From: scampbell @ gmail.com.cn
To: undisclosed-recipients:;
Subject: Fwd: A Life Changing Experience!
Attachments: lifechange.pdf.vbs

WARNING!

If you receive an email with the subject "A Life Changing Experience!" please delete it immediately without opening it. Especially do not open any included attachments.

I was unfortunate enough to open a copy of this email. At first, I wasn't aware of anything happening. It certainly didn't destroy my hard drive or overwrite my files as other viruses are known to do. No, what it did was far more sneaky and malicious - and even now I don't know how the virus accomplished what it did.

The first indication that something was odd was in the evening when I next logged onto the computer - the colour scheme had been changed to a selection of pinks. I could choose other schemes, but as I found out on subsequent days, that was always the default and wouldn't change. OK, a minor irritant, but I could live with it.

However, far more serious changes were apparent when I logged into my bank. Although I hadn't lost any money, I'd noticed that it referred to me as MRS S Campbell, rather than MR S Campbell. I fired off an email to their customer service department, and was shocked when 15 minutes later came the reply that as far as their computer records showed, I'd ALWAYS been MRS S Campbell - there were no records of a MR S Campbell.

On a hunch, I then tried my utility supplier. Yup - I was MRS S Campbell there as well. Something very strange was going on...

To cut a long story short, as the week passed, I slowly came to the realisation that the virus had hacked into EVERY SINGLE electronic record of me, and changed ALL references to my gender, including title and pronouns. Even (worryingly) the tax coding letter that arrived from HMRC yesterday was addressed to MRS S Campbell.

Two weeks later, I found myself arrested on charges of fraud - as every electronic record of me apparently thought I was a female called "Mrs S Campbell", the powers that be had thought the only reason I could have paper documents in the name of a male called "Mr S Campbell" was if I had forged them (!) - despite the biological evidence in front of their eyes.

Matters weren't exactly helped when my solicitor informed me that although it was clearly evident I appeared to be male, it was "completely impossible" to change every electronic record of me - even those on systems not connected to the internet. Upon questionning him, he couldn't explain how it was possible for someone who appeared male, with paper documents claiming he was a male, to have a completely female electronic record from birth. He said there was no legal precedent, so it would be difficult to argue my case. Great.

So here I am, holed up in isolation in HMP Holloway for the next ten years of my life barring a miracle, the only parting advice from my solicitor being to change my appearance to match my apparent identity, as to continue to "pretend" I'm a male will only result in further imprisonment.

The warders here have been generous enough to allow me internet access, so I'm sending this to you as a warning to NEVER open an email with the subject "A Life Changing Experience!". Please forward this to everyone you know, so you can warn others before they fall into this trap. To further help spread the message, I've created and attached a poster to print out and display at your workplace.

S. Campbell

---

Authors note: I was thinking of writing this en-route to work this morning, so I couldn't help but notice the irony of receiving this in my work inbox...

From: COMPENSATION© 2010 <[email protected]>
Subject: Scam Victim Compensation ,($500,000)have been awarded to you. contact email with your Name,Age,Sex, Country,Phone Number and Address sent to Mrs Joan Cole,email:[email protected]

Here's a light-hearted bit of fluff I came up with the other day. Descriptions have deliberately been kept vague, both to keep it nice and short (so I had more chance of finishing it, rather than leaving it abandoned!) and to allow your imaginations to fill in the gaps.

---

10am

To the strains of Jeremiah Clarke's Trumpet Voluntary, the bridal party make their way down the aisle of the church. The service proceeds, vows are exchanged, registers are signed and the bridal party recedes to the strains of Beethoven's Ode to Joy before the obligatory photographs outside. To an outside observer, there was nothing untoward or unusual about this ceremony.

12pm

After a quick snack, the bride and groom retire to the bridal suite. They carefully start disrobing, but a fly-on-the-wall would start noticing some oddities: After removing his outer clothing and carefully placing it on the bed, he pulls up a compression vest, revealing a perky set of silicon breasts, adhered to his chest a few nights before. He then tugs at his close-cropped brown hair, removing it and a wig cap to reveal a mane of platinum blonde hair. Removing the pins securing it in place, he shakes it out and runs his fingers through it, revealing it to be of similar length and style to his wife.

Across the room, his new wife gathers up her hair, pins it into place, applies the wig cap and wig, then removes her pendant earrings, placing them on the dressing table, next to the necklace she'd removed earlier. She then removes her bra, playfully tossing it at her husband who catches it with a broad grin and fastens it around his false mammaries. Both then move to opposite sides of the bed to remove their lower underwear, a decision made in advance to minimise temptation and overrun their rides to the next destination.

From the bedside cupboard on the wife's side of the bed, she retrieves a pair of boxer shorts; while her husband retrieves a padded panty, grateful that the layout of the padding allows him to get away with a light tuck. While she starts getting dressed in his suit, he puts on her suspender belt and carefully rolls her suspender stockings up his legs, clipping them into place. With a sigh, he then reaches for the one garment he's not looking forward to wearing - the torture device, also known as a corset - a necessary evil to constrict his waist enough to fit into The Dress. Whlie he's previously worn corsets, he knows that on this occasion, it has to be tightened more than he'd ideally like. But, as his wife has often quipped - no pain, no gain - and he knows he'll soon get used to it, after all both attended the fitting to ensure it was designed such that it would look good on both of them - as long as he was imprisoned in the dreaded undergarment first. After strapping it loosely around himself, he walked over to the en-suite door and awaited his wife.

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be!"

"Breathe in!"

"Yes - I know the drill," he sighed.

"Don't be such a wuss - you know you'll look good in it, and you've told me before you'll soon get used to it!"

"I know, I know - just get on with it. Let the torture begin!"

"As you wish!" then leans forward and gives him a peck on the cheek before starting the tightening of the laces.

Eventually, after several more light-hearted complaints ("The lady doth protest too much, methinks!"), the corset was sufficiently tightened, and he was rewarded with a brief hug and peck on the cheek, before she helped him into the voluminous dress.

After tossing a coin to determine the order, she sat at the dressing table first and applied a radically different style of makeup to her everyday wear, making her look more masculine and with a hint of five o'clock shadow; before swapping with her husband, who then deftly applied full bridal makeup, before his wife came over, stated "Not bad..." and titivated it slightly.

She then fitted her men's shoes before fitting white, heeled pumps to his feet - each pair of shoes belonging to them, as while they were similar enough in most dimensions to share clothes (in his case, sometimes with a little foundational help), they did have different shoe sizes.

Finally, after checking each other out, both in person and in the wardrobe mirror, it was time to head downstairs and await their separate lifts to the next destination.

2pm

A few miles away, in a different church, in a different religious and legal jurisdiction, the second ceremony of the day got underway - this time, processing in to the strains of Wagner's Bridal Chorus and recessing to the strains of Mendelssohn's Bridal March. If the outsider from before had compiled a head count of those entering and leaving, they would have noticed the same head count as before, something subtly different about the appearance of the happy couple, and a slightly different gender ratio to before - with a slight bias towards the apparent female contingent of the congregation.

The observer would have been more surprised after the first round of photographs, when the groom disappeared into the church followed by one of the bridesmaids, only to reappear a few minutes later sporting sudden new developments in chest size, hair length and hair colour - a closer examination may have revealed that "he" had also changed shirts, to one that was more appropriately shaped for "his" "new" chest.

6pm

Back at the hotel, and the proverbial outside observer would have been even more surprised to see the arrival of two stunning blondes in white, knee-length, sleeveless cocktail dresses with plunging necklines. Only a close examination would have revealed one was a fraction taller than the other, with slightly thicker limbs and slightly longer feet, possibly indicating them as a natal male rather than a sibling of the other woman.

2am

After a slap-up meal, plenty of chat, dancing and booze, interspersed with a buffet supper as the night wore on, the reception finally wound down and the happy, unconventional couple, retired upstairs.

"I'm knackered!"

"So am I - I've never had as much fun!"

"Would you do it again?"

"No way! We already know both sides of each other, so there's no chance of either of us doing a Lohengrin. Besides which, in you I've got a muse, friend, companion, lover and wife."

"And in you I've also got a best friend, companion, lesbian lover, straight lover and husband. But if we went back to the past, would you have done anything differently?"

He thought a while. "No - heck, you not only indulged my passion for cross-dressing, but your suggestions helped it go above and beyond! Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought of us each having both a hen do and stag do!"

"Yeah, well, I thought why should you be the only one to have fun with the supposed gender divide?! I've never had as much fun either, and kudos to your friends for treating me as just 'one of the guys'."

