, and some weeks not at all.

“Did you ever run across any mention of someone getting pregnant while on jekyllase?”

“No... I wouldn’t be surprised if there have been some, but they’d probably be recreational users who don’t get written about like the psychiatric patients or the healthy people participating in psychological experiments. Both those types tend to be under observation the whole time they’re changed into their hyde, so they wouldn’t have the opportunity to have sex.”

“I don’t know if it would work out okay for women who change into a different woman, like me... not that Virginia would ever let herself get pregnant; even if I were married to somebody, she wouldn’t consider herself married to him. But I bet it would be a disaster for you and Scott. Either he’d be stuck as you for at least nine months, and maybe you’d become the base state and have to take jekyllase to turn back into him, and have to live with no money or home or proof of identity in the meantime — or you’d change back, and he’d have a dying baby in his abdominal cavity, rotting and making him sick, maybe killing him.”

I thought about it. “Yeah, that could happen. I’d better make sure it doesn’t, unless Scott figures out a way around the identity problem and decides he wants to be me full-time. What brought on that question?”

I knew that wouldn’t be a problem if I were involved with a woman, of course, and I was pretty sure I’d prefer that overall even if the risk of pregnancy despite precautions wasn’t an issue. I wondered —

After a few moments, Linda said: “I’m not sure. Back at the restaurant, there was that couple with the little girl and the baby, I’m not sure if it was a boy or a girl — pretty darn cute either way — anyway. Seeing that does things to a girl. Makes her think about whether she wants to have babies, or reminds her that she’s already decided she does, or makes her glad she doesn’t — she can’t ignore it like a guy does. Do you think that way, too, or is there enough Scott in you that it doesn’t affect you?”

“I like kids,” I said. “But I think I’ll let Scott do his share of making the babies; I can be their groovy aunt who comes to visit when he’s out running errands, or whatever. Until they’re old enough to understand who I am.”

“Do you regret not being able to have kids?”

“Not any more than I regret not being able to be me full-time. It’s no use regretting the impossible.”

We didn’t say much for a while after that.

---

The worst of the nicotine withdrawal had passed, but it was still pretty bad for another week, and intermittently bad for several more weeks. I took jekyllase as often as I safely could, cutting it pretty close sometimes, promising myself I’d let myself be Jennifer in just a couple of days — just a day — just a few hours, if I could manage to stay away from cigarettes that long. A couple of times early on, when I was too headachy, sleep-deprived and irritable to concentrate on a lecture or textbook, I thought about giving up and trying to quit smoking again in the summer, when it wouldn’t interfere with school. But I wouldn’t be able to take breaks as Jennifer, living with my parents. Rooming with Randall, who was still smoking, didn’t make it any easier; but living at home with Dad smoking around me would be just as hard. I took to spending more and more time down in the common room or at the student union, often with Linda.

I volunteered at the library several times as Jennifer, and returned to the hospital as her one Sunday as well.

I’d been able to get tickets to the Grateful Dead concert Cynthia had told me about in East Lansing, which wasn’t too far away. They would be playing in Chicago, too, which was closer, but that show was midweek and we’d have to miss some classes to go to it, which Linda wasn’t willing to do.

One day when Linda and I were snacking at the student union between classes, chatting about our plans for that weekend trip, she said: “Could you bring a dose of jekyllase?”

“Sure,” I said. “You want Jennifer along for part of it? Which part?”

“Maybe Sunday for the drive back? Or, I don’t know, maybe she’d like to enjoy the concert itself, if you don’t mind. Time it so the dose would wear off about the time the show’s over and we get back to our motel.” She rubbed my foot with hers under the table.

I vaguely remembered something Jennifer had thought about briefly. I wasn’t sure about it myself, but if it worked out, it could solve one of our problems neatly.

“I’d want to give it some extra time if I go to the concert as Jennifer,” I said. “In case we get stuck in traffic, getting out of the concert parking, or if the show runs later than we expect. So if things go better than we expect, you’d have an hour or so with Jennifer at the motel before she changes back into me.”

“But there wouldn’t be any danger of you changing back while we’re still at the show, or in the car stuck in traffic on the way to the motel — yeah, that makes sense. Would you rather go to the concert as you or as Jennifer?”

“Jennifer actually gets more enjoyment out of music than I do,” I said. “So if you don’t mind —”

“No, it’s cool, as long as we have some time alone together at the motel.”

“Late Saturday night and Sunday morning both; we don’t have to check out until eleven.”

---

So the following Saturday, we left in the late morning. In a gas station restroom about halfway to East Lansing, I changed into Jennifer, figuring the dose would last until around midnight. And from there we went on to the motel and checked in — the staff weren’t suspicious of a pair of girls renting a room, as they might have been (but probably wouldn’t, even back then) of a guy and girl with no wedding rings. We rested a few minutes and then went to the venue, the Jenison Field House. It mostly served as a sports arena for Michigan State University, but this weekend it was full of Deadheads and a fair number of more casual fans like Linda and me. We had a great time before the show, chatting with other people waiting in line to get in, and later those sitting near us inside. A few had been following the Dead around the country from show to show, a practice that became more prevalent later on with fans of the Dead and bands like them.

That wasn’t the best venue for dancing to the music that I’ve ever been to, but it was still special, the first concert I’d ever been to as Jennifer. After I started dancing, along with a lot of other people around us, Linda joined in, and we lost ourselves in the music.

Hours later, we returned to the motel, tired but happy. I was nervously excited about my plans, hoping that they’d work out and that I wouldn’t mess things up for Scott. He’d implicitly given me permission to do this by taking the jekyllase when he did. The traffic wasn’t as bad as we’d feared, and we got back to the motel with well over an hour before the jekyllase would wear off.

In the car on the way to the motel, we chatted happily about the concert and the people we’d met. “You dance so well,” she said. “I don’t have that kind of rhythm.”

“You’re not bad,” I said. “You loosened up a lot after the first couple of songs.”

“Thanks.”

“So,” I continued, “you looking forward to me checking out and Scott coming back?”

“Um... no offense, but yeah. We’ve kind of got plans for later.” She giggled. We hadn’t brought any weed into the venue, not knowing whether bags would be searched or not, but other people had, and she’d shared a couple of joints with the people sitting on either side of us. Recently enough to affect Linda’s driving? I don’t think so, but at this date I’m not sure. In any case, we got lucky, and didn’t have an accident.

“Yeah, I know, remember?”

“Oh, right. You know everything he knows.”

“Pretty much. And...” I giggled, too. “I know something you might find interesting.”

“What?”

“In fact, I know some things he doesn’t know,” I hinted coyly, “or I would if he didn’t know everything I know too.”

“What is it?”

“How to make a woman happy.”

“Yeah, that makes sense, 'cause you are a woman. Um. I remember Scott saying he remembers most of what happens to you, and a lot of what you think about... I guess that means he understands women better than other men?”

“Probably,” I said. “And I understand men better than you probably do. At least I understand Scott, if not men in general. But my point is,” I added, dragging myself back on topic, “what Scott learned from being me is a big part of why he’s able to satisfy you so well. He wasn’t that good a lover when he dated Emily last year, or Barbara back in high school.”

“Oh,” she said, and it was hard to be sure in the dark, but I think she was blushing. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. If jekyllase would turn me into a man, and he wasn’t a stuck-up bitch like Virginia, I’d take it more often.”

“You might learn something,” I said, getting turned on at the thought of Linda as a man. Not that I wasn’t already.

She didn’t seem to have quite twigged to what I was getting at, and I didn’t press it any more just then. We got to our motel a few minutes later and hurried inside, then took off our coats, hats and scarves. Linda lighted up a joint and toked.

“So how long until Scott comes back?”

“Probably over an hour,” I said. “Long enough for me to show you what I was talking about earlier... if you’re interested. No problem if you’re not, of course.”

“What?” She blinked and took another drag. Then a light bulb went on. “You mean... like...”

“If you want,” I said, putting my hand on hers.

“Uh... but how?”

“I can show you or I can explain. I know which would be more fun.”

This time I could easily see her blush.

“But... wouldn’t that be cheating on Scott? Because I remember I told you that it would be okay if you dated someone else because you’re a different person, and — and —”

“It’s just a suggestion,” I said. “But Scott’s okay with it. We’ve been planning to ask you for a while, just not sure who should do the asking. It’s why Scott took the jekyllase so late in the day. Not just in case the show ran late or traffic was heavy and I might change back in the car or the Field House, but so we’d have time for this if you liked the idea.”