"Well, we've been hopping into each other's clothes so long, everyone's got over any stereotypes they may once have had. I wouldn't be surprised if they've all set up betting pools on which (if any) of us will be in skirts and which (if any) of us will be in trousers when we turn up!"

"Although, you do seem to have developed a particular fondness for skirts - it sometimes seems as though almost any time you're not needed at work or with the lads, you're in skirts or dresses."

"Yeah, well, they're fun - and since you convinced me to grow my hair, pretending we're sisters, cousins even literal 'kissing cousins' is so wild! Oh, don't worry - I have no plans whatsoever to get rid of Mr. Happy!"

"Glad to hear!"

"Bed?"

"Bed! Although I wouldn't mind some action from Mr. Happy..."

"I might just be able to stay awake long enough to let him out to play..."

"Good!" as she leaned over to give him a quick kiss before playfully wiggling towards the bed with an exaggerated wiggle.

Shaking his head, he proceeded to copy her, with a slight pause to pick up the packet of makeup cleansing wipes from the dresser, prompting a giggle from her.

Finally, faces sufficiently cleansed and all clothing discarded, they snuggled beneath the sheets, to play and sleep the remainder of the night away.

---

Hopefully you'll forgive me if I missed anything obvious in the swap scene or if the end conversation seems lame - I just needed somewhere to give a hint of background without extending beyond the day itself.

If any of you feel sufficiently inspired, feel free to write a longer treatment or even incorporate it into a wider story - just include a based on / inspired by attribution and let me know when you publish, so I can read and kudo it :)

A silly idea came to me (and turned into this nonsense within an hour) - what if a blackmailer hadn't done his research and what he assumes is the target's devastating secret isn't (exactly)(much of) a secret...

---

Brrring! Brrring!

Trust the phone to interrupt a nice, pleasant evening en-femme with my best friend, Sally.

"Hello? 864579."

A deep male voice replied, "I know your dirty little secret."

I raised my eyebrows. "And what might that be?"

"You pervert - prancing around in women's clothes - as if that will make you a woman!"

I rolled my eyes and gestured to Sally to pick up the extension in the other room.

"So what?"

"You wouldn't want your precious little 'girlfriend' to find out, would you?"

For the benefit of Sally, now listening in, I responded "Find out what?"

"That you spend your evenings and weekends pretending to be a woman."

I rolled my eyes again, this guy evidently hasn't studied Blackmail 101, but decided to play along.

"And how might she find out?"

"I have pictures. And videos."

"So?"

"Do I have to spell things out?!"

"I guess so."

In reality, I was enjoying playing along, just waiting for the opportune time to give the nod to Sally. Besides which, although he was obviously disguising his voice, it still sounded vaguely familiar. And I was also curious how he'd connected me to the man I pretended to be during the daytime. I thought I did a relatively good job with the padding, make-up and wig.

"If you don't do exactly what I say, I will personally ensure Sally receives those photographs and the DVD."

"How do you know it's me?"

"Who else would drive a rust bucket like yours?"

"How do you know I didn't lend the keys to someone?"

"Well, err...um... she didn't adjust the seat, she had big feet - there's no way it could have been anyone but you!"

So, busted by my car. OK, it's small and getting on a bit, but it's hardly a rust bucket! Hang on though... that phrase seems familiar... if only I could place it...

"Spend a lot of time examining women's feet, do you? How do I know you're not a crossdresser?"

"You filthy perverts! You're a desecration of the natural order!"

I held the handset away from my ear while he continued his rant. I smiled - I now knew exactly who Mr. Incompetent Blackmailer was. When he eventually finished, I decided it was time to put him out of his misery.

"OK, OK, I'll confess! I do wear women's clothes - but that's because I am a woman."

"Oh no you're not!"

"So, my body doesn't match my mind. But I've got some advice for you."

"This oughta be rich..."

"Yes, Grant Mitchell Toogood. You make a hopeless blackmailer. For a start, it helps to do your research..."

I nodded towards Sally, who piped up "I've known about Julie for the past three months - and you know what? I'm fine with it!"

I was glad she hadn't added something to the effect of "Screw You!" to the end, but thought I'd have a little more fun with him, so added "Oh, and Grant - next time you decide to blackmail someone, hire someone else to make the call. You may have disguised your voice, but spouting that quasi-religious mumbo jumbo gave you off a mile away. Good night - sweet dreams!"

As I hung up, Sally asked "Are you sure you'll be OK going to work in the morning?"

"Sure - he wouldn't dare try anything at work - he's had long enough - besides which, the car park's covered by CCTV."

"But what if he tells them?"

"He's not the most technically literate, and if, as he claims, he's got photos of me getting in / out of my car, that would raise more questions at work about him than me."

I thought for a minute.

"I could always pre-empt him..."

"What do you mean?"

"I've got a day's annual leave coming up. If we arranged a pub lunch for the team on that day, I could join them..."

"Eh?"

"It's unlikely Grant would show himself up in front of them, but if they twigged I'd tell them."

"You wha- you mean you'll go as Julie and see if they recognise you?"

"Why not?"

Sure, it was a risk - especially as I wasn't intended to start RLT until the next financial year - but I had a gut feeling Grant was the only bigot on the team, and the rest would probably at the very least tolerate me until they realised I was the same person underneath. Besides which, I had Sally at my side - and she was worth more than a hundred Grants.

---

Fancy a bit of fun? Imagine that Grant is still both utterly clueless about blackmail and incredibly persistent. Try speculating on possible future blackmail attempts, and how Julie deflects them (preferably while allowing Grant to dig himself a bigger hole in the process...) In fact, before this idea ballooned to over 950 words, I originally intended it to be an 'add a bit' story...

I stood nervously in Arrivals, butterflies in my stomach. Why had I ever agreed to this reunion in the first place?

I could have worn jeans and a T-shirt, but felt it was better for Jack (an old schoolfriend who'd kept in touch by email) to discover the 'new' me in public, where there was less chance of confrontation. I hoped he wouldn't reject my new appearance.

Then I saw him ambling down the concourse, looking equally as nervous. Or should I say, I saw 'her'.

Maybe this reunion wouldn't be so bad after all...

---

My quickest turnover yet. The idea hit me as I woke up... half an hour later it's written and published... if only I could write the rest of my story ideas as quickly! In case you hadn't twigged, neither was aware of the other's 'new' identity until now.

---

It was a dark but clear night as Steve, dressed in a rather fetching vampire outfit (or at least, he thought so!) walked up the path to the mansion where the Halloween Ball was being held. About half way up he noticed what appeared to be an old oil lamp on a pedestal. Not expecting anything to happen, he grinned as he picked it up and gave it a rub.

What he didn't expect was for the lamp to jump out of his hands and a column of bluish smoke to erupt from it, which then slowly coalesced into the form of a stereotypical genie. He bit his lip hard to ensure he wasn't dreaming, then asked:

"Am I dreaming?"

The genie shook his head.

"Are you a genie?"

The genie nodded.

"And you're going to grant three wishes?"

The genie mumbled, "Why do they always have to be so stupid?", before saying out aloud "No - only one, so choose wisely."

Just then, Steve was distracted by the sight of a pretty girl dressed as (what he thought was) a very sexy witch.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and Steve noticed first that he seemed to be standing elsewhere, then that he was apparently gazing at his own body, which promptly disappeared, then he heard a female voice seeming to come from inside his head saying "I'm sure there was a cute boy there a few seconds ago - must be imagining things!" He then heard a cute female giggle, apparently coming from his own mouth.

Steve thought, "What the heck's happening?!", only to be surprised to hear the same female voice exclaim, "Now I'm imagining his voice - I really shouldn't have drunk that triple vodka before setting out!"

Steve had an inkling of an idea and attempted to look down, but found he couldn't control his body. "Great. I can't move a muscle."

He then heard the same female voice exclaim aloud - apparently from his own mouth, "Who the heck are you? Where are you?", as he apparently turned a full circle, again without any conscious control. His body felt... different, with weight where there shouldn't be and no feelings where he expected there to be some - unless you count similar feelings emanating from a point several inches inside his body.

"Err, Hi there, I'm Steve and until a few minutes ago I was that cute boy you were looking at. I now appear to be stuck inside your head, and yes, I can hear your thoughts. Oh, and thanks for the compliment."

"Wha...?! OK, that doesn't make any sense at all."

"See that big blue buffoon up ahead?"

"Yeeeees."