“Um, maybe. I’ve never — I don’t know how it works.”

“I didn’t know how a few months ago. You can learn. Let me show you a good time first.”

After chewing her lip for a few moments, looking me up and down speculatively, she said: “All right. How do we...?”

“We could start by taking our clothes off. Or each other’s.”

 

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I haven't gotten any comments in several chapters, and not many for the last several chapters before that. Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think of the story. This is reminding me why I mostly post on Scribblehub these days, and making me wonder if I want to keep reposting things here as well.

My other free stories can be found at:

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Scribblehub is the best place to follow me these days; most things get posted there first, and when I finish a story, I schedule all its chapters to appear on Scribblehub at weekly intervals, so if something happens to me, updates on BC and TGS will stop but Scribblehub will still continue posting chapters until they're done.

My ebooks, previously for sale, are now free on Smashwords and itch.io, although Amazon would not let me reduce the prices below $0.99. My non-writing income is sufficient for my needs, and if you have the money to buy ebooks, I hope you will support other queer authors who depend primarily or largely on ebook sales, Patreon, etc. for their income.

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“Are you regretting changing schools and majors?” she asked.

“No. I still think this is the right thing to do. I’ve been volunteering at the hospital when I have time to spare from studying, and the more I do that, the more sure I am that I want to be a nurse.”

 

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An hour or so later, cuddling a very satisfied Linda, I felt myself starting to change back into Scott. She murmured sleepily “Jennifer? What are you — oh!”

She rolled over and saw my breasts flattening out and growing Scott’s sparse chest hairs. And then lifted the sheet and smiled in satisfaction at what was growing in further down...

“Miss me?” I said.

“Not as much as you might think,” she said playfully, “but I’m glad to see you.”

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We stayed in bed a pretty long time the next morning before showering and going out to get breakfast and bring it back to the room. We didn’t talk a lot about what had happened the night before, but as far as I could tell, she was happy with it. But as we sat in the hotel room, eating bagels and getting ready for one last go-round before checkout time, I asked her: “So would you like to do that again sometime? Not now, because if I change into Jennifer now you’ll have to do all the driving...”

And she said: “Yeah. Maybe next time one of our roommates goes home for the weekend.”

We returned to school without incident, and found several occasions to be together privately, either as Scott and Linda or Jennifer and Linda, between then and the end of the school year. But by then I’d decided to transfer to Clouston University and start their nursing program in the Fall. I wasn’t sure if we could make it work as a long-distance relationship, but we agreed to try.

I drove to the other end of the state to visit Linda about halfway through the summer and we spent a weekend together, spending a decent amount of time with her parents and sister and brother, but most of it more or less alone, out and about from just after breakfast until just before supper on Saturday. I was Jennifer for most of that time, one of only a couple of times I was able to be Jennifer that summer. I used up my last dose of jekyllase the weekend of my parents' anniversary, when they went off on a mini-vacation and left me alone. I still wasn’t sure if I was ready to tell them about Jennifer, or if I ever would be. My dad had grumbled a little about my decision to go to nursing school, but he hadn’t refused me any further help with school, which I’d been half afraid of.

And that weekend of my parents' anniversary was the last time I was able to be Jennifer for a long time. Moving to Clouston University, where I didn’t know anybody, I knew it would take time to get to know people and find out who could be relied on to supply it in a pure, reasonably safe form. Larry Ryman had graduated, and Randall said the other dealers at Newcomen College didn’t have jekyllase, as far as he knew. And I was extremely busy with classes and studying, so I didn’t have a lot of time to meet new people outside of class. I was taking a more than full course load to try to catch up with science and math courses I should have taken earlier, if I’d known what I wanted to do — chemistry, biology, anatomy, statistics, and so forth. It was the chemistry courses that eventually enabled me to become Jennifer again, but I didn’t feel comfortable trying to make my own jekyllase until I’d taken all the chemistry courses my nursing major required, and maybe another advanced elective or two.

My new roommate wasn’t somebody I would trust with information about Jennifer, either; he was as straight as they come. (Straight in the sense we used the word in 1971, I mean, as well as in the sense we use it today.) I gave all of Jennifer’s clothes, her purse, and jewelry to Linda for safekeeping until I could find a new source for jekyllase or learned how to make it myself.

It took me until near the end of my first semester to find any kind of dealer, and he didn’t know where he could get jekyllase, or much of anything else besides pot, although he promised to ask some discreet questions.

I went to visit Linda at her parents' house for a couple of days during Christmas break that year, and confided in her how stressed I was about school, how much I’d missed her, and how much I was still missing Jennifer.

“Are you regretting changing schools and majors?” she asked.

“No. I still think this is the right thing to do. I’ve been volunteering at the hospital when I have time to spare from studying, and the more I do that, the more sure I am that I want to be a nurse. But I haven’t made a lot of friends at Clouston yet. I was at Newcomen six or seven months before I really made friends with anyone, and that was with a much lighter courseload.”

“I miss Jennifer too,” she said. “But I’m sure she’ll be back someday. Is there something else you can do to... I don’t know... bring her out more?”

“Yes, I think so, and I’d like your help.”

Earlier, I’d said that I had no desire to wear Jennifer’s clothes when I wasn’t her. That was easy to say when I could change into Jennifer, if not whenever I wanted, at least several times a month. But now? I missed her personality, but I missed her femininity in particular, and I wondered if I could maybe do something about that. Unsatisfying, maybe, but better than nothing.

Linda took my measurements and went out to buy a few things that might approximately fit me. While her parents were out, I shaved my face, arms, and legs and tried them on. They mostly fit, and though I didn’t look great, it was nowhere near as bad as I’d expected. I put on makeup, trying to remember the lessons Cynthia and Alice had given Jennifer and getting some help from Linda with the bits I couldn’t quite recall. Then we drove to Chicago, and after some looking and asking around, found a place that sold what are now called breast forms and a couple of girdles to give my waist approximately the right shape. Armed with those, we went shopping and bought a few more things in the sizes my male body needed. That was a pretty satisfying weekend; not as good, in most ways, as the times I’d been Jennifer, but a much closer substitute than I could have imagined.

Linda called me Jennifer a couple of times that day, and it bothered me. I didn’t feel like Jennifer. I didn’t entirely feel like Scott, either. After thinking about it off and on all day, I asked Linda to call me Cheryl when I was like that.

The sex that night at the motel outside Chicago was better than we’d had in months, too.

For almost a year longer, occasional weekends of visiting Linda, dressing up as Cheryl and going out were the only respite my feminine side had — besides studying nursing in classes where, as I finished my core classes and got into major classes, nearly all of my classmates were women. I was slow to make friends with the women in my classes, though. Some were interested until they found out I had a steady girlfriend at another college, and then lost interest; others weren’t interested in talking to me at all. By the time I decided I knew enough chemistry to try making my own jekyllase, my closest friend at Clouston University was Tim Clipsby, a nursing student almost a year younger than me. He was an occasional toker, though not often enough or copiously enough to interfere with studying, and I spent some time over at his room relaxing from the stress of studying — and the stress of hanging out with my own roommate. And I decided to trust him when I prepared to make up my first batch of jekyllase, partly because I knew he wasn’t going to be judgmental about moderate drug use, and partly because he was better at chemistry than me.

“Say, Tim,” I asked, “have you ever heard of jekyllase? Or tried it?”

“I’ve heard a little about it, but never tried it,” he said.

“I used to have a regular source for it back at Newcomen,” I said. “I haven’t used it since my source there graduated. But I’ve been doing some research, and I think I can make it with the resources we’ve got here. None of the ingredients are all that expensive or hard to get, much less illegal.”

“You used to use it, then? What’s your other self like?”

This was the moment of truth that might destroy my fledgling friendship with Tim. I took a deep breath and said: “A girl. Her name’s Jennifer, and I haven’t been her in a year and a half, and I miss her.”

“Huh,” he said, and then nothing else for half a minute. Then: “Freaky. What’s it like?”