"It's a genie. Don't laugh. I saw this old lamp on a pedestal and rubbed it for a joke. Next thing you know, he appears, you walk by, and POOF! I'm inside your head. With my body nowhere to be seen."

The girl then strode out to the genie, looked up at him grinning and obviously enjoying himself, then exclaimed out loud,

"Oi! Genie!"

"Yeeees?"

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?! Get him out of my head NOW!"

"What do you mean?!"

"You know perfectly well what I mean, mister. I didn't ask for this and..."

"Steve, you didn't ask for this, by any chance?"

"No 'effin' way!"

"...he didn't ask for this either!"

"I'm afraid you did. You both did."

"What the heck are you blathering on about?"

"I granted him a wish: he quite clearly stated 'I wish I could get inside her panties'..."

"You dirty so-and-so!"

"Hey, I was only thinking it - you are cute you know!"

Before she had a chance to respond to the genie's statement, he continued:

"And you quite clearly stated 'I wish I could have him all to myself'..."

"Oops. Still think I'm dirty?"

"Shut it."

"You know as well as I do we never said those things aloud."

Steve added, and she repeated, "Besides which, surely wishes have to be said aloud to count?"

"Not necessary. Article 53, section 7, subsection 5 clearly states we have to grant the customer's first wish, regardless of how it is expressed."

"You're making that up!"

"No I'm not!"

"Prove it!"

"I, err... don't have the documents to hand."

"Well, get us back to normal then!"

"Sorry, no can do."

"What?!"

"It's the thing with magic: what's done cannot be undone."

"So if you can't undo it, can you find someone who can?"

"I've already told you: what's done cannot be undone."

"OK, so if we found another genie and wished to be in our own bodies?"

"It wouldn't work. You are in your own body. What's done cannot be undone."

"What do you mean, we're in our own body?"

"Cor, why do humans have to be so bloody stupid?! Do I have to spell it out for you?! Grrr.

"You. Have. Only. One. Body.

“The. Other. Body. Does. Not. Exist.

“What's. Done. Cannot. Be. Undone. Comprendez?!"

"You mean we're stuck like this... forever!?"

"Finally they get it. Hallelujah. You should be grateful, you know!"

"Wha...?!"

"I granted you two wishes for the price of one. I consider that a very good deal!"

"You..." she stormed over to the lamp and threw it forcefully against the ground.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you..."

"Why the heck not?!"

"For a start, that's my home. I'd rather you didn't bash it up."

"Well, tough. You screwed up our lives, why shouldn't we screw up yours?!"

"I have unbounded magical powers. I could click my fingers and you would cease to exist."

"Yeah, right. Surely people would ask questions?"

"Nope. I could erase you from existence - you would never have lived."

"You couldn't do that!"

"Do you dare test me?!"

"OK, OK, I get the point." She reluctantly put the lamp back on the pedestal. "So how's this going to work, then? Is he going to be a passenger in my head for ever?"

"Dual controls."

"What the heck's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh no. Is there any limit to human stupidity? Let’s try again...

“You know when you were learning to drive?"

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"You were taught in an instructor's car?"

"Yes. I still don't see the point."

"What differentiates an instructor's car from an ordinary car?"

"Apart from the logos?"

"Yes."

She thought for a bit before it dawned. "Oh." She thought a bit more. "You mean, he can control my body? That's gross!"

“Sounds like fun - how?!”

“I've already told you - Shut up!”

"Yeees, but you'd need to hand control to him, and he'd need to hand control back."

"Oh kay..."

"No, not necessarily the whole body. You could allow him to speak, for example; or do something with your arms; while retaining control of the rest of you."

“Can I borrow your arm?”

“Why? Second thoughts, don’t tell me - you are not going to do that with my arm!”

“Spoilsport!”

“Pervert!”

Looking back to the genie, she said "Sorry about that, boy trouble. Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?"

The genie sighed. "Article 27, section 3, subsection 6 - which we've been trying to get rid of for years - compels us to explain the effects of any wish granted. Avoids legal trouble."

"But how could anyone sue a creature widely believed to be mythical?"

"Humans couldn't, but there are plenty of races that can. Unfortunately."

"Anything else we need to know - such as what's happened to his life?"

"That's the genius part. Both parents think they've got a daughter - you - and you've got both sets of qualifications and experience."

"But... how can that possibly work?"

"Easy - neither set of parents can meet the other in the presence of you."

"Work?"

"What?”

“Now you don’t seem too bright yourself. Work - workplace - career - jobs - get the picture?”

“You choose."

"What does that mean?"

"The magic doesn't allow you to be in two places at once. So you'll have to work out arrangements over the next week. If you go to your workplace over the next week, his won't have any records relating to his employment there. If you go to his workplace over the next week, yours won't have any records relating to your employment there. If you spend two days in one and three in the other, you'll be regarded as a part time employee of both."

"But won't it seem odd if I turn up to his workplace?"

"No - they'll remember you. Oh, there is one other minor concession."

"What's that?"

"Name."

"What do you mean? I'm Chloe Angela Brooks."

"At the moment, but given your, erm, unique situation, you may prefer a new one that reflects both your personalities."

"Eh?"

"You're living together and sharing a body - to avoid either of your lives becoming hell you'll have to adapt to your new situation and probably do things neither of you would have considered doing beforehand. You won't realise this right away, but the sum of the new you will be greater than the parts. You may decide to choose a new name to reflect this."

"And I take it if we do, everyone will believe we've had it all our lives?"

"Yup."

"When?"

"The first time you sign your name on an official document."

"Right..."

"Any more questions? I must be getting back home soon."

"Anything to add?"

"Can't think of anything at the moment."

"Can we ask questions later? It's all a bit sudden."

"Sorry, once I go back in that's it."

"OK then. Thanks, I suppose."

"Oh, and put me somewhere findable. Depending on when I'm next called on, I might grant you good health and long life."

"Let me guess - if we hide you in a cupboard or dump you in a skip, we'll have a short, disease-ridden, painful life."

"You got it! Toodleoo!" With that, the genie disappeared back inside the lamp, which jumped into Chloe's hand.

"What do we do now?"

"Well, we could do with a long chat to sort things out, but for the moment, let's just get used to the new 'us'. You've got to get used to having me as a passenger, and I've got to get used to piggybacking on you."

"So...?"

"Go in, have some fun. I'll keep a lookout..."

"Pervert!"

"...ha, ha, very funny. I'll keep a lookout for any potential troublemakers, and alert you."

"Boys?"

"Go on. I've got to get used to it sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner rather than later."

"Your place or mine?"

"Hey, that's supposed to be my line! I suppose we've got the choice of both. Where do you live?"

"Spencer Street." She inwardly giggled.

"What?"

"I never thought I'd give my address out to a boy this quickly - we've hardly met!"

"Well... OK, I get your point. I'm on Powell Street, so you're probably closer. And tidier. Although I wouldn't have put it past that damn genie to have given my bachelor pad a girlie makeover."

"Well, tomorrow's Saturday - what say we pop over and take a look?"

"OK. You know what?"

"What?"

"I think he might have given us something to ease the 'freak out' factor - we both seem to be taking this pretty well."

"I suppose so - but then again, we haven't exactly got much of a choice. Do you really think I'm sexy?"

"Yes - well, I suppose we are sexy - gah, that's going to take some getting used to. And no, our bum does not look big in this outfit!"

She giggled. "But mister, as payment for this I'll put you in control during my next period!"

"Oh great. Thanks a bunch. Err, when is it?"

"Actually... any day now. As you said yourself, you'll have to find out about it sooner or later, so you may as well find out sooner rather than later."

"Oh boy - you're as bad as my sister!"

"And you're as bad as my brother!"

"Quits?"

"Quits. For now."

"Meanie."

"Cheeky."

He concentrated and thought an image of his former self sticking his tongue out at her. She repeated the favour.

"Somehow, I think we're in for an interesting few days."

"You can say that again! Although I think we're in for an interesting life!"

"I suppose we'd better put down this lamp. I don't suppose we've got a pen and paper in our handbag?"

"I've got a marker and a stack of post-it notes. Why?"

"To write a message - 'Wish wisely. Wish alone.'"

"I doubt it'll do any good..."

"Yeah, but we can but try."

"Good point."

They wrote the note, attached it to the lamp, then replaced it on the pedestal where they found it before entering the party.

Several hours later, a little worse for wear, they left to find the lamp gone but the note attached to the pedestal, bearing an additional four letters... THNX.

"Looks as though someone found it then."

"THNX - serious or sarcastic?"

"Can't say. But we're definitely a demon on the dance floor!"