“She’s more cheerful and outgoing than me,” I said, taking his question in a different sense than he’d probably intended it. “So bright and optimistic and friendly. Since I first changed into her a couple of years ago, I’ve tried to bring some of that out in my everyday life, but I don’t think I’ve succeeded all that well. She’s the reason I got into nursing, actually — that’s the biggest change I’ve made because of her. And seeing what it felt like to breathe with her healthy lungs got me to quit smoking — even after all this time, my lungs aren’t as good as hers, but they’re better than they used to be.”

“But what’s the sex like? I mean, if you used to change into her regularly, you must have been getting some, right?”

“Oh, yeah, the sex is amazing,” I said, descending to his level, and immediately hating myself for it. He pressed for more details, but I didn’t want to profane what Cynthia and Jennifer had, or Linda and Jennifer, by talking about what they’d done in that way. It seemed as if it would be a violation of Jennifer’s privacy, as well as Linda and Cynthia’s. And Emily’s. So I kept it vague, saying: “Female orgasms are pretty great, but... I don’t want to go into detail. It wouldn’t be doing right by my partners.”

“A girl doesn’t kiss and tell,” he said. “But a guy does. Which are you?”

“Both,” I said after a moment of hesitation. “Mostly a guy, but I don’t want to give up being a girl once in a while just because the dealers on this campus don’t want to carry jekyllase. Do you want to find out what you’ve got inside you?”

I bought most of the supplies myself, dipping into the university’s chem lab supplies only for stuff we needed only a tiny amount of that wouldn’t be missed. Tim and I worked on it under cover of an extra credit project, and more than half the time we spent in the lab together was actually devoted to the project we’d come up with as cover. The boost to our grades couldn’t hurt.

And in the end, we had a hundred doses of jekyllase. I got three-quarters of it because I’d done the research on how to make it, and bought the supplies, while Tim got the other quarter for his help making it and being a second pair of eyes to make sure I didn’t miss anything. We did tests to make sure we had the right stuff and that it was pure, and then we divided it up, finished up our extra credit project, and went back to our dorms.

Jennifer’s clothes were in storage at Linda’s parents' house, and there was no convenient way to get at them before Thanksgiving. The Friday after Tim and I finished making the jekyllase, I made a trip to a nearby town where nobody knew me to buy clothes in Jennifer’s sizes, and later that evening, we got together in Tim’s dorm room with his roommate, Chuck Shelton, and Chuck’s girlfriend Nancy. “Tim, you should take yours first,” I said. “On the rare chance that your hyde is violent or self-destructive and needs to be restrained, I’m a little stronger than Jennifer, and Chuck looks like he’s stronger than you. If your hyde is okay, and Nancy’s, then Chuck can take his next — the rest of us together could restrain his hyde if necessary — and then I’d take mine last and change into Jennifer.”

“How likely is it that I’d change into a girl?” Chuck asked. “I’m not quite sure about this.” He was a music major, and sometimes used harder drugs than me or Tim, but not often enough to get himself kicked out.

“Vanishingly unlikely,” I said. “Of all the people I’ve ever heard of who took jekyllase, only three changed sex, me and one other guy and one girl. I’ve read every paper on jekyllase that’s been published in the last seven years, and picked up a lot of rumors about recreational use.”

“Admit it, you’re curious,” Tim said, and nudged Chuck.

“Yeah, I guess I am. Not about being a girl, though I guess I do wonder what that would be like, but about what else I might have hidden inside me. Go on, Tim.”

Tim chugged the orange juice with jekyllase dissolved in it and soon began to change. His muscles got denser and he got slightly taller, as his body redistributed mass in a similar way to what I’d seen with Cynthia a couple of years earlier. Tim had had boyish good looks, marred by a few acne scars, but this guy was more ruggedly handsome. He looked down at himself, then around the room at us.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Scott, what’s your name?”

“Dean,” he said, and put a hand on Nancy’s knee. “You’re next, right, babe?”

We should have waited and gotten to know more about Dean first, or just taken a hint from his behavior right there, but Nancy just scooted away from him closer to Chuck, and nodded. “Give it to me before I change my mind.”

So I handed her the next shot glass, and in five or six sips she drained it. It was already having a visible effect before she took the last sip. Her face developed worse acne than Tim had had before he’d changed into Dean, her eyes took on a slightly squinty look, and then she got a bit shorter and fat began to redistribute itself around her body, leaving her looking a lot plainer and less attractive. She looked around and said, “I think I need glasses.”

Dean mocked her, saying “What you need is a paper bag.”

“Hey!” Chuck yelled. “Leave my girl alone,” and I added, “Yeah, don’t be like that.”

“You still like me?” the girl asked Chuck.

“Well, to be honest, jekyllase didn’t do you any favors and you probably shouldn’t take it again. But I still love you no matter what you look like.”

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Charlotte,” she said in little more than a whisper. Then she turned to Chuck and said, “Are you sure? I’m not really Nancy —”

Dean interrupted, saying to me: “Hey, Scott, what about if you take yours next? I hope Jennifer looks better than Charlotte here, we need something to feast the eyes on now that Nancy’s gone.”

“We know Jennifer’s safe,” I said, ignoring his comment. “We can’t be a hundred percent certain about Chuck, though, and just in case his hyde is dangerous, it’s going to be easier for you and me to restrain him than you and Jennifer.”

I was starting to wonder if Dean himself might be dangerous, if not to me and Chuck, at least to Jennifer. But I hadn’t been Jennifer in so long and missed her so much, my judgment was impaired. I’d waited so long, I should have been willing and able to wait a few more weeks until Linda and I could spend a weekend together... but Tim wanted to try it himself, of course, and had soon talked Chuck into it, who talked Nancy into it, and I didn’t want them to try it for the first time without an experienced user there to guide them.

“You think I might turn into a jerk like Dean there?” Chuck said. “Or —” He glanced at Charlotte.

“There’s no telling,” I said. “It’s not all that likely, but it could happen. But you wanted to learn something about yourself... it’s up to you, I won’t push you.”

“I will,” Dean said. “You don’t look like you’re man enough to try it. Not that Scott here is much of a man, if he wants to keep using it after he found out it turns him into a girl... or really even if he never used it but once.”

I’d trusted Tim with my secret, and I’d been a little more hesitant about telling Chuck and Nancy, but now I was really regretting it. Tim was a nice guy, but Dean was already using what I’d told Tim to make fun of me, and might do worse given the chance. But Chuck looked angrily at Dean and didn’t say a word; he just snatched up the third shot glass and chugged it.

His skin turned a couple of shades darker — still Caucasian, but with a deep tan or Mediterranean complexion. And his facial features shifted just slightly, but he still looked a lot like Chuck. His build hardly changed at all. It was the slightest change I’d seen of anybody who’d taken jekyllase in my presence. At least physically; I wanted to know more about his personality before I subjected Jennifer to him. Another jerk like Dean and the night would be no fun at best and disastrous at worst.

“Jennifer’s turn,” he said, looking at me and then at Charlotte. He put a hand on her knee, and she smiled shyly.

“Not just yet,” I said. “Tell us your name and a little about yourself.”

“I’m Glenn. I suppose I’d be in pre-med if my jekyll would let me out often enough to enroll and take classes.”

“I’d be in engineering,” Charlotte said quietly.

“A girl engineer?” Dean scoffed, and I was about to say something when Glenn beat me to it:

“I’m sure she’d be a great engineer,” he said. “What would your major be, if you weren’t such a jerk that Tim will never let you out again?”

“Girls and partying,” Dean said. “No, seriously, probably business. I’d go into Tim’s dad’s wholesale business like he wanted instead of running off to be a pantywaist nurse. But we’re wasting time. Jennifer, it’s your turn.”

I should have called a stop to it there, but I hadn’t been Jennifer in so long, and Glenn seemed like a nice guy, and strong enough to restrain Dean if he got out of line. “My name is Scott,” I said, “for the next thirty seconds.” And I downed the last shot glass.

As I became myself again for the first time in well over a year, my first feeling was exhilaration. Scott loved being me so much that he’d cracked down in his chemistry courses and taken extra courses until he could brew up his own jekyllase. We’d never be without it again now. Just with what he’d made a couple of weeks earlier, he could change into me every week for a year and a half.

My second feeling was annoyance that he couldn’t have waited until he was with Linda, preferably at Newcomen College. I missed her. I still missed Cynthia, but being able to see Emily would be nice, and Darrell and Randall. And I didn’t know these people at all, and I already didn’t like God’s gift to women over there.