"Yes - I won't ask how you know all the moves to the Macarena."

"And I won't ask how you managed to enrapture Barry with a simple flutter of your eyelids."

"Did you have to tip his drink over him?"

"You'd given me control of the arm, besides which, although he puts on the charm, (a) did you notice he was quoting liberally from 'The World's Worst Chat-Up Lines', and (b) he's seriously bad news. He makes Henry the Eighth seem tame."

"How do you know?"

"He's a boy, and if you recall, I was one too until about five minutes ago, so I think I know a thing or two about how the species generally operates. Besides which, he was on most of the sports teams when I was at the same school as him, about five years ago. Plenty of brawn, not much brain. Oh, and even back then he was always bragging he'd be able to 'pull' any 'chick' using those corny lines. Hang on, I wonder..." He started thinking about various incidents involving Barry from his youth.

She giggled. "Now you're replaying your memories of him, and the earlier incident from your recollections, he does seem a bit of a jerk. Hey, we can share our memories. That's going to be interesting!"

"Oh gawd, I'd better keep my thoughts to myself!"

"Slight hitch."

"What?"

"I can already hear every word." She giggled again.

"Aarrgghh!"

"There is compensation though."

"What?"

"By extension, that means you heard all my thoughts regarding the boys in there."

Steve was assaulted by her memories flooding into his consciousness.

“O. M. G. ! Ooh - your first crush as well - Pete - aaawwww!”

“Stop it - you’re seriously embarrassing me!”

"Well, I’m sure you could dig up plenty of dirt on me as well! What makes me think of that old curse?"

"You mean..."

They said together, "May you live in more interesting times," then both personalities started giggling, compounded by the giggles escaping their mouth drawing stares from the remaining party-goers.

The End

---

Author's note: I doubt I could keep the insanity up much longer. If any of you think you can write a sequel, feel free - I'd love to see what Steve!Chloe gets up to as they learn to play with their dual controls...
(Oh, and you - yes, you, in the back there - stop snickering!)

---

Author’s note: For obvious reasons, there’s a lot of thought-speech in this. "Ordinary speech looks like this," while "thought speech looks like this." Just in case it isn’t obvious :)

---

Steve paced up and down his room, wondering if it was such a good idea to go through with this. On the one hand, it was Halloween, so the one time of year it was relatively ‘safe’ to be seen in public dressed the way he was - and if he could pull it off, he’d feel some small sense of victory and perhaps a better idea of future possibilities. On the other hand, it was an unconventional outfit for a male to be wearing, and he was almost certain someone would see through the outfit, recognise him and at the very least tease him mercilessly about it.

Across town, Chloe was also having second thoughts - not about her costume but how she’d cope in the company of a whole bunch of complete strangers rather than just being by herself. It would, after all, be fun to dress up, dance around and party - but the thought of trying to make friendly conversations with complete strangers; or even worse, fend off the attentions of drunken males (none of whom she was likely to have any interest in whatsoever), terrified her.

After much fretting, both decided to be bold and head out - coincidentally to the same party, a fundraising event organised jointly by the local Round Table and Ladies Circle¹. To their relief it wasn’t too chilly out and the weather forecast was dry, so they left in only their costumes and a small clutch purse holding their money and keys.

Each approached the venue from opposite directions at roughly the same time, but too wrapped up in their own thoughts to notice anyone around them. As he neared the entrance, he noticed what appeared to be an old oil lamp on a pedestal. Momentarily forgetting his situation, he suddenly felt the urge to pick it up and for the sheer fun of it give it a rub - not expecting anything to happen.

Not expecting anything to happen is one thing, but being faced with the lamp jumping out of his hands, hovering in mid aid, and a column of bluish smoke erupting from it is another thing entirely.

"You cannot be serious!" he thought upon seeing this, and not seeing any obvious mechanism for it to happen, pinched himself to check he wasn’t dreaming. It hurt - even more so since he’d had the bright idea of applying long false nails (which had already caused problems when locking up his flat). "OK, not dreaming, so what the heck is going on?"

The bluish smoke then stopped rising, seemed to gain in density, and changed shape to form something not too dissimilar to the genie in a well known animation. "OK, I’ve got to be hallucinating now, but how? I haven’t had anything to drink. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound…"
He looked up at the form, and asked "Am I dreaming?"

The genie shook his head.

"Hallucinating?"

The genie shook his head again, a slight smile appearing on his face.

"Are you a genie?"

The genie nodded.

"OK, this is definitely weird. So if he’s a genie..."

"Let me guess, you’re going to grant me three wishes?" "Not that I have the foggiest idea what to wish for…"

The genie mumbled, "Why do they always have to be so stupid?", before saying out aloud "No - only one, so choose wisely."

As Steve started thinking, he idly looked around to see what everyone else was doing - was they frozen (indicating he was in a time bubble), carrying on regardless without paying any attention (indicating the genie had erected some kind of perception filter), or was this visible to everyone?

While all this was going on, Chloe had stopped just short of the entrance to gather her composure and size up the other attendees - even though charity events were likely to attract a more respectable set of customers, being halloween it was possible some of the local college students would turn up - inevitably with no tact and dreadful pick-up lines (not that she socialised much, but from what she’d overheard at work). Being a chronic introvert, she had no idea how she’d handle them - and even around work hadn’t really found any men interesting enough to want to know further. Wanting to keep her options open, she’d even considered the other girls in the office - they were all pretty boring (as far as she was concerned) as well, although there had had once been an androgynous temp who she found more approachable than most in the office, but her contract had ended before Chloe had picked up the courage to chat with at company socials.

Just then, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye and turned to face it. She saw someone wearing a very similar costume to hers, although it didn’t look as though they had much of a chest… or a waist. Under the streetlights, it was difficult to tell whether they were another girl or a boy, but she had a similar feeling to when she first saw the intern the previous year. Her attention was then drawn to the object the person was holding - it appeared to be an old-style lamp, similar to the type often portrayed in Aladdin stories. A smile crept across her face as the person rubbed the lamp, "in their shoes I’d probably do the same," which quickly turned to shock as a blue vapour emerged and resolved itself into what appeared to be a genie shape. She took a few small, nervous steps towards the scene, thinking "OK, I’m officially intrigued - I wonder what that poor person’s thinking right now?"

Steve saw Chloe and was transfixed. She was wearing an almost identical outfit to his, but carrying it off much better. She looked cute, but also seemed about as nervous as he was - taking a couple of steps at a time towards him, then looking around, thinking for a bit, and repeating. At the same time he wanted to know what she was thinking and to be with her - perhaps together they could survive the night.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and Steve noticed first that he seemed to be standing elsewhere, then that he was apparently gazing at his own body, which promptly disappeared, then he heard a female voice seeming to come from inside his head saying "Hang on - I’m sure there was someone there a few seconds ago - where have they gone?"

Steve thought, "What the heck's happening?!", only to be surprised to hear the same female voice exclaim out loud, "Where did that voice come from?"

Putting two and two together, Steve replied "Erm, hi?"

"Who are you? Where are you?!"

"Erm, I’m Steve - or at least I was until a few seconds ago, and I now appear to be in your head."

"What?!"

"Erm, people are staring - it might be a good idea to either find somewhere quiet or to think your questions."

"OK, OK, not panicking - WHAT THE HECK’S GOING ON?!"

"Good question, but at a rough guess, it’s got something to do with that blue buffoon floating up ahead."

Now it was Chloe’s turn to have a revelation. "So that old oil lamp?"

"Yup, I was the one holding it."

"You’re a boy?"

"Oh, wow - erm, I mean, you had doubts before?"

"I’m not sure what you’re getting at."

"You really thought I may have been a girl?"

"It was a little hard to tell under these lights - you were as flat as a pancake, but, yeah, not bad."

"I wasn’t brave enough to buy a bra, and as I didn’t know if I’d ever do this again, I wasn’t going to buy inserts - even if I could afford them. Anyway,I’ll explain later. Let’s find out how we got into this mess first and how long it’s likely to last."

"Good point. It had better not be forever - no disrespect, but having voices in my head…"

"I didn’t exactly ask to be a passenger in your head either!"

"Touché."

Filled with a new-found confidence, she strode up to the genie, who was still grinning and obviously enjoying himself.

"Oi! Genie!"

"Yeeees?"

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?! Get him out of my head NOW!"

"What do you mean?!"

"You know perfectly well what I mean, mister. I didn't ask for this and..."

"Steve, are you sure you didn’t ask for this?"

"Definitely not!"

"Just thought I’d double check."

"...he didn't ask for this either!"

"I'm afraid you did. You both did."

"What the heck are you blathering on about?"

"I granted him a wish: he quite clearly stated he wanted to be with you and know what you were thinking."

"WHAT?!"

"Hey, you were looking as nervous as I was feeling. I genuinely wanted to know why, could do with some companionship, and worth getting to know better…"

"Know?"

"You asked to know her feelings and for companionship - I gave you exactly what you wanted!"

"Stupid bloomin’ genie. Oh, and ‘know’ - Not in the Biblical sense! Friendship, nothing more - although I do admit you do look cute - two introverts attempting to make sense of the world together."

"And now you’re together forever."

"What do you mean, ‘forever’?"

"Exactly what it says on the tin - anyway, it’s not as if you weren’t also wishing you knew what he was thinking."

"Forever?"

"Forever and ever, amen. Yes." He then muttered under his breath, but still audible, "Stupid humans. I give them everything they ask for, and they still complain."

Steve thought "He knows as well as I do we never said those things aloud!"

"Good point." "You know as well as we do that we never said those things aloud! Besides which, surely wishes have to be said out aloud to count, and follow the standard ‘I wish...’ format?"

"Not necessary. Article 53, section 7, subsection 5 clearly states we have to grant the customer's first wish, regardless of how it is expressed."

"You're making that up!"

"No I'm not!"

"Prove it!"

"I, err... don't have the documents to hand."

"Well, get us back to normal then!"

"Sorry, no can do."

"What?!"

"It's the thing with magic: what's done cannot be undone."

"So if you can't undo it, can you find someone who can?"

"I've already told you: what's done cannot be undone."

"OK, so if we found another genie and wished to be in our own bodies?"

"It wouldn't work. You are in your own body. What's done cannot be undone."

"What do you mean, we're in our own body?"

"Cor, why do humans have to be so bloody stupid?! Do I have to spell it out for you?! Grrr. You. Have. Only. One. Body.

"The. Other. Body. Does. Not. Exist.

"What's. Done. Cannot. Be. Undone. Comprendez?!"

"You mean we're stuck like this... forever!?"

"Finally they get it. Hallelujah. You should be grateful, you know!"

"Wha...?!"

"I granted you two, no, three wishes for the price of one. I consider that a very good deal!"

"You..." she stormed over to the lamp and threw it forcefully against the ground.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you..."

"Why the heck not?!"

"For a start, that's my home. I'd rather you didn't bash it up."

"Well, tough. You screwed up our lives, why shouldn't we screw up yours?!"

"I have unbounded magical powers. I could click my fingers and you would cease to exist."

"Yeah, right. Surely people would ask questions?"

"Nope. I could erase you from existence - you would never have lived."

Chloe gulped. "You couldn't do that!"

The genie expanded in size, and bellowed "Do you dare test me?!"

Chloe looked around - nobody else was paying any attention. Evidently the genie had eventually got around to erecting a perception filter.

"OK, OK, I get the point." She reluctantly put the lamp back on the pedestal. "So how's this going to work, then? Is he going to be a passenger in my head for ever?"

"Dual controls."

"What the heck's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh no. Is there any limit to human stupidity? Let’s try again...

"You know when you were learning to drive?"

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"You were taught in an instructor's car?"

"Yes. I still don't see the point."

"What differentiates an instructor's car from an ordinary car?"

"Apart from the logos?"

"Yes."

"Oh." She thought for a bit. "You mean, he can control my body? That's gross!"

"Sounds like fun - how?!"

"Shut up!"

"Sorry, couldn’t resist a little wind-up. But it would be interesting knowing if / how I can control this body, since we’ve apparently both got a share in control. Can we each arbitrarily gain control or is it like a timeshare?"

"Yeees, he could control your body, but you'd need to hand control to him, and he'd need to hand control back."

"Oh kay..."

"No, not necessarily the whole body. You could allow him to speak, for example; or do something with your arms; while retaining control of the rest of you."

"Can I borrow your arm?"

"Why? Second thoughts, don’t tell me - you are not going to do that with my arm!"

"Spoilsport!"

"Pervert!"

Looking back to the genie, she said "Sorry about that, boy trouble. Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?"

The genie sighed. "Article 27, section 3, subsection 6 - which we've been trying to get rid of for years - compels us to explain the effects of any wish granted. Avoids legal trouble."

"But how could anyone sue a creature widely believed to be mythical?"

"Humans couldn't, but there are plenty of races that can. Unfortunately."

"Anything else we need to know - such as what's happened to his life?"

"That's the genius part. Both parents think they've got a daughter - you - and you've got both sets of qualifications and experience."

"But... how can that possibly work?"

"Easy - neither set of parents can meet the other in the presence of you."

"Jobs?"

"What?"

"Now you don’t seem too bright yourself. Jobs - career - workplace - work - get the picture?"

"You choose."

"What does that mean?"

"The magic doesn't allow you to be in two places at once. So you'll have to figure out arrangements over the next week. If you go to your workplace over the next week, his won't have any records relating to his employment there. If you go to his workplace over the next week, yours won't have any records relating to your employment there. If you spend two days in one and three in the other, you'll be regarded as a part time employee of both."

"But won't it seem odd if I turn up to his workplace?"

"No - they'll remember you. But you’ll have to decide over the next fortnight - the magic can only sustain three different employment configurations that long. Similarly with accommodation - you’ll have to decide which property to live at within the next fortnight, after which the other will cease to have ever been let to the other.

"Oh, there is one other minor concession."

"What's that?"

"Name."

"What do you mean? I'm Chloe Angela Brooks."

"At the moment, but given your, erm, unique situation, you may prefer a new one that reflects both your personalities."

"Eh?"

"You're living together and sharing a body - to avoid either of your lives becoming hell you'll have to adapt to your new situation and probably do things neither of you would have considered doing beforehand. You won't realise this right away, but the sum of the new you will be greater than the parts. You may decide to choose a new name to reflect this."

"And I take it if we do, everyone will believe we've had it all our lives?"

"Yup."

"When?"

"The first time you sign your name on an official document."

"Right..."

"Any more questions? I must be getting back home soon."

"Anything to add?"

"Can't think of anything at the moment."

"Can we ask questions later? It's all a bit sudden."

"Sorry, once I go back in that's it."

"OK then. Thanks, I suppose."

"Oh, and put me somewhere findable. Depending on when I'm next called on, I might grant you good health and long life."

"Let me guess - if we hide you in a cupboard or dump you in a skip, we'll have a short, disease-ridden, painful life."

"You got it! Toodleoo!" With that, the genie disappeared back inside the lamp, which jumped into Chloe's hand.

"What do we do now?"

"Well, we could do with a long chat to sort things out, but for the moment, let's just get used to the new 'us'. You've got to get used to having me as a passenger, and I've got to get used to piggybacking on you."

"So...?"

"Go in, have some fun. I'll keep a lookout..."

"Pervert!"

"...ha, ha, very funny. I'll keep a lookout for any potential troublemakers, and alert you."

"Boys?"

"Go on. I've got to get used to it sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner rather than later."

"Your place or mine?"

"Hey, that's supposed to be my line! We've got the choice of both. Where do you live?"

"Spencer Street." She inwardly giggled.

"What?"

"I never thought I'd give my address out to a boy this quickly - we've hardly met!"

"Well... OK, I get your point. I'm on Powell Street, so you're probably closer. And tidier. Although I wouldn't have put it past that damn genie to have given my bachelor pad a girlie makeover."

"Well, tomorrow's Saturday - what say we pop over and take a look?"

"OK. You know what?"

"What?"

"I think he might have given us something to ease the 'freak out' factor - we both seem to be taking this pretty well."

"I suppose so - but then again, we haven't exactly got much of a choice. Now what was that you were on about earlier with the talk of ‘inserts’?"

"Oh, bra inserts, as in fake boo..., no, breasts."

"Are you one of those tranny-thingies?"

"Transvestite? That’s the common term for a bloke who gets a kick out of wearing women’s clothes. I’d say no to that. Transsexual? Ugh, forget Rocky Horror, transgendered are those who feel they were born in the wrong body - so male body, female brain; female body, male brain. Erm, not sure?"

"Not sure?"

"I never really fitted in, hated sports, could never understand boys’ attitudes to girls, envied their choice and freedom in clothes, as well as their more creative side; while as being ostensibly a boy showing interest in the arts and disliking both the playing and following of sports were severely frowned upon. But while I could understand girls better than boys, did I ever think I was one? Not back then - and now? I’m not sure - possibly fifty fifty, or maybe sixty girl forty boy, possibly even seventy five twenty five. I’ve never really considered it necessary to write out a list."