But I was better at getting to know people than Scott. Time to step up.

“Hi, everybody, I’m Jennifer! I see my reputation has preceded me.”

 

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Scott had thought his jacket was unisex enough to suit me, and he wasn’t completely wrong, but I wished he’d bought something that went better with the skirt. And his blue stocking cap wasn’t very flattering, but... I wasn’t trying to impress Dean or even Glenn.

 

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I didn’t like the look Dean was giving me, sizing me up and comparing me to Charlotte and Nancy and the girls Tim had dated. Other guys did the same sort of thing, but most of them weren’t such jerks about it. Glenn was checking me out, too, more discreetly and politely, and from him it felt more like a compliment, though I wasn’t strongly tempted. I was Linda’s girl, and I hoped the next time I was me, I’d be with her.

Charlotte saw how Glenn was looking at me, despite her poor eyesight, and wasn’t happy about it, though she didn’t say anything. “Hi, Jennifer,” she said softly.

“Nice to meet you, Charlotte,” I said. “And you too, guys. If you could step out for a couple of minutes and let me change clothes? Charlotte, you can stay if you like.”

Charlotte blushed adorably and said, “I guess I’ll go too.”

“You can keep your back turned while I change, but I’d like to have some girl talk before we meet up with the guys again.”

“Okay.”

As Glenn and Dean walked out, Dean said: “I hope you brought something sexy to wear.”

“I’m not dressing up for you,” I said. “I’m doing it for me.” I closed the door behind them, and Charlotte turned her back as I started taking off my shirt.

“So... what did you want to talk about?” she asked.

“Dean. I can tell he’s bad news.”

“Yeah... I don’t like him. I think I would like Tim; Nancy thinks he’s okay, but Dean...”

“Do you think you’ll make time with Glenn, pair off like your jekylls did?”

“I hope so... but I don’t know. He was looking at you — you’re way prettier than me.”

“And I’m already taken. Go for it.”

“You’ve got a boyfriend? But — you won’t have seen him in a year and a half, won’t he have gotten tired of waiting for you...?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“I can, but I can’t promise about Nancy.”

“What do you think she’ll do if I share a juicy secret? Besides the one she already knows, I mean, that Scott changes into me.”

“I think she’d probably keep it. She’s not a gossip.”

“It’s not a boyfriend, it’s a girlfriend. Scott’s girlfriend.”

“Oh. She’s into you when you’re like that, too?”

“Yeah. She’s the greatest.”

“Wow.”

I’d been getting dressed while we talked: a tie-dyed blouse with leggings under a long blue wool skirt, and blue matching shoes with a two-inch heel. It was similar to an outfit that Linda had liked seeing me in the last time she’d seen me as Jennifer, in the summer of 1971. I didn’t know if we’d be going outdoors or not; I didn’t have any warm over-clothes except Scott’s. Scott had thought his jacket was unisex enough to suit me, and he wasn’t completely wrong, but I wished he’d bought something that went better with the skirt. And his blue stocking cap wasn’t very flattering, but... I wasn’t trying to impress Dean or even Glenn.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Charlotte said: “Is it okay if I ask... I mean... never mind.”

“What the sex is like?”

“Um... I wasn’t going to pry that deep... I was going to ask what it’s like to kiss a girl.”

I compared Taka, Cynthia (how I missed them both!), and Linda. “I’ve only kissed one boy,” I said, “and he wasn’t very experienced, so it’s hard to compare. Sweet and affectionate, most of the time. Sometimes hot. Has Nancy kissed a lot of guys besides Chuck?”

“Yeah, she had several boyfriends in high school, and one guy before Chuck in college. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that. But it’s not like it’s a secret.”

“It’s okay, I’ll reciprocate. I only dated one other girl before Linda, and one guy, but only briefly because his jekyll decided he felt like he was cheating on his girlfriend when his hyde was with me, so he quit taking it. And Scott has only had three girlfriends, one in high school and two in college.”

“Oh.”

“But we’re getting off track. I think we should be careful around Dean. He acts like he could be grabby.”

“Probably. I think both of the guys are going to go after you, though, not me.”

“Maybe so. I’m not that pretty, but Dean’s chances of going out and meeting another girl and getting very far with her before he changes back into Tim aren’t that great, so he’ll probably go for one of us, and... yeah, Dean being so shallow, and having insulted you already, it’s more likely to be me. All I’m saying is, please don’t leave me alone with him.”

“All right.”

“Okay, I’m ready. Take a look.”

She turned around and said, “You look nice.”

“Thanks. Well, I guess it’s time to face the music, a.k.a. Dean.”

“Shouldn’t Glenn be the music?”

“Chuck is the music. Glenn is the medicine.”

“And what are you?”

“I’d probably be a nursing major, like Scott and Tim.”

I opened the door and saw that the guys were talking a little way down the hall.

“I’m done,” I said. They came over and entered the room.

“You look fine,” Glenn said.

“You could stand to show some more skin,” Dean said, “but that’s not bad.”

“I’m not wearing this for you,” I reminded him. “So what do you want to do?”

“We could walk over to the Breck Diner,” Glenn suggested. That was just off-campus, and would be crowded on a Friday night, but there weren’t a lot of other options in walking distance.

“Sounds good,” I said.

“Or,” he said, “if you girls think I look enough like Chuck’s driver’s license photo, we could drive somewhere farther away. We looked at ourselves in the mirror in the men’s room, and Dean thinks I look close enough, but I want a second opinion.”

“Let’s see the license,” I said, and he produced it from his wallet. “Yeah, you’re close enough. What do you think, Charlotte?”

“Y-yeah,” she said.

“Let’s go somewhere we can drink,” Dean said. “The Green Light, for instance.” That was a bar a couple of miles away. I’d heard of it, but Scott had never been there because he was so busy studying. I instinctively wanted to disagree with Dean, but Glenn was nodding, and I didn’t have anywhere else to suggest, given how little Scott had explored the town since he’d moved there.

So we bundled up and went out to where Chuck had parked his car, which wasn’t all that close to the dorm. Dean walked close to me and chatted me up as we went. Since almost the first thing I’d heard him say was a vile insult to Charlotte, not to mention the other crude things he’d said since then, I was pretty well immune to his blandishments.

“So who wants to ride shotgun?” Glenn said as we approached the parking lot.

Charlotte and I looked at each other. I think she was silently pleading with me to let her ride up front with Glenn, but I really didn’t want to be alone in the back seat with Dean, so I said: “Dean, you can have it.”

“You don’t want to ride in back with me?” he asked, and I flatly said: “No.”

So the guys rode up front and the girls in back. I talked with Charlotte in low voices as we got in.

“I hope you’re not mad that I said Dean should ride up front?”

“No, I understand you don’t want to sit with him.”

When we got to the bar, we got a table and ordered a pitcher of beer and some snacks. Charlotte and I sat down next to each other, and Glenn and Dean seemed to silently negotiate for a moment before Dean sat down next to me and Glenn next to Charlotte. Dean was closer to me than I liked, and I scooted my chair closer to Charlotte’s, but he just scooted closer to me a moment later.

Damn it, why did Scott have to take jekyllase now, and not a week or two later during a visit with Linda? And why did Tim’s hyde have to be such a jerk?

“So, Jennifer,” Glenn said, “tell us some more about your jekyllase adventures. When did your jekyll first find out about jekyllase?”

So I told them about Scott walking in on Walter while he was studying, and then talking to Randall about it because Walter refused to talk, and trying it out at a small party like this one had started out as, with Darrell and Emily. I told them about my date with Taka, and how Darrell had decided to quit using jekyllase after that, and how Cynthia and I had had several girls' outings until Emily decided to quit using jekyllase, but I didn’t tell them we were a couple. Our waitress brought our beer and snacks while I was talking, and I drank most of my first glass while I finished my story.

“And Scott’s girlfriend knows about me, and we’re friends and hang out together sometimes. Like when they spend a weekend together, I’ll get a few hours of it to hang out with Linda.”

“But you haven’t seen her in over a year?” Glenn asked.

“Yeah, Scott ran out of jekyllase the summer before last, and the guy he used to buy it from graduated and moved away, and he wasn’t able to find another supplier either at Newcomen or here.”

“What was Cynthia like?” Charlotte asked. After what I’d shared about me and Linda earlier, I suspected she’d guessed that Cynthia and I might have been lovers, too.

“She was taller and prettier than Emily,” I said; “not that Emily wasn’t pretty, but Cynthia could have been a model. More standoffish than Emily, until she got to know you. I don’t know if she ever made any friends besides me and Linda and Emily’s roommate, and after she had a fight with Emily’s roommate, that’s when Emily quit taking jekyllase.”

“How many friends have you made, outside Scott’s friends and their hydes?” Glenn asked.

“Nobody I’m very close to,” I said. “Some people at the hospital down in Florizel where Scott and I used to volunteer, and at the library where we’d read to the kids at story hour.”

“Nice,” Charlotte said. “I wish Nancy would let me out again sometime so I can do something like that... but I guess I’d have to get my eyes checked and get glasses and stuff first.”

“I think Chuck will want to be me again,” Glenn said.

“Yeah, and Tim is going to love being me. Unlike Nancy,” Dean said, and Charlotte hung her head. I put a hand on hers and squeezed it.

“Dean, a word of advice,” I said. “The more you piss off Tim’s friends or their hydes, the less likely he is to want to be you again.”

“I’ll take it under advisement, sweetcheeks. Why wouldn’t Tim want to be this handsome and suave?”

I gaped at him in disbelief. “You have yet to prove you can be suave,” I said. “So far you’ve been rude and vulgar almost every time you’ve opened your mouth.”

“Then you admit I’m handsome,” he said with a cocky grin.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You have to admit you did kind of imply it,” Glenn said.

I glared at him, and Dean laughed.

I thought about proposing to Charlotte that we ditch the guys and take a bus back to campus, but I could tell she wanted to hook up with Glenn, and I didn’t want to interfere with that. I changed the subject.

“So,” I said, “assuming your jekylls decide to be you again, what would you want to do next time?”

“Meet some girls who aren’t so stuck up,” Dean said. Glenn frowned at him and said:

“There’s a park just an hour’s drive from here that Chuck’s never been to. Some interesting rock formations. If he changed into me in the morning... or better yet, didn’t take jekyllase till he got there... I’d like to try rock climbing.”

I looked at Charlotte. She didn’t meet my eyes.

“Dean’s right,” she said. “Nancy won’t want to be me again. I’m shy and fat and nearsighted.”

“Is there something you’re better at than Nancy?” I asked gently.

“Math and science. But I don’t think she’ll care about that.”

“You could suggest that she change into you when she needs to study for a test.”

She brightened a little. “Yeah. And after I put in a few hours of studying, maybe I can do something fun for an hour or two.” She looked shyly at Glenn, who smiled at her.

So that was a hopeful sign. After my second beer, I needed to pee pretty badly, and I said “I’m going to visit the little girls' room,” so Charlotte came with me, though she hadn’t even finished her first glass yet.

After we’d emptied our bladders and washed our hands, she leaned close to the mirror and stared at her reflection in dismay.

“I look even worse than I thought,” she said. “No way Nancy’s going to want to be me again.”

“Cynthia thought that about Emily, the first time she existed,” I said. “And Taka thought that about Darrell... admittedly, they both decided to give up jekyllase eventually, but they did turn into their hydes again. Oh, there’s something Scott meant for us to do earlier, and I forgot. We should measure you — and tell the guys to measure themselves or each other — so your jekylls can buy clothes that fit you.”

“If she just wants me to stay in her room and study for her, she won’t buy clothes for me.”

“I’ll try to talk her into it.”

“You mean Scott will? I’m not sure why she’d listen to him.”

“Well, he took jekyllase after Nancy did, so maybe I’ll be around for a few minutes after you change back.”

As we walked back to our table, I said: “Another thing about jekyllase is that it lets you think through things from two different perspectives. A couple of years ago, when Scott had some big decisions to make, like what he wanted to do with the rest of his life and whether to change schools and majors, he changed into me several times mostly so I could think it over, do independent research, and give him my opinion.”

“And that’s how he decided to come here and enter the nursing program?”

“Yeah. We both took turns volunteering at this hospital...” We’d arrived at our table. Dean and Glenn had been talking, but they fell silent as we approached.

“Did everything come out okay?” Dean asked. Charlotte blushed, and I rolled my eyes.

“You’re not as funny as you think,” I said, sitting back down and pouring myself another beer, “any more than you’re suave. Or handsome,” I added spitefully, although it was true, he was pretty handsome.

“I like girls who play hard to get,” he commented.

“So,” I said to Charlotte, ignoring him, “like I said, maybe Nancy will want to be you sometime so you can think over a problem for her. Like whether to take a job offer that has some serious advantages and disadvantages, or whether to marry the guy she’s dating. Sometimes we can see clearly when our jekylls are too close to the problem.”

“I hope so,” Charlotte said, picking up a pretzel and dragging it through the sauce on her plate but not putting it in her mouth yet. “I don’t want to never live again.”

“I hope Nancy gives you a fair shake.”

Glenn looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to comfort Charlotte but couldn’t think of anything to say that would sound plausible. Dean continued to stare at my breasts, like he’d done all evening, taking a break now and then to stare at some other woman’s breasts or butt. I’d lost count of how many beers he’d had, but it was more than me, and I was on my second or third.

I should probably stop with this one, I thought, taking another sip. I realized later that I was drunker than I thought, and should have stopped at one, under the circumstances.

“It’s true,” Glenn said after an awkward silence. “I think Nancy will like the feeling of being a completely different person. No other drug gives you that.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Before jekyllase, everyone was stuck being the same person their whole lives. No one knew what it was like to be anyone else. And now we’re different people and it’s great.”

Dean put his hand on my thigh and I slapped it away. “Hard to get,” he slurred.

“Imposhible to get,” I said. “I’m already taken.” Oops, I shouldn’t have said that.

Dean scoffed. “Your boyfriend, whoever he was, hasn’t seen you in a year ‘n’ a half. And he wasn’t half the man I am, neither.” He groped me again and this time his hand wasn’t as easy to push away.

“She sure isn’t,” I said. Glenn and Charlotte were staring at me open-mouthed. “My girlfriend knows how to satisfy a woman. I bet even if Tim knows how, you’re too selfish to remember it when you’re in a hurry.”

“You’re a dyke? No way, you’re making shit up to put me off. You’re not as pretty as you think, but you’re too pretty to be a dyke.”

“Makes sense,” Glenn murmured, “since Scott likes girls, his hyde would too... we’re not total opposites.”

“'m not a dyke. I’m bisexual,” I said, or tried to say, although with three beers in me it wasn’t surprising it came out oddly. I tried again to push Dean’s arm away, but his hand crept higher up my thigh.

“What’s that mean?” Dean asked.

“It means she likes both boys and girls,” Charlotte said.

“Then you do want me,” Dean concluded. “Let’s go get a motel room and let Glenn and Charlotte have Tim and Chuck’s room.”

“Not gonna happen,” I said, poking his chest with my finger. “I’m not going to a fucking motel with you.”

“We can do it out back or in the restroom if you’d rather,” he said, grabbing the arm I’d poked him with. “Come on.”

Charlotte looked alarmed. Glenn put a hand on Dean’s arm and said, “Calm down, man. Leave her alone.”

“Fuck you.”

I yanked my arm, hard, but he kept a firm grip on it. The bouncer noticed what was going on about that time and headed over to our table. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” Dean said. “Now you’re going to put up and shut up.”

I slapped him, but he didn’t let go of my arm; he pulled me closer to him just as the bouncer reached our table and interposed himself.

“Is he bothering you, ma’am?”

“Yeah,” I said, jerking my arm away again. This time he let go of me, and I stood up. “I’m going back to campus — I’ll catch a bus. Charlotte, do you want to ride with me?”

She looked from me to Glenn and back again. “Um —” she began, and stopped.

“It’s okay, I can go by myself,” I began, but Glenn said:

“No, this jerk here can ride the bus back. No reason you should suffer because he couldn’t hold his beer or keep his temper.”

“Fuck you, man,” Dean said, and got up and stomped off.