"Oh. Did you ever think yourself…"

"Gay? Considered it, quickly rejected it. I have no attraction to boys whatsoever. Girls, I like - but at the moment more as friends rather than romantic partners or, shudder the thought, ‘conquests’".

"Conquests - ugh, I know the type. Well, now’s your chance to find out what being a girl’s like, so if a miracle occurs and we can find a way of getting separated…"

"...I’ll know for sure. I have to ask - what attracted you to me?"

"Actually, a similar kind of thing to your attraction for me - I thought you looked vulnerable, and someone who may make this party bearable. Oh, but I’m definitely all girl - inside and out, but I suppose the question on your lips will be…"

"Boys."

"Dunno. Never really been attracted to any before I saw you - to be honest, most I’ve met are complete jerks."

"Join the club."

"Thanks(!). I haven’t really felt much towards girls either - although there was a cute intern once…"

"So asexual borderline lesbian?"

"Asexual?"

"Not really attracted to anyone."

"Yeah, I guess. Do you really think I’m cute?"

"Yes - or rather, I suppose I should say we’re cute - gah, that’s going to take some getting used to - I’ll have to learn to cope sooner or later. And no, our bum does not look big in this outfit!"

She giggled. "But as payment for this I might put you in control during my next period! Besides which, it’ll give you an up close and very personal idea of what life’s like for the other half!"

"Oh great. Thanks a bunch. Erm, when is it?"

"Actually... any day now. As you said yourself, you'll have to find out about it sooner or later, so you may as well find out sooner rather than later."

"Oh my - you're as bad as my sister!"

"And you're as bad as my brother!"

"No doubt we’ll meet them both in time. Anyway, quits?"

She deliberately paused, then thought out "Quits. For now."

"Meanie."

"Cheeky."

He concentrated and thought an image of his former self sticking his tongue out at her. She repeated the favour.

He mentally sighed, then thought "Somehow, I think we're in for an interesting few days."

"You can say that again! Although I think we're in for an interesting life! Just out of curiosity, what was your name?"

"Oh right, I hadn’t actually got around to telling you. Steve - although I suppose Stevie or Stephanie would be more appropriate now."

"And I’m Chloe, as I think I said earlier. Or rather, we’re Chloe, for the time being at least."

"I suppose we'd better put down this lamp. Have we got a pen and paper in our handbag?"

"I've got a marker and a stack of post-it notes. Why?"

"To write a message - 'Wish wisely. Wish alone.'"

"I doubt it'll do any good..."

"Yeah, but we can but try."

"Good point."

They wrote the note, attached it to the lamp, then replaced it on the pedestal where they found it before entering the party.

Several hours later, a little worse for wear, they left to find the lamp gone but the note attached to the pedestal, bearing an additional four letters... THNX.

Steve (for the moment - both thought it best to continue thinking of him using his old name until they were more used to their situation) examined the note, and thought "Looks as though someone found it then."

"THNX - serious or sarcastic?"

"Can't say. But we're definitely a demon on the dance floor!"

"Yes - I won't ask how you know all the moves to the Macarena."

"And I won't ask how you managed to enrapture Barry with a simple flutter of your eyelids."

"Oh damn, so that’s what attracted him. I know he was being a jerk, but did you have to tip his drink over him?"

"You'd given me control of the arm, besides which, I know the sort - hardly anything else would have got through to him. Although he puts on the charm, (a) did you notice he was quoting liberally from 'The World's Worst Chat-Up Lines' (he was bragging about being able to 'pull' any 'chick' using them), and (b) he's seriously bad news. He makes Henry the Eighth seem tame."

"How do you know?"

"He's a boy, and if you recall, I was one too until a few hours ago, so I think I know a thing or two about how the species generally operates. Besides which, he was on most of the sports teams at school. Plenty of brawn, not much brain. Hang on, I wonder..." Since he could broadcast thoughts to Chloe, he wondered if he could also broadcast memories, so started thinking of some notable incidents featuring Barry, ending with the incident earlier that evening.

Chloe mentally cringed. "He’s even more of a jerk than I thought - if I’d known I’d have probably kneed him in the nuts."

It was Steve’s turn to mentally cringe. "Ouch. Personally, I prefer my cold and wet punishment."

"Each to their own. Still, sharing memories is pretty cool…"

"But certain thoughts are best kept to ourselves!" he replied, unintentionally broadcasting a few select fantasies.

"Slight hitch. If you broadcast your thoughts and memories that easily, you soon won’t have any secrets left!"

"There may be some compensation though…" he replied, while catching glimpses of ideas from Chloe’s imagination; "Your mind’s about as leaky as mine, so it’s possible in time we’ll each know everything there is to know about each other."

"Dammit. Oh well, we’re going to be stuck like this for a while - possibly forever - so I suppose the sooner we understand each other inside out…"

"Ouch. Bad pun, but I get the idea - the more we know each other, the easier we’ll be able to cope."

"Don’t think I’m letting you off control during my period!"

"You do realise we’ll probably both feel the pain, and you’ll still see it all?"

She sighed. "Unfortunately, yes - but it’ll still be nice to take a back seat for once and see how you cope."

"Probably not too bad - especially once you’ve shared your memories / experiences…"

She mentally giggled, "Oh boy are you in for a world of hurt"

He mentally shrugged, "I’ll get used to it - you did, and so has every other woman that ever lived. It’s not like I don’t have my own share of embarrassing body moments I can serve up on demand."

"OK, OK, I get the point."

Steve then added, "I’m sure we’ll get along fine - we coped OK during the past couple of hours."

"But an entire lifetime? I suppose we’ve got no choice. Remind me again - who’s place did we agree on staying tonight earlier?"

"Yours - you’re closer than me, it’s your body, and you’re currently in charge. It might be best to make a start fairly soon though."

"Why?"

"We’re attracting stares - we might have accidentally said some of this conversation out loud."

"Good point - besides which, with both the party and you popping into my head, I’m exhausted."

"I am too - let’s go back, sleep on it, then work out how the heck we go forward in the morning when our minds are fresh."

"OK Boss!" she joked, letting out an audible giggle.

"Technically, you’re the boss. But since everyone thinks we’ve probably had too much to drink anyway with apparently talking to ourselves and random giggling, it wouldn’t harm to stage a stumble or two until we’re out of sight."

"OK minion!"

"You’re hopeless. I am reminded of that supposedly ancient curse though…"

Both then thought together, "May you live in interesting times!"
A brisk walk later, and they arrived at Chloe’s front door. As she opened up, she thought,

"Home, sweet home."

"I suppose it is - for me as well."

"You’ll forgive me if I don’t give you the grand tour - let’s just head to bed."

"Well, I’ve always had fantasies of sleeping with a beautiful girl - but this isn’t quite what I meant!"

"And I never thought I’d be sleeping with anyone - let alone someone hiding in my head!"

A few minutes later, after what should have been a quick wash (made significantly longer by Steve’s mental gawping at ‘his’ new face, coupled with Chloe’s giggles in response slowing things down considerably), they collapsed on Chloe’s bed (mercifully white - Steve was half expecting a sea of pink and pastels), exchanging one last set of words before closing their eyes and drifting off to sleep.

"Goodnight Steve."

"Goodnight Chloe - I wonder what tomorrow will bring."

"We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Goodnight, sleep tight."

"Goodnight too."

---

I’m currently writing a Part 2, which will involve two more encounters with a genie - the first involving obtaining an English version of the Genie Legal Code, the second - wait and see :)
Feel free to speculate away :D

---

[1] Round Table - social organisation for men 18-45, aimed at charity fundraising as well as having fun. The Ladies Circle is the female equivalent. Although separate organisations, local branches often join forces for events such as fireworks displays and santa floats. Return to text..

 

This collection of stories may cover a variety of themes and situations. However, one thing they do all have in common is that they were inspired by the lyrics to a song. The stories were originally submitted as part of February 2010's Musical Motif Challenge ("I Enjoy Being A Girl!"), but others may creep in over time...

 
An occasional series of stories featuring Peter, a closet crossdresser until his partner's actions cause the 'birth' and emergence of his alter-ego, Petra.
 

If the title and plot of this story seem familiar, it's intentional! This is a rewriting of Drabble: Reunion in a slightly more prosaic format (~730 words compared to 100) - which should provide more of a grounding for anyone wishing to continue the tale.