So I sat back down with Charlotte and Glenn, and morosely drank another beer or two. I think I stopped after four, but it might have been five — the most I’d ever drunk as Jennifer, and more than Scott usually drank, too. Glenn had stopped drinking beer at some point and started on Pepsi, so he could drive us back later. I know, nowadays we wouldn’t consider that acceptable, the driver would have to stay sober all evening, but this was before the first big media scare about drunk driving. Anyway, Charlotte had one more, I think, and wasn’t nearly as drunk as me. Glenn had never been very drunk, and was already starting to sober up.

After a while, we returned to campus. We were lucky to get back alive; Glenn wasn’t drunk, but he was definitely under the influence. He got me and Charlotte into his dorm and up to his room. “Better stay here for now,” he said, “seeing as how you can’t go back to your jekylls' rooms until you change back. Especially you, Jennifer.” (Dean still wasn’t back yet.)

“Yeah, Scott’s roommate’s a total straight, he’d freak out if I went in and told him I was Scott’s hyde, and then changed back in front of him.” I giggled and sat down on the edge of Tim’s bed.

“Um...” Charlotte said. “Where are we going to sleep?”

“Well,” Glenn said, “the beds are kind of narrow, and we need to leave Tim’s bed for Dean to use when he gets back. — If he hasn’t gotten into worse trouble and spent the night in jail or something.”

I was drunk enough to not think of the consequences of that — Dean changing back into Tim in front of police officers, implicating him in jekyllase use, and the police questioning him about where he got his jekyllase, possibly leading them to me and Scott. No, I cheered at the idea of Dean spending a night in jail. I wasn’t so lucky.

“So,” Glenn continued, “I guess we could do one of several things... you girls could take my bed, and I’ll sleep on the floor — Chuck has a sleeping bag in the closet —”

“Or,” Charlotte said with unexpectedly boldness, “I could squeeze into the bed with you, and Jennifer could sleep in the sleeping bag... if you don’t mind?” she added, turning to me.

“That... sounds kind of great, actually,” Glenn said. He didn’t look all that enthusiastic about it, though, probably because I was there and Dean would be back at some point. “Or we could —”

That’s about where I passed out. I woke up a little later on, lying in a bed in the darkness, and thought, “Oh, Glenn gave up his bed to me after all,” and wondered if Charlotte was sleeping beside me, but I would have been able to tell. It was a narrow bed and Charlotte was kind of wide — I wasn’t particularly narrow either. I quickly fell asleep again.

When I woke up again, I found a heavy warm weight on me. My head was pounding from the hangover, but I was clear-headed enough to figure out what was going on pretty quickly, especially after I realized a hand was roughly groping my left breast.

“Get off me,” I said loudly, and pushed hard with both arms and both knees. The man on top of me managed to pin one of my arms, but I got him with the other, and one of my knees connected with his groin. He gave a momentary yell and choked it off, maybe trying to avoid waking up other people and causing an investigation. That gave me the idea of screaming, but I decided not to try it just yet. I didn’t know how long I’d slept, but I’d surely be changing back into Scott soon, and I didn’t want that to happen in front of witnesses. He pinned my other leg and all I had free was my right arm, with which I hit him in the face a couple more times before he pinned that one, too.

“Keep quiet, bitch, if you know what’s good for you,” he said in a low voice, and I recognized Dean. Not that anybody but Glenn or Dean would have a key to the room. “You made such a scene back at the bar that I couldn’t get any other woman to give me the time of day. You’ve gotta make it up to me.”

“You’re crazy,” I said. “You —” and he smothered the rest of my sentence with his alcohol-soaked lips and tongue.

But something changed about that tongue and he broke off the kiss, saying “Not now, damnit!”, and I felt his grip on my arms weakening. I struggled harder and managed to free one of my arms, but I didn’t have time to hit him more than once before he was scrambling off me. I sat up and sprang out of bed, clumsily backing away from him — my panties were down around my ankles, I soon realized — and taking in what details I could in the dim light. I found the light switch and turned it on —

— and saw Dean more than halfway back to Tim, covering his privates with his hands and looking ashamed, not meeting my eyes directly. I still had most of my clothes on, but Dean had unbuttoned my blouse and loosened my bra while I was still asleep, as well as pulling my skirt up and my panties down. My pounding headache and awful-tasting mouth were taking up a lot of my attention, but I still had room for gratitude at my narrow escape. And enough presence of mind to know that if Dean was changing back now, I couldn’t be far from changing into Scott.

“Let’s keep our backs turned while we change clothes,” I said.

“Uh — yeah,” Tim said. “I’m so sorry — I’ll never take jekyllase again, Dean is such a —”

“Quiet,” I said. “I’ve got a hangover and I’ll bet you will soon. Quiet’s good for a hangover.”

We turned our backs and I changed into Scott’s clothes. I’d barely finished getting dressed when I felt myself starting to change into him.

And as Scott, I had not only a hangover and the panic of nearly being raped, but overwhelming guilt for subjecting Jennifer to that risk. I should have refused to take jekyllase as soon as I saw how Dean was acting.

“I’m going back to my dorm,” I said. “Let’s talk later.” Tim didn’t meet my eyes.

 

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Sorry about the delay. I've been sick, some days too sick to use a computer at all, and BigCloset doesn't let you schedule chapters ahead of time -- unlike Scribblehub, hint hint.

My other free stories can be found at:

• Scribblehub
• DeviantArt
• Shifti
• TGStorytime
• Fictionmania
• Archive of Our Own

Scribblehub is the best place to follow me these days; most things get posted there first, and when I finish a story, I schedule all its chapters to appear on Scribblehub at weekly intervals, so if something happens to me, updates on BC and TGS will stop, but Scribblehub will still continue posting chapters until they're done.

My ebooks, previously for sale, are now free on Smashwords and itch.io, although Amazon would not let me reduce the prices below $0.99. My non-writing income is sufficient for my needs, and if you have the money to buy ebooks, I hope you will support other queer authors who depend primarily or largely on ebook sales, Patreon, etc. for their income.

• Smashwords
• itch.io
• Amazon

Nancy recommended a couple of hangover cures, which required ingredients the dining hall didn’t have, but I made up a makeshift with orange juice and hot sauce, which took my mind off the hangover if it didn’t cure it.

 

---

---

 

I looked for Tim, Chuck and Nancy at breakfast the next morning. I found Chuck and Nancy just finishing up their breakfasts when I arrived.

“You guys seen Tim?” I asked.

“He was still asleep when I left the room,” Chuck said. “Last night Jennifer fell asleep while Glenn and Charlotte were talking about what to do, and you were — well, Jennifer was too heavy for us to lift out of bed and get into the sleeping bag, and we weren’t that sleepy yet, so we went down to the common room and... talked for a while. When we got back, you were gone and Tim was asleep in his bed.”

“Yeah,” I said. I decided not to tell them what had happened. If I didn’t blame Linda for Virginia’s intolerance and rudeness, I shouldn’t blame Tim for Dean’s attempted rape, either. “I woke up with a hangover just as Tim got back, and I decided I’d go back to my dorm to leave the bed for you.”

Nancy recommended a couple of hangover cures, which required ingredients the dining hall didn’t have, but I made up a makeshift with orange juice and hot sauce, which took my mind off the hangover if it didn’t cure it.

“So,” I said, “Tim said he was never taking jekyllase again. What about you guys?”

They looked at each other.

“I probably will,” Chuck said.

“I might,” Nancy said. “For studying, like you said your old roommate at Newcomen used to do.”

I smiled. Charlotte was too nice a girl to never exist again. “And maybe for thinking problems over from two perspectives, too,” I said.

“Oh, yeah, that could help sometime. You think we can buy Tim’s stash for cheap, since he doesn’t want it now?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

---

I didn’t see Tim again outside of class for several days; he was obviously avoiding me, coming into class at the last moment and hurrying out before I got my stuff together to go. I finally put a letter in the campus post for him, saying I didn’t blame him for what Dean did, but he’d better not take jekyllase again. I suspect he didn’t get it until after the Thanksgiving break, though.

I had a couple of nightmares in the next few nights about what had happened. In one of them, it was Tim, not Dean, who was attacking me or Jennifer (I wasn’t sure which I was, maybe some amalgam of both), and in one, Dean changed back into Tim but didn’t stop pawing at me... I woke up both times before anything worse happened.

I was looking forward to my next visit with Linda, which would be the Friday through Sunday after Thanksgiving. We’d be hanging out with her family for a good part of that time, and on Sunday I’d give her a ride back to Newcomen before driving myself back to Clouston.

After my own family’s Thanksgiving dinner, where the main thing we were thankful for was Robert coming home safe from Vietnam, I packed up my stuff and got ready to leave for Linda’s family’s house in the morning. Then I spent the rest of the evening doing brother stuff with Robert, whom I hadn’t seen in ages. We drove around town looking at places we used to hang out, went back to the house, listened to records... I almost told him about my experiences with jekyllase, or offered to share some of mine with him, but I decided that wasn’t the right time. I’d offer him some jekyllase when he had his own place to live, or I did — not under our parents' roof.

I had another nightmare that night, waking up kicking at the sheets and soaked with sweat. It rapidly faded, but I knew Dean had been attacking me or Jennifer again. I got back to sleep after an hour or so of tossing and turning, though, and managed to get a decent amount of sleep before morning.

The next morning, I said goodbye to Robert and my parents and drove off to see Linda. I got to her parents' house around noon, and had lunch with Linda and her family. After chatting with them for a while after lunch, Linda and I went out to see a movie while her mom and sister went shopping and her dad and brother watched a football game.

As soon as we were alone in the car, I said to Linda, “You remember my last letter?”

“Yeah... that paragraph at the end was kind of cryptic, but reading between the lines, I guess you finally figured out how to make jekyllase?”

“Yeah, my friend Tim and I made up a hundred doses a couple of weeks ago, and we tested it with some friends last weekend. Part of me wanted to wait and do it this weekend with you, but I missed Jennifer so much, and Tim and Chuck wanted to try it, and I said I wouldn’t want to be the only girl there, so Chuck’s girlfriend Nancy joined us. It wasn’t as good as that first time I tried jekyllase with Darrell and Emily and Randall — one of my friends turned out to have a terrible hyde — but it worked, I turned into Jennifer and felt the same as ever, and it lasted as long as it should or a bit longer. I think it might be purer or more accurately measured than the stuff I used to get from Larry Ryman.”

“That’s great, sweetie! You brought some, of course?”

“Yeah, I figure I’ll take some tomorrow, if we can be out most of the day, or maybe Sunday while I’m taking you back to Newcomen and going back to Clouston.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Maybe you’d better let me drive as far as Newcomen, and hang around there with me until it wears off.”

“We could do that.”

I wasn’t sure how long 250 mg of the jekyllase Tim and I had mixed up a few weeks earlier would last; I’d been too hungover, too pounding with adrenaline from our hairsbreadth escape, to check the time when I changed back. It was well into the night, I thought, but it could have been anywhere from six to ten hours after I’d taken it. The stuff I used to get from Larry Ryman would last around eight hours, once or twice closer to nine. If this stuff lasted ten hours, and I took it shortly after we got on the road, Jennifer would be hanging out with Linda until pretty late Sunday before I could get on the road again.

We watched When the Legends Die, cuddling in the back row of the theater as we hadn’t been able to do at Linda’s parents' house, and then did a little Christmas shopping before we went out to supper at a steakhouse.

“So tell me about last weekend,” she said as we sat down and looked at our menus. “You said one of your friends' hydes was —?”

“An awful human being,” I said. “The other two were okay. We went out to a bar, and as bad as Tim’s hyde was before, he was worse when drunk. I... I’m not sure I want to talk about it. Maybe Jennifer will want to.” I wanted to put the memory of Dean’s attack out of my head and never think of it again. I wanted to be very careful about the circumstances when I changed into Jennifer, to keep that kind of thing from happening again. It was easy to resolve never to drink while I was Jennifer again, or hang out with anyone who was drinking, but it would be up to Jennifer if she wanted to stick with that — all I could do was decide whether to take jekyllase again.

Linda seemed to intuit a fair amount of what had happened, and she put a hand on mine and squeezed it.

We talked about school for a while, and our longer-term plans for after graduation. Neither of us mentioned engagement or marriage in so many words, but we were both clearly thinking about it.

---

Saturday, we mostly hung out around the house with Linda’s family, playing board games, watching television, and chatting. Linda’s brother and I brought a couple of boxes of things out to the car for Linda to take back to Newcomen — actually Jennifer’s things, but Linda’s brother didn’t need to know that. I had no particular plans to change into Jennifer at Clouston, only while visiting Linda at Newcomen. So she could keep Jennifer’s clothes, shoes, purse, jewelry and makeup in her dorm room.

Sunday, we got on the road early, before Linda’s parents and younger sister left for church. Her older brother left about the same time as we did.

As we headed up the road, with me driving the first leg, I said: “Are you sure it’s okay with you for me to take jekyllase now? If you want more time with me, I’d understand.”

“No, go ahead. I miss Jennifer, too. Maybe not as badly as you did, after not being her for well over a year, but I’m eager to see her again.”

“All right. I’ll stop at the first place that looks good.” I pulled into a gas station a few miles further on, and after paying for the gas, went into the restroom with a bag of Jennifer’s clothes and a flask with a dose of jekyllase dissolved in grape juice.

I locked the door (it was a one-person restroom) and looked around for a semi-clean surface to set the bag down on, deciding on the back of the toilet. Then I pulled the flask out and unscrewed the stopper, and —

— and I hesitated, thinking involuntarily of Dean’s rough hand groping Jennifer’s breasts, his legs pinning mine down... my imagination supplied his erection, which I hadn’t seen at the time because it was too dark. I shuddered, stood there agonizing for a couple of minutes...

...and screwed the stopper back on, peed and washed my hands, returned the restroom key, and went back out to the car in defeat. Linda had pumped gas and gotten back in on the driver’s side while I was in the restroom, so I got in on the passenger side.

“What’s wrong?” Linda said. “Did it not work?”

“I lost my nerve,” I said. “I... I didn’t want to tell you what happened last weekend... I thought Jennifer should be the one to decide... but because of it, I — I’m not sure I can be Jennifer again in public. Or Cheryl, either,” I added, referring to the name I’d used when presenting as female without transforming.

“Was she raped?” Linda asked in a hoarse whisper, putting her hand on mine.

“No. But it was a near thing.” A little at a time, sitting there in the parking lot, I told her everything that had happened.

“Oh, my God. That sounds horrible. This... what was his name?”

“Dean.”

“No, I mean his jekyll.”

“Tim.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember you telling me about him. Have you seen him since then?”

“Just in class. He’s been avoiding me... I don’t know if we can be friends after this. I sent him a note saying I didn’t blame him for what Dean did, but... if I hang out with him again, I’m afraid I might have flashbacks to that night. Like in the restroom just now. Or it might make my nightmares worse.”

“Relax,” she said. “I’ll drive for a while. If you recover enough that you want to try being Jennifer again, I’ll be with you when you change, and hold your hand.”

“I don’t know... what if Jennifer has even worse flashbacks than me?”

“Do you want to give up being Jennifer?”

“No, but... I don’t know. Maybe I need more time to recover.”

“You don’t have to decide right away.” She hugged and kissed me, and then started the car.

I brooded about it as we continued up the road. Should I try to change into Jennifer at our next stop, with moral support from Linda, or put it off to some later occasion when we’d have more privacy — maybe a whole day in a motel? Part of me was afraid that if I didn’t immediately get back on the horse, I’d never have the courage to be Jennifer (or even Cheryl) again. But part of me said that was macho thinking, that Jennifer and I needed time to recover from what had happened (and almost happened).

I told Linda what I’d been thinking. “If you put it off,” she said, “you should set a definite date you’re postponing it to. Otherwise, you might keep procrastinating and procrastinating, and building up your fear more and more.”

“Okay. What about... just after Christmas, before we have to be back at school? We can get a motel near Newcomen, and if Jennifer’s suffering even worse from it than I am, she can stay in the motel room with you until it wears off. Or if she feels okay, you two can go out and do some stuff in daylight.”

“All right. I’ll hold you to it. And I want you to write me twice a week, okay? I’m worried about you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

 

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My other free stories can be found at:

• Scribblehub
• DeviantArt
• Shifti
• TGStorytime
• Fictionmania
• Archive of Our Own

Scribblehub is the best place to follow me these days; most things get posted there first, and when I finish a story, I schedule all its chapters to appear on Scribblehub at weekly intervals, so if something happens to me, updates on BC and TGS will stop, but Scribblehub will still continue posting chapters until they're done.