Teaser: I stood on the concourse of Arrivals, nervously awaiting the appearance of Jack. I'd been having second thoughts about this reunion ever since I'd arranged it - after all, a lot can happen in five years, and in my case, a lot had happened in the past five years.

---

I stood on the concourse of Arrivals, nervously awaiting the appearance of Jack. I'd been having second thoughts about this reunion ever since I'd arranged it - after all, a lot can happen in five years, and in my case, a lot had happened in the past five years.

On the other hand, Jack was probably my closest friend throughout High School, and although our relationship was strictly platonic (we were both teenage lads, and both interested in girls), we were virtually inseparable.

As I stood there waiting, I thought of the events leading up to this point. We'd both met on the first day of High School. Although we'd come from primary schools on the opposite sides of town and were placed in different forms, we noticed in our first lesson that we had a similar class schedule - so naturally stuck together as we learned to navigate the "big school" (or so it seemed at the time! Funny how small and compact it seemed in retrospect when I first arrived at university...) In addition, although both of us were quite tall and lanky, we weren't interested in (or good at) sport. So every break and lunchtime, while the majority of lads migrated onto the field for a kick around, we'd migrate into the library. Then when lessons restarted, we'd carefully walk down the corridors, attempting to avoid as much of the mud being walked in by the others as possible.

Although we studied similar subjects up to GCSE level, our interests had started to diverge. I chose a course of sciences for 'A' level, whereas Jack opted for English Language, English Literature and History. We still remained close at breaks and lunches, and before leaving for our respective universities exchanged email addresses.

We hadn't met since, but had remained in contact via email. At first, our emails were incredibly long, giving blow-by-blow accounts of the first few days in university, but as time went by and our course loads increased, the emails diminished in size and frequency to a couple of paragraphs a week.

Since leaving university, our emails decreased yet again to occasional correspondences every couple of months - with a big gap of about six months about a year ago. Quite frankly, at that point of time I was going through a major upheaval in my life, so tended to stay offline.

Then suddenly a few weeks ago, Jack asked he could come over for a few days - a sort of reunion. Perhaps he'd realised that I'd been deliberately sketchy when recalling what I'd been doing recently. Come to think of it, so had he... I was hesitant at replying, and was in two minds about it, but since we'd been such good friends there was a chance he'd accept me for what I now am - and I was incredibly curious to find out what he'd been up to over the past few years and why he was so cagey about it. So I quickly wrote an acceptance, stating today's date and announcing I'd meet him at the local airport, and pressed "Send" before I changed my mind.

Was it the right decision? Would he accept me? Then again, with his cryptic comment in reply that he'd changed a lot, so don't be too shocked at his appearance, would I accept him? I nearly thought of replying that I'd also changed a lot, but chickened out.

So here I was, standing at arrivals, nervously awaiting the appearance of Jack. Had he gained weight? Gone punk or goth? Joined the armed services (actually, that would be a shock given how timid he was at school!)? As for me, I'd considered wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but felt it would be better in the long run to show the 'true' me rather than hiding it.

Eventually, I saw what appeared to be a familiar face coming down the concourse - but the body and clothes attached to it were completely different to what I'd been expecting! Could it be? Surely fate couldn't have been that improbable? Could it?

"Jack?"
"Chris?"
"Well, I prefer Jackie now. And you?"
"Christine. When?"
"About six months ago."
"Snap!"

In that moment, my anxieties washed away. We both immediately knew why each of us had been so cagey over our recent activities - and that this weekend would involve a lot of catching up - and comparing notes!

Listening to Elgar's piece this morning, I thought it sounded very lyrical. Unable to find any sung versions other than this cute K-pop version, I hit upon the idea of writing a TG-themed set of lyrics to the tune. The first lyric came pretty quickly - I apologise for the second - there aren't many words that rhyme with "am"! Verse 2 was written during a quiet helpdesk session this afternoon, and the bridge this evening.

I've tried to keep as close to the tune as possible, although it does get a little tenuous at times (the tune's bridge deviates from uniformity towards the end, as does the final verse). Anyway, enough waffling, on with the lyrics...

---

Will you love me for the girl I am, my dear?
Accept that I'm a ewe and not a ram, my love?
Will you love me for the girl I am, my dear?
That is all I ask of you.

From before I had my first toy,
I knew I was a girl and not a boy.
Living as a girl would bring me joy, joy, joy.
Can't you see that's who I'm meant to be?

For e'er since the day, when I
First started school, I grew
Ever depressed by conforming to the rule

Oh, living the lie, forced to
Dress up as a boy, How I
Longed to be with the other girls, dear

Will you love me for the girl I am, my dear?
Accept that I'm a ewe and not a ram, my love?
Will you love me for the girl I am, my dear?
That is all I ask of you.

Teaser:When your wife presents you with a maid's dress and tells you to get changed, it can only mean one thing...
...or can it?

---

I looked aghast as she held up the fetish maid's dress. I hadn't worn that in over a year, and doubted it would fit me any more.

"Go upstairs and change. I'll be waiting for you!"

To say I was puzzled by her sudden outburst, and the gleeful smirk on her face, was an understatement. I got the impression arguing would be useless, so reluctantly headed upstairs...

...only to find a significantly more expensive (and well made) dress on the bed, with a post-it note attached saying "Wear this. x"

Confused, I donned the new outfit, together with the provided tights, cap, apron and shoes (mercifully low-heeled); before heading downstairs to face the music.

So you can imagine my surprise when I opened the lounge door to find her wearing an identical outfit and wielding the obligatory feather duster.

"B...b...but..." I stammered, looking even more confused.

Now it was her turn to look shocked, as realisation dawned.

"Oh... sorry! This was meant to be a bit of fun. You really thought..."

Embarrassed, I nodded.

"Oh, darling, I'd *never* do that to you. Do you want to change, or shall we get this place cleaned together?"

She paused, not sure whether to continue. "Errr... what d'ya think?" and beaming, performed a small pirroutte.

Emotions released, I couldn't help but grin. "Beautiful... as always!"

Feeling inspired, I performed a (clumsy) pirrouette of my own.

Laughing, she replied "Snap!"

"So what was your big idea?"

"Oh, sorry, forgot to say. I just thought it would be fun for us both to do the maid thing from time to time - if we're both doing it, it should take half the time; and why not have a little fun while we're at it?"

"Together?"

We'd always shared the housework, but generally it was one or the other of us, when we felt like it, individually, after work - never together, and never at the weekend.

"Always. I'd never ask you to do anything like that alone!"

Synopsis: It's just a typical spring morning for John, as he arrives at Cartwright Collectibles for his Saturday job. But an unexpected encounter with a creature he thought only existed in legend leads to a life-changing decision...

---

 
It was a bright spring morning as I approached the door of Cartwright Collectibles and stepped in. Despite the name, the store was more of a junk shop, selling various small household items salvaged from old buildings before demolition. OK, so it isn't your average teenage hangout, but I had a Saturday job here, helping out Mr. Cartwright so I could earn some pocket money. I wasn't really 'in to' all this old stuff, but it was certainly better than getting up ridiculously early, like 6 O'clock, whatever the weather, to do a paper round!

It wasn't very busy, so Mr. Cartwright sent me into the basement to clean up and polish a bunch of old pots and pans. It wasn't exactly mind-blowing work, but I quickly settled into a routine and started daydreaming.

A few minutes later, I was polishing an ancient stove kettle, when it suddenly started to shake. That broke me from my dreams, just as a thin wisp of blue smoke poured out from the spout, and rearranged itself into the head, arms and torso of a rather well-built, muscular and (rather worryingly) strangely attractive man.

To say I was shocked was an understatement! I immediately thought of running away, but found I was rooted to the spot - my legs simply refused to move! I pinched myself to ensure I wasn't dreaming (it hurt, so I've either got a very vivid imagination or this was really happening...)

I then looked up at him. He wasn't wearing a turban, a comedy moustache or any of the other apparel you normally associate with genies, but here, apparently, was one. While I stared, he took a deep breath, and began speaking - improbably enough - with a broad London accent. "Ah, fresh air at last!" (I thought: Who's he kidding? The air down here's stale, musty and slightly damp...I wouldn't call it fresh by any stretch of the imagination!) "It's so nice to get out of that kettle, which I had the misfortune to be incarcerated in what must have been many, many years ago. OK, it had more room than those infernal lamps, but it was still small and cramped. Every time I tried to move I ended up knocking the kettle over. Whoever thought we weren't supposed to feel pain while bound to such ridiculous confines had no idea what they were talking about..."

I listened to him recall his miserable existence for what seemed like several minutes before he stopped and looking down, noticed me.