My ebooks, previously for sale, are now free on Smashwords and itch.io, although Amazon would not let me reduce the prices below $0.99. My non-writing income is sufficient for my needs, and if you have the money to buy ebooks, I hope you will support other queer authors who depend primarily or largely on ebook sales, Patreon, etc. for their income.

• Smashwords
• itch.io
• Amazon

“You’ve led kind of a sheltered existence,” she said, “being Jennifer only in relatively safe places at safe times. Most girls are in danger of that kind of thing at least a few times a year, if not every day — it depends on their circumstances. But it’s still worth it, being a girl.”

 

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I didn’t stop having nightmares, but they got a lot less frequent, and some of them didn’t seem to have anything to do with the attack. I didn’t quite write to Linda twice a week, but I did manage once every week and twice several weeks, and she wrote back at least as often.

I finally had a talk with Tim not long after that Thanksgiving break, but it was awkward and, though we didn’t say so or plan on it, that was basically the end of our friendship. He felt too guilty around me, and I was reminded too strongly of what had happened, even though I knew intellectually he wasn’t to blame.

After Christmas, Linda and I told our parents we wanted to leave early for a New Year’s Eve party at Newcomen. We didn’t spend New Year’s Eve at that party, but in a motel about fifteen miles away. We checked in in the early afternoon, and after an hour or two of lovemaking with me as Scott, I steeled my nerves and changed into Jennifer. Linda held my hand while I swallowed the jekyllase and transformed.

And it seemed like the attack had been mere moments ago. I shuddered and hugged Linda hard. “Hold me,” I said shakily. She stroked my hair and back and said soothing things, but I broke down weeping and it was a while before I could say anything coherent.

“I understand,” she said. “I didn’t tell Scott... maybe I should have, but the same sort of thing has happened to me. It happens to a lot of girls. You’re not alone.”

A while later I stopped crying long enough to ask her about it. She told me about a couple of incidents, one in high school and one in her freshman year of college; one time it was a drunk guy pawing her and forcing kisses on her at a party, though she didn’t think he could have raped her with so many other people around. The other was a near miss like mine — they were alone, and she was only saved by someone else walking in on them just in time.

“You’ve led kind of a sheltered existence,” she said, “being Jennifer only in relatively safe places at safe times. Most girls are in danger of that kind of thing at least a few times a year, if not every day — it depends on their circumstances. But it’s still worth it, being a girl. Don’t you think so? Do you never want to go out in public again?”

“Maybe in the daytime,” I said, sniffling. “With you, or maybe somebody I trust almost as much. Not at night to a bar with guys I barely know, ever again.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Do you want to go out right now? Not for long,” she added hastily at my panicked look. “And maybe not right now, but sometime before sunset. We could just run over to the diner down the street and come back well before it gets dark.”

“Let me think about it,” I said. I was irrationally afraid that people would look at me and know what had happened to me.

I was also afraid that if I didn’t overcome my fear, Scott would never want to be me again.

So after another hour of cuddling with Linda, I finally said: “I’m ready, I guess. As I’ll ever be.”

“Then let’s shower and get dressed.”

The shower was too small for us to share, even if we’d been in the mood for sexy times, but I didn’t want to be alone even for the few minutes her shower or mine would take, and I asked her to sit on the toilet lid while I showered and talk to me. Then while I toweled off and got dressed, she showered and kept up a steady stream of talk to remind me I wasn’t alone.

I didn’t put on any makeup or do anything special with my hair. I didn’t want guys looking at me any more than they inevitably would.

We drove to the diner, even though we could have walked, and I realized that being out in public wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. After some initial anxiety when we walked in, I actually felt pretty okay. There weren’t a lot of people in the place just then, after lunch and before dinner, which helped.

We ate, and Linda did a lot more talking than me, but after a while I contributed more to the conversation. And my natural optimism started to make a little headway against the trauma of my near-miss with rape. Not much, not yet, but I could get a faint sense that things would get better and I wouldn’t always be so afraid.

We went back to the motel and cuddled for a while before I said, “I want to feel your hands on my breasts, your mouth on mine. Drive those memories of Dean out of my mind with something better.”

“I can do that,” she said, and kissed me.

We made love again the next morning after I’d changed back to Scott during the night. Again, I wasn’t sure how long the jekyllase had lasted, since we were both asleep when it wore off, but it was definitely longer than the stuff I used to get from Larry Ryman — at least nine hours, and maybe longer.

I returned Linda to her dorm at Newcomen not long after breakfast, and we kissed for a long time out in front of her dorm before I got back on the road for Clouston. I felt better about being Jennifer again, and about going out as her. I thought about what Linda and I had, and what Jennifer and Linda had; they were different, but both good. I needed Jennifer. Even though she was vulnerable in ways that I usually wasn’t, it was still worth it to be her. I’d just need — she would need — to learn the caution that girls learn growing up. Linda was right; Jennifer had had a sheltered upbringing in a way, being hidden inside me until a couple of years ago, and then let out only in limited circumstances. We’d had a harsh awakening to the downsides of being a girl. But I wasn’t going to give her up, for my sake and Linda’s and for Jennifer herself.

==== Epilogue ====

Linda and I got married a couple of years later, after she and I had both graduated. I’ve continued making jekyllase ever since then, though I don’t supply it to other people anymore. I change into Jennifer about twice or three times a month these days. It was a long time before anybody came up with the word “gender-fluid” to describe people like me.

And I’ve been Jennifer about half the time while writing this memoir. It took me a long time, because I wanted to be her as much as possible while writing about the things she did and the things that happened to her, although if I’d stuck to that principle strictly, it would have taken twice as long; I’ve had to write a lot of the scenes from her point of view while I’m Scott. All the names are changed, for obvious reasons, including the schools we went to, and I’ve deliberately fudged some of the travel times and distances to avoid giving too many geographical clues.

I’ve known fifteen people over the years who’ve used jekyllase. Not all of them come into this memoir; some are people I met later, or who didn’t use jekyllase for the first time until later. Of all those, only one had a hyde who could really be considered dangerous. Three of them that I’m still in contact with still use jekyllase from time to time (including “Emily”), and none of them ever overdosed and turned into their hyde permanently. If someone’s first experience with jekyllase is properly supervised, and they’re responsible enough to take a safe amount at safe intervals, there is no more danger from use of jekyllase than from responsible use of alcohol. Like marijuana (and alcohol, for that matter), jekyllase has been demonized and had horror stories told about it, but anecdotes are not data, not the basis for sound drug policy; a person under the influence of jekyllase is far less likely to harm themselves or others than a person under the influence of alcohol. I hope you will consider supporting Proposition 118.

 

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Thanks for reading, and sorry for the chapter delays. I'm doing better, but my health is still worse than it was a couple of months ago. If you've enjoyed this, please consider telling your friends about it.

I have a Halloween horror novelette, "The Floating Girls," in the Secret Trans Writing Lair's Autumn bundle. There are eleven stories (some but not all of them horror) by trans authors totalling around 148k words, three of them novellas.

I don't know when I'll post another story to BigCloset; it's gotten to be more of a hassle, not because BC's interface has gotten worse, but because on Scribblehub I'm used to being able to schedule things ahead of time when I've got the spoons and not have to worry about posting at specific days and times, and because my spoon levels are lower than usual these days. If you enjoy my work, I encourage you to follow me on Scribblehub. I have stories scheduled to come out at one chapter a week from now until March, 2025, and once I finish the final drafts of a couple more, that will push it out until May.

My other free stories can be found at:

• Scribblehub
• DeviantArt
• Shifti
• TGStorytime
• Fictionmania
• Archive of Our Own

Scribblehub is the best place to follow me these days; most things get posted there first, and when I finish a story, I schedule all its chapters to appear on Scribblehub at weekly intervals, so if something happens to me, updates on BC and TGS will stop, but Scribblehub will still continue posting chapters until they're done.

My ebooks, previously for sale, are now free on Smashwords and itch.io, although Amazon would not let me reduce the prices below $0.99. My non-writing income is sufficient for my needs, and if you have the money to buy ebooks, I hope you will support other queer authors who depend primarily or largely on ebook sales, Patreon, etc. for their income.

• Smashwords
• itch.io
• Amazon