I looked back, and meekly stuttered, "Ar...Ar...Are you a ge..ge...genie?"

"Were you the one who released me from that kettle?"

I just nodded.

"Good, thank you ever so much. Now, to answer your question, technically speaking I'm actually a djinni - a kind of magical spirit. The word genie sounds similar, but it's a mistranslation - the word actually comes from the Latin 'genius'" he replied, starting to smile at the end.

"I know it's corny, but...are you a genius?"

"Well...I like to think of myself as one - in both senses of the word!" he grinned back.

"Eh?"

"The Latin term genius originally meant a person's guardian spirit, which was also responsible for their abilities - but I think in your culture, it's more commonly used to describe a person with extraordinary abilities. So I reckon I qualify on both counts. Now you look like a fairly intelligent chap yourself - what do you know of my kind?"

"Dunno really. I mean, I've, like, read stuff like Aladdin, but they're, like, just stories, aren't they? I know genies are supposed to, like, grant wishes and stuff, but as to who/what/why/where, goodness knows."

He sighed. "I won't bore you with the details now, but suffice it to say not all of us are as bad as our reputation in stories claims. Anyway, down to business. By Djinni law and tradition, I am bound to the service of the keeper of the enchanted object - in this case you, as you released me from that darn kettle - for a total of three requests - I think you call them 'Wishes'. Now you say you've read stories of our kind, so I'm sure you're aware that we cannot 'undo' wishes, and too many people in the past have blindly spluttered out a set of highly inappropriate (for them) but nevertheless highly amusing (for us) wishes. The Romans had a useful phrase that sums it up perfectly - Caveat emptor - buyer beware."

"OK...err...can you, like, help me with my wishes?"

"You know what - you're the first person who's ever thought of asking that. I obviously can't decide on your wishes for you, but I'll allow you time to decide on your wishes, warn you if any are obviously stupid, and allow you to review them before committing. Does that sound fair enough?"

"Yes." I thought it best to play safe initially, so suggested "World peace?"

By the look on his face, I quickly realised that might not have been such a good idea...

"So, you think you're being clever, eh? Think you're being smart? You have no idea how many people have tried asking me that in the past! Yes, I'm sure most people would like the idea of a world without warfare and untoward destruction, but do you have any idea of the scale of such a task?" And so he continued for several minutes, pointing out how vague such a term was, all the various interpretations of it, how impossible and futile the task would be (altering human nature to such a level), and so on.

When he'd eventually finished pointing out the flaws in my suggestion, I decided to try something a little less extreme.

"OK then, how about, like, making people a bit nicer towards each other, putting up with each other's differences, and less likely to be nasty to each other for silly reasons?"

"That's better. In fact, several of my cousins are already working on that. We've still got a long way to go, but even as recently as the 1960s..."

I thought, That's actually quite a long time ago, but decided not to say anything.

"...it was very rare to find women in the workplace or owning a house or car - they were expected to stay at home, doing housework and looking after the children, while their husband financed everything. Nowadays many women are in work, owning their own houses and cars, and are entirely self-sufficient. Oh sorry, I'm getting carried away again, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you do seem to like the sound of your own voice - but then I guess you haven't had anyone to talk to for a while."

"Oh, sorry. Anyway, if you like I'll lend a hand to the effort. After all, there's still plenty of silly discrimination in the world. Don't expect any instant change - rather, expect it to slowly build up momentum. After all, you can't change 6.6 billion people overnight."

"Fair enough."

"Have you thought of your second wish yet?"

"OK. Everyone's always telling me that I'm, like, always incredibly disorganised. I know I always find it difficult to complete tasks in the right order, which makes my life a total mess. If I'm to be successful in future, I desperately need to get more organised. Can you help?"

"How organised do you want to be?"

"How about, organised enough to be able to prioritise tasks effectively, and use a calendar or diary to efficiently plan out tasks for the days, weeks and months ahead?"

"I can certainly do that. And your final wish?"

"This is tricky. On the one hand I've always felt...nah, you'll only laugh..."

"What? I've heard plenty of strange requests in my time - longer hair, as attractive as a supermodel, enhanced body parts, better bedroom performance, if you catch my drift..."

"Yuck! Do people really wish for...?"

"You'd be surprised how many do. So come on, out with it, I promise I won't laugh."

"OK."

I suppose I could tell him - maybe he'll understand...

"I've always felt like I was born in the wrong body - that I'm really a girl..."

I paused, expecting him to start laughing or to tell me I was stupid, but he just looked at me, puzzled.

"On the other hand, you're probably tired of being stuffed in that kettle - so maybe I should set you free instead. I just don't know what to do."

"OK, first option. Why do you want to be a girl? You know as well as I do that life isn't easy for them - what with monthly periods, giving birth, being leered at by men, always expected to be pretty, their opinions continually ignored - and they still earn less on average than men." Strangely, he didn't appear to be ignorant - it was almost as though he was just ticking off a list.

"Look, I know what I feel. I HATE being a boy. I don't want to be strong or macho - not caring about anyone or anything, only interested in fast cars, earning more money than my friends, talking about how 'hot' girls are, or - gah! - football."

"What's wrong with football? It's a very popular sport..."

"22 idiots chasing a ball around a muddy field, even in the pouring rain and snow. Then all the chanting and calling the other team 'stupid' - and the ridiculous amounts of money the 'stars' get paid. No thanks!"

"OK, you've convinced me you don't like being a boy. But why be a girl?"

He's really not getting this. How can I convince him? "What's it like for you, cramped up in that kettle?"

"Terrible! Every moment of every day, all I can think about is getting out - being free." He then practically screamed "I HAVE to get out of this kettle - it's driving me mad!" Slightly quieter, but increasingly agitated, "You don't know what it's like to be cramped up in that...I don't just want to get out - I HAVE to get out!"

Hang on... "That's exactly what I feel like being a boy. I'm barely able to concentrate on the work in class, because every time I see a girl I can't help thinking about what it would be like to be her."

"Oh no, I'm not going to do body swaps - it would upset the natural balance, and I wouldn't have the permission of the girl."

"You still don't get it, do you? I just want to be ME - but a girl me, not a boy me!" I was practically crying at this point.

"Well, you've only got one wish left - so, do you want to be a girl or do you want to free me - what's it to be?"

He seems quite nice, and I'd really like to free him, but this might be my only chance for...

Aha! An idea crept across my mind, and I slowly smiled.

"How about...make us both who we desire to be."

He bowed. "Very crafty, and very wise. So, before you firmly commit to these wishes, let me recap: you wish me to use my abilities to help end discrimination, you wish to be more organised, and you wish we were both the people we desire to be."

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble."

Suddenly, the room filled with a bright white light, I shielded my eyes and collapsed to the floor.

A few minutes later, it was gone, and I gingerly opened my eyes. Sitting on the edge of a table opposite me was the genie, now sporting legs, jeans and a T-shirt.

"Don't worry, it will take a few days to get used to your new body and life. As far as the outside world is concerned, your name is Jenny, have been all your life, and if anyone asks, you've just had a spot of amnesia. For the sake of convenience, I haven't tinkered with anyone's memories yet, but their memories of you will automatically adjust whenever you meet them or they discuss you. You'll always keep your 'John' memories, but as time goes by they'll grow slightly distant and hazy compared to your 'Jenny' memories. I'm now Mr. Smith, and for the next few years will be your school's guidance counsellor. Any problems, just find me. Now I'd better be off, and as a parting gift..."

There was another bright flash, and the air suddenly smelled a lot fresher. I was feeling a little fuzzy in the head, but at least all the junk in the store room had been cleaned and polished.

At that point, the door to the store room opened and a different voice asked:

"Jenny, are you all right in there?"

"Err... yes thank you Mr. Cartwright, I think so. I've cleaned all the stock but I'm feeling a little woozy. Must have been the air or the polish."

"Come on out then, I'm just about to lock up and your mum will be wondering where you've got to."

"Yes, sir" I replied, then grabbed the kettle and used it as a makeshift mirror to examine myself. I now had shoulder length hair in a 'bob' style (and couldn't resist shaking my head to feel its movement - to the sound of Mr. Smith tutting), was wearing distinctly girly jeans and trainers, and I rolled my eyes as I read the mirrored legend on my T-shirt - "Hello boys!" He couldn't resist a joke, could he?! Now I was the one tutting.

I grinned at my new appearance as Mr. Smith disappeared from sight, then I ascended the stairs to the shop floor.

World, watch out - here I come, whether you're ready for me or not!